by Laura Breck
He set her in a wheelchair. “I’m going to go park the truck. You get checked in, and I’ll be right back.”
She was whisked away to an intake desk, and before she finished giving them her information, he was back carrying her suitcase.
The labor pains intensified, and in minutes they were in the birthing room. He helped her undress and put on a gown, and Dr. Kelly peeked her head through the doorway. “Ready to have a baby?”
In unison, Antonio said, “Yes,” and Valerie said, “No!”
The doctor laughed then gave her an exam. “Get ready, Valerie. You’re at seven centimeters. It will be any time now.”
“Really?” Antonio sounded uncertain. “Isn’t this supposed to take hours? Days?”
Dr. Kelly teased, “If you’d like, I can slow it down for you?”
Valerie laughed, loving her sarcasm. She reminded her of Monica. “I felt back pain all night. It must have been the baby.”
The doctor nodded. “Probably. You had it easy. The next hour will be rough, so don’t forget to breathe.” She took Valerie’s wrist and checked her pulse.
Valerie grabbed Antonio’s arm. “Would you please call my parents? Ask them to call Monica and Ryan?”
“Of course, love. I’ll be back in a second.”
When he went out into the hall, Dr. Kelly patted Valerie’s hand. “Things worked out well for you. Congratulations.”
She smiled. “Thank you. It’s been a wild ride this last year, but I wouldn’t wish for anything different.”
“You had to work for it.”
“I did. And I’m glad I never gave up. He’s phenomenal.”
“You’ve been blessed.”
A contraction seized her, and she resumed her breathing. Antonio came back in and took her hands, assisting with the breathing technique. “Your parents are on their way.”
Dr. Kelly walked to the door. “You’ve got everything under control.” She winked at Valerie. “I’ll be back in a while. Call the nurse if you need me.”
Antonio focused on Valerie, brought her a cool, wet washcloth, and braided her hair. He massaged her back when she complained of pain and got ice chips for her when she was parched.
“Would you sit behind me? Hold me?” She heard the fear in her own voice.
He climbed on the bed, his legs on each side of her, and pulled her back against him. Then he wrapped his arms around her. “I’m here, love. You have nothing to be afraid of.” He ran his hands softly over her rock-hard belly, held her close, and helped her through the contractions, breathing in rhythm with her breaths.
“I could never have made it through this without you.” She felt weak, shaky.
“We started this together, and we’ll finish it together.”
She groaned. “You’re always the comedian.”
He kissed her neck. “Just think. In a few months, we can start the process all over again.”
“Oh, heaven help me! A few months? Make that a few years—if at all.”
He nipped her ear. “You know you don’t mean that. We’ll have a dozen babies, and you’ll still want more.”
“More of you, yes. More of the whole baby thing? I’m not so sure.” Another contraction took her concentration, and they breathed through it.
He checked his watch. “They’re a minute apart now. Are you ready to have our baby?”
“I think I’m ready…oh, jeez, I feel like I want to push!”
He pressed the nurse call button. “Hang on, Valerie, let’s get the doctor in here first. Pant to stop the urge to push.”
She did, but the urge was still there. “Baby wants to be born. Right now.”
“Breathe, sweet. You are doing so well. I’m really proud of you.”
“You mean because I haven’t screamed and demanded pain meds?”
“You are strong, Valerie. In body and mind. You’ve been in labor since last night, but you cleaned the house this morning, made breakfast for a crowd, and were the perfect hostess.”
“Up until my water broke.”
“Yeah, that was a little tacky. And in the dining room? Seriously?”
She laughed then caught her breath as her urge to push overwhelmed her. The doctor arrived and checked her progress. “You’re ready. Go ahead and push with the next contraction.”
Antonio climbed out from behind her and took his position to brace her and help her push. After only a few minutes of pushing, Antonio’s sucked in a choppy breath. “Valerie, I see our baby’s head.” His voice was quiet, reverent.
“Push again.” The doctor coached. “You’re doing great.”
Valerie grabbed Antonio’s arm and pushed out, low in her belly. The contraction stopped, and she sagged back.
“Breathe, he told her. “Take some deep breaths.”
Instantly, the contraction came again, and she sat up.
“One more push!” Dr. Kelly said. “Antonio, come and help me.”
Valerie pushed, and Antonio caught their baby as it made its way into the world. The look on his face held complete astonishment. He looked at her, his eyes full of unshed tears. “We have a son!”
The doctor suctioned the baby, and the little guy started wailing.
Antonio laughed. “Listen! Valerie, my God!”
The doctor gave him instructions, and he set the baby on Valerie’s stomach, in her eager arms.
She held him. Warm and softy, he was beautiful. Black hair, red and goopy all over, but the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen in her life.
Antonio cut the umbilical cord and walked to the side of the bed, touched his son, and kissed Valerie’s forehead. “I’m in heaven.”
“I am too, love. It’s a dream come true.”
They held the baby together in their arms. The little one’s crying stopped, and he opened his eyes.
“Oh, Antonio. Look at him.”
He laughed softly, the emotion making his voice a choking sound. “He’s perfect. Our little man.”
The doctor called out the date and time for the birth record.
Antonio smiled at Valerie. “Do you realize what day it is?”
At first, she couldn’t recall why it was special then it came to her. Last summer. The blackmail adventure. “Was it a year ago?”
He nodded. “We met a year ago today in the park.”
So much had happened in such a short time. “You took my picture that day.”
He caressed her back. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Antonio.” She snuggled her baby tighter in her arms and looked up into the expressive brown eyes of her amazing husband. “I’m so glad you found me.”
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Sneak Peek at Lies and Love in Los Angeles
Book Two of the Sexy Italian Imports Series
Chapter One
Run now, Lindsey, and don't look back! Her inner voice screamed at her, but she ignored it, planted her strappy high-heeled sandals on the marble floor, and blithely sipped her champagne. Across the Getty Museum's modern circular entrance hall, a remarkably handsome man returned her stare. She smiled, a friendly invitation, not too flirty… But then it hit her like a green flash, and her lips flattened as her bravado deserted her. Crap, this had to be the artist whose work highlighted tonight's fundraiser. And whose career she was about to demolish.
He turned and spoke to someone. This was her chance to slip away, but just one minute longer couldn't hurt. Raising her glass to her lips, she watched him out of the corner of her eye.
His wavy black hair looked so soft, her fingertips tingled with the need to touch it. A little long, it brushed the collar of his exquisitely tailored suit. Definitely Italian, both the suit and the man in it. His nose was perfectly aquiline, his skin a shade darker than hers. And tall, over six feet.
His gaze met hers and when he nodded, her face warmed at being caught gawking like a moonstruck fool. But she couldn't look away. Those gorgeous brown eyes made her tingly in all the right places. She could get lost in th
em, let the rest of the world fade away until just the two of them existed. She sighed. The possibilities were tempting, and she could definitely find time in her busy life to date a man like him. If only he wasn't Dante Daniato.
Run, Lindsey, run for your life! She'd heard shockingly wicked stories about him and the numerous women he dated, and seeing him for herself, she could believe every one of them. Her instinct told her his expressive eyes were experienced, arrogant, and interested in seeing more than what her gown revealed.
Standing next to the artist, the short, older museum curator waved to Lindsey and the two men started toward her.
“Miss Beauden.” The curator's voice carried over the chatter of the crowd. “You must meet our famous visitor.”
Damn, no way to escape now. Forcing a smile, she slid into her professional persona as they reached her.
“Miss Lindsey Beauden.” The curator announced. “This is Dante Daniato, the extraordinary Italian artist.”
She was right. Thanks to her reckless staring, she stood face to face with Los Angeles' most eligible and notorious bachelor. And what a face. He was even more attractive up close. And larger than she'd thought, too.
A little overwhelmed by his height and broad shoulders, she leaned back slightly and extended her hand to him. His powerful hand enveloped hers, and the contact shot like electricity through her veins.
She swallowed a gasp and managed to say, “I'm pleased to meet you, Signore Daniato.” Her heart rate increased as he held her hand a bit longer than was proper.
“The pleasure is mine, Miss Beauden.”
Oh, heavens, what a voice! The hint of an accent pushed him to number one on her list of the world's sexiest men. His smile revealed perfect teeth, and tiny sun wrinkles appeared on the outer corners of his eyes. Then he lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, and a slow, sinful warmth spread through her.
Dreamy. She sighed. But dangerous.
Her social skills kicked in. “Please, Signore, call me Lindsey.”
He released her hand, but his stare remained locked with hers. “Then you must call me Dante.”
The sound of his name bounced around inside her suddenly-empty head, and she forgot to respond. And to breathe.
His left eyebrow lifted slightly, and his eyes gleamed.
Was he amused with her struck-speechless performance? He had to get that same reaction quite often. He was the definition of sexy.
After a few seconds, the curator cleared his throat. “Dante has kindly donated art to be displayed in the museum, as well as a number of pieces that will be sold tonight to benefit our outreach program.”
Her gaze flew to the curator's. The outreach program was the reason her family was considering pulling their funding. Had her parents spoken to him already? No, the man wouldn't be this excited if he knew what her family had planned.
She forced a small smile. “I've heard a great deal about the program—providing art classes for inner city youth. It's a wonderful project.” Which was all true. Only one component of the project was offensive: the artist whose reputation preceded him. Dante Daniato.
“Do you have children?” Dante asked her.
She met his gaze. “No, I don't, but The Beauden Foundation is very interested in all charities dealing with children.” That sounded snooty instead of caring and giving, which were her personal mottos.
The curator smiled. “And we truly appreciate your support.” He turned to Dante. “Lindsey's family foundation is a major sponsor.”
She caught herself chewing the inside of her cheek and took a sip of champagne. Her family foundation—of which she was the president—was about to issue an ultimatum to the museum. If they didn't agree to their demands, the Beauden Foundation's sponsorship would end. She was not looking forward to that battle.
“What are your foundation's objectives?” Dante asked.
Over the last six months, Lindsey had repeated their mission statement to hundreds of prospective charity representatives. “For generations, The Beauden Company has imported cloth for use in the garment industry. The foundation was established a century ago to provide assistance for local organizations. When my parents took ownership of the company, they expanded the scope to include improving conditions in cloth factories around the world. But we still focus mainly on supporting local charities.”
Dante nodded. “Admirable.”
It pleased her that he had an interest in her work. “Thank you.”
The curator tipped his head toward Dante. “Lindsey recently took over the position of foundation president.”
Dante's eyes flashed a hint of surprise and she steeled a calm expression on her face. Would she ever get used to people's reactions to her job title? Her youth and clichéd blonde-California-girl looks gave the impression she wasn't a serious businesswoman. Perhaps she should keep her Master's Degree in her purse to prove she did indeed have a brain.
“Lindsey, when I spoke with your parents earlier in the receiving line, they mentioned they wanted to talk to me. I imagine they want to buy a few pieces of art.”
That wasn't why they were looking for him. No words came to her, so she just nodded.
While the curator spoke excitedly to Dante about the Beauden's extensive art collection, Lindsey glanced around the room. She didn't see her family in the vicinity. Tucking a loose strand of long hair back into her chignon, she checked the circular stairway that wound to the second floor. She spotted her parents heading down to the main level. She wanted to be as far away from the curator and Dante Daniato as possible when her parents arrived to present the foundation's ultimatum.
Her gaze returned to Dante and she caught him studying her left hand. Was he looking for a ring?
“I believe I see your father, Miss Beauden.” The curator looked between Dante and her. “Please excuse me.” He executed a half bow and walked away.
“He's an interesting man.” Dante said in an amused tone.
“He has panache,” she agreed while glancing toward the front doors. Time to make an exit before the drama began. “I think I'll—”
“Have you seen my work yet?”
“Ah…” Looking up into his expectant eyes, she didn't have the heart to produce a little white lie that would get her out of the museum. So she told the truth. “No, I haven't.”
“I would be honored to escort you.” He chivalrously offered his arm.
She shouldn't, and she knew it. But a thrill of guilty pleasure tingled deep inside her and she threaded her arm though his. After all, they were in a public venue, and a gentleman escorting a lady was customary. No harm could come of it. Unless her parents saw them.
His warmth seeped through the layers of clothes onto her palm. As they walked, the fresh, tropical scent of his cologne drifted her way. Nice. It matched his style—smooth as glass. She inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Hmmm.” A little too loudly.
“You sound as though you're enjoying our stroll.” His smile was teasing.
Her face warmed. God, she was such a girl, all flustered and blushing just because a “tall-dark-handsome” smiled at her. “Excuse me.” She joked. “I think it was the bubbles from the champagne.”
He laughed, deep and resonant, and the sexy sound launched a flash of delight through her. She couldn't stop the smile that curled her lips.
Although the event was drawing to a close and the crowd had thinned, a number of people stopped them to congratulate Dante on his work. Lindsey introduced acquaintances, and caught a few curious glances at her hand resting on his arm. No one commented, but her parents would definitely hear about it.
They strolled through the central courtyard and into a pavilion. He detoured toward a bar and set down her half-empty champagne flute, took two full glasses and handed one to her. The cool glass would feel wonderful on her flushed cheeks, but she resisted that urge to and instead took a ladylike sip.
He bent close to her ear. “Watch out for the bubbles.”
She nearly choked, then
looked up to see his grin.
As he stared at her, his expression slowly turned serious. “Your eyes are incredible. Your dress brings out a rich gold tone.”
Gold? She described her eyes as muddy brown, but hearing his compliment, she was glad she'd splurged on the gown. She glanced down at the floor-length, gold sequined sheath, and as she looked back up at him, her dangly earrings tinkled brightly.
“Thank you.” She smiled. “I'm just glad I didn't wear red.”
He chuckled, “You're making this difficult. I'm working my way to ask you to dinner, and you’re deflecting me with humor.”
Her stomach flipped in excitement, but her sense of self-preservation kicked in. No way could she ever date this man. She took her hand from his arm. “I'm afraid I've given you the wrong impression.”
His brow furrowed. “I just assumed…”
Lindsey walked to a window framing a view of the lights of downtown Los Angeles. Taking a couple deep breaths, she fought to calm her rioting nerves. Dante Daniato. Asked her out. A manic giggle threatened to escape her throat. She couldn’t wait to tell her girlfriends.
He followed and stood behind her. “Please excuse my presumption.”
She gazed at his reflection in the glass. He sounded so formal, as if her refusal meant nothing to him. True, it probably didn't shatter his ego. After all, there were probably a dozen beautiful women waiting to be his next conquest. “No apology necessary.” She made her words as cool as his had been.
“I usually have much better manners.” He leaned closer, spoke softly. “But being in the presence of such beauty is an overwhelming experience for me.”
His warmth reached her, surrounding her, sending shivers across her skin. Turning, she found herself staring into his eyes, just inches away.
His sensual expression warned that he wasn't giving up. Then his gaze dropped to her lips.
He wouldn't dare kiss her, would he? A part of her hoped he would, wanted to feel his perfect lips on hers. No, she couldn't. She quickly turned her head and took a step away.
Taking her hand, he tucked it back on his arm, and continued walking as if nothing exceptional had happened.
Blowing out the breath she'd been holding, she held tight to his arm, afraid her quivering knees might give out. His seduction was definitely working.