For a moment it looked as though Carly was going to argue with him but something shifted in her gaze and she nodded.
After saying their goodbyes to all the family, including a terse thank you and nod towards Giulio, they drove home in silence. A silence that continued apart from forced chatter with Isabella as they gave her a drink before bed.
He attempted settling Isabella himself, but Isabella insisted on Carly being in the room too. Which did nothing for Max’s bad humour. What the heck was he going to do if Isabella wanted Carly when they got back to London?
He read Isabella Sleepy Heads in Sleep World distractedly, but thankfully she was exhausted by her day and fell asleep quickly.
He and Carly crept out of her room. Outside the door, Carly asked, ‘Will you join me in having a drink?’
He wanted to say no. He wanted to clam up.
No, actually, he wanted to say yes so that he could let loose on all of his frustrations with Giulio.
He didn’t know what he wanted. So with a curt nod, he led the way downstairs and into the kitchen.
He pulled two beers out of the fridge and passed one to Carly.
Outside on the terrace, they sat on the L-shaped sofa overlooking the pool.
Sitting at an angle from him, Carly pushed off her high heels, swung her body in his direction and, folding her legs under her, asked, ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
He shrugged. ‘Not particularly.’
Carly took a sip of her beer. ‘I’m guessing Giulio’s speech upset you. It must be hard hearing Marta’s name mentioned.’
‘It’s not that.’
‘What is it so?’
‘Dio, Carly, you heard Giulio yourself, do you need to ask that question?’ He stopped and tried to swallow the impatience in his voice. Carly, after all, had nothing to do with the frustration coursing through him. But years of being looked down on, the guilt of Marta’s death, spilled out regardless. ‘The assertion that I’ve been hiding away. Not caring about them. I stayed away because I didn’t want to cause them even more upset. They never approved of me. I allowed their daughter to die...why would they want to see me? I invited them to visit us in London soon after Marta died but they never came.’
‘But Giulio is concerned for you, Max—he cares for you.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘His speech...’
He shook his head. ‘That was nothing but a veiled condemnation of me.’
‘I disagree...’ Carly paused and shifted closer to him. ‘When we were dancing Giulio asked about you. How you are coping.’
About to take a drink of his beer, Max paused, the bottle hovering in the air, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Quietly he asked, ‘Why did you ask Giulio to dance with you?’
‘I wanted...’ Carly paused, gave him an uncertain look before admitting, ‘I wanted to tell him that you need his support.’
‘You did what?’
‘But you do.’
Max slapped his beer bottle down onto the glass-topped table in front of the sofa. ‘If I wanted Giulio’s support I would ask for it.’
Carly unfolded her legs, sat upright and shook her head. ‘No, you wouldn’t, and Giulio and Valentina are too nervous to ask for your support.’
‘My support?’
Carly looked at him as though she couldn’t believe he wasn’t following her train of logic. ‘Being closer to you and Isabella would help them in dealing with Marta’s death.’
‘Why haven’t they visited us in London if that’s the case?’
‘Have you invited them recently? Straight after Marta’s death would have been too painful for them.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘I do have my pride, Carly.’
Carly frowned. And then after a moment’s consideration nodded and said, ‘I can understand that, but I think the Ghiraldinis are nervous about getting things wrong in their relationship with you.’
Max threw his head back and stared at the overhead stars. He tried to temper his frustration when he said, ‘I’m really not following this.’
‘Don’t you see, you hold all the power in your relationship. They want to be with Isabella but know that you could stop them seeing her at any point.’
Affronted that anyone would think he was capable of that, he bit out, ‘I would never stop them seeing her.’
‘I understand why it must be hard for you but perhaps you need to let everything go that happened between you and the Ghiraldinis in the past and focus on where you are now. You need to start talking to them, Max. For all your sakes. I honestly don’t believe the Ghiraldini family hold you responsible for Marta’s death. Giulio told me tonight that you were a wonderful husband to Marta.’ Stopping, Carly cleared her throat, but her voice was still cracked with emotion when she added, ‘He said you made her very happy. He’s very proud of all that you have achieved.’
Max narrowed his gaze, not buying it. ‘You’re making this up.’
Her mouth dropped open before she made a disbelieving squeak. ‘I most certainly am not.’ She gave a little huff, folded her arms and eyed him crossly.
Max swallowed a smile at Carly’s outrage; sparks were practically firing from her eyes. ‘So are you saying that I should invite Giulio and Valentina to come and visit us in London?’
The sparks in her eyes disappeared to be replaced with shining enthusiasm. ‘Yes, and you should visit Como more frequently.’
He picked up his beer bottle. Eyed her over its rim. ‘If the Ghiraldinis come to London, I’m going to insist that you visit and you can be the one who has to listen to Giulio’s tall tales.’
She threw her head back and laughed. Then, with a satisfied smile, she countered, ‘But you’ll have no need for me to visit. Isabella will be sleeping perfectly. My work with you will be done.’
Max took a long gulp of his beer. He tried to imagine never seeing Carly again. He took another gulp, thrown by how his heart dipped low in his chest at that thought. He placed his bottle onto the table top again. ‘Did you enjoy the party?’
Carly rubbed her hands against her bare arms. ‘Of course.’ She gave a light laugh that travelled through his body like warming brandy. ‘I’d defy anyone not to enjoy such a lavish party.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘I was looking forward to dancing more though. You dragged us off home before I got a chance to dance with Isabella as I had promised her.’
Before he knew what he was doing, Max found himself standing and holding his hand out to her. ‘Will you dance with me instead?’
For a split second her mouth widened in a brilliant smile but instantly it faded. ‘There’s no need.’
He kept his hand reaching out, refusing to listen to the voices telling him he was acting crazily, and said quietly, ‘How about we forget about reality for a few minutes and pretend we have just seen each other across a room?’
Her head tilted. ‘Like in an old movie?’
‘Exactly.’
She considered him for a moment. ‘Are you the hero or the villain of the movie though?’
Good question. Max stepped closer. Suddenly realising that with Carly he wanted to be a hero as corny as that sounded. He wanted to treat her right, protect her, earn her respect. ‘The hero of course.’
Her eyes danced with merriment. ‘I like the idea of suspending reality for a while.’
‘How about we pretend it’s a Viennese ball?’
She stood and playfully bowed. ‘I would be honoured to dance with you, Count Lovato.’
‘And I with you, Princess Carly.’
He held her at a distance, humming lowly. They danced around the terrace, the stars shining down on them, the still night air whispering against their skin. He felt Carly shiver. He stopped and removed his jacket. Helped her pull it on. Instead of waltzing this time, his hands went to her waist, hers to his shoulders. He
pulled her closer, she came willingly. Her thigh bumped against his. He tightened his hold. Her hip touched against his upper thigh. His hand roamed upwards. His thumb ran along the outer side of her breast. She exhaled shakily. Fire raged through his veins.
Her eyes were heavy, mirroring his own need. He lowered his head. Her eyes fluttered closed, her soft plump mouth parted. With a groan his mouth found hers. His arm around her waist, he arched her body against his and she whimpered, her fingers reaching up to press against his scalp. All the while they tasted and nibbled and inhaled each other. One hot mouth on the other, their bodies twisting and bumping against each other. He longed to push back the deep neckline of her dress. To thumb the soft flesh of her breasts.
But then with a shaky breath, he pulled away, knowing it all was about to get out of control. He ran a hand along his jaw. ‘Forgive me.’ She went to protest but he shut her down. It would be easier if they both pretended that this was something he had got wrong, that he was the only one who wanted this kiss, this fire. He pressed on. ‘That was inappropriate. I would like to apologise.’
He stepped back, gestured to the villa. ‘I’ll walk you to your room.’
Carly removed his jacket and passed it to him. Tilting her chin, she said, ‘There’s no need.’
She swooped down and picked up her heels.
Max watched her walk away. And closed his eyes when she went inside, a wave of frustration washing over him.
A kiss that was so wrong shouldn’t have felt so perfect.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘UNO...UNO...UNO.’ Her peach shorts covered in a heavy dusting of sand, Isabella picked up one creamy white stone after another from the beach and dropped them into her rapidly overflowing red sand bucket.
Her brown curls peeking out from beneath her white sunhat, she looked adorable sitting on the pebbled section of Max’s private beach.
Closer to the water, the beach was made of a bank of fine sand and for the past hour the three of them had played there building sandcastles. Of course, building sandcastles with an architect was never going to be straightforward and they had ended up creating an impressive fort complete with moat, battlements and drawbridge.
Now, as Max sauntered down the steps of the boathouse heading in their direction carrying a laden tray, she lowered her sunglasses from where she had earlier perched them onto her head and bit back a groan. Why were men blessed with such good legs?
Beneath his white shorts, Max’s were bronzed and muscular, no doubt as a result of his morning swims. The outside light had triggered again this morning when he had gone down to the pool. She had forced herself not to peek out, which had called for an iron will, given how tempting the prospect of seeing a half-naked Max had been.
Instead she had lain in her bed and confronted some home truths she’d have much rather preferred to ignore.
Number one being the most obvious: her behaviour last night in kissing Max had been totally unprofessional. He hadn’t fooled her in his apology—they both knew that they had equally wanted it, but she should have known better.
Two, hadn’t she learned anything from the Robert debacle? Max was still in love with Marta. Falling for a guy whose heart lay elsewhere was plain insanity.
Three, Max was a struggling dad trying to negotiate his relationship with his in-laws over an emotionally charged weekend. Was her proximity, the fact that they got on, that there was an attraction between them, nothing more than a welcome diversion for him?
Fourth, and the most crucial truth of all, was Isabella. Carly knew her focus should be in helping develop a stronger bond between Isabella and her dad. Which was why, this morning, Carly had breezed into the kitchen, determined that last night was a temporary blip in the weekend, and suggested they all spend some time together on the beach.
The tray casually hoisted onto one shoulder, Max strolled across the sand in his bare feet. Carly led Isabella by the hand down to their picnic blanket on the sand and, when Max joined them, Carly nodded in the direction of the tray balancing on his shoulder. ‘Neat trick.’
Max laid the tray down at the centre of the rug with a flourish and grinned. ‘I was a waiter when I was studying.’
Max sat on the turquoise blanket and Carly, sitting across from him, patted a spot between them for Isabella to sit on. But Isabella, as ever, had her own idea and plonked herself firmly down on Carly’s lap.
Laughing, Carly glanced in delight towards Max, who looked from her to Isabella with a frown.
Carly placed her hand on Isabella’s knee, her forearm lightly preventing her from toppling over. In truth she wanted to wrap her arms tightly around her waist, hug her tiny body in close, but given Max’s disquiet she decided not to make a bigger deal out of Isabella’s ever growing acceptance of her than was necessary.
All morning Max had been relaxed and courteous towards her. A little too courteous for her liking...he was treating her as you would a colleague you were fond of.
Despite herself she wanted to scream. She wanted to ask if he had felt the same surge of hot hormones, the thrill of something new and wonderful, that same rightness of their kiss. The rightness of two bodies, two mouths and the perfect blend of pheromones all colliding in one incredible explosion of perfection.
But that laid-back vibe he had been projecting all morning was now history. He looked rattled. Why did he have a problem with Isabella sitting with her? Wanting the awkwardness to disappear, she pointed to the tray filled with juices and fresh fruit and delicious-smelling pastries. ‘Look, Isabella, at all the wonderful things Papa has brought for our picnic.’
Isabella clapping her hands excitedly seemed to snap Max out of whatever was bothering him. He placed a napkin on his forearm with a flourish and, picking up a plastic beaker of orange juice, presented it to Isabella as though she were royalty. ‘Signorina Isabella, succo d’arancia per te.’
To Carly he passed a tall narrow glass filled to the brim with iced coffee. ‘And for you, Signorina Carly, iced coffee hand-blended by myself.’
Did he really have to talk in such a low sexy voice, which sounded like an invitation to do something naughty?
Isabella drank her juice and munched happily on a piece of a cookie Luciana had baked earlier that morning.
Max’s boathouse was a contemporary, two-storey flat-roofed structure. Storerooms were located on the ground floor while upstairs there was a large kitchen and living space with spectacular views out onto the lake and a balcony suspended over the water. A wooden jetty to the side of the boathouse led to Max’s powerboat.
Her cookie finished, Isabella began to swing in Carly’s lap as she softly hummed a tune to herself. She and Max exchanged a humorous look at Isabella’s tuneless humming. Their gazes held. A charge of attraction crowded the air space between them. A shiver ran through her.
Disconcerted by the intensity of the chemistry playing out between them, Carly bowed her head and ran her hand over Isabella’s sun hat, wishing she could touch her soft curls instead.
‘Isabella is growing very fond of you.’
Carly blinked at the concern in his voice. ‘You’re worried about it?’
Unease flickered in his expression. ‘With Marta...all the nannies who’ve come and gone... I worry about the amount of loss she’s had in her life.’
Her heart almost snapped in two to see the worry etched on his face, the sadness in his voice. Isabella shifted in her arms, her head lolling back against her chest. ‘Children are resilient. As long as she knows she can rely on you then she will be able to handle other people coming and going in her life.’
Max’s gaze stayed fixed on hers as he considered her words, the intensity of his reflection and deliberation of what she said lifting her heart—he really wanted to do right by his daughter. But it was also his respect for her opinion that got to her. Her stepfather had always disregarded her views. For a long time
it had dented her self-confidence and had made her question her abilities and even her right to express her opinions. Dropping her cheek to rest gently against Isabella’s head, Carly closed her eyes. Drew in a long breath. Sighed it out silently as her heart took another tumble forwards in falling for Max.
‘You’re very good with Isabella.’
Carly opened her eyes in surprise at Max’s softly spoken voice. Looking down, she smiled fondly when she spotted that Isabella had fallen asleep in her arms. Carly leant back so that Isabella was in a less upright position, a wave of warmth spreading through her as she watched Isabella’s long dark eyelashes flicker in her sleep.
She floundered for a moment, knowing she needed to say something, to look in Max’s direction, but she didn’t want him to see just how emotional she felt. She searched her brain for something suitable to say and eventually managed to ask, ‘Has your nanny agency found any suitable candidates for you?’
‘They’ve emailed some profiles through. On paper they look good—’ he shrugged ‘—but so did all of the others that I recruited.’
‘If you want a second opinion, I’ll happily interview the candidates with you.’
Max looked at her curiously. ‘Is that part of your service?’
It wasn’t. But without realising it until she’d offered, Carly felt invested in Isabella’s future. She wanted to make sure she was well cared for. ‘It’s not something I usually do...’ Carly grimaced down at Isabella, who was leaning heavily against her chest. She leant even further back on her arm that was keeping them both upright. Her bicep and wrist protested with a sharp ache. ‘Gosh, she’s heavier than I thought.’
Max shuffled over on the picnic blanket to sit next to Carly. His thigh touching hers, he reached over towards Isabella. ‘Let me take her from you.’
Their hands met as they passed Isabella between them, their bowed heads almost touching. It was such an intimate act, gently passing a sleeping child, so full of innocence, so defenceless, between them.
Carly’s heart missed a beat. And another beat when she saw Max’s tender gaze down onto his daughter as he settled her into his arms.
Resisting the Italian Single Dad Page 11