Resisting the Italian Single Dad

by Katrina Cudmore

  Placing his glass down, he lowered his hands onto the sofa, leant in good and close to her and began to recite one of his favourite Dante Alighieri poems in Italian.

  After the first line, Carly’s skin had flushed even more.

  With the second line, a heaviness had invaded her gaze.

  By the third line she whispered, ‘What...what does it all mean?’

  He broke off from reciting the poem, touched his hand against her bare leg and said, ‘Listen to the sounds, the cadence, it will tell you all you need to know.’

  By the tenth line she had slipped down against the pillows, and he had propped himself beside her, lying on his side, his hand running along the delicate skin of the inside of her arm.

  When he finished the poem, she inhaled a deep breath. ‘Tell me at least what the last line means...you said it so quietly.’

  He hesitated for a moment, but then decided to translate it, his head dipping close to hers. Into her soft gaze he whispered, ‘“Tis such a new and gracious miracle.”’

  ‘Max.’ She spoke with wistfulness, wonder, want.

  His mouth sought hers out, the emotion burning inside him for her, playing out in a kiss that contained his soul.

  Her body arched into his.

  He twisted onto his back, rolling her with him until she lay on top of him.

  Her hands captured his head pressed into the vast mountain of pillows behind them. Her fingers raked through his hair, while her mouth, now in control, explored his with unrestrained passion.

  Her hips rolled against his, her breasts lifting and dipping, sending his pulse into dangerous territories.

  He groaned when her legs shifted to either side of his, her kiss deepening even more. He broke away, breathed heavily, ‘Before we go any further...are you sure this is what you want?’

  She nodded her head, her eyes bright. ‘Yes.’

  Flipping them both over so that he was now on top, his pulse was drumming in his ears, his body was demanding that he stop talking but, touching his fingers against her cheek, he said, ‘You’ve been hurt in the past, Carly. I don’t want to add to that.’

  Indignant resolve sparked in her eyes. ‘That doesn’t mean that I’m going to be celibate for the rest of my life.’ Her voice dropped to a bare whisper. ‘What about you—why do you want this, Max?’

  Looking down at Carly, her cheeks blushed, her eyes a mixture of passion and expectancy, he answered from his heart. ‘Because I want some joy, some comfort... I want to give you those things too.’

  Carly’s answer to that was to wrap her arms around his neck and lower his mouth to hers.

  Soon their towels had disappeared. He touched her breasts, kissed them, worshipped them, his hand trailing over her curves, his body thrilling to feel her tremble.

  The breeze from the lake whispered over their naked flesh when they became one. They both grew silent, stared into one another’s eyes, the far-off sound of birdsong reaching them as they blinked and considered each other with wonder.

  CHAPTER NINE

  TOMASO KISSED BIANCA, one hand cupping her neck, the other wrapping protectively around her waist. The wedding guests clapped and whooped. With a flourish, Tomaso leant Bianca backwards, her veil tumbling down across the ground like a light snowfall, deepening the kiss before swooping back up. With a raised fist Tomaso signalled his delight to the crowd, his wide proud smile springing unexpected tears into Carly’s eyes.

  She blinked. She was not going to cry.

  Tomaso turned to Bianca, touched his fingers against her cheek. A look of raw emotion passed between bride and groom. Carly ducked her head and swiped at the tears spilling onto her cheeks.

  She angled her body even further away from Max, who was sitting at her side. Her gaze wandered beyond the wedding couple and the garden to the frothy wisps of clouds hugging the mountain tops. Anything but dare look in Max’s direction.

  The wedding ceremony was taking place on the lawn below Villa Fiori. The air was filled with the scent of nearby lavender and pine. The late afternoon sun was gently bathing the wedding party, the beaded full skirt of Bianca’s gown sparkling in its mellow rays.

  Max’s upper arm came to rest against Carly’s.

  She waited for him to shift away. When it remained there, the warmth of his tuxedo jacket against her bare arm startlingly intimate, she glanced in his direction.

  His gaze was on Tomaso and Bianca, strain etched on his face.

  She wanted to reach out to him, place her hand on his leg and ask if everything was okay. But with the Ghiraldini family seated directly in front of them, she couldn’t dare to show any level of intimacy towards Max in their presence. Carly wasn’t going to make what must be a difficult day even harder by intimating that there might be something between Max and herself.

  She leant a hair’s breadth closer, waited to see if he pulled away, if his initial touch was unintentional. His arm shifted against hers, applying a minuscule amount of extra pressure, but enough to communicate a silent connection.

  The priest performing the marriage ceremony invited Tomaso and Bianca to kneel before him and he began a blessing for them and their marriage.

  Carly swallowed. Her heart was heavy. Heavy with joy for Tomaso and Bianca’s happiness and love for one another. Heavy with concern for Max—it must be so difficult for him to sit through this wedding, to be reminded of his and Marta’s day.

  In front of them, sitting on her own chair in between her grandparents, Isabella giggled at something Giulio whispered to her. Valentina shot him a warning look, a reminder that the priest was still saying his blessings, but then Valentina smiled ruefully when she saw the laughter in her husband’s eyes. Giovanni, the best man today, shifted forward in his seat next to Giulio and made a silly face at Isabella, who giggled even more.

  Carly blinked again, fresh tears stinging the backs of her eyes. It was so wonderful to see Isabella being embraced by the Ghiraldinis, to see the wealth of love in their family.

  She adjusted the straps of her gown, shifted in her seat, and trailed her eyes along the pastel tea roses and peonies that had been threaded into the long rows of Italian cypress trees flanking the lawn. She tried to ignore the yearning inside her for a family of her own.

  Last night, after Valentina had dropped Isabella home and they had settled her, Max and she had had dinner together. It had been a confusing evening of a thousand different emotions—they had managed to maintain a degree of their previous amiable chatter but every now and again the fire between them would spill out and they would touch one another before springing away. When it had come to saying goodnight to one another, Max had kissed her with a gentleness that had nearly broken her apart and asked if she would spend the night with him.

  She had been so tempted. Her knees had practically buckled with the desire to experience making love with him again. Never had it been so intense, so physically mind-blowing. Unfortunately it had also scared her. After, when she had lain in his arms in the boathouse, his hand stroking her hair, a deep storm of unexpected and unwanted emotion had risen within her. She had vaulted off the day bed and disappeared outside, a towel wrapped around herself, to collect her clothes. She had dressed on the jetty, not willing to face the likely consequences of going back into the boathouse—even more hot but damaging sex. Sleeping with Max had made her vulnerable. She had so desperately wanted it to be nothing more than fun but instead it had cracked open her heart. She had to protect herself better. Which was why she had said no to his invitation to spend last night with him. And why today she was working really hard at keeping everything light between them.

  Isabella turned in her chair. She eyed Max seriously and then, with an angelic smile, her tiny teeth showing, she waved at him. Max waved back. Isabella’s gaze then shifted to her. Carly waved at her. Isabella’s smile died.

  Carly inhaled a shaky breath. She t
ried not to take it personally but her heart was on the floor. Isabella turned away and shuffled off her seat. Valentina fumbled to catch hold of her, casting a nervous glance towards the altar, but Isabella moved out of her reach, dropped to her knees and crawled under her chair. Popping up in front of Carly, the skirt of her pale pink flower-girl dress streaked with a knee-shaped grass stain, her headpiece of tiny rosebuds askew, she lifted her arms up, and gave Carly a heart-piercing smile.

  Settling Isabella onto her lap, Carly buried her head for a moment into her curls. Her senses swam at her floral scent, at the weight of her body. Heat flooded her cheeks and those damn tears threatened again. But then, gathering herself, she drew back, rubbed the grass stain and adjusted Isabella’s head piece. Only then did she look up to see Giulio and Valentina staring back at her. She exhaled in relief when they smiled and nodded as though they accepted and welcomed Isabella’s fondness for her. But her relief was short-lived when she saw the deep disquiet marring Max’s face.

  * * *

  Max clinked his shot glass against Giovanni’s and then Tomaso’s. ‘Mille congratulazioni.’

  Tomaso nodded his acceptance of Max’s congratulations and then all three of them swigged back their shot of ouzo.

  Max coughed, while Tomaso gulped for air, before hitting his brother lightly on the arm with a closed fist. ‘You are learning some bad habits in Athens, Giovanni,’ Tomaso admonished his brother.

  Giovanni’s eyes flashed. ‘You have a long night ahead of you. A little ouzo will give you energy.’

  Max stepped away from the easy banter between the brothers, still thrown that they had insisted he join them in their private celebration of the wedding under the boughs of the huge eucalyptus tree that sat in the gardens overlooking the dance floor in front of the villa’s courtyard. ‘It’s close to Isabella’s bedtime. I should take her home,’ Max said, shifting further away.

  Giovanni held up the ouzo bottle in his hand. ‘Have another drink with us.’

  Before he could argue Giovanni poured another shot into the glasses. Tomaso raised his in toast. ‘Here’s to family.’

  Max clinked his glass against theirs. Shook his head when Tomaso nearly choked on his drink again. He left his drink untouched.

  His coughing fit over, Tomaso said, ‘It’s good to see you back in Villa Fiori, Max.’ Tomaso cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders. ‘We weren’t sure if you would come.’

  Max frowned. ‘Isabella and I were always coming to your wedding. There was never any doubt about that.’

  Tomaso and Giovanni looked unconvinced.

  Then Giovanni’s gaze shifted towards the dance floor. Couples were dancing beneath the gold chandeliers, streamers and globes of fresh flowers the florists had hung from invisible wires over the courtyard. And in the middle of the dance floor, her head thrown back in laughter as she swung a giggling Isabella around and around, was Carly, one hand bunching up the length of her rose-pink gown to avoid tripping over it.

  Her dress was perfect—its delicate colour highlighted the creamy perfection of her skin, the cut showcasing all her curves, her toned arms, the delicate strength of her collarbone, her hair twisted into a tight bun. Max considered his shot glass, wondering if the ouzo would somehow douse the heat burning inside him. In their lovemaking Carly had been sensual and fearless. She’d given but also had taken what she needed from him. It had been hot and fiery lovemaking that had left him wanting more. Much more.

  But Carly obviously thought differently.

  He tossed the ouzo onto the ground. Accidenti! Her rejection last night stung like hell. And her cool indifference today wasn’t much better. It was as if yesterday afternoon hadn’t happened. At times today he wondered if he had actually dreamt it. Dreamt of that passion, that connection of skin against skin, gaze upon gaze. It wasn’t as though she was avoiding him—the opposite, in fact, she had stuck by his side all day. Before the ceremony she had teasingly given him the thumbs up in approval of his tuxedo; smiled banally when he complimented her on her dress. It had only been during the wedding ceremony that he saw her drop her guard. He had seen her tears. That brief connection of arm against arm had exploded a whole pile of emotion in his heart. He had realised just how much he wanted her company, wanted her attention and awareness, how he wanted to be there for her.

  Could they be friends?

  On the dance floor Carly slowed her spinning.

  Her hands wrapping around Carly’s neck, Isabella planted a huge wet kiss on Carly’s cheek. Max closed his eyes. He was allowing Isabella to grow too close to Carly.

  ‘Carly è stupendo. Is there something between you—?’

  Before Giovanni could say any more, Max interrupted, ‘No, there isn’t.’

  Giovanni flashed him a smile and, walking away from them, did a little quickstep dance move and twirl on the lawn before calling back, ‘I’m suddenly in the mood for dancing.’

  Tomaso laughed. ‘I reckon you might need to rescue Carly in a little while—the last thing you need is for your nanny to have a broken heart.’

  Max was about to point out that Carly wasn’t a nanny, but Tomaso waved in response to Bianca’s beckoning to him from the dance floor—Giovanni having pointed her to where they were hiding out—and said with a chuckle, ‘It looks like I can’t avoid dancing any longer.’

  Giovanni paid all his attention to Isabella at first, twirling her around, but then he edged in closer to Carly, his hip bumping against hers. Giovanni could dance. And he had a cheeky charm that women seemed to find irresistible.

  Max squared his shoulders, stalked across the lawn and onto the dance floor. Isabella squealed in delight when she saw him. Max picked her up, tickled her on the belly. And held out his hand to Carly. He twirled her under his arm, moved her away from Giovanni.

  Giovanni began to weave over, his hips gyrating much too suggestively. Max considered standing in Giovanni’s way, perhaps stepping on his toes, but the arrival of Valentina and Giulio into their dancing group diverted all their attention.

  Valentina shuffled her shoulders, her feet making small movements on the dance floor. Giulio grimaced and swayed his hips a fraction. A clearly bemused Tomaso and Bianca joined their ever-increasing circle. Giovanni clapped his hands in delight and then, grabbing his father’s hand, pulled him into the centre of the group. Giulio attempted to copy Giovanni’s moves, wriggling down towards the floor, his body loosening up with the beat of the music. Max laughed, taken aback but tickled by this more playful side of Giulio. In his arms Isabella chortled. Giulio smiled fondly at her delight and then gestured to Max for them to come and join him and Giovanni. Max shook his head. Giulio wiggled his way over to him. He held out his hand, gesturing with a nod to the centre of the group. Max hesitated. Giulio stopped dancing. Without looking, Max knew that everyone was waiting to see what was about to happen. The proud appeal in Giulio’s eyes caught him right in the chest.

  Max, shaking his head in disbelief, stepped forward.

  A cheer went up from the rest of the family.

  Isabella chuckled when he began to dance. Valentina after a while came and took Isabella from him. No doubt she was worried that she might get injured in the dance off that had sprouted up between him and Giovanni. Max tugged off his suit jacket, threw it in Carly’s direction. She threw her head back in laughter when she caught it. And Max, already dizzy from his spinning and cavorting, swayed on his feet at how his heart splintered to see her infectious joy.

  The wedding was still in full swing when it was time for them to take Isabella home. Kneeling down in the driveway, Carly removed Isabella’s headpiece as Max said his goodbyes to Tomaso and Bianca, who had walked out with them. Giovanni then joined them and, smiling down at her, said, ‘I never got to dance with you, Carly.’ Raising an eyebrow in Max’s direction, he added, ‘I know when I’m beaten by a better man.’

  Pulling an exhausted I
sabella up into her arms, confused by what Giovanni meant, Carly was about to ask him, but Giulio and Valentina arriving to say goodbye stopped her. With tears in her eyes, Valentina leant in and hugged Isabella. Then Giulio joined in, his arm, like Valentina’s, wrapping around Carly. Though she was thrown to be part of this unexpected group hug, Carly’s heart danced with pleasure. Eventually Giulio pulled back and then eased a reluctant Valentina away, his arms wrapping around her shoulders protectively. His gaze shifted from Isabella to Carly. Quietly he said, ‘Isabella is fond of you. It would be nice to see you again with Max and Isabella.’

  Carly nodded, knowing she was blushing especially given the surprised expression of all the others who had heard Giulio. Her gaze moved over to Max. His expression was bewildered but then, with a quick nod, he led her and Isabella away to their awaiting car.

  ‘Now, that’s a wicked laugh if ever I heard one.’

  An hour later Carly gasped and sat back in her chair, clasping a hand to her breastbone. ‘Crikey, Max, don’t creep up on me like that.’

  Especially wearing a tuxedo, the bow tie undone, looking ever so sexily ruffled after a long day.

  Placing the baby monitor on the terrace’s coffee table, Max dropped down beside her. Carly edged into her side of the sofa. Max, a silent moonlit night, the bittersweet euphoria of having spent the day at a spectacular wedding filled with love and joy...they all spelt danger.

  Max gestured to her phone. ‘So what’s so amusing?’

  Carly swiped her phone screen before holding it out to Max. In the picture on her screen, Max and Giovanni were attempting to outdo themselves in a move that was akin to a Cossack dance.

  Max groaned.

  Carly flicked through some others photos. ‘There are other photos I want to show you...’

  ‘No, thanks.’

  ‘These are gorgeous, honestly.’ Carly frowned as she scrolled through the endless photos, wondering just how many photos she had managed to take today. ‘Did you enjoy the day?’