Sweet Italian Christmas: Three Christmas Romances

by Helen Scott Taylor

  Staring down over the classic tourist-brochure vista of the curved bay with the sleeping volcano in the distance, Claire tried to work out the angle she'd seen it from that morning when she pulled back the shutters on her room.

  "I think my hotel might be farther that way." Claire waved a finger vaguely off to her left.

  "West, you mean." Leo gave her a hopeful glance.

  "I guess so. If that way's west." She'd never been much good at directions. Her dyslexia also meant she had trouble reading a clock face and remembering her right from her left.

  "We won't waste any more time looking now," Leo said. "We'll check the Internet for local hotels when we get home and see if anything jogs your memory."

  Claire cradled her dead phone in her hand and sighed. "If my phone was working, I could check my booking confirmation e-mail."

  "You can do that on my laptop when we reach home." The note of hope in Leo's voice made Claire cringe inside. He couldn't wait to get rid of her, and she didn't blame him. He must think she was a halfwit.

  "I can't remember my e-mail password, I'm afraid. I had to change all my passwords a few days ago because I got one of those phishing viruses on my computer."

  Leo muttered something under his breath in Italian. She didn't understand what he said, but his tone of voice left no doubt it wasn't complimentary.

  The car rounded a sharp bend, climbing higher, nearly to the top of the hill. The houses here were larger, grander. She seemed to remember reading that the wealthier people lived up here with the best view.

  "This is home." They stopped outside an ultramodern white four-story house, and the electric gates swung open.

  Leo drove down a cement ramp to a parking garage beneath the building. Automatic lights popped on. He maneuvered around a pillar and slotted in beside a huge silver SUV and a small pink sports car that probably belonged to his wife.

  Claire hadn't thought much about his wife, but the woman was unlikely to be overjoyed to see her, a stranger her husband had picked up off the side of the road.

  Leo cut the engine and climbed out. While Claire struggled up out of the deep bucket seat and fumbled with the door release, Leo rounded the car and pulled the door open for her. He offered a hand, and she slipped her fingers in his and let him pull her to her feet.

  She felt exhausted after the late-night flight and the hectic few days beforehand. All she wanted to do right now was go home, fall into bed, and sleep for a week. Unfortunately she didn't have a home anymore after walking out on Jonathan. Everything she owned was currently heaped in the corner of her sister's apartment.

  Leo touched a hand to her elbow and smiled. "This way."

  He led her across the garage and stood aside to let her step into the small elevator first. He pressed a button and they rose smoothly for a few seconds to the next floor. As the door slid open, a wonderful smell of herbs, cream, and garlic pervaded the air.

  Claire's stomach rumbled. She hadn't realized she was so hungry. The pastry she'd had for breakfast seemed like a long time ago now.

  "Come and meet Mamma."

  Leo led her along a hallway into a huge kitchen that managed to be modern and traditional at the same time, its gleaming granite counters and stainless steel appliances juxtaposed with beautifully crafted wooden units.

  Two women worked at the counters, their cheerful conversation frequently punctuated with laughter.

  "Ciao, Mamma. I've brought a guest for dinner."

  The older of the two women swung around at the sound of their arrival. Tall and slim with long dark hair threaded with gray, she had high cheekbones and the easy manner of a woman comfortable in her skin.

  Claire's gaze moved on to the stunning younger woman, a classic Italian beauty with thick dark hair and perfect features. The only thing that surprised her about Leo's wife was that she wore an apron over her dress and was preparing dinner. Surely if he had plenty of money he'd employ a cook?

  "Leonardo." A melodic string of Italian words flowed from the older woman's lips.

  Claire smiled politely and muttered hello in Italian, self-conscious of her atrocious Italian accent.

  "This is Claire Chadwick. She's English."

  The younger woman wiped her hands on a dishtowel and came closer. "Nice to meet you, Claire." She offered a hand.

  "Claire, this is my sister, Gina."

  His sister! So where was his wife?

  Leo spoke to his mother and sister in Italian. They both laughed and cast amused glances at Claire. Her face heated as she guessed they now knew how stupid she'd been, missing her bus and forgetting the name of her hotel.

  Gina shouted through the door and a few moments later, a little girl burst into the room, running full tilt towards Leo. He bent and scooped her off her feet, lifting her above his head. She giggled and patted his cheeks between her small hands.

  He kissed the tip of her nose and lowered her into his arms. "Claire, meet my daughter, Violet. Say hello to the lady, piccolina."

  "Hello, lady."

  Claire joined in as everyone laughed. The little girl grinned, obviously used to being the center of attention. She was such an adorable little thing with big brown eyes and a yellow bow in her wavy dark hair that matched her dress.

  "You're teaching her English?" Claire said.

  "Yes. It's easier for her to learn now, and her other grandparents speak English."

  So his wife might be English. Claire glanced over her shoulder, expecting this mysterious wife to appear but she didn't. Instead an older man wandered into the kitchen, and Leo introduced him as his father.

  "Would you like some wine, Claire?" Gina was already pouring ruby liquid into a glass.

  "We need to help Claire remember what her hotel's called," Leo said.

  He set Violet on her feet and she scampered away. At Leo's bidding, Claire followed him through to an airy family room with big windows giving a stunning view over Naples Bay. In the gathering twilight, sparkling lights glittered across the city and delineated the curve of the bay.

  "Gina," Leo called, "can you fetch my laptop and help Claire while I play with Violet." Leo turned his attention to her. "Please sit down and make yourself comfortable."

  A short while later, Gina appeared with a laptop, sat beside Claire on a white leather sofa, and set the device on her knees. "There are so many hotels around here. It'll be difficult to find yours if you don't have a name."

  She opened an Italian website that advertised the local hotels and scrolled through them, reading out the names in English and giving Claire time to scrutinize the photos.

  Claire tried to concentrate, but the sound of Leo's laughter and Violet's giggles kept drawing her attention from the boring hotel pictures. Leo sat cross-legged on a colorful mat on the tile floor, while Violet heaped toys in front of him out of a bag.

  The little girl handed Leo a doll, then sat on his lap. He curled an arm around his daughter's waist, holding her close as he kissed the top of her head, then did the same to the doll, drawing a squeal of approval from his daughter.

  An unfamiliar longing took root inside Claire, something she had never felt before. Watching the dear little girl play roused a maternal instinct Claire didn't know she had.

  The life she'd lived in London with Jonathan was so far removed from the warm, loving atmosphere in the Marins' home, it was like a different world.

  With gentle words and indulgent smiles, Leo encouraged and guided his daughter as they played, never raising his voice, even when Violet knocked his glass over and spilled red wine across the tiles. All he did was kiss her cheek and tell her not to worry.

  Claire knew her parents loved her in their stiff, old-fashioned way, but they didn't show it. Neither of them had ever told her they loved her. Jonathan had been the same. No hugs and kisses, no laughter, no words of love. He was too focused on his business and the practical things in life, like her father had been.

  Until this moment, she hadn't realized her ex was a cold man like her
father, a man who would not make a loving father for her children. Thank goodness she'd ended things between them before they started a family.

  If she had children, she wanted them to live in a home full of laughter and tolerance. Not suffer the strict set of rules her father and Jonathan imposed—rules that were impossible to meet, so she always felt as though she was letting them down.

  • • •

  "I hope you'll be all right. If you want anything, my bedroom is next door." Gina smiled and closed the door softly, leaving Claire standing in the luxurious room. A low queen bed stood against one wall covered in a pearlescent spread, with pale golden wood furniture dotted around. A few cream and black mats broke up the white tile floor.

  Clutching her borrowed nightdress and a gifted toothbrush and toothpaste, Claire pushed open the door to the adjoining bathroom and stared at the gleaming chrome and white ceramic. The room looked unused without a hint of discoloration between the tiles.

  She brushed her teeth and stared at her disheveled reflection. What must Leo, his beautiful sister, and their parents think of this scruffy English tourist they'd taken in for the night? They'd all been very kind and seemed interested when she explained about her travel website and that she was here to write a piece on Christmas in Italy. But she'd noticed the curious glances they exchanged.

  After trying to comb out the knots in her loose hair with her fingers and creating even more tangles, Claire gave up. It didn't make much difference what she looked like when she was about to go to bed. She could fix her appearance in the morning.

  She switched off the light, threw back the bedcovers, and was sliding beneath the sheets when a knock sounded on the door.

  She touched the neckline of the silky nightdress and ran a hand over the front, checking it was decent before she answered.

  "Come in."

  The door opened and Leo poked his head around. "Good. You're not in bed yet. I have something to show you that will help you sleep better."

  Loose pajama pants rode low on his hips and a tight navy T-shirt hugged the sculpted muscles of his chest. Claire's heart bumped around and she struggled for air as his lips curved in a slow grin.

  She barely had the presence of mind to grab her cardigan and pull it on before following him down the hall. The cold tile beneath her feet was the only thing that helped her cling to reality as her mind flew off in wild fantasies of Leo. Wherever his wife was, she must be crazy to leave him on his own.

  He ran up a staircase to the top floor and she followed, her pulse racing with a confusing mix of emotions. She'd suspected her feelings for Jonathan had died long ago, but it had been a gradual process. Every one of his scathing glances and critical words had chipped away at her love until there was none left. She'd been cold inside for so long. Yet a few hours with Leo and she already felt more alive than she had for years.

  Leo pushed open the door at the top of the stairs to reveal a huge room that took up the better part of the top floor. The view of the twinkling dark city filled a wall composed almost completely of glass. White leather sofas, a television, and an office desk barely took up any space in the huge room. On one side was a kitchenette, on the other a bank of computer screens and a huge whiteboard covered in black writing.

  She took a step closer to examine the mathematical equations scrawled across the board.

  "What's this?"

  "My work. I write computer software."

  "What sort of software?" She turned a quizzical gaze on Leo as he ambled forward, tiny lines appearing between his brows. He rubbed out a couple of figures on the board and replaced them with others.

  His biceps bunched beneath the T-shirt sleeve as he lifted his arm. A hot, needy feeling settled inside her as her gaze tracked down his perfectly sculpted body. Even his feet were cute. How could his wife bear to be parted from him?

  Seemingly oblivious to her appraisal, Leo made a few more corrections to his calculations, then stepped back and rested his hands on his hips.

  "Every piece of electrical equipment runs on software written specially to make it function the right way. That's where I come in. The manufacturers tell me what they want their device to do, and I come up with code to do it."

  "Wow." Claire stared at the lines of incomprehensible symbols. How could this gorgeous hunk be a mathematician and computer nerd? That was the last thing she'd have imagined.

  "Who do you work for?"

  "I'm freelance."

  And obviously good at what he did if the house and car were any indication.

  Leo set his marker pen on the lip at the bottom of the board and gestured towards the computer screens. "That's what I wanted to show you."

  Perching on an ergonomic stool in front of his array of screens, he tweaked a mouse. The main screen cleared and a picture popped up. It took Claire a moment before she recognized the welcome screen of her phone.

  With a lurch and thump of her heart, she dashed to his side and leaned closer, scanning the image. "How did you do that?"

  He pointed to the cracked-open case of her broken smartphone. Wires leading from his equipment were attached to the guts of her device.

  "I thought I'd see if I could access what's on your phone to get the name of your hotel. Do I have your permission to hack into your e-mail account?"

  "Yes, go for it."

  His lean fingers raced over the keyboard and clicked the mouse. Code she didn't begin to understand filled the screen.

  A clean, soapy smell reached her and she noticed how close she was to Leo—so close she could see the dark stubble on his jaw and the individual lashes that framed his eyes. It was fascinating watching the expressions chase across his face as he worked. His eyebrows dipped and his lips twisted at a problem. Then a smile caught at the corners of his mouth as he found a solution.

  Claire could happily watch him all day.

  "Bingo."

  She tore her gaze from his face and examined the list of e-mails in her inbox. "Scroll down a few weeks."

  He did as she asked.

  "There. Hotel Bella Sofia. That's the one."

  "I don't know the place, but we should be able to find it."

  Leo clicked onto Google, and in a couple of moments he pulled up the website showing the shabby old facade of the hotel where she'd spent the previous night.

  Relief burst through Claire, but the feeling was short-lived. She still had to find her handbag.

  "I'll drop you there in the morning," Leo said in a satisfied tone. He would probably be pleased to get her off his hands.

  "You've been wonderful. I don't know how to thank you, Leo."

  He swiveled around, his face mere inches from hers. She should back up; he was a married man. Instead she fell into the warmth of his dark brown eyes, and all she could think was how much she didn't want to walk away and never see him again.

  Chapter Three

  Claire frowned at the sight of her budget hotel as Leo swung the Ferrari through the gateway and pulled up in one of the spaces in the small car park. Once upon a time, the grand building must have been luxurious. Now it had the air of impoverished nobility with paint peeling off the shutters and water stains down the brickwork.

  When she'd arrived, the darkness had hidden the worst of the decay. Carefully placed lights had silhouetted the grand structure while hiding the less pleasant details. She hadn't been impressed with the threadbare carpet and frayed soft furnishings in her room, but until she got her website off the ground and started making money from advertising revenue, she had to travel on a tight budget.

  Claire glanced at Leo for his reaction. He made no comment, simply climbed out of the car and came around to her side to open the door for her, his usual half smile playing around his lips. She'd never met a man who seemed to be so happy and at ease with the world.

  It was a refreshing change from Jonathan, who criticized everybody and everything. Living with him had drained her energy and enthusiasm.

  "You've been wonderful, Leo. I don'
t know what I'd have done without you. Thank you so much."

  Clutching her notebook to her chest, she stepped forward, placed a hand on his shoulder, and pressed a kiss to his cheek before she talked herself out of it. She breathed in his clean smell, a mix of men's herbal fragrances and baby powder that she'd never forget.

  His hand settled at her waist, his words soft in her ear. "It was my pleasure."

  She lingered close to him for longer than she should, drawing strength from this unusual man. When his breath brushed her ear, sending a tingle of longing through her, she forced herself to step back, an embarrassed smile on her face.

  Her short time with him might have come about by accident, but the few hours in his company felt like an oasis in her troubled life.

  "I'd better go in and find out if they've got my handbag." A sense of foreboding pushed aside her pleasure. She wasn't sure what she'd do if her money and credit card were missing.

  "Let me come with you. You might need my help with the language." Without waiting for an answer, Leo placed a hand on her back and ushered her in through the front door.

  Claire glanced up at his profile, amazed that he hadn't taken the opportunity to leave. This stranger who'd picked her up at the side of the road seemed to care about her more than the man she'd been engaged to for two years had.

  The faintly sour smell of the hotel foyer hit the back of her throat as they entered. Their footsteps rang on the tile floor and Leo tapped the bell on the reception desk. The old woman who'd checked Claire in when she arrived appeared from a doorway in a dark corner.

  "Buongiorno." In a mixture of Italian and English, Claire explained how she'd missed her tour bus, then asked if the tour guide had dropped off her handbag at the hotel.

  The woman stared at her blankly and shook her head. "No understand."

  As if this was the cue Leo had been waiting for, he launched into a stream of rapid Italian. He and the woman exchanged comments, the tension between them rising until the woman's mouth drew into an angry pucker.

  Leo threw his hands in the air and tutted dramatically. It was curious how he became more animated and impatient when he spoke Italian.