At least one living thing in this room was pleased to see him.
‘I think she’s hungry,’ Julian said tentatively.
‘Would you like to feed her?’ Nat asked.
Julian perked up, his eyes brightening. ‘Could I?’
‘Of course. You know where her bowl is in the laundry and where the sachets of food we bought today are kept. Maybe your papa could help you open one and he could show you how to feed her?’
Julian glanced doubtfully at his father. Alessandro glanced at Nat, whose gaze was urging him to take the bait. Alessandro considered her for a moment, tendrils of hair escaping her ponytail and framing her face in almost angelic frothery, belying her steely spine.
‘Good idea,’ he agreed.
Alessandro had hoped if he didn’t push, if he gave Julian room and space, that he would turn to him eventually, but hearing the wordmummyfall from his lips earlier had been like a knife plunging deep into Alessandro’s gut, twisting mercilessly. It was his fault his son didn’t have a mummy any more, and part of him suspected that Julian blamed him for that.
But the journey back to each other had to start with one step.
Skirting around Nat he scooped an unprotesting Julian under the arms and swung him down to the floor. ‘Where’s this food, then, Julian?’
Five minutes later they were done and Julian, preoccupied with Flo, didn’t seem receptive to any more overtures, so Alessandro took that as a hint. Did it hurt a little? Sure. But Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Lounging in the doorway of the kitchen, he watched Nat move. She was wearing her standard crèche attire of shorts and T-shirt – neither particularly risqué – but there was somethingabout the sway of her hips and the bob of her ponytail that tightened his groin.
As if sensing his presence – or maybe the heat in his thoughts – she glanced over her shoulder, her ponytail swishing again. ‘That was quick,’ she murmured, turning back to the spaghetti.
‘He seemed much more interested in the cat.’
She stirred the sauce. ‘That will fade. Give him time.’
Alessandro approached. Her back view was great but he didn’t want her to think he was ogling. Even if, strictly speaking, he had been. As he reached the bench where she was working, he turned to lean his ass into it so he was facing the opposite direction to Nat.
‘It smells great.’
‘Thank you. I figured I couldn’t go too far wrong in this house with some pasta and sauce.’
Alessandro allowed a ghost of a smile to settle on his lips. He turned again, so his hip nudged the bench and he was facing her. ‘May I?’
She nodded, stepping back a pace as Alessandro quickly dipped his finger in the sauce. Anddamn, it was good. Almost as good as the way she’d watched him suck his finger into his mouth. He was pretty sure her pupils had dilated a little. God knew he was close enough to see the central flare of black shrink the outer rim of blue.
‘Mmm,’ he murmured, low and deliberate, the devil riding him as his tongue swept over his bottom lip, savouring the taste and the way she followed the movement. A pulse thudded to life in his groin. ‘You’ve done this before.’
When she spoke, her voice was husky. ‘My host mother in Milano taught me her secret family recipe for Napolitano sauce.’
The pulse beat a little thicker at her near perfect pronunciation, speaking to him on levels he didn’t know were athing. ‘You don’t have to cook, you know. Or clean. Or unpack boxes.’
‘I know.’ She nodded, her voice brisker now as if she was on more solid ground. ‘But I enjoy it. It’s not much fun cooking for one so I usually don’t bother.’ She looked down at the saucepan and gave it another stir. ‘I still think it’s missing something.’
She dipped a nearby spoon in and blew on it, bringing it to her mouth, sipping the rich sauce, and it was Alessandro’s turn to closely follow the action. Hell, he couldnotlook away as the tremble of her hand tilted the spoon, spilling sauce on the soft swell of cleavage just visible above the V of her neckline.
AndGod help himhe followed it, tracking the slow slide of thick red sauce as it unhurriedly made its way south. Involuntarily, he licked his lips. He wanted to taste it, tasteher, so badly he couldn’t think of anything else.
Unable to ignore the dictates of his body, he said, ‘I’m good with ingredients. Let me try.’
And before Alessandro could think better of it, he lowered his head, his mouth closing over the swell of her breast as his tongue lapped at the sauce. He barely suppressed a low growl as the taste of her ripe flesh flowed over his taste buds. She was sweet and spicy. And he wanted more.
Breathing roughened. Someone groaned. Was it her? Or him?
‘Nat, is it okay if Flo goes outside?’
