Best Friend to Wife and Mother?

by Caroline Anderson

  Could he trust it? Could he trust her?

  She reached out, her hand finding his, their fingers tangling, and he lowered his head and met her eyes again, and saw nothing in them but honesty.

  ‘Make love to me, Leo,’ she murmured, and the last vestige of his crumbling self-control turned to dust.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  AMY LAY ON her side, one leg draped over his, her head pillowed on his chest, her lips tilting into a smile of utter contentment and wonder as his hand stroked idly over her back.

  So that’s what the fireworks were like. The chemistry she’d dismissed. The ‘amazing’ that she’d never, ever found before.

  His lips brushed her hair, his breath warm against her scalp, and she turned her head so she could reach his mouth.

  He kissed her slowly, lazily, shifting so he was facing her, his hand sliding round her ribcage and settling on her breast, and she snuggled closer, feeling the jut of his erection against her body as her leg curled over his hip and drew him up against her.

  He groaned, deep in his chest, the vibrations resonating through his breath and into her like the faint tremors of an earthquake. ‘I want you,’ he breathed raggedly. ‘I need you—so much. Oh, Amy—’

  He rolled her onto her back, their bodies coming together instinctively, surely, and she felt the first quivers of another shattering climax ripple through her body. ‘Leo...’

  ‘I’m here. I’ve got you...’

  His head fell forward into the curve of her neck, his mouth open, his breath hot against her skin as he said her name over and over again while she fell, spiralling down and down, reaching out, clinging to him as his body caught up with hers and took them both over the edge.

  Their muted cries tangled in the soft light of dawn, their bodies blurring into one, and as their hearts slowed and their breathing quietened, he rolled to the side, taking her with him into sleep.

  * * *

  Leo lay beside her, staring at the ceiling and trying to make sense of his tangled emotions.

  All these years, he’d been so careful to preserve their friendship, to keep it platonic, to treasure the bond they had without crossing the invisible line between them. It had been so vitally important to him, his respect for Amy’s friendship so deeply ingrained that it hadn’t ever occurred to him to muddy the waters by sleeping with her. Other women had fulfilled that need for him, women who didn’t trust him or depend on him or need him, women who wanted from him only what he wanted from them. Women who weren’t Amy, or anything like Amy, because Amy was sacrosanct, untouchable.

  Well, he’d certainly touched her now, the line well and truly crossed, and there was no going back. What he didn’t know was what lay ahead, because he had nothing to offer her except the few scraps of himself that were left over from work and from caring for his daughter. And it hadn’t been enough for Lisa, so why on earth did he imagine it could be enough for Amy?

  He groaned silently.

  He should never have kissed her, never have let her lead him into her bedroom, never peeled away the flimsy barriers of their clothing and with them the protective layers of their friendship, exposing the raw need and desperate hunger that lurked beneath.

  He’d made a catastrophic mistake by doing that, but what an incredible, beautiful, exquisite mistake it had been.

  Because he loved her, in every way, without reservation, and what they’d done had felt so right, so good, so pure and simple and innocent and—just right.

  Oh, Amy. His lips moved silently on the words, his eyes drifting shut against the tears of joy and regret that welled in them. Don’t let me hurt you. Please, don’t let me hurt you.

  But he knew he would. Somehow, some time, sooner or later it would happen. And it would break his heart, as well as hers.

  * * *

  Ella woke her, the baby’s wail cutting through her dream and dragging her back to reality, and she stretched out to Leo but he was gone.

  Oh.

  She stretched and yawned and lay there for a moment waiting, sure he must have gone to her, but there was no sound from him and the baby was still crying, so she threw back the covers, found her nightdress and went to investigate.

  ‘Hello, sweetheart. Where’s your daddy?’ she murmured, lifting the baby out of the cot and cuddling her close.

  ‘I’m here. Sorry, I was in the other kitchen but there was something I couldn’t just drop. Come here, poppet.’

  He took her out of Amy’s arms, his eyes brushing hers fleetingly, warm and gentle but troubled, and she gave an inward sigh.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said, sitting down on the bed while he put Ella down on the changing mat at her feet and knelt down. ‘But don’t.’

  He shot her a sideways glance. ‘How do you know what I’m thinking?’

  ‘Because I know you inside out, Leo. You might have changed a little, grown older and wiser—’

  His snort cut her off, but she just smiled and carried on, ‘But you’re still the same over-protective person you always were, and you’re beating yourself up at the moment, taking all the blame, wishing you hadn’t done it—’

  ‘No.’ He sat back on his heels and looked up at her, his eyes burning. ‘No, Amy, you’re wrong. I’m not wishing I hadn’t done it. I just wish I could give you more, wish I could offer you a future—’

  ‘Shh.’ She leant forward and pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. He kissed her finger, drew it into his mouth, suckled it briefly before he pulled away, and she nearly whimpered.

  ‘You were saying?’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  His eyes were laughing. ‘Shh was the last thing.’

  ‘So it was.’ She smiled, and carried on. ‘Forget about the future, Leo. It’s far too soon to think about that. Forget everything except the here and now. We’ve got a few more days. Let’s just enjoy them, get to know each other better, the people we are now, and have some fun with Ella. Have a holiday—’

  ‘I have to cook.’

  ‘You have to cook one meal.’

  ‘And try out their stuff.’

  ‘You’re making excuses. I thought it was supposed to be a simple lunch?’

  He smiled crookedly. ‘I don’t do simple, apparently. I want to do something that tastes amazing.’

  ‘All your food tastes amazing.’

  He arched an eyebrow. ‘What happened to my critic?’

  ‘Oh, she’s still here, she’ll come out when necessary,’ she said with a laugh, and then sighed and threw up her hands. ‘OK. I concede. Cook, play in the kitchen, and Ella and I’ll play with you when we can, and you’ll play with us when you can, and I know when they get back you’ll be in meetings, but we’ll still have the nights.’

  She heard the suck of his indrawn breath, saw the flaring of his pupils as he straightened to look at her again, the jump of a muscle in his jaw. ‘And then?’

  She shrugged. She didn’t know. And maybe it was better that way. ‘What happens in Tuscany stays in Tuscany?’ she said softly, and their eyes held.

  ‘OK. I’ll buy that for now.’

  ‘Good. Oh, and by the way, you were amazing last night,’ she said casually, and stood up to walk past him.

  ‘So were you. Incredible.’ His arm snaked out, his hand sliding up under the short hem of her nightdress and curving round her naked bottom, drawing her in against him. He rested his head briefly against her, his breath hot on her body through the fine silk, and then he let her go, his hand sliding down her leg and leaving fire in its wake. She sat down again abruptly.

  ‘So, what are you doing today?’ she asked when she could speak, but her voice was breathy and he tilted his head back and speared her with his eyes.

  ‘I don’t know. I know what I’m doing tonight. That’s
as far as my thoughts have gone for now.’ A lazy, sexy smile lit up his face, and she felt heat shiver through her.

  ‘OK,’ she said slowly. ‘So—assuming we’re going to do something a little more practical in the meantime, shall I shower first, or do you want to?’

  ‘I’ve showered. You were sleeping the sleep of the dead,’ he told her, that lazy smile still lingering on his delectable and clever, clever mouth. ‘If you could shower now and take Ella from me so I can get on, that would be great. I’ll make us all breakfast if you like.’

  ‘I like. I definitely like. I’m starving.’

  He rolled his eyes and got to his feet, Ella cradled in one arm, and he turned Amy and pushed her gently towards the bathroom door. ‘Shoo. I’ve got a lot to do.’

  * * *

  ‘So, little Ella, what are we going to do while Daddy’s busy this morning?’ she asked. ‘A walk? That sounds like a great idea. Where shall we go? The olive groves? OK.’

  Ella grinned at her, a toothy little grin with a gurgle of laughter that made her heart swell in her chest until she thought it’d burst.

  ‘Was that funny?’ she asked, and Ella laughed again, so that by the time she was strapped in her buggy they both had the giggles.

  ‘What’s the joke?’

  He’d stuck his head out of the kitchen door, and she turned her head and grinned at him. ‘No joke. She just started laughing, and it’s really infectious.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Are you off for a walk now?’

  ‘Mmm. Ella thought we might like to go down to the olive groves.’

  ‘Did she now?’ he asked, coming over to them and crouching in front of Ella.

  ‘She did.’

  He chuckled softly, bent and kissed the baby and then, as he straightened and drew level with her, he kissed Amy. It caught her by surprise, the sure, gentle touch of his lips, the promise of heat in his eyes, the lingering warmth of his hand against her cheek.

  ‘Have fun. I’ll see you later,’ he murmured, and waggling his fingers at Ella he headed back to the kitchen to carry on.

  They had a lovely walk, the air full of the buzzing of bees and the scent of the olive blossom as they strolled along beneath the trees, and predictably the rocking motion of the buggy sent Ella to sleep, so Amy’s mind was free to wander.

  And of course it wandered straight to Leo, and stayed there.

  Not surprising, really, after last night. She’d never felt like she had then, but it wasn’t because of anything in particular that he’d done, it was just because it had been him—his touch, his kiss, his body. It had just felt—right, as if everything in the universe had fallen neatly into place when she had been in his arms.

  And today the sun was brighter, the grass greener, the birdsong louder. A smile on her face, she turned the buggy round and headed back up the hill to Leo. It was time she went back, anyway. She’d been out in the sun too long and her shoulders were burning.

  She left the buggy with Leo and went to put after-sun lotion on, and when she got back Ella was awake, so they played outside the kitchen until Leo called them in for lunch, then Amy took her back in the garden under the shade of the pergola until she yawned again.

  ‘I’m going to put her down in her cot,’ she told Leo. ‘Do you need any help?’

  He shot her a warm but distracted smile. ‘No, not really.’

  ‘I’ll sort some more photos, then,’ she said, and going up on tiptoe she kissed his cheek and left him to it.

  * * *

  She couldn’t quite believe how many pictures she’d taken of Leo.

  Leo cooking, Leo swimming, Leo laughing, frowning, smiling, winking at her cheekily—hundreds. Hundreds and hundreds. Lots of Ella, too, and the two of them together. They brought a lump to her throat.

  There were others, of the family, of the palazzo and its grounds, the olive groves, the vineyards, the chestnut woods—anywhere he’d gone and she’d been with him, she’d taken photos. And she’d lent him the camera so he could take some when she wasn’t there, and she scrolled through those with interest.

  He’d certainly have plenty to choose from for his blog, she thought with relief, so she didn’t need to feel she owed him anything, not by the time she’d added in the babysitting this week and for the eight weeks of the filming.

  Eight weeks in which they’d do—what? She’d said what happens in Tuscany stays in Tuscany, but if they were together, at home, would that still apply? Or would it be awkward?

  Was their relationship going to end when they left Italy? She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to ask him, because she wasn’t sure she’d want to hear the answer.

  Then Ella cried, and she shut down her laptop and went to get her. She was sitting up in her little cot, rubbing her eyes and wailing sleepily, and she held her arms up to Amy.

  ‘Hello, baby,’ she murmured. ‘It’s all right, I’m here.’

  She scooped her up gently and hugged her, and Ella’s little arms snaked round her neck, chubby fingers splayed against her sunburnt shoulders. The tousled little head snuggled down into the crook of Amy’s neck, and she squeezed the baby tight, deeply touched by the little one’s affection. She’d formed a real bond with her in this short time, and it would be such a wrench not to see her again every day, not to be part of her life when this was done.

  She was such a sweet child, and it was so sad that she would grow up without her mother. How would that feel? For all her gentle interference, Amy’s mother was a huge part of her life. How would it have been never to have known the security and warmth that came with being so deeply, unreservedly and unconditionally loved by the woman who’d given you life? Even the thought of it made Amy ache inside for her.

  Could she take that woman’s place? In a heartbeat.

  Would she be invited to? As his wife?

  ‘It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.’

  Oh, Leo...

  She gave a quiet sigh and changed Ella’s nappy, put her back in the little sun dress she’d been wearing in the morning, picked up her pretty, frilly sun hat and went to find him.

  There was no sign of him in the kitchen, but there was a bit of paper propped up on the table with ‘In veg garden’ scrawled on it in Leo’s bold hand.

  She plonked the sun hat on the baby’s head, went out through the open French doors onto the terrace and followed it around until she spotted him on the level below, in a sheltered spot amongst the orderly rows of vegetables.

  She went down the steps and walked towards him. He was crouched down, balancing on the balls of his feet as he studied the lush mounds of greenery all around him, and he turned and squinted up at her in the sun. It would have made a brilliant photo, but for once she didn’t have her camera.

  ‘Hi, there. Everything okay?’

  ‘Yes, fine. We just wondered what you were doing.’

  Ella lunged towards him, right on cue, and said, ‘Dadadad,’ her little face beaming, and of course he couldn’t resist that.

  ‘Ciao, mia bellisima,’ he said, his face lighting up with a smile for his little daughter. He straightened up, his hands full, and bent his head to kiss Ella, his eyes softening with a love that made Amy’s heart turn over.

  He was standing close enough that she could smell him, her nose tantalised by a slight, lingering trace of aftershave overlaid by the heady scent of warm male skin, and he turned his head and captured her mouth with a slow, lingering kiss. Then he lifted his head, and she took a step back and pointed in the direction of his hands.

  ‘What are those?’

  He glanced down. ‘Zucchini flowers—courgettes. They’re so pretty, and they’re delicious stuffed. I thought I might do them as a vegetable. Heaven knows, Lydia’s going to have enough of them,’ he said, waving a hand at the rows of rampant plants he’d bee
n inspecting.

  ‘I’m sure she’ll think it’s worth the sacrifice. So what are you going to stuff them with?’ she asked, trying to focus on something other than the scent of his skin in the warm sunshine, and the lingering taste of him on her lips.

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve got a few ideas. I’ll try them out on you this evening.’

  He picked up a basket overflowing with the things he’d raided from the garden, plucked the baby off her hip, settled her on his and headed back to the kitchen, nuzzling Ella and blowing raspberries on her neck and making her giggle.

  He was so good with her. Good enough that the loss of her mother wouldn’t matter? And what about when they got back to England and she wasn’t around any more? Would that matter to Ella? Would she even notice?

  Don’t borrow trouble.

  Amy followed them, the taut muscles of Leo’s tanned calves in easy reach as he walked up the steps in front of her. His long shorts clung to his lean hips, giving her a tantalising view of muscles that bunched and stretched with every step, and she wanted to reach out her hand and touch them, feel their warmth and solidity, test the texture of rough hair over smooth tanned skin. Taste the salt on his skin—

  Later...

  He crossed over to the kitchen, dumping the basket of vegetables on the big table. ‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked, turning his head to look at Amy over his shoulder.

  ‘Something cold?’ she said, and he pulled open the fridge and took out the spring water. ‘So what’s the plan for the rest of the afternoon?’

  He shrugged, those broad, lean shoulders shifting under the soft pale blue cotton of his shirt, the cuffs turned back to reveal strong, tanned forearms. He’d always tanned really easily, she remembered, part of his Latin heritage.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, jiggling Ella on his hip. ‘It rather depends on madam here and what she’d like to do.’