Sweet Italian Christmas: Three Christmas Romances

by Helen Scott Taylor

  "I booked a room. My name's Savino Marin."

  "Of course, let me check you in." She tapped on a computer screen tucked behind a wooden reception desk, then picked up a key with a large leather fob embossed with the business logo and moved to pick up his bag.

  He shook his head and grabbed it himself. "I'm fine."

  "Follow me please, sir."

  The young woman led him up narrow wooden stairs to a bedroom at the front of the building. The room was cozy in a flowery, country-cottage way, but the only two windows were so low he had to bend down to see out of them.

  After the woman left, he crouched, his hands on the wide windowsill, to watch the churning ocean only fifty yards away. Spray from the waves rained across the glass as breakers pounded the rocks. He loved a view of the ocean, but he preferred his friendly Mediterranean. The Atlantic was too cold and angry.

  Savino unpacked his clothes, hanging up his shirts, pants, and jacket. Then he dug the small leather box from the pocket on the side of his bag and flipped up the lid. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty. He'd visited the jeweler in Napoli that his brother, Leo, recommended, and had chosen an engagement ring for Emily—an emerald surrounded by diamonds.

  He remembered her favorite earrings had been emerald-and-diamond clusters that she'd inherited from her grandmother. He thought the ring was a similar design.

  Next time he proposed, he'd go down on one knee and do it properly. But first he had to show her he loved her and win her back. The trouble was he had no idea how to do that.

  • • •

  Emily woke with a start and stared into the darkness. It took her a few moments to realize she was sitting in the recliner in her living room. She'd been proofreading the translation of the terms and conditions of sale for an electronics company that specialized in telephone systems. The endless boring pages in French and German had put her to sleep.

  After yawning and rubbing her eyes, she switched on the light beside her and closed down the top of her laptop before moving it off the wide chair arm to the side table.

  The sound of knocking on the front door banished the last of her drowsiness. She glanced at her phone. It was about the time her cousin, Seth, often visited to check on her. She'd told him she would call if she needed help, but he insisted on being overprotective.

  Emily maneuvered her bulky body up out of the squashy chair with a sigh. If only she slept as soundly in her bed as she did in the chair. Since she returned from seeing Savino a week ago, she couldn't get comfortable at night. Her sleep was constantly disturbed by dreams of him. Add the fact she woke every time she tried to turn over, and she might as well just give up on the bed and spend all night in the chair.

  Hitching up the waist of her comfortable baggy sweatpants that always sagged down under her baby bump, Emily waddled into the hallway, switched on the light, and ran her fingers through her ruffled hair in front of the hall mirror before opening the front door.

  "Why did I bother giving you a key if you always forget it?" The words were out of Emily's mouth before she noticed it wasn't Seth. Her gaze rose from black leather shoes up denim-clad legs and a blue padded jacket to Savino's startled face.

  "Oh." Emily slapped a hand over her mouth before mumbling, "Sorry, I thought you were my cousin."

  Then it hit her that she must look a complete wreck, wearing no makeup, in her saggy sweatpants and baggy sweater. She hadn't even bothered to wash her hair for a few days. She'd been closeted in the house, finishing up the last translation projects she had to do before her due date.

  Her impulse was to shut the door in Savino's face and rush upstairs to change into something prettier and put on some makeup. But it was too late. He'd seen her at her absolute worst, yet what did it matter. Whatever they'd had was dead, and she had no intention of resurrecting it. She didn't care if he found her attractive or not.

  Except that wasn't true. Her body still hummed with awareness at the sight of him, even though she was the size of a house. She wanted him to desire her. Argh. Emily pressed her fingers to her temples to banish the confusing thoughts.

  "Hello, Emily. I've flown over to talk and straighten things out."

  "We could have done that by phone or e-mail. You didn't need to come all the way to Cornwall."

  "I'd rather discuss this face-to-face. May I come in, please?" Savino was always so polite. She'd forgotten that about him.

  "Now's not a good time."

  He frowned, lines gathering between his sleek dark eyebrows, his lips pressed together—those lips that kissed her senseless in her dreams. Her pulse jumped and skittered, and she tore her gaze away from his mouth and banished her errant thoughts.

  "Then come and have dinner with me tonight. I'm staying at the Smuggler's Haunt. It looks as though the food there is good."

  "It is. My brother owns it. He's a celebrity chef. He has his own TV series."

  "Then you'll come and dine with me tonight? Say, eight o'clock?"

  Emily pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the time. That gave her three hours to shower and make herself presentable. She'd tidy the house as well. She didn't want Savino thinking she lived in a mess.

  "Thank you. Dinner will be lovely. I'll see you at the pub at eight."

  "No, I'll come get you. I don't want you walking along this narrow road on your own in the dark."

  Emily smiled politely and said thank you. She walked along the narrow road on her own in the dark most days, but it wasn't worth arguing with him. She knew from experience that Savino enjoyed playing the chivalrous gentleman, and just for tonight, she'd let him.

  Chapter Four

  Savino backed his rental car carefully up the narrow road, squinting at the side mirrors, trying to keep the drainage ditch full to the brim with swirling water in view on his right. Wind buffeted the vehicle and rain battered the windshield so hard the wipers could barely keep the glass clear.

  No way could he expect Emily to walk to the pub in this weather, even though she only lived a hundred yards away. When he reached Emily's house, he put on the flashing hazard lights and climbed out into the downpour, running the few steps to her front door. He knocked, hoping she was ready.

  "Come in," she said as the door opened.

  Blowing out a breath, he stepped out of the downpour into the brightly lit hallway. Emily struggled into her coat as Savino took the back to help her. Then she picked up an umbrella.

  "You can't use that. It's too windy," he said. "I have the car outside."

  "It's not far." Emily frowned.

  In answer, Savino opened the front door onto the lashing rain and raised a hand in question.

  "Okay, point taken." She dropped the umbrella back on the hall table and screwed up her nose like a little girl as she peered outside.

  Emily's adorable expression prompted a cascade of memories from their time in Brussels that tugged at Savino's heart. Despite her independent nature and her international travels, she still had a vulnerable side that fired up his protective instincts.

  "Ready?" he asked, and she nodded.

  Taking her arm so she didn't slip on the wet road, he guided her to the car and opened the door. When she was settled, he rounded the vehicle, jumped in, and ran his hands back over his wet hair. He cast her a sideways glance before he switched off the internal light in the car, wishing she would smile at him and talk freely and easily like she used to.

  "I hate this awkwardness between us. We used to get along so well." Inside the darkness of the car, it was easier to say what was in his heart.

  When Emily didn't reply, he eased the vehicle slowly along the partially flooded street towards the pub car park. He drew up near the pub door and stopped.

  Emily's breath rushed out on a weary sigh. "I don't want it to be awkward between us. I just want you to understand there are boundaries now. Things between us can never be like they were in Brussels."

  "Why not?" Savino knew he was pushing her by asking such
a blunt question, but he wanted to get her talking.

  "I think you can work that one out for yourself."

  Emily pushed open the car door and he had no time to say more. He jumped out into the blustery rain and dashed around to help her out and support her elbow until she reached the shelter of the porch.

  "I'll park and be right in. Meet you in the bar," he said.

  When he'd returned the car to its parking space and dashed inside out of the rain, he took off his damp jacket and hung it on a coat rack in the entrance hall before making his way through to the bar.

  Savino paused just inside the door and took a moment to enjoy the sight of Emily. She'd taken off her coat and was leaning on the polished oak bar. Her dark hair hung loose around her shoulders, gleaming with chestnut highlights while her pale skin glowed. Her hazel eyes were alight with humor as she chatted with a blond guy in jeans and a combat jacket, sitting at the bar.

  It was clear from the way she leaned close to him and rested her hand on his arm that she knew him well. He was a good-looking guy with blue eyes and a few days' worth of stubble—the sort of look women seemed to go for these days.

  Jealousy streaked through Savino. He paced across the bar beneath wooden beams strung with gold and silver Christmas decorations.

  "Emily," he said as he approached.

  "You didn't get washed away then." She smiled at him, seeming far more relaxed now she was with this other guy. "This is my cousin Seth."

  The blond man held out a hand.

  "Nice to meet you." Savino shook hands, his brief twinge of jealousy now replaced by caution. He half expected a hostile reception from Emily's male relatives. He certainly wouldn't be impressed by a man who got his sister pregnant and then walked away from her.

  "Glad she finally told you about the baby," Seth said, rubbing a hand over his chin with a rasp of stubble. "Fathers have a right to be part of their kid's lives."

  "Seth!" Emily's cheeks flared bright red. "You should be on my side."

  "I am on your side. I'm on the child's side as well."

  Giving her cousin an angry glare, Emily straightened. "I'd like to go and find our table now, Savi."

  "Of course." He didn't like to see Emily embarrassed, but he was pleased to know one member of her family wasn't hostile to him becoming part of Emily's life.

  The same young blond woman who'd checked him in showed them to their table not far from a blazing log fire. The mantel above was draped with red, gold, and green Christmas garlands, and nearby a Christmas tree sparkled with tiny lights.

  How this year had raced by. Last Christmas his brother had met his new wife and they'd been married a few months later, just after Savino had walked away from his relationship with Emily.

  Once he got back to work and lost himself in Marin Innovations, he'd managed to push his memories of Emily to the back of his mind. Yet his feelings for her hadn't gone away, however much he pretended they had. He still cared for her as much as he had eight months ago. And he wanted her to give him a second chance so badly it hurt.

  After he pulled out her chair and then eased it closer to the table as she sat, he let his hand skim her flowing hair, relishing the silky strands against his fingers. The sensation threatened to unravel his tightly controlled emotions.

  "Emily, I'm sorry." He slid into his seat, and reached for her hand on the tabletop before she could pull away. "I understand why you're angry with me, but I swear I was trying to do what was right."

  Emily gave a little grunt of disbelief. "Please don't tell me you left me for my own good or some nonsense like that." She tugged her hand out of his grip and put it in her lap.

  As the waitress returned to take their drinks order, Savino tapped his fingers on the table, impatient to answer Emily.

  As soon as the woman left, he spoke. "I've had an unbelievably busy year, back and forth to the US. It would have been unfair to you to continue a relationship when we'd never see each other."

  Emily rolled her eyes and picked up her menu. "Be honest. You didn't want to be tied down. I understand. A man like you who travels a lot must want to keep his romantic options open."

  "That's not it at all. I'm so busy I barely have time to sleep, let alone indulge in romantic liaisons."

  "So I was an aberration?" Emily snapped accusingly.

  "You were an angel sent to show me what I was missing. I didn't understand what we had until you were gone."

  Emily stared at the table for a moment and he thought he might be getting through to her, yet when she raised her gaze, her eyes were narrowed.

  "Italians are notorious charmers. You're not going to sweet-talk me into believing I'm your lost love. You told me yourself, business comes first and you don't have time for relationships. Now I have something you want and you'll say anything to get your way."

  "I am not the cynical user you make me out to be." He slapped his palm on the table, his patience wearing thin. "How could you spend three weeks with me and not know me at all?"

  "How could you spend three weeks with me and make me think you loved me, then walk out of my life?" Emily shouted.

  There followed a moment of shocked silence when everyone in the restaurant stopped talking and turned to stare at them.

  "I did love you. I still do." Savino's heart pounded as he laid his heart bare in front of the other diners.

  Emily pressed her lips together, tears shining in her eyes. "I wish I could believe you."

  Tossing her napkin on the table, Emily shoved back her chair and struggled to her feet. "I'm sorry. I don't feel well. Please take me home."

  • • •

  Emily barely noticed the wind and rain as she dashed out to Savino's car and slid into the passenger seat.

  Spending time with him was torture—the touch of his fingers on her skin, the loving glow in his eyes when he looked at her, the intimate lowering of his voice when he shared a confidence.

  Had she made a mistake when she told him about the baby? Although Emily wanted what was best for her child, she wasn't sure she'd survive having Savino in her life when every contact with him twisted her heart.

  She had to get away from him and calm down. Her temples throbbed and heartburn made her feel nauseated. Arguing with Savino only made her feel worse. Her back had ached all day and the pain was getting worse.

  The wind buffeted Savino's car as he drove her the short distance to her cottage. She didn't wait for him to come around to help her out, but because of the extra weight and girth of her baby bump, she wasn't quick enough to escape from the car and make it to her front door before he reached her.

  As she feared, he put his arm around her back and helped her across the mini torrent that now raced along the drainage ditch outside her house. She prayed it didn't rain all night or the water level would rise further.

  "The water's high," Savino said. "Shouldn't you have some of those in case it floods?" He pointed at the sandbags heaped in front of her neighbors' doors.

  She had some in the shed in the backyard, but there was no way she could carry the heavy bags through the house and stack them here. And she wasn't about to ask Savino to do it when she wanted him gone. Once she was inside and alone, she would call Seth for help.

  Savino crowded close to Emily, sheltering her from the rain while she pushed her key in the lock and opened her front door.

  "Thanks for inviting me to dinner. Sorry I had to come home early. I'm very tired." Feeling mean, Emily stepped inside and shut the door in Savino's face. She leaned back against the wood and listened for the roar of his car engine over the noise of the wind whistling past the windows and the running water.

  When she was sure he was gone, the tension in her neck eased, but the dull ache in the small of her back continued to throb. It was odd, because she hadn't been standing up much today, and during her final trimester, that was what made her back ache.

  She pulled off her soaked coat and hung it on a hanger, then toed off her comfortable flat shoes, and placed
both in the warm cupboard under the stairs to dry. Pausing by the hall mirror, she stared at her ravaged face. Streamers of wet hair stuck to her face. Her lipstick had faded and she looked gray and tired, with blue smudges beneath her eyes.

  She definitely hadn't been at her best tonight. In fact, she hadn't been at her best all day. She'd felt restless, but unbelievably weary at the same time. On unsteady legs, she made her way to the kitchen, dried her hair on the dishtowel, then prepared a mug of peppermint tea.

  Returning to the living room to settle on the recliner, she dug her phone out of her bag and dialed Seth. The call went straight to voice mail. That was the curse of Robin's Cove—numerous phone signal black spots.

  "Hi, Seth, it's me. When you get a moment, can you pop by and stack the sandbags at my front door. There's a lot of water running down the road tonight. If it keeps raining, it might flood."

  Emily texted him as well, but she couldn't be bothered with a long message, so she just put "Call me!" Her phone was nearly out of battery, so with her last ounce of energy, she got up and attached the device to the charger on the table in the hall, then returned to the warm, cozy living room.

  Her head flopped back against the squishy leather chair and her eyelids dropped. The chair supported her back and was more comfortable than her bed. Anyway, she didn't have the energy to tackle the stairs. She grabbed the fleecy blanket off the sofa and covered herself.

  An evening of emotional turmoil, fighting her attraction to Savino, had left her drained. Much as she wanted to believe his platitudes, instinct told her that would only lead to more heartache.

  Hours later, Emily woke in the darkness. Pain gripped her middle. With a groan, she pulled up her knees until the agony eased. Was her baby coming?

  She rubbed a hand over her swollen belly. He shouldn't be born yet. He was over two weeks early, and her auntie Bea wasn't home from her vacation in Cyprus to help her.

  She screwed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth as the cramping pain gripped her belly again. How many minutes were there between contractions? Switching on the lamp on the side table, she squinted at the clock on the mantel, but the arc of light didn't quite penetrate the shadows.