Sweet Italian Christmas: Three Christmas Romances

by Helen Scott Taylor

In a trance, Emily found a seat at the back and sat down, a potent mix of anxiety and anticipation making her light-headed.

  Could she do this? Could she walk up to this man who'd used her and broken her heart and tell him he was the father of her baby?

  • • •

  As the crowd applauded Savino's presentation on visual recognition in robotics, he'd never felt more energized and optimistic. Over the last year, Marin Innovations had become even more successful. His company was now hailed as a leader in its field. Collaborating with his brilliant cousin from the US had been an inspiration.

  He shook Francisco's hand. "A success, I think."

  "You are so right." Francisco grinned.

  Savino pulled off the headset, handed it to a sound tech, and followed Francisco down the three steps off the stage. Some of the audience crowded around them, asking questions. For a while, both men were busy talking and lining up further meetings with prospective customers.

  As the crowd thinned, a middle-aged man in a brown suit approached. "Excuse me," he said in heavily accented English. He asked a question in a combination of English and German.

  Savino's English was excellent, his French not too bad. But he knew only a few words of German, and Francisco didn't speak it either.

  "I'm sorry. I don't understand the question," he replied, frustrated when he would love to make his first sale in Germany. The market potential there was huge.

  "Would you like me to interpret for you?" The softly spoken female voice hit Savino's senses like a thunderclap.

  "Emily?" He pivoted towards the speaker, his pulse racing as if he'd just come out of the gym.

  Her dark hair curved around her heart-shaped face while her thick-lashed hazel eyes were as enticing as ever. The sight of her sucked the air from his lungs, leaving him speechless.

  "Yes, that would be great," Francisco said, stepping forward.

  Emily spoke to the German, then introduced him and proceeded to translate the man's questions into English and Italian.

  The meaning of the words grazed across Savino's awareness without penetrating his thoughts. All he could do was stare at Emily. His Emily.

  She was pregnant, her belly huge. She must be near her due date, and it was eight months and two days since the morning he last saw her. The very fact she was here could mean only one thing. She was about to have his baby.

  His heart thundered in his ears, drowning out the ambient noise. Walking away from her after their three unforgettable weeks together had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Not a day had gone by when he didn't think about her. If circumstances had been different, he'd have asked her to marry him.

  The problem was he worked every hour God sent. He'd spent the next four months back and forth between Italy and the US, persuading Francisco to apply his expertise to Marin Enterprises rather than academic research. How could he have expected Emily to wait around for him when he had no time for anything but business?

  By walking away, he'd thought he was doing the right thing, but Emily's pregnancy changed everything.

  Chapter Two

  Emily acknowledged the German's thanks and turned back to Savino and his good-looking associate, whose name badge read Francisco Marin. There was a noticeable family resemblance, but Francisco spoke with an American accent. He had a flirtatious glint in his eyes as he thanked Emily for her assistance. She tried to be polite, but all her attention was fixed on Savino.

  Since she'd approached, Savino hadn't said a word. He gaped at her, shock clear on his face. Maybe coming here hadn't been a good idea. Her cousin Seth had suggested she inform Savino of the pregnancy by phone, but she'd wanted to tell him in person.

  "Are you going to say something, Savi?"

  "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just…"

  "Speechless," Francisco chipped in with a chuckle.

  That seemed to rouse Savino from his trance. "I think we need to talk in private. Let's go to the VIP coffee lounge. It'll be quieter there."

  He reached to put his hand on her back, but she sidestepped to avoid his touch. She needed to keep her distance both mentally and physically. It would be so easy to slip back into the familiar intimacy they'd shared, and she couldn't risk that.

  He led her out of the lecture theater, through a door into a private corridor, and entered a small room. A coffee machine, rows of clean cups and saucers, and other refreshments and snacks filled a table along the far side. One other person was there, a man sitting in a corner, sipping a can of soda as he tapped on a tablet device.

  "Weak coffee, lots of milk and no sugar?" Savino asked, remembering how she liked her coffee English style, as he used to joke.

  Emily shook her head. "Peppermint tea, please. I haven't been able to drink coffee since the first few months of my pregnancy. The taste makes me nauseated." She didn't like the smell of coffee much either, but she could put up with that if she had to.

  Emily sat down and Savino placed their cups on the table, then he turned his chair to face her, their knees almost touching. His deep brown gaze searched her face until she had to avert her eyes. She'd forgotten how he behaved when they were together, the way he gave her all his attention as though nothing else existed.

  "You're going to have my baby." It was a statement, not a question. At least he hadn't argued about paternity.

  "He's due on Christmas Day."

  Savino's eyes widened, his gaze arrested. "He?"

  "They told me the sex when I had my last scan." Emily opened her handbag and withdrew the envelope that contained two photographs of the scan image—the first photos of her baby boy.

  She passed the envelope across and watched as Savino slipped out the images and stared at the blurry black-and-white pictures. He whispered something in Italian, and she strained to hear but couldn't.

  Then he raised his gaze to her. "My son. I can't believe it."

  He offered the photos back. "You can keep one of them." Emily had thought long and hard about parting with one of her precious photos, but soon she'd have her baby boy in her arms. As long as she had one picture of the scan, it was only fair that Savino should have the other.

  "Are you sure?" He stared at the picture, and she thought there might be tears in his eyes.

  Her own throat tightened in sympathy, imagining what a shock this must be for him. But she must stay strong and keep her distance. Savino had stolen her heart so easily the last time they were together; she couldn't relax her guard for a moment. She would do the best for her baby boy, but she was not about to set herself up for endless heartache by falling back into Savino's arms.

  Savino carefully slid the image into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket, then leaned forward and ran a finger across her knee, sending a streak of longing through her. "Thank you, Em. I don't deserve such consideration."

  No, you don't after the way you walked away and broke my heart, she thought. But the words that came out of her mouth were more forgiving. "You didn't know I was pregnant."

  "I'm sorry about the pregnancy. I thought we were careful."

  Emily raised a palm to halt his words before he started apologizing for the wonderful three weeks they'd spent together. They had been the best three weeks of her life. It would torture her if he said they were a mistake he regretted.

  "There's nothing to be sorry for. I can't wait to have my baby." After her initial shock at discovering she was pregnant, she'd been over the moon. To have a son was her dream come true. Her only regret was that she wouldn't live with her baby's father, and her little boy would miss out on regular day-to-day contact with him. But at least Savino seemed open to the idea of being a father.

  "From your reaction, I'm guessing you want to be part of my son's life?"

  Savino's eyes narrowed. "Of course I want to be part of our son's life. I'll fulfill my responsibilities and be a good papa." He frowned thoughtfully. "We still have three weeks before the birth. I suggest we get married immediately."

  "What?" Shock ricocheted throug
h Emily, jolting her in her seat. Her reaction must have startled her baby. He kicked up under her diaphragm, knocking the breath from her and causing her to gasp in pain.

  Savino was at her side in a moment, crouching with his arm around her shoulders, his hand stroking her baby bump. "What is it? Are you having the baby?"

  "No." Emily choked out a strangled laugh as she recovered. "He kicked me in a tender spot, that's all. He does this sometimes, and it always gives me a shock."

  Savino was so close, his face mere inches from hers, his fingertips caressing her neck, the delicious smell of his spicy aftershave filling her senses. She tried to lean back to give herself some space, but there was nowhere to go.

  Savino swamped her senses like he had eight months ago. When she was around him, she couldn't think straight.

  "I'm not marrying you," she blurted, struggling up from the chair to put some distance between them before she did something crazy like kiss him.

  "But our son will need his father."

  Emily clutched her coat closed, as if that might protect her from this charismatic man. "You can still be his father. You're free to visit, and when he's older he can stay with you."

  "No. That's not enough. I want to be a proper father, a full-time father."

  "I won't marry you, Savi." No way would she spend the rest of her life with a man who only married her to be with his son. It would be heartbreaking to love him so much and know he didn't love her.

  Opening her purse, Emily pulled out a business card listing her address and phone number. She tossed it on the table beside her untouched tea.

  "You can call me after Christmas and arrange to come and see our baby." Trembling with tightly controlled emotion, she walked away, trying hard to keep her shoulders back and not to waddle.

  • • •

  Savino stood rooted to the spot, his body rigid with shock as the door to the coffee lounge slammed shut behind Emily.

  His heart contracted with pain at the way she'd pulled away from his touch. He still loved her as much as the moment he'd kissed her good-bye in that hotel room in Brussels, but she obviously had no feelings left for him.

  "You need to rethink your proposal technique, mate."

  The words from the man in the corner of the room jolted Savino back to the present. He'd forgotten there was anyone here to witness his embarrassment. But the guy was right.

  Emily was a strong, independent woman who'd traveled the world as an interpreter. Because she was expecting a baby didn't mean she would suddenly become helpless and want to be looked after. He needed a second chance to talk to her and work things out.

  Grabbing her business card off the table, he stuffed it in his jacket pocket and hurried to the door.

  "I recommend flowers, chocolates, and going down on bended knee," the man in the corner said. "And a ring might be a good idea."

  As Savino passed into the hall outside, he slapped the heel of his hand on his forehead. A ring. Of course. What a fool he'd been to rush into a marriage proposal so unprepared.

  How could he be levelheaded and astute in business, yet so completely useless when it came to relationships? He needed to calm down and think straight. From the moment he'd met Emily, she'd had the power to muddle his thoughts and make him act like a hormonal teenager. That hadn't changed.

  He burst into the huge convention hall and threw himself into the horde of people, pushing and sidestepping as he hurried through the crowd. "Excuse me, please. Coming through."

  It was slow going, but eventually he reached the ticket stations near the entrance. As there were only a few hours left on the final day of Future Tech, most of the foot traffic in the entryway was heading out.

  Savino wandered to and fro, garnering irritated glances as he got in the way of the weary attendees trying to reach the exit. This was the only way out, so Emily would have to come through here, but there was no sign of her.

  Had he missed her? Savino glanced at his watch. How long had it been since they parted? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Emily wasn't very tall and being pregnant, surely she couldn't negotiate her way through the crowd as fast as he had.

  Was she alone or had someone come with her? She lived in Cornwall. That was at least five hours' drive from here. He prayed she hadn't driven herself because snow was forecast and the roads in England were icy. What if she went into labor early while she was driving fast on the motorway? The pain might make her crash. Sweat prickled down his back, and he scrubbed a hand over his face.

  He pushed through the bank of glass doors to the courtyard outside. Bitter wind whipped his tie and cut into him. Buttoning his jacket, he circled the area, gazing around, searching every face.

  Then he saw her, a short figure huddled into her navy overcoat with pleats in the front to accommodate her expanded belly. She had her hands in her pockets and her head down.

  Quickly sidestepping a group of people, Savino ran towards her, not caring that everyone was staring at him.

  "Emily, wait."

  Her head came up sharply. Her eyes were wide, wary, and red rimmed. She'd been crying. Sharp pain stabbed Savino's heart. He reached to pull her into his arms to comfort her, but she stumbled back to stay out of reach and bumped into a woman behind her.

  "Sorry," she muttered over her shoulder.

  "Please stay and talk with me. I'd like to start over. I shouldn't have sprung a marriage proposal on you like that after we haven't seen each other for so long."

  The wind gusted, tossing bits of trash around their feet.

  "You can talk all you like, but it won't change my decision. I'm not going to marry you, Savi. I want you to be a father to our baby, that's all. You made it perfectly clear you didn't want a relationship with me when we broke up. Let's just leave it that way, shall we?"

  A taxi drew up in the road nearby and the driver climbed out. "Ms. Trevathan," he shouted.

  "I'm here." Emily raised a hand to attract the man's attention, then turned to go.

  With a spurt of desperation, Savino pulled a business card from the silver case in his pocket and held it out.

  "Take this. If you need help or anything, just call my mobile phone. Day or night."

  "I won't need you. I have family." Despite her words, she took his card and put it in her handbag.

  "I'd like to be with you when my son is born." The desperate words were out before Savino had time to consider them.

  Emily cast him a disbelieving glance as the taxi driver opened the door for her. Then she climbed in without saying another word, and the vehicle drove away.

  Chapter Three

  Savino stopped the luxury sports car he'd rented at the Bristol airport and stared along the single-lane road the GPS was directing him to take. The route was barely wide enough for the car—as narrow as the roads that transected the historic heart of his home city of Napoli.

  He'd never ventured into the depths of the English countryside before, and he hadn't expected it to be this isolated. Did Emily really live way out here in the middle of nowhere? When he'd met her in Brussels, she'd seemed like a city girl.

  Wincing as small branches protruding from the banks beside the road scraped like fingernails down the side of his car, he maneuvered along the narrow byway, squinting through the windshield in the gathering dusk.

  The road crested a hill and the view opened out. Rolling countryside stretched away on both sides, tiny fields delineated by stone walls and banks, with little copses of trees dotted about, their bare branches dancing in the wind.

  Ahead of him, the road wandered in a serpentine route down the hill to a cluster of whitewashed cottages and a small bay. Farther on, the Atlantic Ocean churned with huge white-topped waves.

  Uncertainty tingled along his nerves. Was he doing the right thing by following Emily? After the convention, he'd flown home for a week to clear his desk and brief Francisco on what needed to be handled before the Christmas break. Then he'd come back to the UK, determined to win Emily back.

  Sav
ino let the car roll down the hill towards the village. Glancing around, he examined the small cottages tucked into hollows in the land. So this was Robin's Cove, where Emily had grown up.

  "You have arrived at your destination," the GPS announced.

  Savino stopped the car and peered at a row of terraced stone cottages with slate roofs. Emily's home, number twelve, was in the middle of the row with a green front door and ceramic pots on either side containing glossy green evergreen shrubs with red berries.

  There was no room to park a car outside without blocking the road. Anyway, Savino wanted to gather his thoughts before he saw Emily again.

  A glance at his watch revealed it was nearly three in the afternoon. Heavy gray clouds hung over the area, hastening twilight. It would be dark soon. He shifted the car into gear and headed on down the road, wary of the drop to a gushing drainage ditch at the side.

  He'd booked to stay at the Smuggler's Haunt, the only place with rooms to rent in Robin's Cove. The pub was at the end of the road at the head of the curve of pebbly beach.

  Savino parked in the car park, and climbed out. Wind blasted off the ocean, buffeting him back a step. He tasted salt as an arc of fine sea spray hit the wall around the car park. It was as if nature itself was telling him to go home and leave Emily alone. Grabbing his bag, he locked the car and hurried into the pub.

  Inside, the Smuggler's Haunt was old-fashioned—all dark wood and shiny brass. On the wall hung framed black-and-white photographs of fishermen standing by boats, and old knotted-rope nets and buoys hung from the beams.

  The place appeared to be well maintained and clean with little touches like fresh flowers and top-quality carpeting that suggested this was a thriving business, despite its remote location.

  A wonderful smell of cooking filled the entrance hall, and his stomach rumbled. It felt like a long time since he'd eaten breakfast on the covered terrace of his villa near Amalfi, overlooking the Mediterranean. Perhaps he could invite Emily to dine at the pub with him that night?

  A young woman dressed in a long black apron with the pub name across the front came through a door. "Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?"