Resisting the Italian Single Dad

by Katrina Cudmore

  He stood again and, picking up her shopping bags, gestured that they walk towards the launch that would bring them back to his boat moored out on the lake. The village was winding down after a busy lunchtime, the locals heading home for siesta. Beside her, Max seemed deep in thought and oblivious to the appreciative looks of the women they passed by. ‘Do you think I should move here with Isabella?’

  Carly allowed her gaze to move over the ancient terracotta-tiled houses of the village. She could imagine Max and Isabella here, the lake becoming their playground, Isabella exploring the countryside when older with her friends. ‘Having family support would be good. The Ghiraldinis obviously would like you to move here.’

  The launch was already out on the water so they waited on the platform for it to return. Carly could tell Max was trying to build himself up to say something by his restlessness. Eventually he said quietly, ‘Leaving London would feel like I’m leaving Marta behind.’

  Would a man ever love her the way Max obviously had loved Marta? ‘She’ll be with you wherever you go.’

  He turned and touched her arm, a gentle smile on his lips. ‘Has anyone ever told you just how incredible you are?’

  Carly laughed. ‘Yes, but usually they’re drunk.’

  Max eyeballed her. ‘You are incredible.’

  Carly playfully gave him a little push on his arm. ‘Stop. You’re making me blush now.’

  ‘You deserve happiness. Someone who will treasure you.’

  Carly gulped, her stomach doing cartwheels at the sincerity in his eyes. Some of the self-doubts that clung to her from Robert’s rejection loosened their grip in the pit of her stomach. ‘And you deserve that too, Max.’

  ‘Dio! I don’t have the energy,’ Max said, running a hand tiredly through his hair.

  ‘Valentina was right earlier—you do work too hard. You should have some fun in your life.’

  Those misty green eyes, already shimmering in the brightness of the day, flashed with a hint of wickedness. ‘Maybe I should take you up on your offer to teach me to surf.’

  ‘You’d really enjoy it.’

  ‘If you promise to wear a bikini like you did earlier then I’d definitely say yes.’

  Warmth rippled through her body at the heat in his voice. She arched an eyebrow. ‘Sorry, but I wear a wetsuit when surfing in England.’

  He shrugged. ‘In that case...’ Pausing, he inched closer, his voice dipping low, ‘Although I’d bet you look gorgeous in one.’ His head dropped close to her ear. ‘I do know how to have fun, Carly.’

  Her breath caught at his near growl. She turned her head, answered back, ‘Prove it so.’

  His gaze darkened. ‘Is that a dare?’

  A slow sultry smile formed on her lips. ‘Yip.’

  Max waved to the launch owner, who was nearing the platform, and, turning with a devilish smile that sent shivers of excitement through her bones, said, ‘You might live to regret that dare.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ADRENALINE WAS STILL pumping through Carly as she helped Max tie up the boat to the jetty.

  Job done, she high-fived him. ‘That, without doubt, was the best experience I’ve ever had in my life!’

  Clearly entertained by her enthusiasm, Max smiled broadly before jumping back on board Alighieri, his bullet-shaped powerboat, with its long extravagant nose.

  ‘What does Alighieri mean?’

  Grabbing hold of the gold-embossed shopping bag containing the dress she had purchased over in Mantovana, Max answered, ‘It’s the surname of one of Italy’s most famous poets, Dante Alighieri.’

  ‘Did you name the boat?’

  Lifting his mirrored sunglasses off, he eyed her indignantly. ‘There’s no need to sound so surprised. I do have a romantic side, you know.’

  Carly gave a snort at that, which only doubled Max’s look of indignation.

  Back on the jetty Max shook his head when she gestured she’d carry the bag and then, reaching up his hand to rub against the corded muscle of his neck, he admitted ruefully, ‘Admittedly, I’m a little out of practice romance wise...’

  ‘Well, that makes two of us.’

  He gave her one of those heart-melting smiles that spoke of understanding, before nodding back to Alighieri. ‘You certainly don’t scare easily.’

  After Carly had taken a turn at driving the boat—and she was pretty proud about how well she had handled the boat given that it was her first time in a powerboat—pushing it hard through the calm waters of Como, Max had taken over, and showed her just what the boat was capable of. She had clung to the hand rail at the side of her seat as the boat had soared through the water, screaming with delight, much to Max’s amusement.

  Now they sauntered down the jetty towards his boathouse, neither of them seeming to want to end their afternoon yet. ‘I have to admit to being a bit of an adrenaline junkie—the higher the roller coaster, the better for me. Anyway, I knew you were in control.’

  Max laughed. ‘Such trust.’ But then drawing to a halt, he asked, ‘Do you trust me, Carly?’

  Carly’s stomach flipped at the heat in his voice. ‘That’s a big question to answer. I’m... I’m...’ She paused, struggling how to articulate the innate caution and scepticism that were still inside her. And then Max’s words yesterday that she needed to trust herself echoed in her mind and with them came dawning realisation that it wasn’t Max she didn’t trust, but herself. She didn’t trust herself not to fall for the wrong guy again. Which had nothing to do with Max, who was staring at her with an intensity that was threatening to set her aflame at any moment.

  ‘Yes, I do trust you.’ How could she not after he had been so candid over the past few days, telling her things, opening himself up to her in ways she knew were a first for him? In his care for Isabella, in how he was reaching out to the Ghiraldinis despite the hurts of the past.

  Something shifted in the air between them. Max’s fingers gently landed on her forearm. Sudden and unexpected desire bubbled through her veins. ‘Will you join me for a drink in the boathouse?’

  The chemistry shimmering between them gave his invitation a meaning beyond the words alone. In going with him she knew she was about to step into the unknown.

  Of course, she should say no. But being an adrenaline junkie—albeit suppressed in recent years thanks to her experience with Robert—was pushing her to say yes. That, combined with the delicious intoxicating warmth from his fingers tantalisingly stroking her skin, from the dark promises in his eyes, had her nod yes.

  Inside the boathouse, Max folded back the glass doors to the balcony before taking a bottle of prosecco from the fridge.

  ‘I’m more used to having a cup of tea at four in the afternoon,’ Carly said, amused when he passed her a glass of the bubbling liquid.

  Max casually leant against the kitchen countertop. ‘This weekend has been good for me...thanks again for coming with us.’

  Carly tapped her shallow champagne glass against his and sipped the deliciously cool wine, the bubbles exploding in her mouth. Her heart was racing like crazy, her insides melting with a slow-burning heat. ‘I’m glad I agreed to come.’

  ‘I like you, Carly...’

  She swallowed. Finished what he was trying to say. ‘But you’re not in the right place—I get it, Max. I’m not looking for anything from you.’

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  ‘I’m a grown woman. I know what I’m getting into.’

  ‘You’ve been hurt before. I don’t want to add to that.’

  Carly understood why he felt that way but she was tougher than he gave her credit for. ‘And I’m equally concerned that you might get hurt, Max... I hope you don’t think that I might be using you?’

  ‘Using me?’

  ‘As a way of easing myself back into the whole dating scene.’

  Max threw
his head back and laughed. ‘That’s the worst excuse for sex that I’ve ever heard.’

  Carly blushed at the sensual way he said sex. Max edged closer to her, his hips mere inches from hers. She inhaled his scent, felt the warmth from his body. ‘How about we sleep together because you find me irresistible and because you are everything I look for in a woman—intelligent, sexy, and adorable?’

  ‘I wouldn’t use the word irresistible...’ Laughing at his knitted brow, she admitted, ‘But there’s something about your voice... It’s pretty hot.’

  He gave a nod of satisfaction. ‘And you have the best legs ever.’

  ‘I hit you with your most excellent eyes.’

  Those misty green eyes twinkled like dew on a blade of grass before he said, ‘And right back at you with your mouth—it should be made illegal...’ his index finger lifted and for a brief second ran gently across her bottom lip ‘...your mouth is so sensual.’

  Carly let out a shaky breath, hot desire swirling in her belly.

  Max’s hand landed on the cotton of her tee shirt, the warmth seeping down to her ribs. The age-old story of God creating Eve from Adam’s rib sprang to her mind—man and woman were part of the same one. Was that all-powerful need inside her to find someone, to connect with them, to give her heart and soul to them, was that because she wouldn’t feel whole until she did?

  Of course, she wouldn’t give her heart to Max. Her heart she would protect from this man who didn’t want a relationship. She would feel fondness, affection, respect for him, but that was all. The road she was on with him was about seeking physical pleasure, and allowing herself some fun for the first time in years.

  Her gaze shifted over his face. His features were like a roadmap to his personality: the soft waves of his lips that at times could be as demanding as any churning sea, but at other times soft and gentle like waves lapping smoothly onto shore; his broad and prominent cheekbones telling of his strength to deal with what life had thrown at him; his long and chiselled nose, his pride, which saw him achieve so much in business but which cost him in seeking out the support he needed.

  ‘You accused me of not being romantic earlier.’

  A shiver ran the length of her at the heat in his eyes. ‘I wouldn’t say accused...’

  Taking her hand in his, he whispered in a low growl, ‘Let me show you just how romantic Italian men can be,’ before leading her out of the boathouse and down the steps to the jetty.

  Five minutes later she eyed the long length of the jetty dubiously...anything to distract her from the sight of Max standing next to her wearing nothing but his black form-fitting boxer shorts radiating testosterone and vitality. ‘I thought you were going to show me how romantic you are.’

  ‘You’re the one who said you were an adrenaline junkie.’

  ‘But the lake is freezing...jumping into it once today was enough.’

  ‘But this time you’ll be doing it with me...come on, it will be fun.’ His smile fading, Max added, ‘This weekend... I’m finally starting to feel alive again. I want to do something stupid, something irresponsible.’

  Carly shook her head but she could not help smiling at him wildly. She knew what he meant, understood what it was like to live under a cloud of memories and broken dreams and mistrust. It was a cloud she was starting to burst through, thanks in part to the man she was standing next to, and she wanted to shatter that cloud even further with an act of defiance.

  She pushed off her flip-flops and then her shorts. Pulling her tee shirt over her head, she caught Max’s glance down over her body as he took in her white panties and bra... Her sensible everyday underwear did not appear to disappoint him given the flare of heat in his eyes.

  Taking hold of her hand, he asked, ‘Ready?’

  Then they were racing down the jetty, their footsteps echoing lightly against the wood. Carly giggled wildly, revelling in the freedom of running hard and the kiss of the sun on her skin.

  Her adrenaline soared as the jetty ran out and the vast expanse of the lake began. She considered slowing, backing out of this altogether, but Max’s hand held hers even tighter, giving her the encouragement to keep going.

  They sailed through the air and Carly’s heart sailed up into her mouth.

  Max’s hand broke away from hers.

  She hit the cool water, sank low into the darkness of the lake. She inhaled some water. Panic rushed through her body. Her legs flailed. Her arms reached out, searching, searching...after a few seconds she realised it was Max she was searching for. She wanted him. Needed him.

  And then he was there, taking her hand, wrapping his arm tight about her waist.

  They surfaced together.

  Carly spluttered, gasping for some air. Her body was anchored against his, his arm about her waist. She shoved him in the chest. ‘That was the worst idea ever. As for being romantic, Max Lovato, you’ve a lot to learn.’

  Max laughed. Carly tried to remain angry but his laughter was too infectious. They laughed together, their joined bodies reverberating with the song of happiness and release coming from deep inside them both.

  And when their laughter eventually died, Max gently smoothed her dripping hair back from her face, and whispered, ‘Maybe you’ll consider this romantic.’

  His mouth touched the tender skin by her ear before running a slow path down along her jawline. She arched her neck, groaned at the deliciousness of his warm lips on her skin. And then his mouth was on hers. She practically whimpered at the beautiful heat of his kiss, his initial gentleness intensifying to an all-consuming, electrifying kiss that had them clinging to one another, her legs threading around his.

  But soon the cold of the water forced them apart to swim back into shore.

  On the shore, he lifted her up into his arms and headed back to the boathouse. Carly considered saying she could walk but realised that she didn’t want to—she was going to embrace this afternoon wholeheartedly, allow herself a few hours of insanity. She knew it wasn’t going to lead anywhere, or happen again, so why not for once in a very long time be hedonistic and forget about all the rules?

  In the boathouse Max brought her to the bathroom. Perching her onto the side of the bath, he asked, ‘So how am I doing on being romantic?’

  She gestured around her, grimaced. ‘A bathroom...what can I say? Currently I’d give you four out of ten.’

  He shook his head. ‘I obviously need to up my game.’ He went and switched on the shower. Then leading her in, he placed her under the heavy flow of warm water. She closed her eyes, goose bumps popping onto her skin despite the heat, when he began to wash her body with a lemon-scented wash. His hands ran over her arms, along her shoulders, down her back. She arched into him, unable to open her eyes because of the heavy drunken desire flowing through her. Her skin, so cold only a few minutes ago, was now flushed. Every cell of her body felt aroused, her mouth heavy and sensual against the flow of water pushing against it. Her hands reached out and blindly she ran her fingertips over the hard muscle of his chest, down over the taut skin of his abs.

  Her legs were shaking and almost gave way when he twisted her around. His hand ran down her back, skimming over her bra, dipping and staying for a while just above her panty line. She arched her back once more. Max ran kisses along her neck.

  And then he was washing her hair. The smell of coconut filled the walk-in shower. Carly placed her hands on the wall tiles for support. His hands slowly massaged her scalp. She groaned in pleasure.

  ‘What would you rate me now?’

  ‘Oh...oh, a very impressive seven.’

  He rinsed the shampoo from her hair. He stepped closer, pulled her body to his. The hard plains of his body pushed into hers. His arm encircled her waist. ‘I love how narrow your waist is...’ His other hand landed on her hip bone. ‘How your hips flair...everything about you is beautiful.’

  She swallowed at th
e intensity of his voice.

  She twisted around. ‘My turn to wash you.’

  He shook his head, washed himself quickly, his large hands sensually running over the taut muscles and sinew of his body.

  Switching off the shower, he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist, before passing her one. ‘I’ll see you out in the living room.’ His head dipped down so that his mouth was next to her ear. ‘By the way, I’m not going to stop until you give me a ten out of ten.’

  Carly drew back. ‘I have very high standards.’

  His mouth curled upwards devilishly, his eyes darkened. ‘Prepare to have your standards blown right out of the water.’

  * * *

  Five minutes later, Max turned to the sound of Carly clearing her throat. Wrapped in a towel, her skin flushed, her eyes bright, she bit her lip. ‘My clothes are still out on the jetty.’

  He shifted away from the kitchen counter and watched a droplet of water run from her damp hair down along the creamy skin of her collarbone and disappear beneath the towel into the valley of her breasts.

  Heat and desire and temptation swirled between them.

  He rolled his neck back at the doubts silently but persistently sitting at the base of his skull, pushing them away.

  ‘I promise to fetch them...but only when you give me a ten out of ten.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to hold me hostage.’

  He grinned. ‘Don’t be putting ideas in my head.’ He was joking, of course...but the thought of holding Carly Knight captive was rather enticing.

  Taking her by the hand, he led her down the steps to the sitting area of the boathouse. Popping open a fresh bottle of prosecco, he filled two glasses and passed one to Carly who was sitting propped against the thick pillows of the sofa, her legs curled up.

  Kneeling down before her, he tipped his glass against hers. ‘Here’s to romance.’

  Carly sipped her drink, and then holding up her glass, she eyed it critically. ‘It’s nice...but isn’t the whole prosecco, champagne, whatever you like to call it, a little clichéd when it comes to romance?’