Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny

by Amy Andrews

  Her eyes flew to his, startled by the occurrence. His gaze had already sought it out, tracking the slow trek of the sauce as it unhurriedly made its way south. He licked his lips, involuntarily, she thought as his heated look enveloped her in a raging stupor.

  All she could do was watch as he openly stared. Her nipples were the only things moving, scrunching as his hot gaze lapped fire at her skin.

  Alessandro could no more have ignored the dictates of his body than flown to the moon. He wanted to taste it, taste her, so badly he couldn’t think of anything else. ‘I’m good with ingredients. Let me try.’

  His voice was like sludge oozing over her and she didn’t stop him, just shut her eyes as his head lowered and his mouth closed over the swell of her breast as his tongue lapped at the sauce.

  Someone groaned. Was it her? Or him? Looking down at his dark head, she had an insane urge to bury her fingers in his hair, hold him there. Arch her back. Beg for more.

  Alessandro felt a strange spiralling out of control as Nat’s ripe flesh almost flowered beneath his tongue as he ran lazy strokes over the tempting swell. She tasted sweet and spicy and very addictive. Elicit. Heady.

  ‘Nat, is it okay if Flo goes outside?’

  Alessandro lifted his head as if he’d been zapped with a cattle prod, moving away a few paces as Julian’s voice called to them from the other room. What the hell was wrong with him? He had his head in the cleavage of someone he barely knew when his wife hadn’t even been dead a year.

  Julian’s mother.

  ‘Sure it is,’ Nat called. She’d spun back to face the cook top, desperately trying to ignore how her skin still flamed where Alessandro’s mouth had been.

  Julian entered the kitchen, oblivious to the ragged-breath adults, Flo in his arms. ‘She ate up all her fish and milk but I think she wants to play.’

  Nat turned to face him, plastering a smile over the confusion storming her body. ‘Of course she does. Flo loves the great outdoors.’

  Alessandro gripped the bench at her blatantly husky tone. ‘Not too long, Julian,’ he said tersely, distracted by his stupidity. ‘Dinner isn’t far away.’

  Nat saw the confusion in Julian’s eyes at his father’s harsh tone and watched as he bit into his bottom lip. ‘It’s okay,’ she said gently. ‘I’ll call you when it’s ready.’

  Julian nodded, looking deflated, and slumped off. She turned to Alessandro to chide him for his reaction. Yes, she understood where it had come from, but Julian was only four. Except he was gone. Nothing but air where he’d been. She looked to the right in time to see the broadness of his shoulders as he strode out the archway and out of reach.

  Nat stayed in the lounge room till late, watching television that night, too keyed up to sleep. Julian had long since gone to bed and Alessandro, who, apart from a brief appearance to help them search for another knife, fork and plate in the mountain of boxes and eat his dinner, had taken his laptop into his equally barren study and not come out.

  A light movie was on and Nat had a headache from forcing herself to concentrate on it and not on what had happened in the kitchen earlier. But force herself she did. What had occurred could never occur again. There was no point building castles in the air with a man who was obviously still so messed up over his dead wife that he hadn’t even been able to look at her.

  No matter how much he stirred her pulse and her senses and every feminine instinct she had. It was time to rely on other instincts—survival instincts.

  The movie ended and she reluctantly made her way to bed. Alessandro’s door was open at the end of the corridor, she noticed, but doggedly diverted her attention from it. She checked on Juliano, half expecting to find Flo still curled up with him, but the warm spot where the cat had obviously recently been lying was vacant. She pulled up his covers and turned out his lamp.

  She wondered into her bedroom, expecting to see Flo stretched out on her bed. But, no, the cat wasn’t anywhere in the bedroom. She knew she wasn’t downstairs because she’d just come from there.

  ‘Flo?’ she whispered into the darkened hallway, sticking her head out of her open doorway. A distant miaow turned her head in the wrong direction and Nat stared down at the partially open end door. She knew without a doubt that Flo was in Alessandro’s bedroom.

  Keep the cat away from me. That’s what he’d said. Oh, hell! She’d done enough damage for one day—she needed to get Flo out.

  She tiptoed down the hallway. The thick carpet muffled her footsteps perfectly, she just hoped it also stifled the hammering of her heart. She was sure Alessandro was still in his study, so it was just a matter of sneaking in, grabbing Flo then getting the hell out.

  As she drew level with the doorway she whispered, ‘Flo,’ again. The damn cat miaowed contently and Nat thought seriously bad thoughts about her pet for a moment or two. She gingerly poked her head over the threshold. A low lamp threw a small glow around the room but otherwise the room was empty. Flo sat in the middle of Alessandro’s bed, cleaning herself on his espresso-coloured bedding.

  ‘Flo,’ she whispered, half scandalised, half scared out of her wits. She did not want to be there but she knew Flo well enough to know that she wasn’t going to voluntarily leave—not until after she’d groomed herself anyway.

  ‘Flo,’ she whispered again, more loudly, moving closer, trembling too much to notice the minimalist quality of the rest of the house carried through to his bedroom, which had equally sparse furnishings. ‘Come here—now! Alessandro will not be amused.’

  Flo stopped her fur licking momentarily and regarded Nat with half-closed eyes before stretching her leg in the air and cleaning it with long firm kitty strokes from her little pink tongue.

  Nat almost screamed in frustration, knowing she was going to have to climb onto Alessandro’s enormous bed and retrieve the recalcitrant cat.

  She was two paces away from the bed when a door behind and to the left of the bed suddenly opened and a semi-naked Alessandro appeared before her. His hair was wet and the only thing stopping him from being totally naked was one white towel riding low on his lean hips.

  She didn’t mean to ogle but she also couldn’t look away. The soft lamp bathed his body in a beautiful bronze glow and, backlit by the en suite light, his face looked more dark, more dangerous than ever.

  Her mouth dried in an instant. ‘Oh…er, sorry. I didn’t know you were…Flo came in.’ She pointed to the guilty party like a lawyer holding up exhibit A in a courtroom. The guilty party purred loudly into the tense silence. ‘I was just trying to…retrieve her.’

  Alessandro hadn’t had a woman in his bedroom in a long while. And especially one he’d not long licked Napolitano sauce off. She was wearing the same clothes and the memory came back to punch him in the gut. The taste of her skin, the whimper that had gurgled from her throat, her uneven breath.

  He stuck his hands on his hips to quell the surge of lust and the urge to do something more…productive with them. Whether she knew it or not, and he suspected she didn’t, her gaze on him was frank and he could feel himself reacting under the towel.

  They really needed to clear the air—before he totally embarrassed himself. ‘I apologise for this afternoon.’

  Nat shook her head, trying desperately hard not to think about that afternoon while he’d stood before her in just a towel. Avoidance was looking good right now.

  ‘I gave you assurances that your virtue would be safe.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it,’ she dismissed, her voice practically a squeak.

  Alessandro shook his head. ‘No. I mustn’t…I can’t…get involved. My wife…I think it best if we just forget it. It…won’t happen again.’

  He raked his hand through his wet hair, hating how disjointed he sounded. Hating how the possibilities between them could never be explored. She was nodding at him vigorously and he was pleased she understood.

  ‘You have my word, Nathalie.’

  And that’s where it all fell part for her. He couldn’t cal
l her Nathalie and not expect her to melt into a puddle. Not the way he said it—like a sigh, like a whisper from the devil.

  A startling urge to cross to him and whip his towel away was so strong she could actually see it in her mind’s eye. Thankfully Flo chose that moment to miaow loudly and spring up from her reclining position, rubbing herself against her owner.

  Thank god for kids and animals—where would they have been today without either of them? Naked on the kitchen floor. Going at it on his bed.

  She blinked.

  ‘Of course. It was just…’ She stroked Flo’s fur as she cast around for something to say, some syndrome or insanity plea to blame it on. But with him nearly naked before her, her brain wasn’t functioning that well.

  ‘Impulsive.’ She picked Flo up and squeezed her tight. ‘You’re right, it won’t happen again.’ She backed out slowly. ‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘About the…’ She gestured to his nakedness but couldn’t bring herself to say the words. ‘Anyway…’

  And with that rather inarticulate ending, she turned on her heel and fled the room.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE next morning Alessandro and Julian were up when Nat wandered downstairs. She’d heard the muted noise of the television a little while ago but had lain in bed, wide awake, putting off the inevitable. She’d felt hot and restless all night, despite the air-conditioning, images of Alessandro’s perfect flat abdomen and the hot lick of his tongue taunting her through elusive layers of sleep.

  The very last thing she wanted to do was face him again. But after a while she knew being a coward wasn’t the answer either and she hauled herself out of bed, and showered and dressed to face the day.

  Alessandro looked up from his bowl of cereal when she entered the kitchen. He was shirtless and his hair was rumpled. He looked tired, his eyes bleary, like he’d slept even less than she had. And yet still he looked better than any man had a right to.

  She really, really needed to talk to him about wearing a shirt.

  She gave him a bright smile and kept her eyes firmly trained on his chin. ‘Where’s Julian?’

  Alessandro, who’d stopped chewing in mid-mouthful, swallowed. Nat looked fresh and earthy, her hair loose around her shoulders, her cheeks pink. She was wearing a sundress that sat wide on her shoulders with thin straps that tied in bows and a scooped neckline that drew the eye.

  He dropped his gaze back to his bowl. ‘Watching television.’

  Annoyed at his shirtless state, she advanced into the kitchen and headed for the coffee pot. ‘Why aren’t you in there with him?’

  ‘I asked him if he wanted me to watch with him and he said no.’

  Nat shook her head. ‘Don’t ask next time.’ Hell, it wasn’t rocket science.

  Alessandro frowned at her grouchy reply. ‘I’m trying not to push him too hard.’

  She opened her mouth to tell him that it was okay to push a little in some situations but Julian bustled into the room and she tore her gaze from Alessandro’s.

  ‘Nat! Oh, Nat! You’re here. You’re really still here!’

  Julian launched himself at her, throwing his arms around her legs and squashing his cheek against her thigh. She laughed as she hugged his little body to her legs. ‘Of course, silly. I can’t leave until my house is built!’

  She grinned and ruffled his hair, glancing at Alessandro. He was watching them, his face grave and brooding. Her smile slowly disappeared. Was it hard for him to watch Julian being affectionate with another woman? Someone other than his mother? Did it emphasise his loss even more? Did it twist the knife just a little bit deeper?

  She peeled Julian off her. ‘I’m making toast—do you want some?’

  Julian clapped his hands. ‘I love toast!’

  Nat busied herself with Julian, chatting away as they shoved slice after slice of bread into the toaster. When they were done she carried it over to the central station where Alessandro was apparently reading a journal. She helped Julian climb onto the stool opposite his father and then plonked the loaded plate in the middle. She topped up their coffees and sat down next to Julian.

  ‘Toast,’ she said, not quite looking at Alessandro. ‘Eat up. We made enough to feed an army.’

  Julian giggled and she grinned down at him but all the while she was hyper-aware of Alessandro and she almost sagged against the counter when his long bronzed fingers reached for a slice. She’d felt his gaze, heavy and intense, on her the entire time they’d been at the toaster and it had been unnerving.

  Nat wished she knew what he was thinking behind the brooding mask. Was he remembering what had happened in this kitchen only yesterday or her unscheduled visit to his room last night?

  If only she knew.

  For his part, Alessandro had been trying not to think about what would happen if he pulled one of those little bows sitting snugly atop her shoulders. How easy would it be? Just reach out and tug. Would her whole dress just slide off?

  Sitting opposite him, the bows in his direct line of vision taunted him even further. He wasn’t following the conversation and was surprised to find he’d somehow managed to pick up a piece of toast and eat it. He tuned back into the chatter when he became aware that both Julian and Nat were looking at him expectantly.

  Well, Nat was anyway. Julian was looking wary and the sparkle in his eyes was gone. ‘I’m sorry,’ he apologised looking from one to the other. ‘I wasn’t listening.’

  Nat gave him a reproving look. ‘I was just assuring Julian you were going to help us with the boxes today. Get his room decked out.’

  Alessandro looked at Julian. His son didn’t seem too enthused by the idea. He was sitting painfully straight in his chair, like a little soldier. ‘Ah…well.’ He glanced at Nat whose brow had furrowed and then back at his son who seemed to be holding his breath. ‘I do have some work to catch up on.’

  Nat glanced down at Julian whose bottom lip wobbled and then sharply at Alessandro who was staring down at his journal. She glared at his head but it remained stubbornly downcast. ‘Julian, why don’t you see if Flo wants a piece of toast?’ She scooped up the last cold piece. ‘Take it out to the laundry and break it into small pieces.’

  Julian squirmed down off the chair enthusiastically and skipped out of the kitchen. Alessandro watched him go.

  Nat took a deep breath and gently put down her coffee mug. ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she demanded. ‘I just offered you the perfect opportunity to spend time with your son.’

  Alessandro gave her a hard look, his eyes chilly. ‘He doesn’t want me to help. I’m not going to force myself on him.’

  Nat got off her stool and stormed over to the coffee pot, pouring herself another. She turned to face him, leaning against the bench, pleased to be far away from his naked chest.

  ‘Sometimes you have to push, Alessandro. He’s four. Sometimes children need to be led. You two have to meet in the middle, start doing things together, and this is a perfect place to begin.’

  ‘And what if it has the opposite effect? What if he can’t handle what’s inside, what if it brings up stuff he was just getting over?’

  His eyes were dark and troubled. His frustration and resistance filled the space between them and Nat suddenly understood that this might not be about Julian at all. ‘Ah. I understand what this is really about.’

  Alessandro snorted. He was pleased somebody did. Nothing had made sense for quite a while now. ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘I know that what’s in those boxes may be hard to deal with for you. They’re your memories. Of your wife and the life you had with her, the one you left behind. But they’re his memories too, Alessandro. He’s on the other side of the world, far away from everything that’s ever been familiar to him. Even his relationship with you is different now. He needs his things around him. And not just in his bedroom but all around him. And he needs to feel like this is home. Not some temporary, half-lived-in dwelling.’

  She drew breath for a moment then plunged on again. ‘You want
ed me to help. You wanted him happy and laughing again. Well, it starts here, Alessandro. And you need to be part of it. You might be surprised what he can handle.’

  Alessandro blinked. Maybe she was right. Maybe this was more about him? Maybe the boxes were a bridge too far for him at the moment and he’d been resisting them because of the emotions they were bound to stir? The guilt had been too much to bear as it was.

  But if it helped reach Julian…

  He stood. ‘Okay, sure. That makes sense.’

  Nat, who’d open her mouth to strengthen her argument, firmly closed it. He picked up his mug and moved towards her, heading for the sink, his abdominal muscles shifting enticingly with each footfall. She told herself not to look but it was compelling scenery. She gripped the mug hard in case she reached out and touched.

  He paused at the sink and drained the contents of his mug. Nat’s gaze followed his movements, admiring the glide of his bronzed skin over toned muscle. He placed his mug inside the bowl and it wasn’t until he was facing her that she realised he was saying something.

  Nat dragged her gaze from the strip of hair that arrowed down from his belly button. ‘Huh?’

  Alessandro felt desire slam into him right where her eyes had been, as if she’d lapped at his belly button with her tongue. She was looking at him, her eyes slightly glazed, and for a moment they just stared at each other. Her bows taunted him and he curled his fingers into his palms.

  ‘I said when do you want to start?’

  Nat’s brain grappled with the simple sentence, her annoyance growing. Oh, for crying out aloud, it was just a chest! No reason to lose her mind. Every man had one. Rob had had one. Except, of course, she’d never felt this inexplicable primal swell of lust at the mere sight of Rob. Not even in the beginning.

  ‘Soon. A few minutes.’ She pushed away from the bench, the need to get the hell away from him becoming imperative. ‘And for God’s sake,’ she snapped, annoyed at him. And herself. ‘Put a shirt on.’