Best Friend to Wife and Mother?

by Caroline Anderson

  ‘I’m happy to look after her, if you want,’ Amy volunteered, but he shook his head.

  ‘No, it’s okay, I haven’t seen her all day and I’m going to need you tomorrow morning so I’m keeping you sweet for that,’ he said with a grin. He unscrewed the bottle and poured two glasses of fizzy water, added a slice of lime to each and handed her one. ‘Has she had her bottle?’ he asked, and Amy shook her head.

  ‘No, but it’s in the fridge there. I thought I’d come and find you first, see what you’re doing.’

  ‘This and that.’ He took the bottle out, hooked out a chair with his foot and sat down with the baby. ‘So how have you been getting on?’ he asked as he gave Ella her bottle. ‘Did you look at the photos?’

  ‘Yes. There are some really good ones that’ll be great for your blog. They’re on my laptop. There’s a ton of dross as well, of course, but you can have a look later.’

  ‘I’d love to, but probably not until after tomorrow. I’ve got enough on at the moment.’ He gave her a wry grin. ‘I hate to ask, but would you be able to keep an eye on Ella for a while later on so I can do some more prep? You can stay in here so she can see me, but I could just do with an hour or two to make up a marinade and get some risotto under way. I’ll put her to bed.’

  ‘It’s why I’m here, Leo.’

  His mouth softened into a smile. ‘So you keep saying. I tell you what, how about a swim first?’

  * * *

  She wore the bikini, and when Ella grabbed the top again, he just smiled and gently disentangled the baby’s fingers, which of course involved his own getting nicely into the mix.

  He eased Ella away, met Amy’s eyes and winked at her, and she blushed, which made him laugh softly.

  ‘Later,’ he promised, and her mouth opened a fraction and then curved into a smile that could have threatened his sanity if he hadn’t already lost it.

  And before he knew what she was doing, she slipped beneath the surface and swam towards him, nudging his legs apart with her hands before twisting through them like a mermaid. She’d done it before, hundreds of times when they were growing up, but not now, when he was so aware of the brush of her body against his.

  ‘Boo!’ she said, surfacing right behind him, and Ella squealed with laughter, so she did it again, and again, and again, and every time her body slid past his, grazing intimately against him until he called a halt.

  ‘Right, enough. I need to get on.’

  ‘We’ll come out, too.’

  She went first, reaching down to take Ella from his arms and treating him to the soft, lush swell of her breasts threatening to escape from the bikini that was proving so rewarding.

  Never mind mermaid. She was a siren, luring him onto the rocks, and tonight was so far away...

  * * *

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’

  ‘Positive,’ she said patiently. ‘Leave her with me and go and make a start, and I’ll change her nappy and then we’ll follow you. I can take photos of you cooking, and give you the benefit of my considerable expertise as a guinea pig while I play with her. And at least that way I’ll get something to eat, because I know what you’re like when you start something like this. You get totally focussed and forget everything else, and supper will just go out of the window.’

  He smiled, as he was meant to, and went.

  * * *

  ‘So what’s that you’re doing now?’ she asked, carrying Ella into the kitchen a few minutes later and peering over Leo’s shoulder.

  ‘Broad bean, mint and pecorino risotto—it’s the stuffing for the zucchini flowers, a variation on what we had last night.’ He stuck his finger into the pan, scooped out a dollop and held it out to her lips. ‘Here. Try it.’

  He’d done it so many times before, and yet this time seemed so different. She opened her mouth, drew his finger into it and curled her tongue around the tip, sucking the delicious, creamy risotto from it without ever losing eye contact.

  ‘Mmm. Yummy. You’ve put more mint in it. So are they going to be cold or hot?’ she asked.

  Leo hauled in a slow, quiet breath and tried to concentrate on anything other than the sweet warmth of Amy’s mouth, the curl of her tongue against his finger, the gentle suction as she’d drawn the risotto into her mouth all too quickly. He turned away to check the seasoning of the risotto and gave his body a moment to calm down.

  ‘Warm. Things taste better that way, often, and they need to be deep fried in tempura batter and served pretty much immediately, which rather dictates it.’

  ‘They’d go well with the lamb,’ she suggested, and he nodded.

  ‘They would. And I could cook them at the last moment when everything else was ready to go. Here, try this. I’ve been playing with the topping for the bruschetta.’

  He handed her a dollop—on a spoon, this time, since he really couldn’t afford to get that distracted, but it was nearly as bad. ‘OK?’

  ‘Lovely. Really tasty. So what do you want me to photograph?’

  He shrugged, his shoulders shifting under the shirt, drawing her attention yet again to his body. ‘Anything you like. You tell me, you’re the photographer.’

  ‘I don’t know. What are you doing now?’ she asked, casting around for something to take her mind off his body, because even framing the shots for the camera wasn’t helping. If anything, it was making it worse because it meant focussing on him and she was having trouble focussing on anything else.

  ‘Marinade for the mutton.’ He’d set the vegetables on one side and was pounding something with a pestle and mortar, grinding garlic and herbs together with a slosh of olive oil and a crunch of salt and pepper, his muscles flexing as he worked. ‘I’ll smoosh it all over the meat, leave it till later and put it in the oven overnight so I can shred it and shape it first thing in the morning.’

  He stopped pounding, to her relief, pulled out the shoulder of mutton from the fridge, stabbed it all over with a knife and smeared—no, smooshed, whatever kind of a word that was—the contents of the bowl all over the outside of the meat, dropped it back into the oven tray on top of the chopped vegetables, wrapped it in foil and stuck it back in the fridge.

  ‘Right. Mint jelly.’

  She watched him while Ella was playing contentedly with some stacking blocks, clicking away on the camera to record it all for his blog. Most of the shots were probably underexposed, but she didn’t have any lights or reflectors so she was relying on the natural light spilling in through the open French doors to the terrace, and the under-cupboard lights that flooded the work area with a soft, golden light that worked wonders with his olive skin.

  And as a perk, of course, she got to study him in excruciatingly minute detail.

  The mint jelly setting in the fridge, he moved on, pulling together the ingredients for a dessert that made her drool just watching him.

  ‘Tell me it’s going to be your panna cotta?’

  He threw her a grin over his shoulder. ‘Was there a choice?’

  Of course not. It was one of his signature dishes, and she’d never eaten a better one anywhere. Technically difficult to produce reliably—or for her to produce reliably, at any rate; she doubted Leo had any problems with it—he was making it with the ease of long practice, talking as he worked, and he was a joy to watch. But then, he was always a joy to watch...

  ‘I’m going to turn them out and serve them with a compote of freshly sliced home-grown strawberries in their cousin’s balsamic vinegar. I’m hoping I can talk them into letting me have a few bottles a year. It’s amazing. It’s almost a syrup, and it’s—oh, it’s just lovely with fruit. Beautiful. Works perfectly with it. I’ll make a few spares. If you’re really good, I’ll give you one later.’

  ‘I’ll be really, really good,’ she vowed, and he turned, holding her eyes for a second or two.
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  ‘Is that a promise?’ he murmured, and it turned her legs to mush.

  He finished the panna cotta, poured it carefully into the moulds and slipped the tray into the fridge.

  ‘This kitchen’s a joy to work in,’ he said, and turned back to her with a grin that wiped the promise of dessert right off the menu and made her think of something much, much sweeter, powerful enough to blow her composure right apart.

  And his, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by. Which was not a good idea when he was busy.

  ‘I’ll take Ella out in the garden in the shade. She’s bored, and she loves the little sandpit.’

  And scooping up the baby, she headed for the French doors to give him space.

  * * *

  Leo watched her go, let his breath out on a long sigh and braced his arms on the worktop. Why was he suddenly so intensely aware of her, after so many years? What was it that had changed for them? She wasn’t a child any more, not by a long shot, but she’d been a woman for some considerable time, and it had taken this long for the change to register on his Richter scale.

  And how.

  But it wasn’t for long. They only had a few more days here in Tuscany, by which time he would have sealed the deal with the Valtieri brothers.

  Because he was going to. He’d decided that on the first evening, but he’d needed to know more about them and what they produced. And now he did, they could sort out the small print and he could go home.

  He just had no idea where that would leave him and Amy.

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘SO I WAS RIGHT, then,’ she said, trying to keep it light. ‘No supper.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t starve.’

  ‘I didn’t think I would for a moment, but I have no doubt I’ll have to sing for it.’

  He gave a soft huff of laughter and carried on fiddling at the stove. ‘Did she settle all right?’

  ‘Yes, she’s fine.’

  ‘Good. Thanks. Here, try this.’

  He put some things on a plate and set it on the table in front of her. Several slices of bruschetta—with the new topping, she guessed—and a couple of the stuffed zucchini flowers, dipped in the most delicate batter and briskly deep fried, then drained and drizzled in more of the heavenly olive oil.

  ‘Try the bruschetta. I think this topping works better.’

  She picked it up and sank her teeth into it, and sighed as the flavours exploded on her tongue. ‘Gorgeous,’ she mumbled, and looked up and caught his cocky grin.

  ‘Did you expect anything less?’ he said, with a lazy smile that dimpled his right cheek and an oh-so-Italian shrug that nearly unravelled her brain. ‘Try the zucchini flowers. I tweaked the risotto filling again. Here—rinse your mouth first.’

  She obediently drank some of the sparkling water he passed her, then bit the end off one of the little golden parcels and groaned. ‘Mmm. Yummy. Mintier?’

  He nodded. ‘I thought it might work with the main course as you suggested, instead of potatoes.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve cooked any of the meat yet, have you, so we can try them together?’ she said hopefully, and he chuckled.

  ‘Not a prayer. It’s going to take hours.’

  He picked up the second zucchini flower and bit into it, and a little ooze of the risotto filling caught on his lip and she leant over, hooked her hand around the back of his neck to hold him still and captured it with her tongue.

  He swore softly in Italian and shook his head at her.

  ‘How am I supposed to concentrate now?’ he grumbled, putting the rest of it in his mouth, but he was smiling as he took the plate and slid it into the dishwasher.

  ‘I don’t suppose the panna cotta’s set yet?’

  ‘You want some, I take it?’

  ‘Absolutely. With the strawberries. And the balsamic. I want the whole deal. A girl has to eat. And you wanted my terrifying honesty, anyway.’

  He sighed and rolled his eyes, muttering something about demanding women, and she smiled. It was just like old times, but not, because now there was something new to add to the mix, and it just made it even better.

  She propped her elbows on the table and watched as he dipped the mould briefly in hot water, tipped the panna cotta out, spooned some sliced strawberries in dark syrup over the edge and decorated it with a mint leaf and a dust of vanilla icing sugar, and then shoved the plate in front of her, his spoon poised.

  ‘I have to share it?’ she joked, and then nearly whimpered as he scooped some up and held it to her lips.

  It quivered gently, soft and luscious, the strawberries smelling of summer. She let it melt on her tongue—the sweet, the sour, the sharp, the...fiery?—and let her breath out slowly. ‘Oh, wow. That’s different. What’s it got in it?’

  ‘Pink peppercorns. Just a touch, to give it depth and warmth, and mint again for freshness. So what do you think of their balsamic? Good, isn’t it?’

  ‘Lovely. Beautiful. The whole thing’s gorgeous.’ She took the spoon from him and scooped up another dollop and felt it slide down her throat, cool and creamy and delicious, with a touch of lingering warmth from the pink peppercorns and the fresh richness of the ripe strawberries soaked in the glorious balsamic vinegar waking up every one of her taste buds. She groaned softly, opened her eyes again and met Leo’s eyes.

  And something happened. Some subtle shift, a hitch of breath, a flare of his pupils, and she felt as if she’d been struck by lightning.

  For long seconds they froze, trapped in the moment, as if the clocks had stopped and everything was suspended in time. And then he leant in and kissed her, his mouth cool and sweet from the panna cotta, a touch of heat that lingered until he eased away and broke the contact.

  ‘OK, I’m happy with that. Happy with all of it, so that’s it for the testing,’ he said, backing away, his voice a little rough and matter-of-fact, and if it hadn’t been for the heat in his eyes she would have thought she’d done something wrong

  ‘Can I give you a hand to clear up?’

  ‘No, you’re fine. I’ll do it. I’ve got more mess to make before I’m done.’

  ‘Shall I wait up for you?’

  He shook his head, and a slow smile burned in his eyes. ‘No. You go to bed. I’ll come and find you.’

  She hadn’t even made it to the bedroom before he followed her in. ‘I thought you had more to do?’ she said softly.

  ‘It’ll keep. I have more pressing concerns right now,’ he murmured, and tugged her gently into his arms.

  * * *

  She heard him get up, long before the sun rose, when the sky was streaked with pink and the air was filled with birdsong. She propped herself up on one elbow and groped for her phone, checking the time.

  Five thirty.

  He must be mad. Or driven. This meal was important to him, a chance to showcase his skills to the Valtieri team, and of course he was driven. There was a lot riding on it, and he wasn’t going to derail it just because they’d fallen into an unscheduled affair. Even if it was amazing.

  At least she didn’t have to get up yet. She could sneak another hour, at a pinch, before Ella woke up. She flopped back onto the pillow and closed her eyes again, and the next thing she was aware of was the sound of knocking, then something being put down on her bedside table. She prised her eyes open and Leo’s face swam into view.

  ‘Tea,’ he said economically, his voice gruff with lack of sleep. ‘Ella’s up and I need to get on. Can I drag you out of bed?’

  She blinked to clear her eyes. ‘Time?’

  ‘Nearly seven.’

  Rats. ‘Give me five minutes,’ she mumbled, and closed her eyes again. Mistake. She felt a wet trail across her forehead and opened them again to see Leo dipping his finger in her water glass again.
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br />   ‘Noooo,’ she moaned, and forced herself to sit up. ‘You’re such a bully.’

  His smile was strained, his eyes tired. ‘Sorry,’ he said, sounding utterly unrepentant. ‘I really need you. Five minutes,’ he repeated firmly, and went out, closing the door softly behind himself.

  She looked longingly at the pillows, then sighed, shoved them up against the headboard and shuffled up the bed. Five minutes, indeed. She groped for the mug, took a sip, then a swallow, and gradually the fog cleared from her brain. She had to get up. Now. Before temptation overwhelmed her and she slithered back down under the covers.

  With Leo?

  ‘Don’t distract him,’ she growled, and dumped the empty mug down and threw off the covers, just as Leo came back in.

  His eyes flicked to her legs, then up again, and he zoomed in for a hot, quick kiss. ‘Just checking you weren’t asleep again.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she said unnecessarily, trying not to smile. ‘Shut the door on your way out and go back to work.’

  He backed out, pulling it to as he went. ‘I’m taking Ella to the kitchen to give her breakfast while I carry on. That should give you time for a shower.’

  The latch clicked, and she sighed and went over to the French doors and stared out at the valley.

  Today was a big day for him, but it was also nearly the end of their stay. She knew Leo needed far more from her than a random fumble when he was too tired to think straight, but if she was going to be there for him for the next few weeks at least, to help him through the disastrous fallout from his doomed marriage, then her feelings and his had to remain on an even keel, which meant playing it light and not letting herself take it too seriously.

  And certainly not distracting him when he needed to work, even if it killed her.

  She showered rapidly and pulled her clothes on before heading for the kitchen. It was still only half past seven. How on earth was he functioning on so little sleep?

  She found them in the kitchen, Ella mashing a soldier of toast all over the tray of the high chair, Leo doing something fast and dextrous with a knife and a rack of lamb. There was a pile of zucchini flowers in the middle of the table, and the air was rich with promise.