Resisting the Italian Single Dad

by Katrina Cudmore

  Her hands were trembling. She pulled in some deep breaths, trying to relax, but the heartbreaking emotion in Max’s voice when he had spoken about Marta, how he blamed himself for her accident, continued to upset her. He had clearly loved Marta greatly.

  Carly felt a deep need to reach out and help him. He had been trying to manage on his own for far too long. But to help him properly, she knew she had to put aside any feelings, any attraction, she had towards him.

  The food ready, Carly took it out onto the terrace. Max soon returned from checking up on Isabella, nodded that she was still asleep and popped the baby monitor on the terrace table.

  Once they were both seated at the table, Max bit into his sandwich and chewed slowly, his forehead bunched sceptically. Carly pretended to ignore him but could not help but smile in relief when he said, ‘These aren’t too bad.’

  Carly lifted her beer glass. ‘Especially when washed down with a good cool beer.’

  Max toasted his glass against hers, amusement dancing in his eyes, ‘Tomorrow, I’ll introduce you to proper Italian food.’

  ‘Don’t forget about the ice cream.’ Taking a bite of her own sandwich, the melted cheese tasting sensational, Carly sat back in her chair, trying to focus on keeping the conversation light, trying to ignore how disturbingly good it felt to be sitting across the table from Max in the peace of the Italian countryside. The night was balmy and overhead stars and the faint moon, the lights of the villages in the distance, all contributed to a gorgeous setting. Romantic, you mean? Carly pushed that thought away.

  ‘It’s so peaceful here, you must enjoy visiting the villa with Isabella.’ Pointing towards the playground with its swings and slides and sunken trampoline to the side of the terrace, she added, ‘That playground is most kids’ idea of paradise.’

  ‘This is Isabella’s third time in Villa Isa.’

  ‘Really? It’s so perfect here—I thought you’d visit regularly.’

  In the shadows of the night, Carly saw Max’s chest rise and fall heavily, his expression tighten. ‘It’s not easy coming here. Marta had so many dreams for this villa...and then there’s Marta’s parents...’ He paused. Carly’s heart flipped to hear the emotion in his voice he clearly was trying to disguise. ‘They’re still deeply upset by her death.’

  So many dreams cut short, no wonder he found it hard to come here, and if he wrongly blamed himself for Marta’s death then facing her parents must be incredibly difficult and something he would be keen to avoid. But in doing so he was isolating himself and potentially cutting off a source of support in raising Isabella.

  ‘With time, the more you visit here, you and Isabella can create wonderful memories and dreams of your own for summers on the lake. And I appreciate that things haven’t always been easy between you and Marta’s parents but you’ve been through a lot. Maybe Isabella’s grandparents could support you, especially as you have no family of your own—‘

  With a shake of his head, Max interrupted her, clearly not wanting to discuss Isabella’s grandparents and his need for support. ‘Why did you decide to be a sleep consultant?’

  Carly considered for a moment pushing the point about Isabella’s grandparents but decided that was a conversation for another day. So instead she answered, ‘I trained originally to be a Montessori teacher. In that work, I heard from many parents who struggled to cope when their children didn’t sleep.’

  Taking a sip of her beer, Carly waited for Max to say something, but he didn’t. Instead he considered her with his head tilted, an intelligence in his eyes that told her that he had picked up on the emotion in her voice as she remembered the catalyst that led her to training as a sleep consultant. She knew she shouldn’t get into explaining her decision any further, she knew she should keep this conversation impersonal, but there was something about Max’s gaze, the silence of their surrounds, knowing just how much Max was struggling to understand Isabella’s disturbed sleep, that had her admit, ‘One of my pupils in particular got to me—Mikey. He was gorgeous.’ Carly smiled in remembrance of Mikey’s wild blond curls and how he used to suck his thumb, his huge baby-blue eyes staring into hers when he used to sit on her lap for a cuddle. ‘His sleep became very disturbed when his parents split up. I guess he reminded me of myself when my parents divorced. Even though I was eleven, I found it really hard to sleep. I used to stay awake worrying about my dad. Worrying about everything, in fact. If somebody had stopped to reassure me, to spend time with me, I think I wouldn’t have been so confused.’

  Max considered her words for a while. ‘Do you really think that’s key to Isabella’s sleep, for me to spend time with her?’

  ‘Yes. It doesn’t have to be twenty-four hours a day. Just some good quality time and a regular bedtime routine should really help her sleep better. It will help you too.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You should be enjoying being a father—I sense there’s a reluctance in you to do so.’

  Max shrugged at that, nudging his now empty plate away from the edge of the table. ‘I grew up without a father—sometimes I’m not sure what my role should be.’

  Carly’s heart tightened to hear the quiet pride mixed with confusion in Max’s voice. ‘Just love her with all your heart. Give her your time—there’s nothing more precious.’

  Max’s green gaze held hers. He leaned further into the table, his hand reaching into the centre to play with the base of one of the two white ceramic candlesticks there. ‘You said earlier that you’re not close to your mum—why’s that?’

  Carly swallowed. ‘My stepfather Alan and I have a difficult relationship. It’s easier to keep my distance.’

  ‘Do you miss having a close family?’

  Carly swallowed again, her heart feeling undone by the understanding in his voice. He had lost people from his life. His mother. His wife. ‘Sometimes I do.’

  ‘What happened between you and them?’

  ‘My mum had an affair with my stepfather. My parents divorced and their business collapsed. Soon after, my father moved to New Zealand. I struggled to integrate with my step-family—my stepsisters didn’t want me around, the same as their father. He wanted my mother, not an angry and confused teenager.’

  ‘And things haven’t improved since then?’

  ‘I decided a few years back to step away for my own peace of mind. It was killing me constantly trying to gain their approval, the disappointment of being excluded. I’ve learned to have no expectations of them. Life is easier that way.’

  Max nodded. He arched his back, considering her for a moment. ‘Come to my father-in-law’s party tomorrow with me and Isabella.’

  Taken aback by his invitation, Carly asked, ‘Is that appropriate?’

  ‘It would be nice to have a friendly face there.’

  ‘I thought you considered me a thorn in your side.’

  His eyes were green pools of amusement. ‘Yes, but so far your methods appear to be working.’

  ‘Does that mean less resistance to what I say?’

  A mischievous glint grew in his eye. ‘If you come to the party.’

  ‘But I have nothing to wear.’

  ‘There are boutiques in Bellagio.’

  Carly shifted her plate to the side of the table, pulled her beer glass towards her. She took a drink. She was here to do a job, not accompany her client to a party. Especially not a client to whom she was futilely attracted. A man still in love with his late wife. ‘I don’t think I should.’

  ‘My in-laws know how to throw a great party and you get to be in my company for a while.’

  Carly laughed at the cheeky glint in his eye. ‘I think you need to sell the idea of me going with you a little bit harder.’

  Max laughed too and something light danced between them as they held each other’s gaze. Their laughter faded into the night. Carly looked away from Max, hating just h
ow hard her heart was beating in her chest.

  And then she jumped when a cry rang out from the baby monitor.

  Max sighed. ‘I guess I spoke too soon about your technique working.’

  Carly stood and began to clear the table. ‘I told you it would take time. I’ll tidy up here. Go to Isabella and talk to her. Reassure her, rub her back, maybe sing her a lullaby.’ Seeing Max’s doubtful expression, Carly gave him a smile of encouragement. ‘Experiment—you’ll eventually find a way that settles her. And most important of all, you should consider Isabella waking as being a precious time for you to bond.’

  * * *

  The kitchen cleaned, Carly switched off all the downstairs lights and climbed the stairs in time to see Max leave Isabella’s room.

  When they met in the corridor she asked in a whisper, ‘All settled?’

  He grimaced. ‘Eventually.’

  It felt good to be standing so close to him. To hear his low voice. To see his hand rub against the taut bicep of his opposite arm. He had changed earlier, after Isabella’s soaking, into a dark navy tee shirt that pulled tight against his frame. ‘You’ve done well today. Go have a shower...’ She paused, disturbed by the image of him in the shower, and added quickly, ‘Take some time to relax. I’ll listen out for Isabella.’

  Max shook his head. ‘No, I’ll take care of her—as you pointed out yourself, you’re not a nanny.’

  That was before Carly had learned just how alone he was. Now she wanted to give him some support, even if it was only for a few days. ‘Let me do it for you...you need to look after yourself as well as Isabella. Do you have time away by yourself, time for hobbies and your own interests?’

  ‘Dio! What do you think? I’ve multibillion-euro projects to run and a strong-willed toddler who doesn’t sleep.’

  Carly winced at the tiredness in his voice. She should let things be, tell him to go for his shower, but instead she said, ‘Life is a series of choices. Choose well both for Isabella’s sake but for your own too. You deserve to be happy.’

  Max’s mouth tightened for a moment but then his green eyes searched hers softly. ‘Are you happy, Carly?’

  Carly swallowed hard. She thought she was happy. But looking into Max’s eyes, remembering the loneliness she felt when she had gazed at Max and Isabella asleep earlier on the plane, she realised she wasn’t quite so certain any more. ‘I try to be.’

  He blinked at her answer...or more to the point the croakiness of her voice. What was it about Max Lovato that left her feeling so exposed?

  His hand reached for her arm. She tried not to react, not to give away just how much pleasure soared through her at his touch. She breathed in, in the vain hope of steadying her pulse.

  He tilted his head, shifted in closer. His expression was hard to read. His eyes held hers for much too long. She held her breath, her pulse pounding in her ears. Then lightly, tenderly, he whispered, ‘Buonanotte, Carly,’ and turned for his bedroom door.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MORNINGS AND CARLY had never seen eye to eye...and after the previous night’s broken sleep they most definitely weren’t on speaking terms. With a heavy groan she flung her forearm across her eyes wanting to block the day out. Was it seriously time to get up already? Groggily she wondered what it was that had woken her. Her alarm? But why was it no longer beeping? She was pretty sure she hadn’t touched the snooze button.

  Eventually she dragged up enough energy to locate her phone on the bedside table, in the vain hope that she might be able to squeeze an extra few minutes in bed. She squinted at the time display. And squinted again, but this time even harder. It wasn’t seven as she had set her alarm for but an insane five-forty. Five-forty! The last time she’d been awake at five-forty in the morning was during her college days when her gang used to head to a late-night café near Billingsgate after a night out clubbing.

  Her gaze moved around the darkened bedroom. Her alarm was set for seven. So what had woken her? She listened hard, but there wasn’t a sound to be heard throughout the villa—unlike during the night when twice Isabella’s loud cries had pulled her out of a deep sleep.

  On both occasions she had found Max already in Isabella’s bedroom, holding her in his arms, pacing the floor. She had guided him to tuck Isabella back into her bed alongside Sunny, to rub her back and chat to her quietly.

  He had whispered for Carly to go back to bed, but Carly had shaken her head and whispered back that she wanted to observe how Isabella reacted. Which admittedly was only part of the reason why she had stayed—the other being just how wrong it would have felt to have walked away from them both; she had wanted to stay and support them through Isabella’s upset...no matter how befuddled her brain had felt at being woken in the middle of the night.

  The first time round it had taken Isabella over twenty minutes to drift back to sleep. And three times she had reawakened just as they were about to creep out of her bedroom door. Carly had understood Max’s soft sighs of frustration but had assured him that things would improve.

  The second time Isabella had stayed awake for less than ten minutes and thankfully hadn’t reawakened when they left the room.

  Both times outside the bedroom, they had awkwardly said goodnight, the act of whispering in a moonlit corridor, them both dressed in night clothes, oddly intimate and disorientating.

  Now, the disappearance of a faint light at the corners of the bedroom curtains had her wonder if a light coming on outside on the terrace had woken her.

  Was it a security sensor light?

  She eyed the curtains. Should she go and see what might have triggered the light in the first place?

  She closed her eyes and sank her head further into her pillow, too tired to move.

  But what if there was someone or something out there?

  With a groan she clambered out of bed, knowing she wouldn’t settle until she was certain that the alien creature who had terrified her dreams during her teenage years, thanks to watching a horror movie late one night in boarding school, wasn’t outside the window.

  Tentatively she parted the curtains, her already unsteady heart banging even harder against her chest.

  Outside, the sky was a deep purple, the stars fading diamonds in the sunrise that was soon to come. The terrace was in near darkness but she could just about make out the faint outline of the terrace furniture and the path down to the pool.

  She moved closer to the window, her gaze shifting across to the street and house lights of the villages on the opposite side of the lake. Would she get to visit those villages during her stay? See what secrets lay beyond those lights? She smiled, imagining picturesque villages with houses tumbling down to the lake, magnificent and elegant villas with terraced gardens.

  And then she yelled.

  Not a quiet yelp.

  But a full-on howl.

  A hand clasped to her mouth, she stared out of the window, her legs about to give way.

  Outside, in full sight of her now that he had triggered the sensor light, was Max, staring back at her wearing nothing but a pair of navy swimming trunks, a towel slung over his tanned shoulder.

  He mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’

  She nodded. But in truth her heart felt as if it were about to launch right out of her chest and fling itself down into the pool.

  Max’s head tilted. He gave her a smile. An apologetic smile that was rather cute. Then with a pointed finger he motioned towards her bed.

  She glanced at it and then she looked back at him and raised a cautious eyebrow; not wanting to give away the wicked thoughts running through her mind thanks to the combination of seeing in quick succession a near naked Max and a rumpled bed.

  He laughed, pointed to her and then cradled both hands under his tilted head to indicate sleep. He was telling her to go back to sleep!

  She had known that. Of course she had.

 
With a nod she went to close the curtains and laughed when he gave a wave goodbye that was full of mischief.

  She waved back.

  They both laughed and reluctantly but with a playful flourish she shut the curtains to his glinting green eyes.

  Stumbling back to bed, she collapsed down onto the mattress.

  Light-headed, she willed her heart to stop gallivanting around her chest with such merry abandon.

  And then she giggled, crazy happiness bubbling in her chest.

  It was ridiculous.

  But it had felt so good to share that moment with Max. To see his light-hearted amusement. The silent communication they had so effortlessly slipped into.

  Her laughter petered out but a smile persisted on her lips. He had looked good—all bronzed skin and gorgeously pumped muscle. She closed her eyes and wriggled in the bed. Her shock shifted to a euphoria she couldn’t rationalise away.

  She could not help smiling and giggling in remembrance of how his swimming trunks had clung to his thick and powerful thighs. And then there was his chest, broad with a generous smattering of dark hair that screamed abundant testosterone. Yep, she had been right about happily betting her yearly income on his body being particularly delicious.

  She groaned.

  Then she yanked the pillow over her head, fear slowly threading its way along her veins. She didn’t want to fall for a man again. She couldn’t take any more heartache.

  She must not ogle Max. Time and time again she chanted that to herself, in the vain hope it would eventually have her drift off into an untroubled sleep. But of course it didn’t work.

  What did have her drift off, as she curled up onto her side and snuggled into her pillow, was the memory of Max’s eyes dancing with laughter. How incredible it was. How incredible it was to cause such delight.

  * * *

  ‘Buongiorno.’ Max waited for Carly to look up from breaking an egg into a bowl before adding, ‘Again.’

  Her cornflower-blue eyes held his for a split second, the charge that ran between them all the more intense because of the brevity of their exchange, before her attention shifted to Isabella, who was in his arms. Reaching her hand across the kitchen counter, Carly touched her fingertips lightly against Isabella’s bare leg. ‘Good morning, gorgeous, how are you today?’