Reunited by a Baby Secret (The Vineyards of Calanetti, Book 3)

by Michelle Douglas

  ‘Then I’ll just hang out in the waiting room until you’re done.’

  He didn’t want to see the first pictures of his child, didn’t want to hear its heartbeat? She turned from him to run her fingers along the decals, but she didn’t see them. ‘Ryan, do you love this baby yet?’

  She glanced around at his quick intake of breath. He regarded her as if trying to work out what she wanted to hear and she shook her head. ‘Honesty, remember? We promised to be honest with each other.’

  His shoulders slumped a fraction. A passer-by wouldn’t have noticed, but Marianna did. ‘It still doesn’t feel real to me,’ he finally admitted.

  She already loved this baby with a fierce protectiveness that took her completely off guard.

  ‘You do.’

  His words weren’t a question, but a statement. She nodded. ‘I expect it’s different for a woman. The baby is growing inside of me—it’s affecting me physically. That makes it feel very real.’ Her stomach constricted at his stricken expression. ‘I’ve also had more time to get used to the idea than you have, Ryan. There was no right or wrong answer to my question.’ Just as long as he loved their baby once it arrived. That was all she asked.

  He would, wouldn’t he? It wouldn’t just be a duty?

  She reached up to scratch between her shoulder blades. ‘How about we shelve the nursery for another day and focus on the things we need for the rest of the cottage?’

  ‘Right.’ He nodded. But he was quiet the entire time they bought paint, brushes, drop sheets and all the other associated paraphernalia one needed for painting. Marianna kept glancing at him, but she couldn’t read his mood. While his expression remained neutral, she sensed turmoil churning beneath the surface.

  ‘What next?’ he asked when they’d stowed their purchases in the car.

  ‘Soft furnishings.’

  She waited for him to make an excuse to go and do something else and arrange to meet up again in an hour. He didn’t. He said, ‘Lead the way.’

  Wow. Okay.

  He didn’t huff out so much as a single exaggerated sigh while endlessly shifting and fidgeting either. He didn’t overtly quell yawns meant to inform her of his boredom, as her brothers would’ve done. He simply stacked the items she chose into the trolley he pushed, giving his opinion when she asked for it.

  He had good taste too.

  They moved from bedding to cushions and tablecloths and finally to curtains. ‘They’re just not right!’ she finally said, tossing a set of curtains back to the shelf.

  ‘What are you looking for?’

  ‘Kitchen curtains. You know, the ones with the bit at the top and then...’ She made vague hand gestures.

  ‘Café curtains?’

  She stared at him. ‘Um...’

  He rifled through the selections. ‘Like these?’

  ‘That style yes, but the print is hideous.’

  ‘What kind of material are you after?’

  She marched over to the store’s fabric section and pulled out a roll with a print of orange and lime daisies. ‘This is perfect.’ A sudden thought struck her. ‘Ooh, I wonder if I could find somebody to make them for me? I—’

  ‘I can.’

  ‘And then I—’ She stopped dead. She moistened her lips and glanced around at him. ‘Did you just say...’ no, she couldn’t have heard him right ‘...that you could make me a pair of curtains?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You can sew?’

  He nodded.

  ‘How? Why?’

  ‘I had a grandmother who loved to sew.’

  He shuffled his feet and glanced away. She did her best to remake her expression into one of friendly interest rather than outright shock. ‘She taught you to sew?’

  He rolled his shoulders, glancing back at her with hooded eyes. ‘Her eyesight started to fail and so... I used to help her out.’

  She reached behind to support herself against a shelf. Of course he would love their baby. How could she have doubted it? A man who took the time to help an elderly lady sew because that was what she loved to do...because he loved her...

  She swallowed and blinked hard. ‘You’d make curtains for me?’

  ‘Sure I will.’ He suddenly frowned. ‘Do you have a sewing machine?’

  ‘My grandmother’s will be rattling around somewhere.’

  He shrugged again. ‘Then no problem.’

  Her eyes filled. He backed up a step, rubbed a fist across his mouth. ‘Uh, Marianna...you’re not going to cry, are you?’

  She fanned her eyes. ‘Pregnancy hormones,’ she whispered.

  He moved in close and took her shoulders in his hands. ‘Okay, remember the drill. Close your eyes and take a deep breath.’ As he counted to six she pulled in a long, slow breath. ‘Hold.’ She held. ‘Now let it out to the count of six.’

  They repeated that three times. When they were finished and she’d opened her eyes, he stepped back, letting his hands drop to his sides. ‘Better?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘It’s the silliest things, isn’t it, that set you off?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  He snorted. ‘It’s just a pair of curtains.’

  Oh, no, it wasn’t. She spun around and pretended to consider the other rolls of fabric arrayed in front of them. These weren’t just curtains. They were proof of his commitment to their baby. That wasn’t nothing. It was huge...and she had to remember moments like this when he turned all cold and distant and unreadable. He was here for the baby. And he was here for her.

  Who was there for him?

  She swung back to him. ‘You’ve been incredibly patient with me, Ryan. You haven’t hassled me once yet about keeping up my end of our bargain.’

  ‘You haven’t been feeling well. Plus you’ve been working hard on the estate. I’ve no desire to add to your stress levels.’

  He might be cool and controlled but he had a kind heart. ‘I’ve done enough mooching and mood swinging.’ From here on in she meant to help him as much as he helped her. ‘I need to make another stop before we call it a day.’

  ‘No problem.’

  She couldn’t help it. She reached up on tiptoe and kissed him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘YOU SAID YOU wanted to learn about babies, right?’

  Ryan eased back from where he taped the kitchen windows, to find Marianna setting a pile of bags onto the dining table. His pulse rate kicked up a notch, though he couldn’t explain why. ‘That’s right.’ He needed to learn about babies if he had any hope of making a halfway decent father.

  She sent him a smile that carried the same warmth as the lavender-scented air drifting in from the French doors. It reminded him of how she’d smiled at him yesterday when he’d told her he’d make those stupid curtains she wanted.

  It reminded him of the way she’d kissed him yesterday.

  And just like that his skin tightened and he had to fight the rush of blood through his body—a rush that urged him to recklessness. He ground his teeth against it. Recklessness would wreck everything.

  Marianna hadn’t kissed him as a come-on or an invitation. She’d reached up on tiptoe and had pressed her warm, laughing lips to his in a moment of gratitude and high spirits. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that should rock a man’s world. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that should keep a man up all night.

  And yet hunger, need and desire had been gnawing away at him with a cruel persistence ever since. And now Marianna stood there smiling at him, eyes dancing, bouncing as if she could barely contain the energy coursing through her petite frame, and it was all he could do to bite back a groan.

  Her smile wavered and she bit her lip. ‘You don’t have other plans do you? Earlier you said you didn’t mean to start painting in here until tomorrow.’

  He wanted the smile back on her face. ‘No plans.’ Today he was prepping the walls for painting...and then getting to work on that report. He set the roll of tape to the kitchen bench and moved straight over to
the table. ‘I don’t want the paint fumes making you feel sick. I thought that if I paint while you’re at work...’

  ‘The worst of it will have passed?’ She wrinkled her nose—her darn gorgeous nose.

  Don’t notice her nose. Don’t notice her mouth. Don’t notice anything below her neck!

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. ‘I’ll air the house as well as I can. I bought an extractor fan, so...’ He held out crossed fingers before shoving his hand into his pocket again where it was firmly out of temptation’s way.

  ‘Have I said thank you yet?’

  Dear God in heaven, he couldn’t risk her kissing him again. ‘You have.’ To distract her from further displays of gratitude, he nodded towards the bags. ‘What have you got there?’

  ‘A lesson.’

  He tried to pull his mind to the task in hand. Pay attention. He had to learn how to take care of a baby.

  She reached into the nearest bag and, with a flourish, pulled out a...

  He blinked and backed up a step. “Uh, Marianna, that’s a doll.’ He scratched the back of his neck and glared at her from beneath a lock of hair that had fallen forward on his forehead. He really should get it cut. ‘Don’t you think we’re a little old to be playing with dolls?’

  She stared at that lock of hair and for a tension-fraught moment he thought she meant to lean across and push it out of his eyes. Hastily, he ran a hand back through his hair himself. She blinked and then shook herself. He let out a breath, his heart thumping.

  She, however, seemed completely oblivious to his state. She dangled the doll—a life-sized version from what he could make out—from its foot, and smirked at him. ‘Ooh, is the big strong man frightened of the itty-bitty dolly?’

  He scowled. ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  A laugh bubbled out of her and she sashayed around the table still dangling that stupid doll by its foot. ‘Is your super-duper masculinity threatened by a little dolly?’

  He snaked a hand around her head and drew her face in close to his. ‘Tread carefully, Marianna.’

  Her curls, all silk and sass, tickled his hand. ‘I’m holding on by a thread here. My so-called masculinity is telling me to throw caution to the wind. It’s telling me to kiss you, to take you to my bed and make love with you until you can barely stand.’ And then he told her in the most straightforward, vivid language at his command exactly what he craved to do.

  Her eyes darkened until they were nearly black. Her lips parted and she stared at his mouth as if she were parched. The pulse in her throat pounded. If he touched his lips to that spot they’d both be lost.

  He hauled in a breath. With a super-human effort he let her go. She made a tiny sound halfway between an outbreath and a whimper that arrowed straight to his groin. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. ‘You told me that if I do that—here in your real world—that I will hurt you, break your heart. I don’t want to do that.’

  He cracked open his eyes to find her nodding and smoothing a hand across her chest. She gripped the doll by its leg as if it were a hammer. He reached out and plucked it from her. ‘There’s no need to hurt poor dolly, though, is there?’

  He said it to make her smile. It didn’t work. She moved back around the other side of the table, her movements jerky and uncoordinated. It hurt him somehow. It hurt to think he’d caused her even momentarily to lose her natural grace and bounce. Her gaze darted to him and away again. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come across as any kind of...teasing.’

  ‘I know. It’s just... I’m...’ He was teetering. He bit back a curse. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I—’

  ‘No, no! It’s best that I know.’

  Not if it made her feel awkward. He shoved his hands as deep into his pockets as he could. ‘It will pass, you know?’

  ‘Oh, I know.’ She nodded vigorously. ‘It always does.’

  He frowned then, recalling her brothers’ taunting, Paulo. ‘That sounds like the voice of experience.’

  Her head snapped up. ‘So what if it is?’

  He blinked, but he had to admit that she had a point.

  ‘It’s okay for you to feel that way, but not me? It’s okay for you to have had a lot of lovers, but not for me?’

  ‘Not what I meant,’ he growled. ‘But if you do have experience in this...area, maybe you can hand out a tip or two about how to make it pass quickly.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her shoulders sagged. She lifted her hands and let them drop. ‘In the past I haven’t always had what’s considered a good...attention span where men are concerned. I meet a new guy and it’s all exciting and fun for a couple of weeks and then...’

  Curiosity inched through him. ‘And then?’

  She wrinkled that cute nose. ‘I don’t know. It becomes dull, a bit boring and tedious.’

  ‘This happens to you a lot?’

  She shrugged, not meeting his eye.

  ‘Which is why your brothers came up with the Paulo moniker.’

  Her chin lifted. ‘I believe in true love, okay? I don’t believe there’s anything wrong with looking for it.’ Her chin hitched up higher. ‘And I don’t believe one should settle for anything less.’

  ‘So... When a guy doesn’t come up to scratch you what—dump him?’

  She glared at him. ‘What am I supposed to do? String him along and let him think I’m in love with him?’

  ‘Of course not! I just—’

  ‘I’d hate for any man to do that to me.’ She folded her arms. ‘I don’t believe anyone should settle for anything less than true love.’

  He couldn’t have found a woman more unlike him if he’d tried!

  ‘So what if I have high expectations of the man I mean to spend the rest of my life with? I’m more than happy for him to have high expectations of me too.’

  Right...wow. ‘So, you’re happy to kiss a lot of frogs in this search for your Prince Charming?’

  ‘Just because a man isn’t my Prince Charming doesn’t make him a frog, Ryan.’

  Right.

  She glanced at him. ‘Isn’t it like that for you—things becoming a bit boring and tedious after a while?’

  He shook his head. ‘One-night stands, that’s what I do. No promises, no complications...and no time for them to become boring.’ At her raised eyebrow he shuffled his feet. ‘And once in a blue moon I might indulge in a holiday fling. A week is a long-term commitment in my book.’

  ‘I should be flattered,’ she said, her lips twisting in a wry humour that had a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. She pulled out a chair and plonked down on it. ‘What a pair.’

  Cautiously he eased into the chair opposite.

  She brightened, turning to him. ‘All you need to do is start boring me.’

  ‘I’ve been trying that with the colour charts.’

  Her face fell. ‘But I don’t find them boring.’ She tapped a finger to her chin. ‘I could try nagging you,’ she offered.

  His lips twitched. A laugh shot out of her. ‘Are you calling me a nag?’

  ‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’

  She slapped her hands to the table, her eyes dancing. ‘You’re a bore and I’m a nag!’

  Laughter spilled from her then—contagious, infectious—and Ryan found his entire body suddenly convulsing with it, every muscle juddering, a rush of warmth shooting through him. Belly-deep roars of laughter blasted out of him and he was helpless to quieten them even when he developed a stitch in his side.

  Marianna laughed just as hard, her legs bouncing up and down, her curls dancing and tears that she tried to stem with her palms pouring down her cheeks. Every time he started to get himself back under control, Marianna would let loose with another giggle or snort and they’d both set off shrieking again. It was a complete overreaction, but the release in tension was irresistible.

  ‘What on earth...?’ Nico slid into the room, breathing hard. ‘It sounds as if someone is being murdered in here!’

  An utterance tha
t only made Marianna laugh harder. Ryan choked back another burst of mirth. ‘I’m thinking if I told you that I’m a bore and Marianna is a nag, that you wouldn’t get the joke.’

  ‘You’d be right.’ But Nico’s face softened when he glanced at his sister. He said something to her in Italian. She slowly sobered, although she retained an obscenely wide smile, and nodded.

  It was stupid to feel excluded, but he did.

  Marianna shot upright and clapped her hands. ‘Ryan, will the painting be finished in here—’ she gestured around the living, dining and kitchen areas ‘—by Saturday?’

  He shrugged. ‘Sure.’ That was nearly a week away.

  ‘Nico, are you busy next Saturday night? I want to invite you and Angelo for dinner—a housewarming dinner in my new home.’

  Nico’s face darkened. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to live up at the villa?’

  ‘Positive.’ She tossed her glorious head of hair. ‘Now say you’ll come to dinner.’

  He stared at her for a moment longer and finally smiled. ‘I’d be delighted to.’ He glanced at Ryan. ‘I’ll bring the wine.’

  Ryan had a feeling that was meant to be some kind of subtle set down, but before he could form a response Nico’s gaze lit on the doll. His mouth hooked up. ‘You’re playing dolls with my sister?’

  He squirmed and ran a finger around the collar of his shirt.

  ‘We’re learning to change a diaper,’ Marianna announced.

  Ah, so that had been her plan.

  She raced around the table and dragged her brother across to the doll. ‘You’re going to want to play with mia topolino when it is born, yes?’

  ‘Naturally.’

  ‘“Mia topolino”?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘My little mouse,’ she translated for him and his gut clenched. She had a pet name for their baby?

  She turned back to Nico. ‘You’re going to want to babysit, yes?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then you need to know how to change a diaper.’

  ‘I can already do so.’

  Ryan stared at the other man. He could?

  Marianna, however, refused to take Nico at his word. She shoved the doll at him and then reached into another bag and brandished a disposable nappy. Ryan had never seen one before. With a supreme lack of self-consciousness, Nico quickly and deftly placed said nappy on the baby...uh, doll. Ryan frowned. That didn’t look too hard.