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One Kiss in… Paris
The Billionaire’s Bedside Manner
Robyn Grady
Hired: Cinderella Chef
Myrna Mackenzie
72 Hours
Dana Marton
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
The Billionaire’s Bedside Manner
Excerpt
Dear Reader
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Epilogue
Hired: Cinderella Chef
Excerpt
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
72 Hours
Excerpt
Cast of Characters
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
Epilogue
Extract
Copyright
The Billionaire’s Bedside Manner
Robyn Grady
“I didn’t ask you to stay here for this.”
Looming above her, everything seemed to still as he searched her eyes in a world of midnight shadows. His deep, low voice seemed to fill the room.
She drew an aimless pattern through the hair at the base of his throat.
“I know.”
“Although I’m not sorry you agreed.”
She matched his grin. “I’m not sorry you asked.”
He dropped a tender kiss at the side of her mouth, a barely there touch that shot a fountain of sparks through her every fiber.
“Come with me to France,” he murmured against her lips.
She groaned. The temptation was huge. She’d said no and had meant it. She was starting a job Monday. She didn’t want to take more charity. But those considerations didn’t seem quite so solid since he’d carried her to his bed.
Dear Reader,
I’m a firm believer in the adage, Every cloud has a silver lining. Some horrible event reduces you to tears. You’re wondering how the heck you’ll ever pick yourself up and get rid of the sick, nasty feeling crouched in the pit of your gut. Then, as a direct consequence of that knock, something wonderful occurs. Something you might never have otherwise been brave enough to try or accept. Pain is transformed into hope. Into success.
When The Billionaire’s Bedside Manner opens, the heroine, Bailey Ross, is in a bad place, emotionally and financially. She’s arrived back in Australia from an overseas sabbatical that she’d hoped would be both enlightening and memorable. Instead, she’d escaped a dangerous situation in Italy by the skin of her teeth. Now she only wants to regroup … get back on her feet and repay Mama Celeca, the lady who helped her when no one else could.
Mama C’s grandson, obstetrician Mateo Celeca, doesn’t swallow Bailey’s hard-luck story. In fact, Mateo could be convinced that Ms. Ross is an opportunist—a con, to be less polite. She’s such a master that even he is not immune to her manipulations. That he should invite Bailey to accompany him on his annual jaunt to France is a surprise to them both. But what they discover there changes their lives—and ideas about each other and love—forever.
I hope you enjoy reading Bailey and Mateo’s silver-lining story!
Best wishes,
Robyn
About the Author
ROBYN GRADY was first published with Mills & Boon in 2007. Her books have since featured regularly on bestseller lists and at award ceremonies, including The National Readers’ Choice Award, The Booksellers’ Best Award, Cataromance Reviewers’ Choice Award and Australia’s prestigious Romantic Book of the Year Award.
Robyn lives on Queensland’s beautiful Sunshine Coast with her real-life hero husband and three daughters. When she can be dragged away from tapping out her next story, Robyn visits the theater, the beach and the mall (a lot!). To keep fit she jogs (and shops) and dances with her youngest to Hannah Montana.
Robyn believes writing romance is the best job on the planet and she loves to hear from her readers. So drop by www.robyngrady.com and pass on your thoughts!
For the gorgeous Jade Pocklington for her input on all things French!
With thanks to my editor, Shana Smith, for her unfailing support and advice and belief in my stories.
One
“Just shout if it’s a bad time to drop in.”
The instant the words left her mouth, Bailey Ross watched the man she had addressed—the man she knew must be Doctor Mateo Celeca—brace his wide shoulders and spin around on his Italian, leather-clad feet. Brow furrowed, he cocked his head and studied her eyes so intently the awareness made Bailey’s cheeks warm and knees go a little weak. Mama Celeca had said her obstetrician grandson was handsome, but from memory the expression “super stud” was never discussed.
When Bailey had arrived at this exclusive Sydney address moments ago, she’d hitched her battered knapsack higher as she’d studied first the luggage, set neatly by that door, then the broad back of a masculine frame standing alongside. Busy checking his high-tech security system, Mateo Celeca had no idea he’d had company. Bailey wasn’t normally one to show up unannounced, but today was an exception.
Remembering manners, Mateo’s bemused expression eased into a smile … genial but also guarded.
“Forgive me,” he said in a deep voice that hinted at his Mediterranean ancestry. “Do we know each other?”
“Not really, no. But your grandmother should have rung. I’m Bailey Ross.” She drove down a breath and thrust out her hand. But when Dr. Celeca only narrowed his gaze, as if suspecting her of some offense, Bailey’s smile dropped. “Mama Celeca did phone … didn’t she?”
“I received no phone call.” Sterner this time, that frown returned and his informal stance squared. “Is Mama all right?”
“She’s great.”
“As thin as ever?”
“I wouldn’t say thin. After enjoying so much of her Pandoro, I’m not so thin anymore, either.”
At her grin, Mateo’s cagey expression lightened. A stranger lands on your elite North Shore doorstep with a half-baked story, looking a mess after fifteen hours in the air, who wouldn’t dig a little deeper? But anyone who knew Mama Celeca knew her delicious creamy layer-cake.
Looking like a sentinel guarding his palace, Mateo patiently folded his arms over the white button-down shirt shielding his impressive chest. Bailey cleared her throat and explained.
“This past year I’ve backpacked around Europe. I spent the last months in Italy in Mama Celeca’s town. We became close.”
“She’s a wonderful woman.”
“She’s very generous,” Bailey murmured, remembering Mama’s final charitable act. She’d as good as saved Bailey’s life. Bailey would never be able to repay her, although she was determined to try.
When a shadow dimmed the light in the doctor’s intelligent dark eyes, fearing she’d said too much, Bailey hurried on.
“She made me promise that when I arrived back in Australia, first thing, I’d drop by and say hello.” She stole another glance at his luggage. “Like I said … not a good time.”
No use delaying her own day, either. Now that she was home, she needed to decide what her next step in life would be. An hour ago she’d suffered a setback. Vicky Jackson, the friend she’d hoped to stay with for a couple of days, was out of town. Now she couldn’t go forward without first finding a place to sleep—and finding a way to pay for it.
Mateo Celeca was still studying her. A pulse in his strong jaw began to beat before his focus lowered to his luggage.
Bailey straightened. Time to go.
Before she could take her leave, however, the doctor interjected. “I’m going overseas myself.”
“To Italy?”
“Among other places.”
Bailey frowned. “Mama didn’t mention it.”
“This time it’ll be a surprise.”
When he absently rotated the platinum band of his wristwatch, Bailey took her cue and slid one foot back.
“Well, give her my love,” she said. “Hope you have a great trip.”
But, turning to leave, a hand on her arm pulled her up, and in more ways than one. His grip wasn’t overly firm, but it was certainly hot and naturally strong. The skin on skin contact was so intense, it didn’t tingle so much as shoot a bright blue flame through her blood. The sensation left her fizzing and curiously warm all over. How potent might Mateo Celeca’s touch be if they kissed?
“I’ve been rude,” he said as his hand dropped away. “Please. Come in. I don’t expect my cab for a few minutes yet.”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“Of course you should.”
Stepping aside, he nodded at the twelve-foot-high door at the same time she caught the scent of his aftershave … subtle, woodsy. Wonderfully male. Every one of her pheromones sat up and took note. But that was only one more reason to decline his invitation. After all she’d been through—given how narrowly she’d escaped—she’d vowed to stay clear of persuasive, good-looking men.
She shook her head. “I really can’t.”
“Mama would have my head if she knew I turned a friend away.” He pretended to frown. “You wouldn’t want her to be upset with me, would you?”
Pressing her lips together, she shifted her feet and, thinking of Mama, reluctantly surrendered. “I guess not.”
“Then it’s settled.”
But then, suddenly doubtful again, he glanced around.
“You just flew in?” He asked and she nodded. He eyed her knapsack. “And this is all your luggage?”
Giving a lame smile, she eased past. “I travel light.”
His questioning look said, very.
Mateo watched his unexpected guest enter his spacious foyer. Sweet, he noted, his gaze sweeping over her long untreated fair hair. Modestly spoken. Even more modestly dressed.
Arching a brow, Mateo closed the door.
He wasn’t convinced.
The seemingly unrehearsed sway of hips in low-waisted jeans, no makeup, few possessions … Bailey Ross had described his grandmother as “very generous,” and it was true. In her later years Mama had become an easy touch. He didn’t doubt she might have fallen for this woman’s lost-kitten look and his gut—as well as past experience—said Miss Ross had taken full advantage of that.
But Mama was also huge on matchmaking. Perhaps Bailey Ross was here simply because his grandmother had thought she and her grandson might hit it off. Given how she tried to set him up with a “nice Italian girl” whenever he visited, it was more than possible.
His first instinct had been to send this woman on her way … but he was curious, and had some time to spare. His cab wasn’t due for ten minutes.
Taking in her surroundings, his visitor was turning a slow three-sixty beneath the authentic French chandelier that hung from the ornately molded second-story ceiling. The crystal beads cast moving prisms of light over her face as she admired the antiques and custom-made furnishings.
“Dr. Celeca, your home is amazing.” She indicated the staircase. “I can imagine Cinderella in her big gown and glass slippers floating down those stairs.”
Built in multicolored marble, the extravagant flight split midway into separate channels, which led to opposite wings of the house. The design mimicked the Paris Opera House, and while the French might lay claim to the Cinderella fable, he smiled and pointed out, “No glass-slippered maidens hiding upstairs, I’m afraid.”
She didn’t seem surprised. “Mama mentioned you were single.”
“Mentioned or repeated often?” He said with a crooked, leading grin.
“Guess it’s no secret she’s proud of you,” Bailey admitted. “And that she’d like a great-grandchild or two.”
Be that as it may, he wouldn’t be tying any matrimonial knots in the foreseeable future. He’d brought enough children into the world. His profession—and France—were enough for him.
She moved to join him. Her smile sunny enough to melt an iceberg, her eyes incredibly blue, Bailey and Mateo descended a half dozen marble steps and entered the main reception room. Standing among the French chateau classic decor, pausing before the twenty-foot-high Jacobean fireplace, his guest looked sorely out of place. But, he had to admit, not in a bad way. She radiated fresh—even as she suppressed a traveler’s weary yawn.
Was there reason to doubt her character? Had she fleeced his grandmother or was he being overly suspicious? Mama could be “very generous” in other ways, after all.
“So, what’s first on the itinerary?” She asked, lowering into a settee.
“West coast of Canada.” Mateo took the single saloon seat. “A group of friends who’ve been skiing at the same resort for years put on an annual reunion.” The numbers had slowly dwindled, however. Most of the guys were married now. Some divorced. The gathering didn’t have the same feel as the old days, sadly. This year he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Then on to New York to catch up with some professional acquaintances,” he went on. “Next it’s France.”
“You have friends in Paris? My parents honeymooned there. It’s supposed to be a gorgeous city.”
“I sponsor a charitable institution in the north.”
Her eyebrows lifted as she sat back. “What kind of charity?”
“Children without homes. Without parents.” To lead into what he really wanted to know—to see if she’d rise to any bait—he added, “I like to give where I can.” When she bowed her head to hide a smile, a ball of unease coiled low in his stomach. With some difficulty, he kept his manner merely interested. “Have I said something funny?”
“Just that Mama always said you were a good man.” Those glittering blue eyes lifted and met his again. “Not that I doubted her.”
Mateo’s chest tightened and he fought the urge to tug an ear or clear his throat. This woman was either a master of flattery or as nice as Mama obviously believed her to be. So which was it? Cute or on the take?
“Mama is my biggest fan as I am hers,” he said easily. “Seems she’s always doing someone a good turn. Helping out where she can.”
“She also plays a mean game of Briscola.”
He blinked. Cards? “Did you play for money?” He manufactured a chuckle. “She probably let you win.”
A line pinched between Bailey Ross’s brows. “We played because she enjoyed it.”
She’d threaded her fingers around the worn denim knees of her jeans. Her bracelet was expensive, however—yellow-gold and heavy with charms. Had Mama’s money helped purchase that piece duty free? If he asked Bailey straight out, what reply would she give?
As if she’d read his mind and wasn’t comfortable, his guest eased to her feet. “I’ve held you up long enough. You don’t want to miss your flight.”
He stood too. She was right. She wasn’t going to admit to anything and his cab would be here any minute. Seemed his curiosity with regard to Miss Ross’s true nature would go unsatisfied.
“Do you have family in Sydney?” He asked as they crossed the parquet floor together and she covered another yawn.
“I was raised here.”
“You’ll be catching up with your parents then.”
“My mother died a few years back.”
“My condolences.” He’d never known his mother but the man he’d come to know as Father had passed away recently. “I’m sure your father’s missed you.”
But she only looked away.
Walking alongside, Mateo rolled back his shoulders. No mother. Estranged from her father. Few possessions. Hell, now he wanted to write her a check.
He changed the subject. “So, what are your broader plans, Miss Ross? Do you have a job here in town to return to?”
“I don’t have any real concrete plans just yet.”
“Perhaps more travel then?”
“There’s more I’d like to see, but for now, I’m hanging around.”
They stopped at the entrance. He fanned open the door, searched her flawless face and smiled. “Well, good luck.”
“Same to you. Say hello to Paris for me.”
As she turned to walk away, hitching that ratty knapsack higher on one slim shoulder, something thrust beneath Mateo’s ribs and he took a halting step toward her. Of course, he should let it alone—should let her be on her way—but a stubborn niggling kept at him and he simply had to ask.
“Miss Ross,” he called out. Looking surprised, she rotated back. He cut the distance separating them and, having danced around the question long enough, asked outright. “Did my grandmother give you money?”
Her slim nostrils flared and her eyebrows drew in. “She didn’t give me money.”
Relief fell through him in a warm welcomed rush. As she’d grown older, Mama had admitted many times that she wasn’t overly wealthy by design; she had little use for money and therefore liked to help others where she could. There was nothing he could do to stop Mama’s generosity—or gullibility as the case more often than not proved to be. But at least he could leave for his vacation knowing this particular young woman hadn’t left his grandmother’s house stuffing bills in her pocket.
But Bailey wasn’t finished.
“Mama loaned me money.”
As the stone swelled in his chest, Mateo could only stare. He’d been right about her from the start? She’d taken advantage of Mama like those before her. He took in her innocent looks and cringed. He wished he’d never asked.
“A … loan,” he said, unconcerned that his tone was graveled. Mocking.
Her cheeks pinked up. “Don’t say it like that.”
“You say it’s a loan,” he shrugged, “it’s a loan.”
“I intend to pay back every cent.”
“Really?” Intrigued, he crossed his arms. “And how do you intend to do that with no job, no plans?” From her reaction to his question about her father, there wouldn’t be help coming from that source, either.
Her eyes hardened. “We can’t all have charmed lives, Doctor.”
“Don’t presume to know anything about me,” he said, his voice deep.
“I only know that I had no choice.”
“We all have choices.” At least when we’re adults.
Her cheeks flushed more. “Then I chose escape.”
He coughed out a laugh. This got better and better. “Now my grandmother was keeping you prisoner?”
“Not your grandmother.”
His arms unraveled. Her voice held the slightest quiver. Her pupils had dilated until the blue was all but consumed by black. But she’d told him what he’d stupidly wanted to know. She’d accepted Mama’s money. He didn’t need or want excuses.
“Goodbye, Miss Ross.” He headed inside.
“And thank you, Doctor,” she called after him. “You’ve killed whatever faith I had left in the male species.” A pulse thudding at his temple, he angled back. Her expression was dry. Sad. Infuriating. “I honestly thought you were a gentleman,” she finished.
“Only when in the presence of a lady.”
Self-disgust hit his gut with a jolt.
“I apologize,” he murmured. “That wasn’t called for.”
“Do you even want to know what I needed to escape?” She ground out. “Why I needed that money?”
He exhaled heavily. Fine. After that insult, he owed her one. “Why did you need the money?”
“Because of a man who wouldn’t listen,” she said pointedly, her gaze hot and moist. “He said we were getting married and, given the situation I was in, I didn’t have a choice.”
Two
“You’re engaged?” Mateo shook himself.
“No.” In a tight voice, she added, “Not really.”
“Call me old-fashioned, but I thought being betrothed was like being pregnant. You either are or you aren’t.”
“I … was engaged.”
Slanting his head, he took another look. Her nose was more a button with a sprinkling of freckles but her unusual crystalline eyes were large and, as she stood her ground, her pupils dilated more, making her gaze appear even more pronounced. Or was that scared?
I didn’t have a choice.
An image of the degrees decorating his office walls swam up in Mateo’s mind. Time to take a more educated guess as to why Mama might have sent this woman. He set his voice at a different tone, the one he used for patients feeling uncertain.
“Bailey, are you having a baby?”
Her eyes flared, bright with indignation. “No.”
“Are you sure? We can do tests—”
“Of course I’m sure.”
Backing off, he held up his hands. “Okay. Fine. Given your circumstances, it seemed like a possibility.”
“It really wasn’t.” Her voice dropped. “We didn’t sleep together. Not even once.”
She spun to leave, but, hurrying down the steps, she tripped on the toe of her sandal. The next second she was stumbling, keeling forward. Leaping, Mateo caught her before she went down all the way. Gripping her upper arms, he felt her shaking—from shock at almost breaking her neck? Or pique at him? Or was the trembling due to dredging up memories of this engagement business in Italy?
She was so taken aback, she didn’t object when he helped her sit on a step. Lifting her chin, he set out to check that the dilation in her eyes was even, but with his palm cradling her cheek and his face so close to hers, the pad of his thumb instinctively moved to trace the sweep of her lower lip. Heat, dangerous and swift, flared low in his belly and his head angled a whisper closer.
But then she blinked. So did he. Spell broken, he cleared his throat and got to his feet while she caught her breath and gathered herself.
He might be uncertain about some things regarding Bailey Ross, but of one he was sure. The constant yawning, tripping over herself.
“You need sleep,” he told her.
“I’ll survive.”
“No doubt you will.”
But, dammit, he was having a hard time thinking of her walking off alone down that drive and Mama phoning to ask if he’d looked after her little friend who’d apparently had such a hard time in Casa Buona. Given her stumble, her jet lag, Mama would expect him to at least give Bailey time to recuperate before he truly sent her on her way. And that was the only reason he persisted. Why he asked now.
“So … who’s this fiancé?”
Closing her eyes, she exhaled as if she was too tired to be defensive anymore.
“I was backpacking around Europe,” she began. “By the time I got to Casa Buona, I’d run out of money. That’s where I met Emilio. I picked up work at the taverna his parents own.”
Mateo’s muscles locked. “Emilio Conti is your fiancé?”
“Was.” She quizzed his eyes. “Do you know him?”
“Casa Buona’s a small town.” Emilio’s kind only made it feel smaller. Mateo nodded. “Go on.”
Elbows finding her knees, she cupped her cheeks. “Over the weeks, Emilio and I became close. We spent a lot of time with his family. Time by ourselves. When he said he loved me, I was taken off guard. I didn’t know about loving Emilio, but I’d certainly fallen in love with his parents. His sisters. They made me feel like one of the family.” Her hands lowered and she brought up her legs to hug her knees. “One Saturday, in front of everyone, he proposed at the taverna. Seemed like the whole town was there, all smiling, holding their breath, waiting for my answer. I was stunned. Any words stuck like bricks in my throat. When I bowed my head, trying to figure out something tactful to do or say, someone cried out that I’d accepted. A huge cheer went up. Before I knew what had happened, Emilio slid a ring on my finger and … well … that was that.”
Bailey ended by failing to smother a yawn at the same time the sound of an engine drew their attention. His ride—a yellow cab—was cruising up the drive.
“Wait here,” he said, and when she opened her mouth to argue, he interrupted firmly. “One minute. Please.” He crossed to the forecourt and spoke to the driver, who kept his motor idling while Mateo walked back and took a seat on the step alongside of her.
“Where do you plan to go now? Do you have anywhere to stay?”
“I’d hoped to stay with a friend for a few days but her neighbor said she’s out of town. I’ll get a room.”
“Do you really want to waste Mama’s money on a motel?”
“It’s only temporary.”
He studied the cab, thought of the dwindling group of guys doing their annual bachelor bash in Canada and, as Bailey pushed to her feet, made a decision.
“Come back inside.”
Her look said, you’re crazy. “You’re ready to leave. The meter’s running.”
He eyed the driver. Best fix that.
He strode to the vehicle, left the cabbie smiling at the notes he passed over and heard the engine rev off behind him as he joined Bailey again.
Her jaw was hanging. “What did you do?”
“I’d thought about cancelling the first leg of my trip anyway. Now, inside.” He tilted his head toward his still open front door.
“Flattering invitation.” Her smile was thin. “But I don’t do fetch or roll over, either.”
Mateo’s chin tucked in. She thought he was being bossy? Perhaps he was. He was used to people listening and accepting his advice. And there was a method to his madness. “You say the money Mama gave you is a loan. But you admit you have no income. No place to stay.”
“I’ll find something. I’m not afraid of work.”
Another yawn gripped her, so consuming, she shuddered and her eyes watered.
“First you need a good rest,” he told her. “I’ll show you to a guest room.”
Another you’re crazy look. “I’m not staying.”
“I’m not suggesting a lease, Bailey. Merely that you recharge here before you tackle a plan for tomorrow.”
“No.” But this time she sounded less certain.
“Mama would want you to.” When she hesitated, he persisted. “A few hours rest. I won’t pound on the door and get on your case.”
She glared at him. “Promise?”
“On my life.”
All the energy seemed to fall from her shoulders. He thought she might disarm him with a hint of that ice-melting smile, but she only nodded and grudgingly allowed him to escort her back inside.
After ascending that storybook staircase, Mateo Celeca showed her down the length of a wide paneled hallway to the entrance of a lavish room.
“The suite has an attached bath,” he said as she edged in and looked around. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.”
Bailey watched the broad ledge of his shoulders roll away down the hall before she closed the heavy door and, feeling more displaced than she had in her life, gravitated toward the center of the vast room. Her own background was well to do. With a tennis court and five bedrooms, her lawyer father’s house in Newport was considered grand to most. Her parents had driven fashionable cars. They’d gone on noteworthy vacations each year.
But, glancing around this lake of snowy carpet with so many matching white and gold draperies, Bailey could admit she’d never known this kind of opulence. Then again, who on earth needed this much? She wasn’t one to covet riches. Surely it was more important to know a sense of belonging … of truly being where and with whom you needed to be. Despite Emilio, irrespective of her father, one day she hoped to know and keep that feeling.
After a long warm shower, she lay down and sleep descended in a swift black cloud.
When she woke some hours later in the dark, her heart was pounding with an impending sense of doom. In her dream, she’d been back in Casa Buona, draped in a modest wedding gown with Emilio beckoning her to join him at the end of a long dark corridor. She shot a glance around the shadowy unfamiliar surrounds and eased out a relieved breath. She was in Sydney. Broke, starting over. In an obstinate near-stranger’s house.
She clapped a palm over her brow and groaned.
Mateo Celeca.
With refined movie-star looks and dark hypnotic eyes, he did all kinds of unnerving things to her equilibrium. One minute she was believing Mama, thinking her grandson was some kind of prince. The next he was being a jerk, accusing her of theft. Then, to really send her reeling, he’d offered her a bed to shake off some of the jet lag. If she’d had anywhere else to go—if she hadn’t felt so suddenly drained—she would never have stayed. She wasn’t about to forgive or forget his comment about her not being a lady.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed at the same time her stomach growled. She cast her thoughts away from the judgmental doctor to a new priority. Food.
After slipping on her jeans, she tiptoed down that stunning staircase and set off to find a kitchen. Inching through someone else’s broad shadow-filled halls in the middle of the night hardly felt right but the alternative was finding a takeout close by or dialing in. Mateo had said to make herself at home. Surely that offer extended to a sandwich.
Soon she’d tracked down a massive room, gleaming with stainless steel and dark granite surfaces. Opening the fridge she found the interior near empty; that made sense given Mateo was meant to be on vacation. But there was a leftover roast, perhaps from his dinner earlier. A slab went between two slices of bread and, after enjoying her first mouthful, Bailey turned and discovered a series of floor-to-ceiling glass panes lining the eastern side of the attached room.
Outside, ghostly garden lights illuminated a divine courtyard where geometrically manicured hedges sectioned off individual classical statues. Beyond those panes, a scene from two thousand years ago beckoned … a passionate time when Rome dominated and emperors ruled half the world. Chewing, she hooked a glance around. No one about. Nothing to stop her. A little fresh air would be nice.
She eased back a door and moved out into the cool night, the soles of her bare feet padding over smooth sandstone paths as she wandered between hedges and those exquisite stone figures that seemed so lifelike. She was on her third bite of sandwich when a sound came from behind—a muted click that vibrated through the night and made the fine hairs on her nape stand up and quiver. Heart lodged in her throat, she angled carefully around. One of those figures was gliding toward her. Masculine. Tall. Naked from the waist up.
From behind a cloud, the full moon edged out and the definition of that outline sharpened … the captivating width of his chest, the subtle ruts of toned abs. Bailey’s gaze inched higher and connected with inquiring onyx eyes as a low familiar voice rumbled out.
“You’re up.”
Bailey let out the breath she’d been holding.
Not a statue come to life, but Mateo Celeca standing before her, wearing nothing but a pair of long white drawstring pants. She’d been so absorbed she’d forgotten where she was, as well as the events that had brought her here. Now, in a hot rush, it all came back. Particularly how annoyingly attractive her host was, tonight, with the moonbeams playing over that hard human physique, dramatically so.
When a kernel of warmth ignited in the lowest point of her belly, Bailey swallowed and clasped her sandwich at her chest.
Mateo Celeca might be beyond hot, but, at this point in her life, she didn’t care to even think about the opposite sex, particularly a critical one. Her only concern lay in getting back on her feet and repaying Mama as soon as possible, whether the doctor believed that or not.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said in a surprisingly even voice that belied how churned up she felt.
“You tripped a silent alarm when you opened that door. The security company called to make sure there’d been no breach. I thought it’d be you, but I came down to check, just in case.”
Bailey kicked herself. She’d seen him fiddling with a security pad when she’d arrived. Heaven knew what this place and its contents were insured for. Of course he’d have a state-of-the-art system switched on and jump when an alert went off.
“I was hungry,” she explained then held up dinner. “I made a sandwich.”
She wasn’t sure, but in the shadows she thought he might have grinned—which was way better than a scowl. If he started on her again now, in the middle of the night, she’d simply grab her bag and find the door. But he seemed far more relaxed than this morning when he’d overreacted about the money Mama had loaned her.
“You usually enjoy a starry stroll with your midnight snack?” He asked as he sauntered nearer.
“It looked so nice out.”
“It is pleasant.”
He studied the topiaries and pristine hedges, and this time she was certain of the smile curving one corner of his mouth as he stretched his arms, one higher than the other, over his head. She wanted to fan herself. And she’d thought the statues were works of art.
“Are you a gardener?” She asked, telling herself to look away but not managing it. Bronzed muscles rippled in the moonlight whenever he moved.
“Not at all. But I appreciate the effort others put in.”
“This kind of effort must be twenty-four seven.”
“What about you?” He asked, meandering toward a trickling water feature displaying a god-like figure ready to sling a lightning bolt.
“No green thumbs here.” Moving to join him, she tipped her head at the fountain. “Is that Zeus?” She remembered a recent movie about the Titans. “The god of war, right?”
“Zeus is the god of justice. The supreme protector. Perhaps because he could have lost his life at the very moment he entered the world.”
“Really? How?” Moving to sit on the cool fountain ledge, she took another bite. She loved to hear about ancient legends.
“His father, Cronus, believed in a prophecy. He would be overthrown by his son as he had once overthrown his own father. To save her newborn, Rhea, Zeus’s mother, gave him up at birth then tricked her husband into thinking a rock wrapped in swaddling clothes was the child, which Cronus promptly disposed of. He didn’t know that his son, Zeus, was being reared by a nymph in Crete. When he was grown, Zeus joined forces with his other siblings to defeat the Titans, including his father.”
She couldn’t help but be drawn by Mateo’s story, as well as the emotion simmering beneath his words. Had she imagined the shadow that had crossed his gaze when he spoke of that mother needing to give up her child?
“What happened to Zeus after the clash?” She asked.
“He ruled over Olympus as well as the mortals, and fathered many children.”
“Sounds noble.”
“The great majority of his offspring were conceived through adulterous affairs, I’m afraid.”
Oh. “Not so good for the demigod kids.”
“Not so good for any child.”
Bailey studied his classic profile as he peered off into the night … the high forehead and proud, hawkish nose. She wanted to ask more. Not only about this adulterous yet protective Roman god but also about the narrator of his tale. Not that Mateo’s life was any of her business. Although …
For the moment he seemed to have put aside his more paranoid feelings toward her, and this was an informal chat. In the morning she’d be well rested and on her way, so where was the harm in asking more?
Making a pretense of examining the gardens, she crossed her ankles and swung her feet out and back.
“Mama mentioned that you left Casa Buona when you were twelve.”
His hesitation—a single beat—was barely enough to notice.
“My father was moving to Australia. He explained about the opportunities here. Ernesto was an accountant and wanted to look after my higher education.”
“Have you lived in Sydney since?”
He nodded. “But I travel when I can.”
“You must have built a lot of memories here after so long.”
Who were his friends? All professionals like him? Did he have any other family Down Under?
But Mateo didn’t respond. He merely looked over the gardens with those dark thoughtful eyes. From the firm set of his jaw, her host had divulged all he would tonight. Understandable. They were little more than strangers. And, despite this intimate atmosphere, they were destined to remain that way.
A statue caught Bailey’s eye. After slipping off her perch, she crossed over and ran a hand across the cool stone.
“I like this one.”
It was a mother, her head bowed over the baby she held. The tone conjured up memories of Bailey’s own mother … how loving and devoted she’d been. Like Rhea. Both mothers had needed to leave their child, though neither woman had wanted to. If she lived to one hundred, Bailey would miss her till the day she died.
“Is this supposed to be Zeus as an infant?” She asked, her gaze on the baby now.
Mateo’s deep voice came from behind. “No. More a signature to my profession, I suppose.”
His profession. An obstetrician. One of the best in Australia, Mama had said, and more than once.
“How many babies have you brought into the world?” She asked, studying the soft loving smile adorning the statue’s face.
When he didn’t reply, she edged around and almost lost her breath. Mateo was standing close … close enough for her to inhale that undeniable masculine scent. Near enough to be drawn by its natural heady lure. As his intense gaze glittered down and searched hers, a lock of dark hair dropped over his brow and jumped in the breeze.
“… to count.”
Coming to, Bailey gathered herself. He’d been speaking, but she’d only caught his last words.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “To count what?”
His brows swooped together. “How many babies I’ve delivered. Too many to count.”
Bailey withered as her cheeks heated up. How had she lost track of their conversation so completely?
But she knew how. Whether he was being polite or fiery and passionate, Mateo exuded an energy that drew her in.
Indisputable.
Unwelcome.
Heartbeat throbbing in her throat, she lowered her gaze and turned a little away. “Guess they all blur after a time.”
“Not at all. Each safe delivery is an accomplishment I never take for granted.”
The obvious remained unsaid. Even in this day and age, some deliveries wouldn’t go as planned. No matter how skilled, every doctor suffered defeats. Just like criminal lawyers.
She remembered her parents speaking about one client her father had failed to see acquitted. The man’s family had lost nearly all their possessions in a fire, and her father donated a sizable amount to get them sturdily on their feet again. She’d felt so very proud of him. But he seemed to lose those deeper feelings for compassion after her mother passed away.
As Mateo’s gaze ran over the mother and child, Bailey wondered again about his direct family. He’d lived with his grandmother in Italy. Had come to Australia with his father. Where was his mother?
“I’m turning in,” he said, rolling back one big bare shoulder. “There’s a television and small library in your room if you can’t get back to sleep.” That dark gaze skimmed her face a final time and tingling warmth filtered over her before he rotated away. “Sogni d’oro, Bailey.”
“Sogni d’oro,” she replied and then smiled.
Sweet dreams.
Mateo sauntered back inside, his gait relaxed yet purposeful.
He was a difficult one to work out. So professional and together most of the time, but there was a volatile side too, one she wondered if many people saw. More was going on beneath the sophisticated exterior … deep and private things Mateo Celeca wouldn’t want to divulge. And certainly not divulge to a troublesome passerby like herself. Even if they had the time to get acquainted, he’d been clear. She wasn’t the kind of woman the doctor wanted to get too close to.
Bailey thought of those shoulders—those eyes—and, holding the flutter in her tummy, concurred.
She didn’t need to get that close either.
Three
Early the next morning, Mateo strode out his back door and threw an annoyed glance around the hedges and their statues. Not a sign of her anywhere. Seemed Bailey Ross had flown the coop.
After knocking on her bedroom door—politely at first—thinking she must be hungry and might join him for breakfast, he’d found the room empty. The shabby knapsack vanished. No matter her consequences, she shouldn’t have taken money from an elderly, obviously soft-hearted woman. Equally, she ought to have had the decency to at least stay long enough to say “thanks for the bed,” and “so long.”
He’d practically laughed in her face when she’d vowed to pay that “loan” back. After this disappearing act, he’d bet all he owned neither he nor Mama would hear from Miss Ross again. She was a woman without scruples. And yet, he couldn’t deny it—he was attracted to her.
After her stumble yesterday, when he’d cupped, then searched, her face, the urge to lean closer and slant his mouth over hers had been overwhelming. Last night while they’d spoken among the shadows of these gardens, he’d fought to keep a lid on that same impulse. Something deep and strong reacted whenever she was near. Something primordial and potentially dangerous.
He’d felt this kind of intense chemistry once before, Mateo recalled, looking over the statue of mother and child Bailey had found so interesting last night. Unfortunately, at twenty-three he’d been too wet behind the ears to see that particular woman for what she was: a beautiful, seductive leech. He’d fallen hard and had given Linda Webb everything she’d wanted. Or, rather, he’d tried. Expensive perfume, jewelry, even a car. She was an unquenchable well. Took twelve months and a ransacked savings account before he’d faced facts—unemployed Linda hadn’t wanted a fiancé as much as a financier.
Unlike Mama, he had no problem with being wealthy. He’d worked hard to achieve this level of security and he wouldn’t apologize for doing well. He also liked to be generous—but only where and when his gifts were put to good use and appreciated. That cancelled out the likes of Linda Webb and Bailey Ross.
Giving up the search, Mateo rotated away from a view of bordering pines at the same time he saw her.
Beyond the glass-paneled pool fence, a lithe figure lay on a sun lounge, floppy straw hat covering the back of her head and the teeniest of micro bikinis covering not much of the rest. An invisible band around Mateo’s chest tightened while his clamoring heartbeat ratcheted up another notch. Last night in the moonlight she’d looked beyond tempting, but in an almost innocent way. There was nothing innocent about the way Miss Ross looked this morning.
Those bikini bottoms weren’t technically a thong, but far more was revealed by that sliver of bright pink fabric than was covered. Minus the jeans, her legs appeared even longer, naturally tanned. Smooth. His fingertips, and other extremities, tingled and grew warm. He couldn’t deny that every male cell in his body wanted to reach out and touch her.
One of Bailey’s tanned arms braced as she shifted on the lounge. The disturbed floppy hat fell to the ground. When she blindly felt around but couldn’t find it, she shifted again, pushing up on both palms. A frown pinched her brow and, as if she’d sensed him standing nearby, her gaze tipped higher then wandered across the lawn.
When their eyes connected, hers popped and she sprang up to a sit while Mateo fought every impulse known to man to check out the twin pink triangles almost covering her perfect breasts. With difficulty, he forced his face into an unaffected mask.
Get a grip. You’re a medical doctor. An obstetrician who has tended hundreds of clients.
But there was a distinction between “work” and this vastly different environment. Irrespective of profession, he was still a man, complete with a man’s urges and desires. Under normal circumstances, being physically attracted to a member of the opposite sex was nothing immoral. Trouble was … he didn’t want to be attracted to Bailey Ross. Whether she was a victim or a schemer, she was a drifter who seemed to court trouble.
As Bailey swiped her T-shirt off the back of the lounge, Mateo set his hands in his trouser pockets and cast an aimless glance around. When he was certain her top half was covered, he crossed over.
“I took an early morning dip,” she said as he entered the pool area.
“When I couldn’t find you inside, I thought you’d run off.”
She frowned. “I wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
“Unless I was your fiancé?”
“I’m grateful for the bed,” she said, standing, “but not appreciative enough to listen to any more of your put-downs.”
He moved to the rock waterfall, wedged his hands in his pockets again and, after debating with himself several moments, said calmly, “So tell me more about your situation.”
“So you can scoff?”
“So I can understand.”
Dammit, one minute he was wanting to help, offering her a bed, the next he was lumping her in the same class as Linda. Was Bailey genuine about paying that money back, or were her dealings with Mama merely a side issue for him? Was his interest more about that long fair hair, those blazing blue eyes?
That, after his last comment, seemed to have lost a little of their fire.
Folding back down again, she set that straw hat on her lap and explained.
“After that night … the night Emilio proposed,” she said, “his sisters jumped into organizing the wedding. Emilio set the date two months from the day he shoved that ring on my finger. He wouldn’t listen when I told him it was a mistake. He only smiled and tried to hug me when I said this had all happened too fast. Everyone kept saying what a great catch he was.”
“Not in your opinion.”
“Sure, we had fun,” she admitted. “Up to that point. But after that night, whenever I got vocal and tried to return his ring, Emilio got upset. His face would turn red and beads of sweat would break on his brow. He’d proposed, he’d say, and I’d accepted. I’d taken his family’s charity by working at the taverna and sleeping under their roof. We were getting married and he knew once I got over my nerves I’d be happy. I didn’t have nearly enough money for a ticket home. I was trapped.” Looking at her feet, she exhaled. “One day at Mama’s place, I broke down. We were alone and when she asked what was wrong I told her I couldn’t go through with the wedding. Everyone else might have been in love with Emilio but I wasn’t.”
“Why not call your father?”
Regardless of disagreements, family was family. His own father had been there through thick and thin. Or rather the man he knew as a father was.
“If I introduced you to Dad,” she plopped her hat back on her head, “you’d understand why. I went overseas against his advice. The last thing he said to me was that if I was old enough not to listen, I was old enough to figure out my own problems.” Her voice dropped. “Believe me, he wouldn’t want to know.”
“You’ve made a few mistakes in the past?” An insensitive question, perhaps, but he was determined to get to the bottom of this maze.
“Nothing monumental.”
“Until this.”
Screwing her eyes shut, she groaned. “I knew I could’ve said no to Emilio on the day of the wedding, but I couldn’t bear to think of everyone’s meltdown, particularly his. Or I could simply have packed up and stolen off in the middle of the night and moved on to the next town. But Emilio proved to me he wasn’t the kind to let go what he believed was his. He’d come after me and do all he could to bring me back.”
From what Mateo remembered of Emilio, he had to agree. Beneath the superficial charm lived a Neanderthal.
Moving to a garden crowded with spiky Pandanus palms, Mateo swept his foot to move stray white pebbles back into their proper bed.
“What makes you so sure he won’t come here?”
“I’m not sure. I mailed him a package from the airport. The letter explained how I wished he’d listened and I wasn’t coming back. I put his ring in, as well. Hopefully that will be enough.”
Mateo grunted. “He’s thick but not entirely stupid.” When she glanced over, curious, he explained. “The summer before I left Italy, a twelve-year-old Emilio tried to call me out. Can’t recall the reason now but certainly nothing to warrant a fistfight. When Emilio and a couple of friends cut me off in an alley, I defended myself. Emilio didn’t bother me after that.”
Surrounded by memories, Mateo absently brushed more pebbles into the garden bed. How different his life would have been if he’d stayed in Casa Buona. What if no one had come for him all those years ago in France? What would have become of him then? If Mama hadn’t offered her help to this woman—if what she said was true—what would have happened to Bailey?
“I’m going to pay her back,” Bailey insisted. “If it takes five years—”
“Mama may not have five years.”
Her head went back as if she hadn’t considered Mama’s advanced age. But then one slender shoulder hitched up and she amended. “I’ll get a loan.”
A loan to pay a loan. “With no job?”
Sitting straighter, she crossed those long tanned legs. “I’m fixing that.”
“Looks like it,” he muttered, eyeing the pool sparkling with golden east coast sunshine. Linda was always on the verge of getting a job too.
Bailey’s jaw tightened. “Accepting Mama’s money wasn’t any moral highlight—”
“And yet you did accept.”
The frustration in her eyes hardened before the irritation evaporated into resignation. She slowly shook her head. “Someone like you … you could never understand what it’s like to feel powerless.”
Oh, but he did know. And he’d spent his entire adult life making certain he never felt powerless again. He’d done it through hard work, not lying around a pool. Although part of her plan had merit.
“Getting a loan is a good idea,” he said, “but not from an institution. There’s interest. If you get behind, there are fees.”
“Maybe I should throw some cash at a roulette wheel,” she groaned.
“I have a better idea. I’ll pay Mama the money you owe—”
“What?” She shook her head. “Absolutely not!”
“—and you can pay me back.”
“I don’t want to owe you anything.”
“So you’re not serious about paying her back as soon as possible?”
She eyed him as Little Red Riding Hood might eye the big bad wolf.
“What are the terms?” She finally asked.
“A signed agreement. Regular repayments.”
“Why would you do that for me?”
“Not for you. For my grandmother.” The amount Bailey owed wouldn’t make a dent in any of his accounts but he liked to think that, for once, Mama wouldn’t be left out of pocket by virtue of her soft heart.
Bailey pushed to her feet, paced around the back of the sun lounge, studied him and then, defiant, crossed her arms. A few more seconds wound out before she announced, “Well, then, I’d better get cracking.”
That floppy hat stuck on her head, she fished her jeans out of her knapsack and drove her legs through the denim pipes. When he realized he’d been staring while she wiggled and scooped her bottom into the seat of her jeans, he jerked his gaze away and heard her zip up. He’d already faced the fact Miss Ross wasn’t the kind of woman with whom he wished to become more involved than he already was.
In time, he looked back to see her heading for the pool gate, that knapsack swinging over a shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“To get a job. I’ll be back by five to sign that contract. And about those repayments …” She stopped at the gate and her glittering blue eyes meshed with his. “I want them as steep as possible.”
His eyebrows jumped. “To get the debt paid off in record time?”
“To get you out of my life ASAP.”
As she strode away, Mateo gave himself permission to drink in the sway of those slim hips and long hair. High on each thigh, his muscles hardened as his thoughts gave over to how those curves and silk might feel beneath his fingers, his lips….
Regardless of whether she took Mama’s money or not, she was attractive and fiery and … something more. Something he would dearly love to sample.
Whether it was good for him or not.
Four
Bailey visited every employment agency she could find, unfortunately with little success. Although initially there seemed to be some prospects, they turned out to be either charity work or commission-based jobs, like knocking on doors.
Time and again she’d been asked about qualifications. No high school diploma. One year of an apprenticeship at a hair salon. She’d been a school crossing guard, helping kids cross streets for a while. Mainly she’d performed waitress work.
She’d been directed to a hospitality recruitment agency. Placements were available at exclusive establishments but she didn’t have the experience necessary to be put forward as a candidate. Many courses to enhance her skills, however, were available. But they cost money and Bailey didn’t have the time to spare. She needed to start earning. Needed to start paying back and showing Mateo Celeca she wasn’t a con artist but merely someone who’d needed a hand up.
As weary as she felt after a full day trekking around the city, she tried to keep her spirits high. Her mother had always said there was good in every situation. Bailey didn’t quite believe that; what was so good about having a stroke take a parent out at age thirty-five? But Bailey did believe in never giving up. Her mother would have wanted her to stay strong and believe in herself, even now when she’d never felt more alone.
In the busy city center, with traffic and pedestrians grinding by, she’d pulled out her bus timetable and had found a suitable link when a familiar voice drew her ear. Masculine. Tense. The tone sent simultaneous chills and familiar warmth racing over her skin. She hadn’t heard that voice in over a year. Back then it had told her not to come home begging.
Her heart beating high in her throat, Bailey looked carefully over her shoulder. Her father stood on the curb, phone pressed to his ear, announcing his displeasure over a jury verdict gone wrong.
In an instant, Bailey couldn’t draw enough breath. She had the bizarre urge to run—both toward her father and away from him. Never would she have simply waltzed up to his door and thrown out her arms, and yet now—with him available such a short distance away—she couldn’t help but relive those much earlier days … times when her dad had taken her horseback riding, or suffered answering inane questions from an eight-year-old while he worked on depositions. When she’d come down with tonsillitis he’d rushed her to the doctor. He’d even taken time off to nurse her back, complete with spoon-fed antibiotics.
And that was a full year after her mother had died.
Bailey’s throat convulsed at the same time her eyes misted over.
He was right there.
A now-or-never feeling fell through her middle as she moved one foot forward, and another. Maybe he hadn’t meant to sound so harsh. So final. Maybe he wouldn’t turn her away. She was his only child, after all. Perhaps he’d cry out in surprise and wrap his arms around her. Tell her that he’d missed her and ask that she come home with him now. Straight away.
An uncertain smile quivering on her lips, she’d cut the distance separating them by half when a cab swung into the curb. Before Bailey could think to call out, Damon Ross had flung open the door and, phone still at his ear, slid into the backseat. Her hand was in the air, a single word on her tongue, when the cab cut into a break in traffic and shot away.
Her hand lowered and stomach dropped. Blinking furiously, she fought back the bite of rising tears and disappointment. But, no matter how much it hurt, that bad timing was probably best. The cab swerving in at that exact moment had saved her from herself. Her father had said she’d regret dropping out of school and while that was one thing he’d been right about, there was a whole lot more that had never needed to be said. But it was too late for those kind of regrets. Nothing could be done about the past.
Determined, Bailey walked a straight line to the bus stop.
Now the future was all that mattered.
She’d told him five, but Bailey didn’t get back to Mateo’s mansion until six. Answering the bell, he threw open the door, took in her appearance and frowned. Bailey drew herself up, entered the foyer and fought the impulse to ease the sandals off her feet, grimy with city dirt. God, she must look like an urchin in need of a warm meal and a bath.
He closed the door. “No luck on the job front?”
“There are a few possibilities.” She firmed the line of her mouth and almost succeeded in squaring her shoulders. “I’ll be out again tomorrow. I just wanted to let you know I haven’t skipped town. I have every intention of going through with my end of the deal.” Taking up his offer of a loan and signing a contract that would legally commit her to paying every penny back, the sooner the better. She wanted this episode of her life over as much as Mateo must, too.
But then she stopped to take in his attire—custom-made trousers and a black jersey knit shirt that covered his shoulders and chest like a dream. His scent was hot and mouth-wateringly fresh. His shoes were mirror polished.
“Are you on your way out?”
Seemed she was destined to show up on his doorstep whenever he was about to head off.
“I spoke with a friend today,” he said. “We went to university together. I delivered his baby boy.”
“Having an obstetrician friend must come in handy.”
He conceded a smile. “Alex’s wife worked in real estate,” he went on in that rich deep voice that resonated like symphony base chords through the foyer. “Rental properties. Natalie still works a couple of days a week to keep her hand in.”
“Smart lady.”
And you’re telling me all this … why?
As if reading her thoughts, he explained. “Since my trip’s been delayed, I suggested we catch up for dinner. Alex thought you might like to come.”
At the same time a muscle in his jaw flexed, a wave of anticipation, and apprehension, rippled between them and Bailey fought the urge to clear her ears.
“Your friend doesn’t know me. You barely know me and, call me paranoid, but I have the impression you don’t like me much.”
His closest shoulder hitched and dropped. “We have to eat.” She narrowed her eyes at him. Since when had “he” and “she” become “we “Unless you have other plans,” he finished.
Her only other plans entailed checking into an affordable hotel. The more interesting question was, “How did you explain me to your friend?”
“I told him the truth.”
“That I took money from your grandmother and you don’t mean to let me out of your sight until I’ve paid back every cent?”
“I said you were a friend of Mama’s returned to Australia.”
Bailey held that breath. His expression was open. Given she’d kept her word and come back today, were his suspicions about her character being unfavorable starting to wane? Not that his opinion of her should matter … only, if she were completely honest, for some reason they did.
He thrust his hands in his trouser pockets. “Of course, if you’re not hungry—”
“No. I mean, I am.” In fact, now that food had been mentioned, her empty stomach was reminding her she hadn’t eaten since a muffin several hours earlier. But … wincing, she looked down and felt the day’s dust on her skin. “I’ll need a shower.”
“Table’s not booked till seven-thirty.”
Bailey nibbled her lower lip. There was something else. Something any female would be reluctant to admit. “I, um, don’t have another dress.” From the look of Mateo’s crisp attire, jeans and a T-shirt wouldn’t cut it.
When his gaze skimmed her frame, her eyes widened. She’d felt that visual stroke like a warm slow touch.
He gave a sexy slanted grin. “What you’re wearing,” he said, “will be fine.”
Twenty minutes later, showered and somewhat refreshed, Bailey followed Mateo to the garage. She was determined not to drink in the way the impression of his shoulder blades rolled beneath that black shirt or recall how delectable that back had looked so bronzed and bare in the moonlight last night.
As much as she’d like to, she couldn’t deny she was physically attracted to the man. That didn’t mean she should dwell on bone-melting images of him as she had done while standing beneath the showerhead mere moments ago. She hadn’t been able to pry her thoughts from memories of Mateo strolling among those lifelike statues. Worse, she couldn’t help but speculate on how those strong toned arms might feel surrounding and gathering her in, or how the bow of his full lower lip might taste grazing languidly back and forth over hers….
Now another image faded up in her mind—Mateo Celeca, gloriously naked and poised above her in that beautiful big upstairs bed. Her throat immediately thickened and beneath her bodice, nipples peaked and hardened. Slowing her step, Bailey pushed out a breath. She might have been engaged to Emilio but he’d never affected her this way. No man had. Why should that be so when, not only had she and Mateo locked horns, they’d only known each other a day?
In the garage, he showed her to the passenger side door of an expensive low-slung vehicle. A Maserati, if she wasn’t mistaken. Odd there wasn’t at least one or two other sports cars housed in the overly spacious garage. Or, perhaps, something classier to more aptly suit his station, like a Bentley or Rolls.
The garage door whirred up and soon they were cruising down the tree-lined drive and out on to a quiet street bordered by wide immaculate sidewalks where women in designer tracksuits walked poodles showing off diamanté collars. These people couldn’t have the foggiest idea how the other half lived.
“I phoned someone else today,” Mateo said, changing gears.
“Mama?” She guessed, and he nodded. “I wanted to be half settled before I called or wrote her.”
“She figured that.”
“Did you tell her that you invited me to stay last night?” She asked, feeling a little awkward over it. Not that Mama would mind in the least.
“I told her you rested at my house overnight and you were out looking for a job.” Large sure hands on the steering wheel navigated a corner. “She said you should stay until you were earning and set up some place.”
Closing her eyes, Bailey groaned as her cheeks grew hot. Mama was a lovely lady. She was only showing that she cared. But, “I’m sure you told her I’d be fine.”
“I said I’d offer.”
“You what?“
“I said you could stay for a couple of days until things were sorted out.”
Bailey thought that statement through. “You mean things like our loan agreement?”
He gave an affirmative grunt. “And it’s not as if the house isn’t big enough to accommodate one more.” He skated over a defining look. “For a few days.”
Before she could argue, he turned the conversation toward the couple they’d be dining with that night—Natalie and Alex Ramirez. But Bailey’s thoughts were stuck on Mateo’s offer to stay in his home. She didn’t want to sponge. But a few days grace to set herself up would be heaven-sent. She was willing to work at anything to get her life back on track, and quickly. Surely a job would turn up in the next day or two.
When they pulled up at a well-to-do address, Bailey’s stomach flipped. She shouldn’t be surprised that the Ramirez abode almost rivaled Mateo’s in size and grandeur. Of course his friends would be wealthy. But beyond that, despite her nerves, she was curious to meet people the doctor liked to spend time with and perhaps learn a little more about the enigma that was Mateo Celeca. She only wished she was dressed more appropriately, and that she had a better pair of shoes to wear out. Dinner with this type meant more than pulling up a chair in a pizza joint.
Mateo slid out of the car. When he opened her door, she accepted his hand and a flurry of sparks shot like a line of lit gunpowder up her arm. Easing out into the forecourt, although her heart was thumping, Bailey managed to keep her expression unaffected. She’d felt this buzz before, when he’d caught her yesterday and, holding her chin, had looked into her eyes. Tonight the effect was even more pronounced. If an everyday act like hands touching caused this kind of physical reaction, she couldn’t fathom how something of consequence might affect her … like a no-holds-barred penetrating kiss.
Did Mateo feel it too?
A stunning brunette holding a young child dressed in a blue jumpsuit, and a tall, dark-haired man answered the door. At the same time the man—Alex Ramirez—stepped aside to show his guests through, his wife put out her free hand. Her nails were French tipped. The princess-cut diamond solitaire was enormous. “You must be Bailey. I’m Natalie and this little fellow is Reece.” She bounced the baby and he smiled and squealed again. “Come in, and bring that handsome devil with you.”
Mateo leaned in to brush a light kiss on Natalie’s cheek before shaking his friend’s hand heartily then returning close to her side again, as if he could sense her anxiety. As if they might be a genuine couple.
As they all moved into a sumptuous living room, furnished with contemporary leathers and teak, Bailey took in Natalie’s exquisite dress. Cut just below the knee, the lilac fabric shimmered beneath strategically placed downlights. The effect was dazzling, bringing out her complexion and intensity of her long dark hair. Her shoes matched the dress, lilac, delicate heels. Her toenails were painted red. Had she enjoyed a professional pedicure earlier that day?
Glancing down, Bailey cringed.
Her own toes hadn’t seen a lick of polish in too long to remember.
Everything in Casa Buona had been so relaxed. She hadn’t needed much, although, in order to travel light—to leave quickly when she had—she’d left a number of pretty skirts and tops behind, casual bright wear that suited work at the taverna. Despite the way it had all ended, she’d enjoyed being part of the staff there, serving tables, joining in on the songs and chatter afterward when the kitchen had closed for the night.
How would this evening end? With brandy and cigars in the study for the men, most likely. Perhaps flutes filled with Cristal offered to the ladies. And when Mateo drove her home …
Standing beside the liquor cabinet, Alex rubbed his hands together. “What can I offer you to drink?”
“I’m fine,” Bailey replied, “thank you.” Given her inquisitive thoughts regarding Mateo, better she stayed well clear of beverages that would only weaken inhibitions.
“Ice water for me, Alex,” Mateo said, moving to stand alongside her, close enough to soak in the natural heat emanating from his body. “You and Natalie can indulge a little tonight.”
“It’s true.” Natalie rubbed her nose with her baby’s. “It isn’t often we get a night off.”
The little boy giggled and held his mother’s cheeks. When his fingers caught in her perfectly coiffed hair, Natalie only laughed, but then worried over a strand wrapped around one tiny finger. Alex walked over, unwound the hair from around his boy’s finger then kissed the baby’s palm with a loud raspberry that sent the child into peals of laughter.
Bailey’s chest squeezed. This trio was the picture of the perfect family. The happiness they so obviously shared lit all their faces. What they had couldn’t be bought.
That’s what she wanted one day. The kind of marriage that took a person’s breath away. The kind of love her parents had once shared. They’d been so happy. When she was young, she’d never stopped to think it might not last.
When she refocused, a feathery feeling brushed over her. She looked across. Mateo was looking at her, a curious light shining in those dark eyes, a sexy grin curving one side of his mouth. A pulse in Bailey’s throat began to beat fast. She blinked then, uncertain of where to look, concentrated on Alex who sent her an ambiguous smile before returning to the bar to see to the drinks.
Natalie spoke to her husband as he poured a water then what looked like scotch for himself.
“Honey, I might change his diaper for Tammy before we go.” Natalie explained to Bailey, “Tammy’s the wonderful lady who looks after Reece when I go into the office a couple of times a week. She’s catching up on her knitting in the family room until we leave.”
“Mateo mentioned that you work outside of the home.”
“It’s a great balance. Only four hours each day—” Natalie rubbed noses with her baby again “—and then I’m dying to get back to him.” She met Bailey’s gaze. “Want to help me change him?”
Bailey’s knees locked. She’d done some babysitting but never one so young. “I’m not sure I’d be any help.”
Natalie only smiled. “You look like a quick study.”
They left the men, who were busy discussing football, and moved into a nearby room—a downstairs nursery. Bouncing the baby, Natalie crossed to a white lacquered changing table where she gently lay her bundle down then set about unbuttoning his suit.
“Mateo mentioned you know Mama Celeca?”
“I lived in her town for a few months.”
“I’ve heard so much about her. Alex says she’s the biggest darling ever. He went with Mateo to Italy one summer a long time ago. Apparently Mama tried her best to get both of them married off.”
She seemed so genuine, Bailey couldn’t help but like her. Couldn’t help but feel relaxed and at home, even in a dress that looked more like a rag next to Natalie’s exquisite creation.
Bailey brushed a palm over the baby’s soft crown and carried on the thread of their conversation.
“Lucky for you Mama’s matchmaking didn’t succeed.”
“Lucky isn’t the word.” Natalie peeled back the diaper and let out a pleased sigh. “I love when there’s no messy surprises. Could you hand me a fresh diaper, please?” Natalie cast a glance to her right. “They’re in that lower drawer.”
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