The Vineyards of Calanetti Saying “I do” under the Tuscan sun …

Deep in the Tuscan countryside nestles the picturesque village of Monte Calanetti. Famed for its world-renowned vineyards, the village is also home to the crumbling but beautiful Palazzo di Comparino. Empty for months, rumors of a new owner are spreading like wildfire … and that’s before the village is chosen as the setting for the royal wedding of the year!

It’s going to be a roller coaster of a year, but will wedding bells ring out in Monte Calanetti for anyone else?

Find out in this fabulously heartwarming, uplifting and thrillingly romantic new eight-book continuity from the Mills & Boon® Cherish™ series!

A Bride for the Italian Boss by Susan Meier

Return of the Italian Tycoon by Jennifer Faye

Reunited by a Baby Secret by Michelle Douglas

Soldier, Hero…Husband? by Cara Colter Available October 2015

His Lost-and-Found Bride by Scarlet Wilson

The Best Man & the Wedding Planner by Teresa Carpenter

His Princess of Convenience by Rebecca Winters

Saved by the CEO by Barbara Wallace

Reunited by a Baby Secret

Michelle Douglas

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MICHELLE DOUGLAS has been writing for Mills & Boon since 2007 and believes she has the best job in the world. She lives in a leafy suburb of Newcastle, on Australia’s east coast, with her own romantic hero, a house full of dust and books, and an eclectic collection of ‘60s and ‘70s vinyl. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted via her website, www.michelle-douglas.com.

With thanks to my fellow Romance authors for creating such a strong and supportive community. I can’t begin to tell you how much I appreciate it.

Contents

Cover

The Vineyards of Calanetti

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

Endpage

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

MARIANNA AMATUCCI STARED at the door of the Grande Plaza Hotel’s Executive Suite and swallowed. With her heart pounding in her throat, she backed up to lean against the wall opposite. A glance up and down the corridor confirmed she was alone. Up here at the very top of the hotel all was free from bustle, the very air hushed.

She patted her roiling stomach. You will behave. Usually by mid-morning her nausea had eased.

It wasn’t morning sickness that had her stomach rebelling, though. It was nerves. She stared at the door opposite and her skin broke out in a cool sheen of perspiration. She twisted her hands together. She had nothing to fear. This was Ryan—blond-haired, blue-eyed, tanned surfer boy Ryan.

An image of his long-limbed beauty and sexy smile rose in her mind and her heart started to flutter in an altogether different fashion. She pressed one hand to her abdomen. Mia topolino, your papà is utterly lovely.

She moistened her lips. No, she had nothing to fear. Her news would startle him of course. Heavens, the shock of it still reverberated through her own being. But he’d smile that slow, easy smile, pull her into his arms and tell her it’d all be okay...and she’d believe him. He’d come to see that a child would be a blessing.

Wouldn’t he?

The corridor swam. She blinked hard and chafed her arms, the chill of the air-conditioning seeping into her bones. She stared at the door and pressed steepled hands to her mouth? It was just...what on earth was Ryan doing in the Executive Suite? She couldn’t square that with the man she’d met on a Thai beach two months ago. A man more at home in board shorts and flip-flops and his own naked skin than a swish hotel that catered to Rome’s elite.

Stupid girl! What do you really know of this man?

That was Angelo’s voice sounding in her head. Not that he’d uttered the words out loud, of course. But she’d read them in his eyes in the same way she’d read the disappointment in Nico’s. As usual, her brothers had a point.

What did she know of Ryan? She moistened her lips. She knew he made love as if he had all the time in the world. He’d made love to her with such a mixture of passion and tenderness he’d elicited a response from her that had delighted and frightened her simultaneously. She’d never forget their lovemaking. The week of their holiday fling had been one of the best weeks of her life, and while they’d made no plans to see each other again—too complicated with her in Italy and him in Australia—but...her head lifted. Maybe this was fate?

Or maybe being pregnant has addled your brain?

And standing here wondering why on earth Ryan was currently ensconced in the Executive Suite wouldn’t provide her with an answer. Fortune smiled on men like Ryan—men that oozed easy-going good humour and warmth. The check-in clerk could simply have taken a shine to him and upgraded him, or a friend of a friend might’ve owed him a favour or...something. There’d be a logical explanation. Standing out here tying herself in knots was crazy, a delaying tactic.

She was no coward!

Marianna pushed away from the wall, wiped her palms down her skirt and straightened her shirt before lifting her hand and finally knocking. A thrill coursed through her. She and Ryan might not have made plans to see each other again, but he’d never been far from her thoughts during the last two months and maybe—

The door opened and Marianna’s breath caught and held, suspended between hard pounds of her heart. The haze in front of her eyes slowly dissolved, and in sluggish bewilderment her brain registered that the stranger standing in front of her dressed in a bespoke suit and a crisp cotton business shirt and tie was—

She blinked and peered up at him. ‘Ryan?’

He leaned towards her and then frowned. ‘Marianna?’

The stranger was Ryan! Her pulse jumped as she took in the dark blond hair, the blue-green eyes, and the sensual curve of his lips. Lips that had started to lift, but were suddenly pressed together into a grim straight line.

She stared at that mouth, at the cool light in his eyes. How different he seemed. Her stomach started to churn with a seriousness that forced her to concentrate on her breathing for a moment.

‘What are you doing here?’

That was uttered in a voice she barely recognised. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Smile. Please. Please just smile.

Her inner pleading did no good. If anything, his frown deepened. She stared at him, unable to push a word out of a throat that had started to cramp. Keep breathing. Do not throw up on his feet!

He glanced away and then back at her, and finally down at his watch. ‘I have a meeting shortly.’

A chill chased itself down her spine as her nausea receded. Why would he not smile?

‘I wish you’d called.’

She reached out to steady herself against the doorjamb. He was giving her the brush-off?

He lifted his wrist to glance at his watch again. ‘I’m sorry, but—’

‘I’m pregnant!’

The words blurted out of her with no forethought, without any real volition, and with the force of one of Thailand’s summer storms. Her common sense put its head in its hands and wept.

He stilled, every muscle growing hard and rigid, and then his eyes froze to chips of blue ice. ‘I see.’ He opened the door wider, but the expression on his face told her he’d have rather slammed it in her face. ‘You’d better come in.’

She strode into the room with her back ramrod straight. Inside, though, everything trembled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She’d meant to broach the subject of her pregnancy gently, not slap him over the head with it.

She stopped in the middle of the enormous living room with its plush sofas and ornate tables and furnishings and pulled in a deep breath. Right. Take two. She touched a hand to her stomach. Mia topolino, I will fix this.

Setting her shoulders, she turned to face him, but her words dried on her lips when she met the closed expression on his face. It became suddenly evident that he wasn’t going to smile and hug her. She did her best not to wobble. Couldn’t he at least take her hand and ask her if she was okay?

Except...why would he smile at her when she stood here glaring at him as if he were the enemy? She closed her eyes and did what she could to collect herself, to find a smile and a quip that would help her unearth the man she’d met two months ago. ‘I know this must come as a shock—’

‘I take it then that you’re claiming the child is mine?’

She took a step back, her poor excuse for a smile dying on her lips, unable to reconcile this cold, hard stranger with the laid-back man she’d met in Thailand. Fear had lived inside her ever since she’d discovered she was pregnant—and she was tired of it. Seizing hold of that fear now, she turned it into anger. ‘Of course it’s yours! Are you attempting to make some slur on my character?’

She didn’t believe in slut-shaming. If that was what he was trying to do she’d tear his eyes out.

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’

Oh, so now she was ridiculous, was she? She could feel her eyes narrowing and her fingers curving into claws. ‘I’m just over two months pregnant. Two months ago I was—’

‘On a beach in Thailand!’ He whirled away from her, paced across the room and back again. His pallor made her swallow. He thrust a finger at her, his eyes blazing. ‘Pregnancy wasn’t part of the plan.’

‘There was a plan?’ She lifted her hands towards the ceiling and let loose a disbelieving laugh. ‘Nobody told me about any plan.’

‘Don’t be so obtuse!’

Ridiculous? Obtuse? Her hands balled to fists.

‘We were supposed to...to just have fun! No strings! Enjoy the moment, live in the moment, before sailing off into the sunset.’ He set his legs and stabbed another finger at her. ‘That’s what we agreed.’

‘You think...’ Her breath caught. She choked it back. ‘You think I planned this?’

If anything the chill in his eyes only intensified.

Her brothers might think her an immature, irresponsible piece of fluff, but it knocked the stuffing out of her to find Ryan did too.

Maybe they’re all right.

And maybe they were not! She slammed her hands to her hips. ‘Look, I know this has come as a shock and I know it wasn’t planned, but the salient fact is that I’m pregnant and you’re the biological father of the child I’m carrying.’

Her words seemed to bow him although as far as she could tell not a single one of his muscles moved. She pressed a fist to her mouth before pulling it down and pressing both hands together. She had to think of the baby. What Ryan thought of her didn’t matter. ‘It...it took me a little while to get my head around it too, but now...’

She trailed off. How could she tell him that she now saw the baby as a blessing—that it had become a source of excitement and delight to her—when he stared at her like that? The tentative excitement rose up through her anew. ‘Oh, Ryan!’ She took a step towards him. ‘Is this news really so dreadful to you?’

‘Yes.’

The single word left him without hesitation and she found herself flinching away from him, her hands raised as if to ward him off, grateful her baby was too young to understand its father’s words.

Ryan’s chest rose and fell too hard and too fast. His face had become an immobile mask, but the pounding at the base of his jaw told her he wasn’t as controlled as he might like her to think.

It was all the encouragement she needed. She raced over to him and seized him by the lapels of his expensive suit and shook him. She wanted some reaction that would help her recognise him, some real emotion. ‘We’re going to have a baby, Ryan! It’s not the end of the world. We can work something out.’ He stood there like a stone and panic rose up through her. She couldn’t do this on her own. ‘For heaven’s sake.’ She battled a sob. ‘Say something useful!’

He merely detached her hands and stepped back, releasing her. ‘I don’t know what you expect from me.’

That was when some stupid fantasy she hadn’t even realised she’d harboured came crashing down around her.

You are such an idiot, Marianna.

A breath juddered out of her. ‘You really don’t want this baby, do you?’

‘No.’

‘The bathroom?’ she whispered.

He pointed and she fled, locking the door behind her before throwing up the crackers she’d managed for breakfast. Flushing the toilet, she lowered the lid and sat down, blotting her face with toilet paper until the heat and flush had subsided. When she was certain her legs would support her again, she stood and rinsed her mouth at the sink.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Screw-up! The accusation screamed around and around in her mind.

She didn’t know that man out there. A week on a beach hadn’t given her any insight into his character at all. She’d let her hormones and her romantic notions rule her...as she always did. And now she’d humiliated herself by throwing up in the Executive Suite of the Grande Plaza Hotel. It was all she could do not to scream.

With a superhuman effort, she pushed her shoulders back. She might be impulsive and occasionally headstrong, she might be having trouble reining in her emotions at the moment, but the one thing she could do was save face. Her baby deserved far more than that man out there had to give.

She rinsed her mouth one more time, and dried her hands before pinching colour back into her cheeks. With a nod at her reflection, she turned and flung the bathroom door open...and almost careened straight into Ryan standing on the other side, with his hand raised as if to knock.

She might not recognise him, but the familiarity of those lean, strong hands on her shoulders as he steadied her made her ache.

‘Are you okay?’ His words shot out short and clipped.

She gave a curt nod. He let her go then as if she had some infectious disease he might catch. It took a concerted effort not to snap out, Pregnancy isn’t contagious, you know?

He stalked back out into the main room and she followed him. ‘Can I order something for you? Food, tea...iced water?’

‘No, thank you.’ All she wanted to do now was get out of here. The sooner she left, the better. ‘I—’

‘The fact that you’re here tells me you’ve decided to go ahead with the pregnancy.’

‘That’s correct.’

He shoved his hands into his pockets, his lips pursed. ‘Did you consider alternatives like abortion or adoption?’

She had, so it made no sense why anger should rattle through her with so much force she started to shake. ‘That’s the male answer to everything, isn’t it? Get rid of it...make the problem go away.’

He spun to her. ‘We were so careful!’

They had been. They’d not had unprotected sex once. Her pill prescription had run out a month before she was due to return to Italy, though, and she’d decided to wait until she’d got home before renewing it. They’d used condoms, but condoms, obviously, weren’t infallible.

Her heart burned, but she ignored it and straightened. Not that her five feet two inches made any impact when compared to Ryan’s lean, broad six feet. ‘I made a mistake coming here. I thought...’

What had she thought?

Anger suddenly bubbled back up through her. ‘What’s this all about?’ She gestured to his suit and tie, his Italian leather shoes, angry with him for his stupid clothes and herself for her overall general stupidity. ‘I thought you were...’

His lips twisted into the mockery of a smile. ‘You thought me a beach bum.’

She’d thought him a wanderer who went wherever whim and the wind blew him. She’d envied him that. ‘You had many opportunities to correct my assumption.’

He dragged a hand down his face. ‘That week in Thailand...’ He shook his head, pulling his hand away. ‘It was an aberration.’

‘Aberration?’ She started to shake with even more force. ‘As I said, I made a mistake in coming here.’

‘Why didn’t you ring?’

She tossed her head and glared. ‘I did. A couple of days ago. I hung up before I could be put through...to the Executive Suite. It didn’t seem the kind of news one should give over the phone.’ It obviously wasn’t the kind of news she should’ve shared with him at all. This trip had been an entirely wasted effort. I’m sorry, topolino. She lifted her chin. ‘I thought you would like to know that I was pregnant. I thought telling you was the right thing to do. I can see, though, that a child is the last thing you want.’

‘And you do?’

His incredulity didn’t sting. The answer still surprised her as much as it did him. She moved to cover her stomach with her hand. His gaze tracked the movement. ‘Ryan, let’s forget we ever had this conversation. Forget I ever came here. In fact, forget that you ever spent a week on a beach with me.’ Aberration that it was!

She turned to leave. She’d go home to Monte Calanetti and she’d build a wonderful life for herself and her child and it’d be fine. Just...fine.

‘I don’t know what you want from me!’

His words sounded like a cry from the heart. She paused with her hand outstretched for the door, but when she turned his coldness and impassivity hit her like a slap in the face. The room swam. She blinked hard. ‘Now? Nothing.’

He planted his feet. ‘What were you hoping for?’

She’d swung away from him and her hand rested on the cold metal of the door handle. ‘I wanted you to hug me and tell me we’d sort something out.’ What a wild fantasy that now seemed. She turned and fixed him with a glare. ‘But I’d have settled for you taking my hand and asking me if I was all right. That all seems a bit stupid now, doesn’t it?’

Anger suddenly screamed up through her, scalding her throat and her tongue. ‘Now I don’t even think you’re any kind of proper person! What I want from you now is to forget you ever knew me. Forget all of it!’ Aberration? Of all the—

‘You think I can do that? You think it’s just that easy?’

‘Oh, I think you’ll find it incredibly easy!’

She seized the vase on the table by the door and hurled it at him with all of her might. The last thing she saw before she slammed out of the room was the shock on his face as he ducked.

* * *

Ryan stared at the broken vase and the scattered flowers, and then at the now-closed door. Whoa! Had that crazy spitfire been the sweet and carefree Marianna? The girl who’d featured in his dreams for the last two months? The girl who’d shown up on the beach in Thailand and had blown him away with her laughter and sensuality?

No way!

He bent to retrieve the flowers and broken pieces of the vase. Pregnant? He tossed the debris into the waste-paper basket and stumbled across to the sofa. Pregnant? He dropped his head to his hands as wave after wave of shock rolled over him.

In the next moment he leapt up and paced the room in an attempt to control the fury coursing through him. She couldn’t be! A child did not figure in his future.

Ever.

Him a father? The very idea was laughable. Not to mention an utter disaster. No, no, this couldn’t be happening to him. He rested his hands on his knees and breathed in deeply until the panic unclamped his chest.

You can walk away.

He lurched back to the sofa. What kind of man would that make him?

A wise one?

He slumped, head in hands. What on earth could he offer a child? Given his background...

Money?

He straightened, recalling Marianna’s shock at finding him ensconced in the Executive Suite wearing a suit and tie. A groan rose up through him, but he ground it back. He’d played out a fantasy that week on the beach. He’d played at being the kind of man he could never be in the real world.

One thing was sure. Marianna hadn’t deliberately got pregnant in an attempt to go after his money. She hadn’t known he had any!

Did she, though? Have money? Enough to support a baby?

Why hadn’t he thought to check?

He passed a hand across his eyes. When he’d opened the door to find her standing on the other side, his heart had leapt with such force it had scared him witless. He’d retreated behind a veneer of professional remoteness, unsure how to handle the emotions pummelling him. He had no room for those kinds of emotions in his life. It was why he’d made sure they’d said their final farewells in Thailand. But...

Pregnant?

Think! He pressed his fingers to his forehead. She’d mentioned that her family owned a vineyard in Tuscany. It didn’t mean she herself would have a lot of spare cash to splash out on a baby, though, did it?

He strode to the window that overlooked the gardens and rooftops of Rome with the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica in the distance, but he didn’t notice the grandeur of the view. His hand balled to a fist. Had he really asked her if the baby was his? No wonder she’d lost her temper. It had been an inexcusable thing to say.

I’m pregnant.

She’d blurted it out with such brutal austerity. It had taken everything inside him to stay where he was rather than to turn and run. He’d wanted to do anything to make her words not be true. Who’d have thought such cowardice ran through his veins? It shouldn’t be a surprise, though, considering whose genes he carried.

He dragged a hand down his face. When she’d stood there staring at him with big, wounded eyes, he’d had to fight the urge to drag her into his arms and promise her the world. That wasn’t the answer. It wouldn’t work. And he’d hurt her enough as it was.

He let loose a sudden litany of curses. He should’ve taken her hand and asked her how she was, though. He should’ve hugged her and offered her a measure of comfort. Shame hit him.

Now I don’t even think you’re any kind of proper person.

He didn’t blame her. She might even have a point. He seized the room phone and punched in the number for Reception. ‘Do you have a guest by the name of Marianna Amatucci staying here at the moment?’

‘I’m sorry, Signor White, but no.’

Damn! With a curt thank-you, Ryan hung up. He flung open the door and started down the hallway, but his feet slowed before he reached the elevator. What did he think he was going to do? Walk the streets of Rome looking for Marianna? She’d be long gone. And if by some miracle he did catch up with her, what would he say?

He slammed back into his room to pace. With a start, he glanced at his watch. Damn it all to hell! Seizing his mobile, he ordered his PA to cancel his meetings for the rest of the morning.

He shook off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, feeling suffocated by the layers of clothing. His mind whirled, but one thought detached itself and slammed into him, making him flinch. You’re going to become a father. He didn’t want to become a father!

Too bad. Too late. The deed has been done.

He stilled. Marianna no longer expected his involvement. In fact, she’d told him she wanted him to forget they’d ever met. And she’d meant it. He ran a finger beneath his collar, perspiration prickling his scalp, his nape, his top lip. He could walk away.

Better still he could give her money, lots of money, and just...bow out.

His grandmother’s face suddenly rose in his mind. It made his shoulders sag. She’d saved him—from his parents and from himself—but it hadn’t stopped him from letting her down.

He fell onto the sofa. Why think of her now? He’d tried to make it up to her—had pulled himself back from the brink of delinquency. He’d buckled down and made something of himself. He glanced around at the opulence of the hotel room and knew he’d almost succeeded on that head. If he walked away now from Marianna and his child, though, instinct told him he’d be letting his grandmother down in a way he could never make up.

He’d vowed never to do that again.

You vowed to never have children...a family.

What kind of life would this child of his and Marianna’s have? He moistened his lips. Would it be loved? Would it feel secure? Or...

Or would it always feel like an outsider? When parenthood became too much for Marianna would this child be shunted to one side and—?

No! He shot to his feet, shaking from the force of emotions he didn’t understand. He would not let that happen. He didn’t want to be a father, but he had a duty to this child. He would not abandon it to a life of careless neglect. He would not allow it to be overlooked, pushed to one side and ignored.

He swallowed, his heart pounding. He didn’t have a clue about how to be a father—he didn’t know the first thing about parenting, but... He knew what it was like to be a child and unwanted. He remembered his parents separating. He remembered them remarrying new partners, embracing their new families. He remembered there being no place for him in that new order. He hadn’t fitted in and they’d resented this flaw in their otherwise perfect new lives. His lips twisted. His distrust and suspicion, his wariness and hostility, had been a constant reminder of the mistake their first marriage had been. They’d moved on, and it had been easier to leave him behind. That was his experience of family.

He would not let it be his child’s.

He might not know what made a good father, but he knew what made a miserable childhood. No child of his was going to suffer that fate.

He slammed his hands to his hips. Right. He glanced at his watch and then rang his PA. ‘I’d like you to organise a car for me. I’m going to Monte Calanetti tomorrow. I’ll continue working remotely while I’m there so offer my clients new appointments via telephone conferencing or reschedule.’

‘Yes, sir, would you like me to organise that for this afternoon’s appointment as well?’

‘No. I’ll be meeting with Signor Conti as planned.’ This afternoon he worked. He wasn’t letting Marianna’s bombshell prevent him from sealing the biggest deal of his career. He’d worked too hard to let the Conti contract slip from his fingers now. Clinching this deal would launch him into the stratosphere.

Conti Industries, one of Italy’s leading car-parts manufacturers, were transitioning their company’s IT presence to cloud computing. It meant they’d be able to access all points in their production chain from a single system. Every car-part manufacturing company in the world was watching, assessing, waiting to see if Conti Industries could make the transition smoothly. Which meant every car-part manufacturing company in the world had their eyes on him. If he pulled this off, then he could handpick all future assignments, and name whatever price he wanted. His name would be synonymous with success.

Finally he’d prove that his grandmother’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

In the meantime... He fired up his laptop and searched for the village of Monte Calanetti.

CHAPTER TWO

RYAN GLANCED DOWN at the address he’d scrawled on the back of a Grande Plaza envelope and then at the driveway in front of him, stretching through an avenue of grapevines to a series of buildings in the distance. A signpost proudly proclaimed Vigneto Calanetti—the Amatucci vineyard. This was the place.

With a tightening of his lips, he eased the car forward, glancing from left to right as he made his way down the avenue. Grapevines stretched in every direction, up and down hillsides in neat ordered rows. They glowed green and golden in the spring sunshine and Ryan lowered the windows of the car to breathe in the fragrant air. The warm scents and even warmer breeze tormented him with a holiday indolence he had no hope of assuming.

Pulling the car to a halt at the end of the driveway, he stared. This was Marianna’s home? Her heritage? All about him vines grew with ordered vigour. The outbuildings were all in good repair and the spick and span grounds gave off an air of quiet affluence. He turned his gaze to the villa with its welcoming charm and some of the tension drained from him.

Good. He pushed out of the car. He’d never doubted Marianna’s assertion that she could stand on her own two feet, but to have all of this behind her would make things that much easier for her.

And he wanted things to be as easy for her as they could be.

A nearby worker saluted him and asked if he was wishing to sample the wines. Ryan cast a longing look at the cellar building, but shook his head. ‘Can you tell me where I might find Signorina Amatucci? Marianna Amatucci,’ he added. She’d mentioned brothers, but for all he knew she might have sisters too.

The worker pointed towards the long, low-slung villa.

He nodded. ‘Grazie.’ Every muscle tensed as he strode towards it. He had to make Marianna see sense. He had to convince her not to banish him from their child’s life.

Once he reached the shade of the veranda, Ryan saw that the large wooden front door stood open as if to welcome all comers. He stared down the cool shade of the hallway and crossed his fingers, and then reached up and pulled the bell.

A few moments later a tall lean figure appeared. He walked down the hallway with the easy saunter of someone who belonged there. ‘Can I help you?’

Ryan pulled himself up to his full height. ‘I’m here to see Marianna Amatucci.’

The suntanned face darkened, the relaxed easiness disappearing in an instant. ‘You’re the swine who got her pregnant!’

He’d already deduced from the hair—dark, and wavy like Marianna’s—that this must be one of her brothers. A protective brother too. More tension eased out of Ryan’s shoulders. Marianna should be surrounded by people who’d love and support her.

A moment later he swallowed. Protective was all well and good, but this guy was also angry and aggressive.

The two men sized each other up. The other man was a couple of inches taller than Ryan and he looked strong, but Ryan didn’t doubt his ability to hold his own against him if push came to shove.

Fighting would be far from sensible.

He knew that but, recalling the way Marianna had thrown the vase at him yesterday, her brother might have the same hot temper. It wouldn’t hurt to remain on his guard. He planted his hands on his hips and stood his ground.

‘So...you have nothing to say?’ the other man mocked.

‘I have plenty to say...to Marianna.’

The brother bared his teeth. ‘You don’t deny it, then?’

‘I deny nothing. All you need to know is that I’m here to see Marianna.’

‘Do you have an appointment?’

He debated the merits of lying, but decided against it. ‘No.’

‘What if she doesn’t want to see you?’

‘What if she does?’

‘I—’

‘And if she doesn’t want to see me, then I want to hear it from her.’ He shoved his shoulders back and glared. ‘I mean to see her, one way or another. Don’t you think it would be best for that to happen here under your roof?’

The other man stared at him hard. Ryan stared right back, refusing to let his gaze drop. The brother swore in Italian. Ryan was glad his own Italian wasn’t fluent enough for him to translate it. With a grim expression, he gestured for Ryan to follow him, leading him to a room at the back of the house that was full of rugs and sofas—a warm, charming, lived-in room. Light spilled in from three sets of French doors that stood open to a paved terrace sporting an assortment of cast-iron outdoor furniture and a riot of colour from potted plants.

Home. The word hit Ryan in the centre of his chest. This place was a home. He hadn’t had that sense from any place since the day his grandmother had died. His lungs started to cramp. He didn’t belong here.

Another man strode through one of the French doors. ‘Nico, I—’ He pulled up short when he saw Ryan.

Brilliant. Brother number two.

Brother number one—evidently called Nico—jerked a thumb at Ryan. ‘This is Paulo.’

He glanced from one to the other. Marianna had told them his name was Paulo?

The second brother started towards him, anger rolling off him in great waves. Brilliant. This one was even taller than the first. Ryan set himself. He could hold his own against one, but not the two of them. He readied himself for a blow—he refused to throw the first punch—but at the last moment Nico moved between them, his hand on his brother’s chest halting him.

Ryan let out a breath and then nodded. ‘No. This is good.’

‘Good?’ brother number two spat out, his face turning almost purple.

‘That Marianna has brothers who look out for her.’

The anger in the dark eyes that surveyed him turned from outright hostility to a simmering tension. ‘You made her cry, you...’ A rash of what Ryan guessed must be Italian insults followed. Brother number two flung out his arm, strode away, and then swung back to stab a finger at him. ‘She returned here yesterday, locked herself in her room and cried. That is your fault!’

Ryan’s shoulders slumped. He rubbed a hand across his chest. ‘Yesterday...it was...it didn’t go so well and she—’ He pushed his shoulders back. ‘I’m here to make it right.’

‘What do you mean to do?’ Nico asked. His voice had become measured but not for a second did Ryan mistake it for a softening.

‘I mean to do whatever Marianna wants me to do.’ Within reason, but he didn’t add that caveat out loud.

Brother number two thrust out his jaw. ‘But are you going to do what she needs you to do?’

He thrust his jaw out too. ‘I will not force her to do anything. I refuse to believe I know better than she does about what she needs. She’s a grown woman who knows her own mind.’

The brothers laughed—harsh, scornful laughter as if he had no idea what he was talking about.

Ryan’s every muscle tensed and he could feel his eyes narrow to slits as a dangerous and alien recklessness seized him. ‘Have the two of you been bullying her or pressuring her in any way?’

Had they been pressuring her to keep the baby due to some outdated form of conservatism? Or... Had they been pressuring her to give the baby up because of scandal and—?

‘And what if we have, Paulo?’ brother number two mocked. ‘What then?’

‘Then I will beat the crap out of you!’

It was stupid, reckless, juvenile, but he couldn’t help it. Marianna was pregnant! She needed calm and peace. She needed to take care of her health. She didn’t need to be worried into an early grave by two overprotective brothers.

The brothers stared at him. Neither smiled but their chins lowered. Nico pursed his lips. The other rolled his shoulders. Ryan stabbed a finger first at brother number one and then at brother number two. ‘Let me make one thing crystal clear. I am not abandoning my child. Marianna and I have a lot we need to sort out and we’re going to do it without interference from either one of you.’

* * *

Raised voices drifted out across the terrace as Marianna marched towards the villa. She rolled her eyes. What on earth were Angelo and Nico bickering about now? She stepped into the room...

And froze.

Ryan!

A shock of sweet delight pierced through the numbness she’d been carrying around with her all day, making her tingle all over.

No! She shook it off. She would not be delighted to see him. Of all the low-down—

His gaze speared to her and the insults lining up in her mind dissolved.

‘Hello, Marianna.’ His voice washed over her like warm, spiced mead and she couldn’t utter a single sound. She dragged her gaze away to glance at her brothers. Angelo raised a derisive eyebrow. ‘Look what the cat dragged in, Marianna.’ He folded his arms. ‘Paulo.’

Ryan ignored his mockery to stride across to her. He took her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. Her heart fluttered like a wild crazy thing. ‘Are you okay?’ He uttered the words gently, his eyes as warm as the morning sun on a Thai beach.

While it wasn’t a hug and an ‘it’ll all be okay’ there was no mistaking the sincerity of his effort. She hadn’t expected to see him again. Ever. She’d thought he’d have run for the hills.

‘Marianna?’

She loved the way he said her name. It made things inside her tight and warm and loose and aching all at once. His grip on her hand tightened and she shook herself. ‘Yes, thank you.’ But the sudden sexual need that gripped had her reefing her hand from his. They were no longer Ryan and Mari, free and easy holidaymakers. They were Ryan and Marianna, prospective parents. That put a very different spin on matters and the sooner she got her head around that, the better.

This wasn’t about him and her. It was about him and the baby. Did he want to be involved with the baby? If he did, and if he was sincere, then they would have to sort something out...come to some kind of arrangement.

Shadows gathered in Ryan’s eyes. She swallowed, recalling the way she’d thrown the vase at him. ‘And you? Are you okay?’

She watched him as he let out a slow breath. ‘As you haven’t thrown anything at me yet, then yes—so far, so good.’

Behind him, Nico groaned. ‘You threw something at him?’ he said in Italian.

‘He made me angry,’ she returned in her native tongue, trying not to wince at how rash and impetuous it must make her sound.

With a sigh she glanced back at Ryan. ‘Have you been formally introduced to my brothers?’

‘I’ve not had that pleasure, no.’

His tone told her they’d been giving him a hard time, but he didn’t seem too fazed by it. A man who could hold his own against her two overprotective brothers? Maybe there were hidden depths to Ryan she had yet to plumb. Let’s hope so, mia topolino. She wanted her baby to have a father who would love it.

She couldn’t get her hopes up on that head, though. She recalled all the things he’d said yesterday and her stomach started to churn. He might just be here to offer her some kind of financial arrangement—to buy her off.

Keep your cool until you know for sure.

She tossed her head. She meant to keep her cool regardless.

She pulled herself back to the here and now and gestured. ‘This is my oldest brother, Angelo, and this is Nico. He manages our vineyard.’ She couldn’t keep a thread of pride from her voice. She adored both of her brothers. ‘And this—’ she went to touch Ryan’s arm and then thought the better of it ‘—is Ryan White.’

The men didn’t shake hands.

Angelo gave a mock salute. ‘Paulo.’

Ryan glanced down at her with a frown in his eyes. She waved a dismissive hand through the air. ‘It is a stupid joke of theirs. Don’t pay them any mind.’

‘Marianna’s boyfriends don’t last too long,’ Nico said. A deliberate jab, no doubt, at what he saw as her flightiness. ‘Angelo and I decided long ago it was pointless remembering names.’

Angelo folded his arms. ‘How long do you think this one will last, Nico?’

‘Six weeks.’

‘I’ll give him four. He doesn’t look as if he has what it takes to keep Mari’s interest.’

‘True. I can’t see that he has anything more to offer her than any of the others.’

A clash of gazes ensued between the men and in some dark, dishonourable place in her heart the silent interchange fascinated her.

She tried to shake herself from under its spell. What is wrong with you?

With a snort, Ryan turned back to her. ‘May I take you out to lunch?’

She glanced at Nico, who told her in Italian to take the afternoon off. ‘Give him a chance.’

‘You owe it to him, bella,’ Angelo added.

What on earth...? She pulled in a breath, grateful her brothers spoke in their native tongue. She recalled the raised voices she’d heard when she’d approached the villa. ‘How good is your Italian?’ she asked Ryan.

‘Very poor.’ He glanced at Angelo and Nico. ‘Which is probably a blessing.’

She folded her arms and glared at her brothers, reverting back to Italian. ‘Did you put him up to this?’

Nico shook his head. ‘But if this man is the father of your baby, you need to speak with him.’

‘I did that yesterday!’

His gaze skewered her. ‘Did you? Or did you merely drop your bombshell, throw a temper tantrum and run?’

Her face started to burn. It took an effort of will not to press her hands to her cheeks to cool them. Nico had a point.

Another thought slid into her then and she stared at each man in turn. If Angelo and Nico saw her dealing with the father of her prospective child maturely and responsibly, then that would help them see her as a responsible adult who could be trusted to make sensible decisions about her life, right? Not to mention the life of her unborn child. Maybe this was one way she could prove to them that she wasn’t a failure or a flake.

She glanced down at her hands. Ryan was the father of her child. If he wanted to be a part of their baby’s life...

Lifting her chin, she turned back to Ryan and reverted to English. ‘I need to talk to Nico about the vines for a few minutes and then we can go for lunch.’

He nodded and glanced around. ‘What if I wait over there?’ He pointed to a sofa on the other side of the room.

She pressed her hands together. ‘Perfect.’ She wasn’t so sure how perfect it was when Angelo followed him and took the seat opposite.

‘Is there anything wrong with the vines?’ Nico said, his face suddenly alive and intent.

‘The soil is perfect! You have done an admirable job, Nico.’

‘You set the groundwork before you left.’

Did he really believe that? Did he really think her an asset to the vineyard? She shook the thought off. She would prove herself to him. And Angelo. She was good at her job. ‘The grapes are maturing as they should, but if the long-range weather forecast is to be believed, then we need to consider irrigating the northern slopes sooner than usual.’

‘You mentioned last week something about new irrigation methods you’d picked up in Australia?’

She and Nico moved to the dining table to go over her report, but all the time her mind was occupied with Ryan. She heard him try to make small talk about the vineyard, but Nico asked her a question and she didn’t hear Angelo’s reply.

The next time she had a chance to glance up it was to see Ryan flicking a business card across to Angelo with the kind of mocking arrogance that would’ve done both of her brothers proud.

She dragged her attention back to Nico. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, Nico, the vines are in great shape. I’ll continue with my soil samples over the next week and checking the vines for any signs of pests or moulds, but...’ she shrugged ‘...so far, so good. Seems to me we’re on track for the fattest, juiciest grapes in the history of winemaking.’

It might’ve been an exaggeration, but it made her brother smile as it was supposed to. ‘I’m glad you’re home, Mari.’

Guilt slid in between her ribs at that. She’d been Irresponsible Marianna too long. She’d left Nico to run the vineyard on his own and now... She rubbed a hand across her chest. And now both of her brothers thought her an incompetent—a screw-up—that they needed to look after. They hadn’t said as much, of course, but she knew.

‘I’m not sure I like him.’

She glanced up to find Nico staring at Ryan.

She’d liked the man she’d met in Thailand. She’d liked him a lot. She hadn’t liked the man she’d met at the Grande Plaza Hotel yesterday, though. Not one little bit. The man sitting on the sofa...she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.

She touched Nico’s arm. ‘What matters is if I like him or not, I think, Nico.’

The faintest of smiles touched his lips. ‘You always like them, Marianna...for a week or two.’

‘This one is different.’

‘Is he?’

Yes. He was the father of her unborn child.

CHAPTER THREE

‘THE FOOD HERE is superb,’ Marianna told Ryan, staring at the arancini balls the waitress set in front of her. Very carefully she drew the scent into her lungs and then gave up a silent thanks when her stomach didn’t rebel.

It didn’t mean she had an appetite, though. When Ryan didn’t pick up his cutlery to sample his fettuccine, she figured he wasn’t all that hungry either. She leaned back and folded her hands in her lap. ‘So...it wasn’t food you wanted after all.’

‘I wanted to talk to you...privately.’

Daniella, the maître d’, had taken one look at Marianna’s face and seated them in the most secluded corner of the restaurant. Marianna was glad now that she had. ‘Well...talk.’

He picked up his fork and tested each tine with his index finger. He made as if to stab at a mushroom, but he set the fork down again and shuffled back in his seat. Marianna had no interest in making the way easy for him, but his continuing silence started to stretch her nerves thin.

‘I did an Internet search on you last night.’

His gaze speared to hers.

‘I know you’re some hotshot consultant who comes in and saves companies who are on the brink of bankruptcy. I know you’re worth a lot of money.’ She shook her head. Her idea of him being some free and easy gypsy type must’ve had him laughing up his sleeve. She suspected her hope that he would love their child would prove just as ridiculous. ‘So let’s clear this up right now. I do not want your money. I have no intention whatsoever of making any claim on it. No doubt you’ve come prepared with papers you’ve had your lawyers draw up.’

The darkness in his eyes throbbed between them. Marianna swallowed. ‘C’mon, then.’ She beckoned with both hands. ‘Pull them out and let me sign them. Then, perhaps, we can enjoy our meal before going our separate ways.’

‘You think that’s why I’m here?’

She arranged her serviette in her lap and then folded her hands on the table. ‘Isn’t it?’

He reached out as if to take her hand, but pulled back to rub his nape instead. Marianna pulled her hands into her lap and glanced away. Looking at him... It was too hard. It hurt all of the sore places inside her.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t react well yesterday. Your news blind-sided me. I was...stunned. In shock.’

That was one way of putting it.

‘At the time I didn’t consider how hard it must’ve been for you to deal with the news all on your own. I’m sorry.’

His apology surprised her.

She grimaced. She hadn’t exactly broached the subject of her pregnancy gently, had she? She’d shot the news at him like a torpedo...and she’d expected him to deal with that with grace? Her brothers would blame it on her flair for the dramatic. The truth of the matter was she’d taken one look at the stranger who’d confronted her yesterday and had panicked.

He had another think coming, though, if he expected her to apologise for that! She seized her cutlery and sliced off a sliver of food, lifting it towards her mouth.

‘What I’m trying to say, Marianna, is that I have no intention of abandoning my child.’

She dropped her knife and fork back to her plate, the morsel untouched. Her heart pounded. ‘And what if you have no say in that?’ He’d said he didn’t want a baby. Ever. She wasn’t letting a man like that anywhere near her child.

He turned grey. ‘Please don’t prevent me from being a part of my child’s life. I know I behaved badly yesterday and I know I’m not what you thought I was, but then you’re not what I thought you were either.’

That arrow found its mark.

He leaned towards her, his eyes ablaze. ‘I know what it’s like to feel unwanted by one’s parents.’

Something inside her stilled, and then started to ache at the pain he tried to mask in the depths of his eyes.

‘I have no intention of letting a child of mine feel rejected like that.’

Yesterday, before their unfortunate meeting, she’d expected him to be a part of their child’s life...regardless of anything else that might or might not happen between them. She passed a hand across her eyes and tried to still the sudden pounding of her heart. ‘How do you think this can work?’

He captured her hand and forced her to look at him. The sincerity in his face caught at her. ‘Marianna, I will do anything you ask of me. Anything except...’ He swallowed.

‘Except?’

‘Walk away from our child. Or...’

‘Or?’

‘Marry you.’

She reclaimed her hand and glared. ‘Who mentioned anything about marriage?’

‘I didn’t say I thought that’s what you wanted. I—’

‘Good! Because I don’t! We don’t even know each other!’ A fact that was becoming increasingly clear. ‘What kind of antiquated notions do you think I harbour?’

‘Don’t fly off the handle.’ He glared right back at her. ‘I thought it wise to make myself and my intentions clear. Your brothers seem very traditional and—’

‘They’re protective, not stupid! They wouldn’t want me marrying some man just because I’m pregnant. For heaven’s sake, women get pregnant all the time—single women. No one expects them to get married any more. No one thinks it’s shameful or a scandal.’

He leaned towards her, his eyes intent. ‘So your brothers haven’t been pressuring you about the baby?’

‘What are you talking about?’

He eyed her warily. ‘Don’t fly off the handle again.’

Her hands clenched. ‘Do not tell me what to do.’

His eyes narrowed, turning cold and hard, and Marianna had to suppress a shiver, but she held her ground. He folded his arms and eased back. ‘I was concerned your brothers might’ve been pressuring you to keep the baby when you didn’t want to. Or, alternatively, pressuring you to give it away when you wanted to keep it.’

‘They’ve been nothing but supportive.’ She’d screwed up, again, but she had their support. They might think her a total write-off, but she would always have their support.

But if they were pressuring her, had Ryan meant to intervene on her behalf? The idea intrigued her.

She moistened her lips. ‘What do you mean to pressure me to do?’

‘It seems to me I have very little say in the matter.’ He picked up his fork again, put it down. ‘It’s your body and your life that will be most immediately impacted. I’ll support you in whatever decisions you make. If there’s anything practical I can do, I hope you’ll let me know.’

He made her feel like a spoilt child.

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but yesterday I was under the impression that you meant to keep the baby.’ He frowned, looking not altogether pleased. ‘Have you changed your mind?’

She shook her head. An unplanned pregnancy hadn’t been part of her life plan, but... She’d always intended to become a mother one day. She’d just thought she’d be married to the man of her dreams first. Still, the moment the pregnancy test had confirmed that she was, indeed, pregnant, she’d been gripped by such a fierce sense of protectiveness for the new life growing inside her that, while she’d considered all of the options available to her, the only one that had made any sense to her emotionally was to keep her baby. To love it. To give it a wonderful life. ‘I’m going to have this baby and I’m going to raise it and love it.’

He nodded. ‘I know I’ve made it clear that I’m a lone wolf—I never intend to marry—but I do mean to be a father to this child.’

She rubbed her temples, unable to look at him. She finally picked up her cutlery and ate a bite of food.

He honed in on her unease immediately. ‘What’s wrong with that? Why do you have a problem with that?’

‘Lone wolves don’t hang around to help raise the young, Ryan. They hotfoot it to pastures greener.’ Nothing he said made sense. ‘If you intend to never marry, that’s your business. But I don’t see how you can be both a lone wolf and any kind of decent father.’

She raised her hands, complete with cutlery, heavenwards. ‘To be a good father you need to be connected to your child, involved with it. When it needs you to, you have to drop everything at a moment’s notice. You have to...’ She met his gaze across the table. ‘You have to put its needs above your own...even when you’re craving solitude and no strings.’

He swallowed.

‘A baby is just about the biggest strings that you can ever have.’ She leaned towards him. ‘Ryan, you will be bound to this child for life. Are you prepared for that?’

He’d gone pale. He stared back at her with eyes the colour of a stormy sea.

‘For a start, how do you mean to make it work? How...?’ She rubbed a hand across her brow. ‘I can tell you how I mean to make it work. I mean to stay here in Monte Calanetti where I have a good job, a family I love and a network of friends. My entire network of support is here. What do you mean to do—drop in for a few days here and there every few months when you’re between assignments?’

‘I...’

She massaged her temples. ‘I don’t know what your definition of a good father might be, but that’s not mine.’

‘Mine neither.’ Hooded eyes surveyed her. ‘You have to realise I’ve only had a day so far to try and think things through.’

He wanted her to cut him some slack, but...this was her child’s life they were talking about.

‘I did have a thought during the drive up here,’ he said. The slight hesitancy in his voice coupled with the deep, whisky tones made the flutters start up in her stomach.

She swallowed. ‘Okay, run it by me, then.’

‘What if I buy a house for you and the baby, and whenever I can get back here I can stay and spend time with our child? I do mean to get back here as often as I can.’

He wanted what? She seized her fork and shoved lukewarm arancini into her mouth to stop from yelling at him. Yelling wouldn’t be mature or adult. It wouldn’t help their child. Her grip on her cutlery tightened. Oh, but it would be entirely understandable! Any innocent bystander would surely agree?

‘You don’t like the idea?’

She shook her head and chewed doggedly.

‘But the house would be yours and—’

He broke off when she pushed a whole half of an arancini ball into her mouth.

He rubbed a hand across his jaw. ‘Okay, what’s wrong with that plan?’

It took her a moment of chewing and swallowing and sipping of water before she could trust herself to answer with any equanimity. ‘You don’t ever mean to marry, no?’

His frown deepened. ‘Right.’

‘But it doesn’t necessarily follow that I won’t.’

He gazed at her blankly.

‘The mother, her baby, her ex-lover and her husband,’ she quipped. ‘All under one roof? How cosy. Not!’ She stabbed her fork at him. ‘Not going to happen.’

He dragged a hand down his face, before glancing back at her with eyes that throbbed.

‘Ryan, I will organise my own life—my own house and furniture, not to mention my work. If you want contact with the baby, then that’s fine. I have no intention of stopping you—but nor do I have any intention of being your glorified housekeeper while you do it. Buy a house in Monte Calanetti by all means. Feel free to hire a housekeeper and a nanny to help you with housework and the baby, but don’t think you’re going to cramp my life like that.’

‘You mean to marry one day?’

Of all the things she’d just said, that was what he wanted to focus on? ‘Of course I do.’ And while they were on the topic... ‘I mean to have more babies too.’

He paled. ‘And do you think this future husband of yours will love our child?’

What kind of question was that? How on earth could he think it possible for her to fall in love with someone who wouldn’t love her child too?

He sat back, his spine ramrod-rigid. ‘My offer of a house wasn’t meant to curtail your freedom. I can see now it was ill considered. You’re right—it would never work. I’m sorry.’

Did he really want what was best for their baby? She recalled the way his eyes had flashed when he’d said he wouldn’t let his child feel unloved or rejected. They were on the same side, but it didn’t feel that way.

He pressed his lips together. ‘We’re going to have to learn to work together on this.’

‘Yes.’ At least they agreed about that.

He thrust a finger at her. ‘And I can tell you now that I won’t be foisting my child off onto some nanny.’

That scored him a few brownie points, but... ‘What do you know about caring for a baby? Have you ever fed one and then burped it? Have you ever changed a diaper?’

He glanced away.

Marianna choked. ‘Please tell me you’ve at least held one.’

He didn’t answer, but his expression told its own story. Why on earth was he here? If he avoided children with the same ferocity he did marriage, why hadn’t he run for the hills?

I know what it’s like to feel unwanted.

Her heart suddenly burned for the small boy that was still buried deep in the man opposite her. He’d been hurt badly by his childhood, that much was evident, and he wanted to do better by his child. She couldn’t help but applaud that.

‘Hell, Marianna!’ He swung back. ‘I know nothing about babies or children. They’re a complete mystery to me. But I can learn and I will love our child.’

For their baby’s sake, she hoped he was right.

He’d gone so pale it frightened her. ‘Can you teach me what I need to know?’

‘Me?’ The word squeaked out of her.

‘There isn’t anyone else I can ask.’

The implication of his lone-wolf ways hit her then and she gulped. It occurred to her that he might need this baby more than he realised. She gripped her hands together in her lap. Admittedly, she and he did have to learn to work together—that’d be in the best interests of their child. And seeing the two of them working things out together in a rational, adult way would put both Angelo’s and Nico’s minds at rest.

If Ryan really was willing to make an effort then...then their baby deserved to know him, to have him in its life. Her baby deserved to be loved by as many people as possible. And... She swallowed. And if Ryan did suddenly decide that he couldn’t handle fatherhood, it’d be better to discover that now, before the baby was born.

You mean to test him to see if he’s worthy?

Was that what she was doing?

Who’s going to test you?

She closed her eyes.

‘Is everything okay with your meals?’

Marianna’s eyes sprang open to find Daniella frowning at their barely touched plates. ‘The food is divine,’ Marianna assured her.

The maître d’ planted her hands on her hips. ‘Would you like me to get Raffaele to prepare something else for you?’

‘No, no, Daniella. Honestly, the food is wonderful. It’s just...’ Marianna pulled in a deep breath. ‘Well, the fact of the matter is I’m pregnant, and food at the moment—any food—is a bit...iffy.’

Daniella stared, and then an enormous smile spread across her face. ‘Marianna! What exciting news! Congratulations!’

She bent and hugged her and Marianna’s throat thickened. ‘I...thank you.’

The maître d’ tapped a finger against her lips and then suddenly winked and wheeled away. Her smile speared straight into Marianna’s heart. She swallowed and blinked hard. She stared down into her lap and fiddled with her napkin.

Ryan ducked his head and tried to catch her eye. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Uh-huh.’ She nodded.

He brought a fist up to his mouth. ‘Are you crying?’

Marianna lifted her napkin and buried her face in it for a moment, before drawing back and dabbing at her eyes.

Ryan stared at her as if he didn’t have a clue what to do. He shuffled on his seat, but he didn’t run. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong. It’s just... Daniella is the first person who’s actually congratulated me and...and it was nice. The news of a baby should be celebrated.’

Ryan’s face darkened. ‘I thought you said your brothers had been supportive.’

‘They have been, but...well, the pregnancy was obviously unplanned and...’ They hadn’t meant to make her feel as if she’d messed up. ‘They’ve been worried about me.’

On the table, his hand clenched. ‘And I acted like a damn jerk.’

She blew out a breath. She hadn’t really given him much of a chance to act any other way.

Daniella returned with an enormous slice of chocolate cherry cake—Marianna’s favourite. ‘Compliments of the chef,’ she said, setting it down with a flourish.

Darn it! Her throat went all thick again. Her emotions were see-sawing so much at the moment they were making her dizzy. ‘Thank him for me,’ she managed.

She promptly curved her spoon through it and brought it to her mouth, closing her eyes in ecstasy as the taste hit her. She opened them again to find Ryan staring at her as if mesmerised. A strange electricity started to hum through her blood.

They both glanced away at the same time.

Her heart pounded. Okay. In her mind she drew the word out. She and Ryan might be virtual strangers—in their real world incarnations—but they still generated heat. A lot of heat. She ate more cake. Ryan set to work on his fettuccine. They studiously avoided meeting each other’s eyes.

If they were going to successfully co-parent, they were going to have to ignore that heat.

What a pity.

She choked when the unbidden voice sounded in her head. She was shameless!

‘Everything okay?’

She pulled in a breath. ‘If we want this to work, Ryan—’

‘I for one really want it to.’

His vehemence made her feel less alone. She couldn’t afford to trust it too deeply, to enjoy it too much, but...it was still kind of nice. ‘Then we need to be really, really honest with each other, yes?’

He set his knife and fork down. ‘Yes. Even when it proves difficult.’

‘Probably especially when it proves difficult.’ She pursed her lips. ‘So, by definition, some of our conversations and discussions are going to be...difficult.’

The colour in his eyes deepened to a green that reminded her of a lagoon in Thailand where they’d spent a lazy afternoon. She swallowed and tried not to linger on what had happened after that swim when Ryan had taken her back to his beach hut.

‘You want to hit me with whatever’s on your mind?’

She dragged herself back.

The colour in his eyes intensified. ‘I swear to you, Marianna, that I mean to do right by our baby. And by you too. I want to make things as easy for you as I can. I don’t want you thinking you’re in this alone.’

It was a nice sentiment but... She motioned to his plate. ‘You can keep eating while I talk.’

The faintest of smiles touched his lips. ‘If we’re going to have one of those difficult conversations it might be better if I don’t. I wouldn’t want to choke, now, would I?’

Her lips kicked up into a smile before she managed to pull herself back into line. ‘I think there’s an enormous difference between being a good father and being a man who holds the title of father.’

‘I agree.’

‘To be good at anything means working hard at it, don’t you think?’

Again, he nodded. ‘I’m not afraid of hard work, I promise you.’ He met her gaze, his face pale but his eyes steady. ‘What I’m afraid of is failure.’

His admission had her breaking out in gooseflesh as her own fears crowded about her. She chafed her arms. ‘That’s something I can definitely relate to.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re going to be a brilliant mother. You shouldn’t doubt that for a moment. Already you’re fighting for your baby’s happiness—protecting it.’

But did it need protecting from Ryan?

‘You will be a wonderful mother,’ he repeated.

Her stomach screwed up tight. She hoped so.

His eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘Are you afraid you won’t be?’

‘No,’ she lied. ‘Of course not.’ She’d be just fine. She would! Besides, one of them feeling wobbly on the parent front was more than enough, thank you very much.

Ryan folded his arms. ‘It hasn’t been a terribly difficult discussion so far.’

Ah. Well. She could fix that. She pushed her cake to one side and pressed her hands together. ‘Ryan, in Thailand I...’ She faltered for a moment before finding her footing again. ‘I was coming home to Italy after a year spent travelling and working through Australia. Thailand was my...last hurrah, so to speak. That holiday was about having no responsibilities, being young and free, and living in the moment before settling back into my real life.’

A furrow appeared on his brow. ‘I understand that.’

‘You are an incredibly attractive man.’

He blinked.

‘But what we had in Thailand—all of that glorious sex...’ He grinned as if in remembrance and it made her pulse skitter. ‘It...it just doesn’t belong here in my real world.’

He sobered as he caught her drift.

‘If we’re to successfully co-parent, then sex has no place in that. Friendship would be great if we can manage it. Sex would wreck that.’

‘Too complicated,’ he agreed.

She shook her head. ‘It’s actually incredibly simple. You never want to marry while I’d love to find the man of my dreams and settle down with him. If we make love here—in my real world—I would be in grave danger of falling in love with you.’

He shot back in his seat, his eyes filling with horror. The pulse in his throat pounded. ‘I...’ He gulped. ‘That would be seriously unwise.’

She snorted. ‘It’d be a disaster.’ And if they were being honest... ‘I doubt I’d make a particularly gracious jilted lover.’

He raised both hands. ‘Point taken. We keep our hands to ourselves, keep things strictly platonic and...friendship.’ He nodded vigorously. ‘We focus on friendship.’

* * *

Ryan stared at Marianna, his heart doing its best to pound a way out of his chest. There couldn’t be any sex between them. Ever again. She’d just presented him with his nightmare scenario and... Just, no. It would wreck everything.

He swallowed and tried to slow his pulse. If only he could forget the satin slide of her skin or the dancing delight of her fingertips as they travelled across his naked flesh, not to mention the sweet warm scent of her and the way he’d relished burying his face in her hair and breathing her in.

He stamped a lid on those memories and shoved them into a vault in his mind marked: Never to be opened.

Marianna lifted another spoonful of cake to her lips. He glanced at his fettuccine, but pushed the plate away, his stomach now too acid. Marianna had told him the food here was superb, world class, but it could’ve been sawdust for all he knew.

He glanced across the table and his gaze snagged hers. ‘You really don’t mean to make it difficult for me to see our child?’

Very slowly she shook her head. ‘Not if you want to be involved.’

He wanted to be involved all right. He just didn’t know what involved actually entailed. ‘So...where do we go from here?’

She halted with a spoon of cake only centimetres from her mouth.

He tried not to focus on her mouth. ‘I mean, what do we do next?’

She lowered her spoon. ‘I don’t really know. I...’ She frowned and he went on immediate alert. It had to be better for her health and the baby’s if she smiled rather than frowned.

Also, it had to be seriously bad for her health—her blood pressure—to go about hurling vases at people. He made a mental note to try and defuse all such high emotion in the future.

Her spoon clattered back to her plate and she gestured heavenwards with a dramatic flourish. ‘It feels as if there must be a million things to do before the baby arrives!’

Were there? Asking what they were would only reveal the extent of his ignorance. He hadn’t been able to shake off her horrified expression when she’d realised he’d never so much as held a baby. So, he didn’t ask what needed doing. Instead he asked, ‘What can I do?’

She folded her arms and surveyed him. She might only be a petite five feet two inches, but it took all of his strength to not fidget under that gaze.

‘You really want to help?’

‘Yes.’ That was unequivocal. He needed to help.

‘I plan to move out of the family home and into a cottage on the estate.’

He wondered if her brothers knew about this yet.

‘It’s solid and hardy, but I’d like to spruce up the inside with a new coat of paint and make everything lovely and fresh for the baby.’

It took a moment before he realised what she was asking of him. His heart started to thud. She’d told him that if he was serious about becoming a good father, his time would no longer be his own. His mouth dried. Could he do this?

He had to do this!

He reviewed his upcoming work schedule. He set his shoulders and rested both arms on the table. ‘How would it be if I spent the next month—’ four whole weeks! ‘—in Monte Calanetti? I can work remotely with maybe just the odd day trip back to Rome, and in my spare time I can help you get established in your cottage, help you set up a nursery...and in return you can tell me what you see as the duties and responsibilities of a good father?’

Her eyes widened, and he was suddenly fiercely glad he’d made the offer. ‘You’d stay for a whole month?’

It wouldn’t interfere with the Conti contract, and he didn’t kid himself—he’d only have one chance to prove himself to the mother of his yet-to-be-born child, and he wasn’t going to waste it. ‘Consider it done,’ he said.

CHAPTER FOUR

MARIANNA STARED AT him and Ryan found himself holding his breath, waiting for her answer...her verdict.

She folded her arms. ‘That would help me out a lot.’

‘And me,’ he added, wanting her to remember that she’d just promised to tutor him in the arts of fatherhood.

She stared down at her cake and bit her lip. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a riot of dark waves, and it suddenly struck him how young she looked. He pushed his plate further away and glanced at her again. ‘How old are you, Marianna?’

‘Twenty-four.’

She was so young!

‘And you?’

‘Twenty-nine.’ It was one of the many pieces of information they hadn’t exchanged during their week in Thailand.

‘If you researched me on the Internet, then you know what I do for a living.’ As a specialist freelance consultant brought in, usually at the last moment, to turn the fortunes of ailing companies around, he enjoyed the adrenaline surge, the high-stakes pressure, and the tight deadlines. He shifted on his seat. ‘What about you? What’s your role at the vineyard? Are you a winemaker?’

She shook her head and those glorious curls performed a gentle dance around her face and shoulders. ‘Nico is the vintner. I’m a viticulturist. I grow the grapes, look after the health of the vines.’ She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. ‘The art of grape growing is a science.’

He knew she had a brain. It shouldn’t surprise him that she used it. ‘Sounds...technical.’

‘I grew up on the vineyard. It’s in my blood.’

The smile she sent him tightened his skin. He tried to ignore the pulse of sexual awareness coursing through him. That was not going to happen. No matter how much he might want her, he wasn’t messing with her emotions.

‘What?’ she said.

He shook himself. ‘So your job is stable? Financially you’re...secure?’

He could’ve groaned when her face turned stormy.

He raised both hands. ‘No offence meant. Difficult conversations, remember?’

She blew out a breath and slumped back, offered him a tiny smile that speared straight into the centre of him. ‘I feel as if you’re quizzing me to make sure I’m suitable mother material.’

‘Not what I’m doing.’ He’d be the least qualified person on earth to do that.

She kinked an eyebrow. ‘No?’

He shook his head. ‘When I said I wanted to make things easier for you, I meant in every way.’

He saw the moment his meaning reached her. The hand she rested on the table—small like the rest of her—clenched. He waited with an internal grimace and a kind of fatalistic inevitability for her to throw something at him.

In amazement he watched as her hand unclenched again. ‘I keep forgetting that you don’t really know me.’

He knew the shape of her legs, the dip of her waist and the curves of her breasts. He knew the feel of her skin and how she tasted. Hunger rushed through him. He closed his eyes. He had to stop this.

‘One thing you ought to know is that I do have my pride.’ She pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. ‘I have both the means and the wherewithal to take care of myself and—’ her hand moved to cover her still-flat stomach ‘—whoever else comes along. I have a share in Vigneto Calanetti, I’m a qualified viticulturist, I work hard and I draw a good salary. It may not be in the same league as what you earn, Ryan, but it’s more than sufficient for both my and the baby’s needs. I think you ought to know that if you were to offer me money it would seriously offend me.’

Right. That was good to know, but... ‘What if I weren’t offering it to you, but to the baby?’

She frowned and gestured to his plate. ‘Are you finished?’ At his nod she glanced across the room and caught the maître d’s eye, wordlessly asking for the bill.

He let her distract herself with these things, but this money issue wasn’t something he’d let her ignore indefinitely. He had a financial responsibility to this child—a responsibility he was determined to meet. He left a generous tip and followed Marianna to the cobbled street outside. He glanced at her and then glanced around. ‘Your village is charming.’

It did what it was supposed to do—it cleared the frown from her face and perked her up. ‘This was a stronghold back in medieval times. Many of the stones from the wall have since been used to build the houses that came after, but sections of the wall still stand. Would you like to walk for a bit?’

‘I’d like that a lot. If you’re not feeling too tired.’

She scoffed at that and set about leading him through cool cobbled streets that wound through the town with a grace that seemed to belong to a bygone age. He found himself entranced with houses made from stone that had mellowed to every shade of rose and gold, with archways leading down quaint alleys that curved intriguingly out of view. There were walled gardens, quirky turrets and fountains in the oddest places. And all the while Marianna pointed out architectural curiosities and regaled him with stories from local folklore. Her skill on the subject surprised him.

It shouldn’t. Her quick wit and keen intelligence had been evident from their very first meeting.

Her enthusiasm for her subject made her eyes shine. She gestured with her hands as if they were an extension of her mind. His gut tightened as he watched her. Hunger roared through him...

He wrenched his gaze heavenwards. For heaven’s sake, can’t you get your mind off sex for just ten minutes?

‘I’m boring you.’

He swung back to her. ‘On the contrary, I’m finding all of this fascinating.’ He refused to notice the shape of her lips. ‘You obviously love your town.’

‘It’s my home,’ she said simply. ‘I love it. I missed it when I was in Australia.’ She frowned up at him. ‘Don’t you love your home?’

Something inside him froze.

Her frown deepened. ‘Where is your home, Ryan?’

‘Have you heard the saying “Wherever I lay my hat, that’s my home”? That pretty much sums me up.’

She halted, hands on her hips. ‘But you have to live somewhere when you’re between assignments. I mean, where do you keep your belongings?’

‘I have office facilities in Sydney and London, and staff who work for me in both locations, but...’ He shrugged.

Her eyes grew round. ‘What? Are you telling me that you just live out of hotel rooms?’

‘Suites,’ he corrected.

‘But—’ She frowned. ‘What about your car? Where do you keep that?’

‘Whenever I need a car, I hire one.’

‘Then what about the gifts people give you, your books and CDs, photographs, art you’ve gathered and... Oh, I don’t know. The myriad things we collect?’

‘I travel light. All I need is a suitcase and my laptop.’

She eased away from him, those dark eyes surveying him. ‘I wasn’t so wrong about you after all,’ she finally said. ‘You are a kind of gypsy.’

She didn’t look too pleased with her discovery. He shrugged. ‘While we’re on the subject of accommodation, perhaps you could recommend somewhere for me to stay while I’m in Monte Calanetti?’

She folded her arms and frowned at him for a long moment and then tossed her head, eyes flashing. ‘Oh, that’s easy.’ She swung away and led him down an avenue that opened out into a town square. ‘If you’re going to help me get the cottage shipshape then you can stay there.’

His heart stuttered. ‘With you?’

Some of his horror must’ve seeped into his voice because she swung back with narrowed eyes. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

‘Not at all,’ he assured her hastily. Hell, yes! How on earth was he going to avoid temptation when he was living with her? He rolled his shoulders. Not that he could ask the question out loud. Not when she stood glaring at him like that.

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