by Amy Andrews
Nat listened to his plan, which sounded very reasonable. So why did it seem so…illicit?
‘I’d pay you, of course. And it would be rent free.’
Of course. Nat reeled, her brain scrambling to take in his offer. She looked at him all big and dark and handsome and completely macho Italian with the added grimness that made him heart-breakingly attractive. She didn’t know much right at this second but she did know saying yes to Alessandro Lombardi was a very stupid idea.
‘No.’
Alessandro’s brows drew together. ‘You’ve had another offer?’
Nat contemplated lying. But it really wasn’t her way. Already her cheeks were growing warm just formulating a falsehood. ‘No.’
He shrugged. ‘Then it’s settled.’
Nat looked at the haughty set to his jaw and bristled at his arrogant assumptions. ‘No.’
‘I don’t understand. What’s the problem?’
The problem was that Alessandro Lombardi was a very attractive man. The mere thought of sharing a living space with him was breathtakingly intimate and already her pulse raced at the thought. She knew enough about herself to know she had a soft heart. And he was still in love with his dead wife. And she wasn’t stupid enough to get herself embroiled in that kind of scenario again.
‘Ah,’ he said as she averted her eyes from him. ‘You worry about what people will think? You have my word I have no ulterior motive. I have no…’ He searched for the right word, looking her up and down with as much dispassion as he could muster. ‘Agenda. Your virtue is safe with me.’
Because it was. His attraction was just physical, a combination of libido and abstinence. Easily tamed.
Nat felt his gaze rake her from head to toe and obviously found her wanting. She felt about as attractive as a bug. One of the really ugly ones. It wasn’t something she was used to. ‘Gossip does not bother me.’
‘Then what?’
She stared at him exasperated. The man was obviously not used to hearing no. ‘I don’t have to account to you, Alessandro,’ she said testily, placing her packaging back on her tray and rising. She wished she had any other reason for turning him down other than his irresistible sex appeal.
But she had nothing. ‘I’m sure you’re quite unused to hearing the word no. I’m sure you just snap your fingers and women fall all over themselves to do your bidding. But I’m not one of them. The answer is no. Just plain no. No equivocations, no justifications. Just no. Get used to it.’
Alessandro couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She was right, once upon a time he had been a finger snapper but that had all ended with Camilla. She turned to leave and he reached across, grabbing her arm. ‘Wait. I’m sorry, Nathalie, I didn’t mean to be so…’
Nat shivered. She didn’t know if it was from his touch or the way her name sighed from his lips like a caress. She turned back. He seemed so perplexed and she felt her anger dissipate as quickly as it had risen. ‘Italian?’
Alessandro smiled and dropped his hand. ‘You have knowledge of Italian men.’
‘I lived in Milano for a year. A long time ago now.’
Ah, that explained her grasp of his language. ‘There was a man there?’
Nat gave a wistful smile. She’d lost her virginity in Italy. She’d been eighteen and hopelessly enamoured. ‘A boy. It didn’t last long. I was a little too…independent for him.’
He nodded. ‘So you know we’re not very good at asking for things.’
A shard of a memory made her smile broader. ‘I don’t know. I seemed to remember he was very good at asking for some things.’ It had been a heady few months.
Alessandro gave her a grim smile, inordinately jealous at the tilt of her lips and the far-away look in her eyes. ‘I meant help. Italian men like to be…men. Yes?’
Nat returned to the present. Yes. She did know that.
‘I need help with Julian. We are not…close. Since his mother died…it’s been difficult. He doesn’t let me in…he’s very unhappy.’
Nat swallowed at the raw ache in his voice. It clawed at her soft spot. ‘His mother just died, Alessandro. He’s grieving, just like you. He’s allowed to be unhappy. There would be something wrong if he wasn’t. He needs time.’
Alessandro shut his eyes briefly against the pity he saw in her gaze, her words stabbing into his soul. If only she knew. ‘I can’t bear to see him like this. He likes you, Nat. He smiles, laughs when he’s around you. I miss hearing him laugh.’
Nat felt helpless, trapped by eyes that were deep black wells of despair. She’d seen him with his son, maybe had judged him harshly. Too harshly. At least he seemed willing to try. At least he wanted to reach out to Julian.
‘Please, Nathalie. If you don’t feel you can for you, please do it for Julian.’
His plea was so heartfelt it oozed past every defence she had. She stood staring hopelessly at him, like a rabbit caught in headlights. Knowing she should run like the wind but powerless to do so.
Alessandro saw the compassion in her eyes and knew he’d touched her, could see that he’d struck a chord. ‘He needs a woman’s touch, Nat. A mother.’
His words stuck in her tightened throat, dragging her out of the compassionate quicksand she’d been sucked into. A mother? She shook her head. He was wrong. Didn’t he know that children needed their fathers too? That without their father’s love they grew up only half the person they could be? Always wondering. Always yearning.
Damn it—she’d known them for a fortnight. She didn’t owe this man anything. Or his little boy. They weren’t her responsibility. He wanted to take the easy way out? Use her so he could remain emotionally distant? So he didn’t have to try? A substitute mother? He wanted her to be his enabler? She wouldn’t. Julian needed his father, just as she had needed hers, and she would not let Alessandro shirk his duties as her father had shirked his.
He had to find a way through this himself. A way to connect with his son. One day he would thank her for it.
She took a deep breath, gathering her courage, breaking away from the spell he’d woven with his beautiful accent and his tragic gaze. ‘Children need their fathers too.’
And she turned and walked away, not looking back. She had to protect herself. Alessandro and Julian were a delightful package, right up her bleeding-heart alley. Too easy to fall for.
She’d barely recovered from her last relationship. A man who had claimed to love her yet all the while had still been entangled with his ex-wife. She knew how vulnerable her heart was and she’d be stupid to repeat that mistake again.
So she didn’t turn back, even though she could feel his gaze boring a hole between her shoulder blades. Even though her marshmallow centre blazed hot and gooey, berating her for her callousness, urging her to turn around.
It was time to protect herself for a change. Long past time.
Alessandro was more aware of her than he’d ever been when he picked Julian up from the crèche at five that afternoon. It was one of the first days he’d managed to get away on time and Nat was still there. In fact, Julian and Nat were sitting at a table doing a jigsaw puzzle.
It was hard to look at her and know that he had laid himself bare to her, taken a leap of faith, and been rejected. He supposed he was as proud as the next man, maybe prouder. He certainly didn’t make a habit of asking anyone for help. He certainly wouldn’t again.
He strode towards them, stopping a few feet away. ‘Come, Julian, it’s time to go.’
Nat’s gaze travelled all the way up to the forbidding planes of Alessandro’s regal face, etched with lines of tiredness, his beautiful mouth a bleak line. He barely acknowledged her, barely acknowledged his son. He obviously hadn’t taken her rejection well.
But she had no intention of letting him take his disappointment out on her or his son. She climbed out of the low kiddy chair and stood. ‘Julian, matey, why don’t you go and get the picture you drew for your papa today?’
He nodded a silent assent and she watched his
unhurried pace as he made his way, slump-shouldered, to his open wooden locker. No welcoming embrace for his father, no jubilant tearing around at the thought of going home. She glanced at Alessandro and caught him also tracking his son’s movements.
‘He drew a picture especially for you,’ she murmured.
Julian hadn’t seemed overly excited when she’d suggested that he draw a picture of Papa at work but, then, excited just wasn’t a state he ever seemed to inhabit. But he’d attacked the picture with vigour and had spent a long time getting it right, choosing the colours carefully, brightening up the background. And when he’d showed it to her she could see pride and accomplishment in his dark little eyes, so like the ones in front of her.
Alessandro pulled his gaze back to her. ‘That’s nice.’
Nat cringed at the politeness of his tone but refused to be swayed. She was offering him a chance to bridge the gap with his son. ‘You want to know how to connect, Alessandro?’ She kept her voice low. ‘It’s not that hard. Smile at him, touch him, praise him. Show some affection.’
Alessandro felt each suggestion slice into him. If only it was that simple. Camilla was dead because of him. Could any amount of affection make up for that? How could Julian ever forgive him? He clenched his jaw, refusing to comment. Nat could not possibly understand what they’d been through.
He was conscious of her beside him—silent, judgemental—as Julian made his way back to them. He stopped in front of them and held out the picture. Alessandro took it. He didn’t want to, he wanted to throw it aside and sweep the boy into his arms, but the memory of Julian’s stiff little stance from months ago still clawed at his gut. He couldn’t bear two rejections in one day.
Alessandro’s gaze went instead to the picture. It was done in crayon. The background was red and purple and quite cheery. The sun shone in one corner and there were trees with possums. The detail was remarkable.
He was in the foreground, nothing more than a stick figure with a stethoscope around his neck, his mouth a grim slash in his otherwise nondescript face. An adult, maybe Nathalie, had written across the bottom in neat teacher handwriting—‘My papa is a doctor. He works very hard.’
Alessandro gripped the page hard. That was it?
Nat was too busy watching Julian to notice the play of emotions across Alessandro’s face or the way the paper tore slightly beneath the vice-like grip of his fingers. The little boy’s expression was heart-breaking. He was looking up at his father with such hope, his face full of anticipation.
‘That’s wonderful, Julian,’ Alessandro forced out through the chokehold around his throat.
As Nat watched, Alessandro patted his son on the head and Julian’s face broke into a broad grin, happy for even that tiny crumb of affection. Not that Alessandro noticed, his gaze still firmly fixed to the picture.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She suddenly wished she’d let Julian do rock art so she could beat Alessandro around the head with it. What the hell was the matter with him? Couldn’t he see his kid was crying out for love, dying to be swept up and showered in his father’s adoration?
It was like her childhood all over again. Once her father had moved on to his new family it hadn’t seemed to matter what she’d done, he’d never seemed to notice. And it had hurt—man, had it hurt.
Alessandro dragged his attention away from the picture, his heart heavy. ‘Come on, Julian. Get your stuff, it’s time to go.’
Nat shook her head. That was it. She couldn’t stand watching this…farce of a relationship any longer. Alessandro was obviously clueless. Someone had to teach him how to be a father. And regardless of every flashing light blaring at her, regardless of the attraction that simmered between them, she knew she had to be the one.
She just couldn’t witness Julian’s emotional isolation one second longer. She couldn’t bear him to go through what she’d been through. It was like an arrow through her heart.
‘Can I move my stuff in on the weekend?’ she asked as Julian’s lacklustre pace obeyed his father’s instructions. ‘There isn’t much. Most of its in storage.’
Alessandro was wound so tight it took a couple of seconds for her question to penetrate the barbed wire he leashed his thoughts with. His head snapped around. Had he really just heard what he thought he’d heard? Her gaze was open, steady. It took him all of about two seconds to realise she was deadly serious.
Suddenly the tension that had been holding every muscle taut since she’d rejected him earlier, since Camilla had died, since before then even, since their hasty nuptials, relaxed. It was as if she’d taken bulk cutters and hacked through barbed-wire in one fell swoop.
Everything was going to be all right.
Alessandro nodded. ‘That would be most suitable.’ He delved into his pocket and handed her a card. ‘My number.’
Nat took it hesitantly. For someone who had just got precisely what he’d wanted, she couldn’t tell the damn difference. His gaze was carefully masked but she saw the flare in his pupils at the same time she felt a corresponding thrum in her blood as their fingers brushed.
The intensity frightened the hell out of her. ‘This is purely business,’ she said, lowering her voice. ‘Nothing but convenience.’
Alessandro didn’t have to ask her to explain. He got the subtext loud and clear. Her husky voice, the slight tremble in her finger tips, the brief widening of her eyes. He knew she was as tuned into their vibe as he was. He bowed slightly. ‘Of course.’
He opened his mouth to elaborate further, to assure her, as he had that morning, that her virtue was safe, but Julian joined them and Alessandro nodded at her briefly, said, ‘Until tomorrow,’ and bade her goodbye.
Nat looked at the card, the pads of her fingers still burning, and wondered what the hell she’s got herself into.
Nat pushed the doorbell to the enormous house on a Saturday morning that was already proving to be another scorcher. Her hair fluttered as a warm breeze whipped through the shady portico. She felt jittery but forced herself to concentrate on the wind’s caress.
The door flung open and Julian stood there, his curls bouncing slightly as his body trembled with what she could only describe as excitement. Or the nearest thing she’d ever seen in this little boy.
‘Nat!’ he exclaimed. His dark eyes, so like his father’s, literally sparkled as he shifted from foot to foot. ‘Papa told me this morning you’re coming to live here.’
Nat couldn’t help be infected by his barely suppressed enthusiasm. ‘Just until my house is finished, matey.’
He grabbed her hand and dragged her inside. ‘I hope it never finishes,’ he declared.
‘Gee, thanks.’ Nat laughed as a cloud of cool air enveloped her, instantly dispelling the heat and stroking her exposed arms and legs with icy fingers. She looked up and saw the recessed vent in the ceiling. Ducted air-conditioning. She closed her eyes against the pleasure.
Bliss—instant bliss.
Her eyes fluttered open as Julian again tugged at her hand and she looked around at the large entrance area dominated by white walls, white tiles, white carpet and a large white staircase. She could see boxes left and right in her peripheral vision.
‘Come on. I’ll show you my room. You’re right next door.’
‘Julian.’
Julian dropped her hand as Nat glanced up to find Alessandro lounging in a doorway directly to her left, a mug in hand. He was wearing a snug white T-shirt that emphasised the rich golden colour of his skin and every muscle in his chest. His trendy khaki cargo-style shorts rode low on his hips. His feet were bare.
The man had a rumpled look about him, his hair tousled, his jaw unshaven. He looked like he hadn’t slept very much and that she could relate to. She’d been awake half the night regretting her decision.
He held her gaze through thick dark lashes and she felt a rush of warmth to places that not even the air-conditioning could cool down.
‘Don’t crowd Nathalie.’
She opened
her mouth to tell him not to call her that. She couldn’t live under his roof if he was going to caress her name with his lips like that every time he addressed her. But she saw Julian’s excitement ebb and decided to drop it. For now.
‘I would love to see your room. Then I have a surprise for you.’
Julian smiled at her and grabbed her hand again, pulling her towards the ugly monolith that passed as a staircase. She could feel Alessandro’s eyes on her as they ascended and forced herself to walk, not run.
Alessandro tracked her path up. She was wearing her standard attire of shorts and T-shirt. Neither were particularly risqué. The mocha shorts came to mid-thigh, the T-shirt was neither low cut or excessively clingy. But there was something about the sway of her hips and the bob of her ponytail that tightened his groin.
Hell. He pushed off the wall and headed straight for the coffee pot.
Nat couldn’t believe the clinical wasteland Julian and Alessandro lived in. It was all white—everywhere she looked—and littered with unpacked boxes. Most of the five upstairs bedrooms, two lounge areas and what she presumed was a study were practically bare—except for a few essential pieces of furniture and, of course, the ever-present boxes.
Julian’s room wasn’t much better, with a bed, a bedside table with a lamp and a couple of books spread on the floor. There was no colour, no bright quilt or curtains. In fact, there hadn’t even been any curtains hung at all. Which made the white of the room even starker as the bright sunlight pushed through the glass.
Maybe Alessandro’s wife had been one of those minimalist freaks?
She must have betrayed her feelings because Julian said, ‘We haven’t got round to unpacking yet. Papa’s been very busy.’
Nat’s heart nearly broke at the defensive tone and his worried frown. She gave him a bright smile. ‘That’s okay. I’m here now. I can help with that stuff.’
Julian brightened. ‘Your room is next door.’
They went in and she plastered a huge smile on her face as Julian looked at her for any signs of dislike. The room, like Julian’s, had a bed and a bedside table. No curtains. But it did have a vent in the middle of the ceiling and it was blissfully cool. ‘It’s perfect,’ she said.
