by Amy Andrews
They were walking out when Julian stopped in the hallway and turned to face the end. ‘That’s Papa’s room.’
He pointed to the closed door like it was a forbidden kingdom. Nat bit back her disapproval. Man, Alessandro was clueless. A far-away room dominated by a closed door? What the hell did he think his son, his four-year-old son, would read into that?
She really did have her work cut out for her.
Nat gave his shoulder a squeeze. ‘Want that surprise now?’
Julian looked up at her and nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin firmly in place. She smiled back at him and they made their way downstairs.
‘Wait here, it’s in the car.’ Nat injected a conspiratorial note into her voice.
She was back at the door in a minute—thankfully. The heat seemed even worse after the cool ecstasy of Alessandro’s house. She stuck her head round. Julian was waiting there, anticipation lighting his dark features.
‘Shut your eyes,’ she requested. ‘Hold out your hands.’ Julian obeyed instantly. ‘No peeking,’ Nat warned as she adjusted the package in her arms and passed it gently into Julian’s waiting arms.
Julian eyes flew open. ‘A cat.’
He looked at Nat with utter wonder and squeezed the animal close, rubbing his face into her soft fur. Flo purred appreciatively. In his excitement he even forgot about the weird stiltedness between him and his father and called out to him.
‘Papa, Papa, look, a cat. Nat has brought her cat.’
Alessandro appeared in the same doorway as before. Great. A cat. He regarded it warily. Pinocchio had been Camilla’s cat and had positively hated him.
‘You didn’t say anything about a cat,’ he murmured, keeping it low for his son’s benefit. Not that it mattered. Julian was totally preoccupied by the ball of fur purring like an engine in his arms.
Nat raised an eyebrow at his disapproving frown. ‘You’re allergic?’
‘No.’
Ah. ‘If the cat goes, I go.’
Alessandro sighed. He believed her. And how could he deny his son the obvious pleasure? ‘The cat’s fine. Just keep it out of my room.’
Nat didn’t think that would be much of a problem. Flo wasn’t one for wasting her time on people who didn’t care for her. Especially not when there was a little boy who was obviously going to dote on her.
They watched him for a few moments. ‘I trust your room is to your liking?’ Alessandro enquired.
To her liking? That was a bit optimistic. ‘It’s fine. Thank you.’
Alessandro had heard the word fine enough in his marriage to know that coming from a woman’s lips it didn’t always mean fine. ‘Problemo?’
Nat hesitated. But, hell—she had to live here. ‘Is there a reason for all the white?’
Alessandro frowned. He looked around. He supposed it was a bit stark. ‘No. There’s plenty of colourful things—paintings, rugs and so on in the boxes. I just haven’t had a chance to unpack yet. This is the first weekend I’ve had at home since I started at St Auburn’s.’
‘So you won’t object to me adding a bit of…colour, then? I can unpack the boxes if you like.’
‘I don’t expect you to do that,’ he dismissed.
She shrugged. ‘It’s the least I can do for free rent.’ And it wasn’t good for Julian to live in such a cold space, devoid of warmth.
He looked at his son, still talking to the cat like a new best friend. ‘You’re here for Julian, not to be a housekeeper.’
She shot him a pained expression. ‘Alessandro, if I have to live in this white palace for even a day, I’m going to go snow blind. Please let me do this.’
Alessandro gave her a grudging smile. Funny how he hadn’t really noticed it until she’d pointed it out. ‘As you wish.’
Frankly, if she could make Julian this happy in just a few minutes she could paint rainbows all over the house and sprinkle it with glitter.
CHAPTER FOUR
ALESSANDRO and Julian helped her carry her meagre belongings up from the car. Alessandro withdrew the minute the job was done and she had to admit to being relieved. His presence in her room was too…dominant and she found herself questioning her sanity—yet again.
Julian hovered while she unpacked, leaping at the chance to help her distribute her bits and pieces around the room. Then Flo entered the room and he sat on the floor with the cat nestled in his lap, happy to just observe as he petted the purring animal.
A lava lamp brightened things up considerably in the stark room, as did the orange and russet bedding. Her Turkish rug covered most of the hideous white carpet and Impressionists prints along with her much-loved Venetian masks added colour to the walls. Finally she looped some rich purple gauzy fabric she’d bought in China along the curtain rod, letting it drape haphazardly over the bare window.
She stood back and admired her work. Not bad for an hour’s work. At least the room no longer looked like the inside of an igloo.
‘What do you reckon?’ she asked Julian.
Julian beamed at her, raising Flo to his face and stroking his chin along the top of her soft head. ‘It’s…beautiful,’ he sighed.
Nat laughed. The awe in his voice was priceless. ‘Do you think you could do this to my room? Make it like my old one? Before Mummy died?’
Nat felt her heart lurch in her chest at his matter-of-fact words. She scanned his face for signs of distress or grief but found none. Instead, he was looking at her as if she were Mary Poppins and had done it all with a snap of her fingers.
‘Sure,’ she replied. ‘We’ll go through the boxes tomorrow and see if we can find all your stuff.’
Nat heard Flo’s half-hearted protesting miaow as Julian bounced on his haunches and squeezed her a little too tight. His eyes sparkled and he looked like a normal excited four-year-old.
And she knew in an instant that coming to live under Alessandro’s roof had been the right thing.
‘Right. Well. I’m starving.’ She looked at the slim rose-gold watch that adorned her wrist. Midday. She saw Julian yawn in her peripheral vision and his eyes drift shut briefly as he continued to rub his chin against Flo’s head. They’d been having such fun she’d forgotten he was only four and still needed his afternoon sleep.
She realised he would need lunch before going down for his nap. ‘Boy, look at the time! Let’s get something to eat.’
Julian followed her down the stairs, Flo bundled up in his arms, purring loudly as she wallowed in cat heaven. He led her to the kitchen and Nat braced herself to face Alessandro again. He was working on a laptop at the dining table, which was through an archway to the right off the massive gourmet kitchen gleaming in all its stainless-steel and white-tiled glory.
Alessandro looked up from the recent on-line health alerts from the Australian government concerning the spread of the deadly swamp flu which, due to international travel, could easily be on Australia’s shores before they knew it. If he was going to be treating cases of it in his emergency department, he wanted to be forearmed.
Julian was smiling and chatting away and Nat’s cheeks were all pink as she conversed with Julian. ‘I trust you’ve settled in?’
Nat nodded, her gaze settling on his broad shoulders. ‘Yes, thank you. Julian and I are going to attack his room tomorrow.’
Alessandro nodded. ‘As you wish. I’ll locate his boxes and take them up there in the morning.’
‘Thank you.’
His gaze held hers, boring into her, like he already knew her, and she suddenly felt out of breath. A lock of hair fell across his forehead and her fingers tingled with the desire to push it back. She could actually see herself doing it in some weird slow-motion flash. Except he didn’t have a shirt on. And neither did she.
Nat dragged her gaze away and nervously looked around for something to do. Anything. The stainless-steel fridge was right there and she reached for the door with relish. ‘I was just going to make some lunch for Julian and I before he goes down for his nap.’
She stared in the fridge unseeingly for a moment while her pulse settled and her knickers unknotted. ‘Shall I make you something as well?’ she twittered.
‘There’s not a whole lot there, I’m afraid. I really need to do a proper shop.’
Nat blinked as the contents, or lack of them, slowly came in to focus. She blinked again. Now, that was the understatement of the year. She turned to him. ‘What have you guys been living on?’
Alessandro shrugged. He hated shopping. Camilla had always taken care of that. Nothing had been right since she’d gone. ‘I usually just pick up a few bits and pieces after work every second day or so.’
Nat pursed her lips. ‘Hmmm.’ She shut the fridge and glanced briefly at Alessandro. She located the pantry and found it similarly devoid of food. It was obvious they’d just been living from day to day. Was the man totally clueless? Didn’t Alessandro know that kids needed a sense of permanency, long-term planning to feel secure? Especially ones whose whole lives had just fallen apart?
‘Looks like we go shopping after your nap.’
Julian beamed. ‘Can I ride in the trolley? Mummy used to let me ride in the trolley.’
She glanced at Alessandro and saw him visibly pale, his face possibly the grimmest she’d seen yet. She supposed he only used a basket to shop for his bits and pieces and that would seem rather boring to a four-year-old.
Her heart ached anew for both of them. Julian was too young to understand the things that his father was struggling with. ‘Yes, you can ride in the trolley. Maybe Papa would like to come with us?’
Nat watched as both father and son tensed. Julian turned hopeful eyes on hers before he looked away, rubbing his chin along Flo’s head, and she had to stop herself from going to him and pulling him close.
Alessandro watched in despair as his son fell silent and his little shoulders stiffened. He’d hoped if he didn’t push, if he gave his son room and space, that Julian would turn to him eventually but hearing the word Mummy fall from his lips had been like a knife plunging deep into his gut and twisting mercilessly. Maybe his son would never let him closer? Maybe Julian also blamed him for Camilla’s death?
‘I have these journals to catch up on,’ Alessandro said, turning back to his lap-top.
Nat stared at two downcast heads. So alike but so disconnected from each other. For a second she felt helpless, but not for long. These two needed intervention and it seemed the universe had decreed she was the one to do it. And she wanted Julian to be close to his father. She wanted to give the little boy the gift of the father-child relationship. She didn’t want Julian growing up feeling somehow not whole, as she had. She would never wish those feelings of isolation on anyone, never mind a small child.
But it was plain neither of them were going to make it easy. She sure had her work cut out for her.
Alessandro followed the sound of chatter and his nose into the kitchen around five o’clock. The smell of garlic and basil, the aromas of his childhood, and Julian’s laughter drew him and he was powerless to resist.
Nat and Julian were cooking. Julian was sitting on the bench next to the cook top, a large metal spoon in hand, stirring something in a saucepan as he fired a hundred questions at Nat. He could see the backs of her long legs, the outline of one very cute derrière and the swish of her ponytail as she chopped and talked and dipped her finger into the saucepan, savouring the taste.
‘More salt, Julian.’
Alessandro watched as Julian picked up the salt grinder and handled it as well as a four-year-old could be expected to. He was concentrating hard, his little pink tongue caught between his teeth. It was awkward and he dropped it. Nat was quick, though, and saved it from landing in the pot.
‘That’s fabulous, Juliano.’
It was on the tip of his tongue to reprimand her for using the Italian form of his name. Despite Camilla insisting it appear on his birth certificate, she actually hated it and had insisted their son be called the anglicised version. But right now he couldn’t deny how good it was to hear his son’s name being pronounced in the way of his ancestors.
And Julian was smiling at her, swinging his legs as they dangled over the edge of the counter. He was enjoying himself and Alessandro didn’t have the heart to spoil that.
‘Something smells good.’
Nat faltered as he announced his unexpected presence. She felt every molecule in her body stand to attention. Her nipples jutted against the lacy fabric of her bra, as hard as bullets. Julian’s chatter ceased instantly and she noticed his legs stopped swinging in her peripheral vision.
Alessandro noticed it too but steadfastly ignored it as he pushed into the kitchen. ‘What are you cooking, Julian?’ he asked.
Julian shrugged. ‘Spaghetti. The proper stuff. From Milano.’
Alessandro’s heart nearly stopped at the perfect way Julian pronounced Milan. He’d always hoped any child of his would be bilingual but Camilla had been adamant.
‘Ah.’ Alessandro kept his tone light. ‘The proper stuff tastes best.’
Camilla hadn’t been much of a cook. She’d normally bought pre-prepared food from exclusive delicatessens or supermarkets. Julian had certainly been the best-fed toddler in London, with gourmet treasures bestowed on him every day. When they’d entertained it had always been catered.
But not only had Nat filled his fridge and his pantry and their lives in just half a day but she’d also filled his kitchen with incredible aromas. His stomach growled and he absently realised he was hungry. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten for any other reason than as fuel to keep his body going.
When he’d given her his card to go shopping that afternoon he’d imagined she’d buy enough food to get them through the week, but she’d gone way beyond that. He’d helped them unpack and had been amazed at the items she’d considered necessities.
She’d apologised profusely for the amount she’d spent. He had shrugged it away—money wasn’t any impediment for him. Besides, when you’d lost all that he’d lost, it truly meant nothing.
Nat felt rather than saw Alessandro lounge a hip against the bench not far from her. She could also sense that the lovely homey atmosphere from a minute ago had vanished. Julian was tense and she couldn’t bear to see a four-year-old so…stiff.
Flo chose that moment to rub against her legs and miaow loudly. Bless her! ‘Julian, sweetie, would you like to feed Flo?’
Julian brightened. ‘Could I?’
‘Of course. You know where her bowl is in the laundry and you know where the little sachets of food we bought for her today are. Maybe your papa could help you open one and he could show you how to feed her?’
Nat glanced at Alessandro, praying he’d take the bait. The long journey back to each other had to start with one step.
Alessandro considered her for a moment. Tendrils of hair had escaped her ponytail and framed her face in almost angelic frothery. ‘Good idea,’ he said, holding her gaze for a moment longer before skirting her and approaching his son. He grabbed an unprotesting Julian under the arms and swung him down to the floor.
‘Where’s this food, then, Julian?’
Nat kept stirring, not daring to turn around or interfere in any way. Their conversation was hardly natural—in fact, it was so stilted she wanted to cry—but they had to start somewhere. She was relieved though when Julian called Flo and they both left the kitchen. Her shoulders were aching and she slumped a little as the tension left the room and headed to the laundry.
Five minutes later, though, he was back. He didn’t have to say a word, she could just feel the hairs of her nape standing to attention. She turned and saw him watching her from the doorway, all dark and brooding, his shadowed gaze heavy against her chest. ‘That was quick,’ she murmured, turning back to the spaghetti.
‘He seemed much more interested in the cat.’
She stirred the sauce. ‘That will fade. Give him time.’
Alessandro approached. This was a great angle but he preferred her
front. Her open gaze, her perfect mouth. He turned as he reached the bench so his backside leant against it, facing in the opposite direction from her. ‘It smells great.’
‘Thank you. I figured I couldn’t go too far wrong in this house with some pasta and sauce.’
Alessandro allowed a ghost of a smile settle on his lips. He turned so his hip nudged the bench and he was on his side, facing her. ‘May I?’
Nat nodded. She stepped back a pace as Alessandro quickly dipped his finger in the sauce. She watched fascinated as it disappeared past his lips, his mouth slowly revealing a totally clean finger.
Damn. It was good. Almost as good as her dilated pupils as her eyes had followed his actions. ‘Hmm,’ he murmured, licking his lips to savour the residue as he held her gaze. ‘You’ve done this before.’
Nat took a second to pull her body back into line but her voice was still annoyingly husky. ‘My host mother in Milano taught me her secret family recipe for Napolitano sauce.’
Ah. Definitely the aromas of his childhood. ‘You don’t have to cook, you know. Or clean. Or unpack boxes.’
Pleased to be back on firmer ground, she nodded. ‘I know. But I enjoy it. It’s not much fun cooking for one. I usually don’t bother, I’m afraid.’
In truth she missed cooking. And all the other homey things about being a couple. She’d loved cooking for Rob, they’d loved cooking together. It felt good to be doing it again. Even if it this wasn’t any kind of cosy, lovey-dovey relationship.
His gaze on hers was intense and rather unnerving in his grim-faced way. She broke their connection, looking down into the saucepan and giving it another stir. ‘I still think it’s missing something,’ she muttered as she tried to collect herself, blunt herself to his wounded charm.
She dipped the spoon in, blew on it out of habit and brought it to her lips, sipping the rich sauce and not tasting it at all. His eyes were still on her and he was making her nervous. Her hand trembled and the spoon tilted, spilling some of the lukewarm sauce down her chest. It landed on the soft swell of cleavage just visible above the v of her neckline.