Midwife in the Family Way

‘Did you manage to get a table in the restaurant?’

He frowned again. Why would he not? ‘Of course.’ She glanced away and shook her head slightly, and he was teased by the tiny smile she tried to hide. ‘I amuse you?’

‘Very much so. But it’s nice because you are so very different from the men around here.’ She walked past him onto the veranda, the hint of roses she left in her wake teasing him almost more than her words, and then she handed him her house keys. ‘I’m guessing you want to lock the door?’

‘Grazie. You learn.’ Her profile against the lights from the veranda made his eyes gleam. Did she have no idea how seductive she looked in those trousers? He had changed his preferences already.

‘I’m a smart woman.’ She tossed her head teasingly.

The movement exposed her throat to the light. ‘And very beautiful.’

‘I could get used to this.’ He heard the whispered words but was sure he’d not been meant to. How could this woman not have a hundred men beating a path to her door? It was a tragedy he went home tomorrow or he would have shown her what she deserved—or maybe it was a good thing. Either way he could introduce her to the way she should be cared for tonight.

As Gianni followed her down the path and under the rose arch he had the sudden urge to reach out and halt her progress, turn her beautiful face toward him and taste the promise he saw while the heady fragrance drifted around them, but he held back. Something he would regret later. No doubt the scent of roses would remind him of this moment that could have been.

This time she’d waited beside the car for him to open the door and the sleeping animal inside him growled complacently at securing her compliance. That beast had been dormant for a very long time and he’d forgotten the taste of cosseting a woman.

When she was seated he bent to lift a swathe of material from the hem of her trousers that had fallen outside the door and the material cascaded across his palm and fell like liquid around her tiny feet. All sensory input that teased him more. He clenched his fingers as he moved back to shut the door before he trod with restrained haste to join her. Still he could feel the material, cool and seductive like the woman who awaited him. She had him entranced.

Gianni’s door closed quietly as he was seated and Emma felt the car shrink to only the space between them. Yet not claustrophobic. Different. It felt intimate and exciting, and every nerve in her body seemed to be waving its receptors at the man beside her. Strange feelings for a woman who thrived on control and organisation.

He glanced across before he started the engine and it was as if he touched her. A slow caress. Hurriedly she did up her seat belt.

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to glow like a browneyed tiger, and her belly kicked. ‘I could have helped,’ he said.

She rubbed her arms. Not likely, buddy. The thought of his hand at her waist gave her more goose-bumps.

‘Do you live in your house all alone?’

She raised her eyebrows at him but doubted he’d see that in the dashboard light. ‘Not something I should tell a man I barely know.’

‘Good,’ he said, and she laughed again. He was funny. And old-fashioned, and yet she had the feeling that his moral code might bend dramatically when it was his own desires that were at stake. She didn’t think he realized how at sea she was. Luckily.

She looked out the window and back again. ‘I live with my daughter. My father comes sometimes to stay when he can and my brothers used to live there but the last of them has just married. They’re all shift workers so they used to come and go a lot anyway.’

‘In my country, alone in a house is not good for a woman and her daughter. It is different here?’

She frowned. Now he’d annoyed her. Though, if she was honest, maybe a little of her response was due to the fact she didn’t want to think about the example she was setting to her daughter by going out with a man who made her feel sexy for the first time in her life. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘My daughter is safe. Lyrebird Lake is a safe place. We have very little crime. I know everyone in town.’

His heavy brows drew together. ‘And people don’t drift through?’ His voice was dry. ‘I’m sure Angus said there is a working mine? A transient miner population only up the road.’

She tilted her head at him. Defiantly. ‘Where I live is fine. And not your concern.’ His interest had become too pointed. ‘In this country customs differ. Did you say we would eat?’

He sat back, and then nodded. ‘My apologies. It is none of my business.’ He started the car and of course now she felt guilty…But then she shrugged in the dark. He could get over it. Get used to the way women could look after themselves in Australia. Had to look after themselves. She thought with amusement about Tommy and her brothers, and the way she more looked after them. They should fly a women’s independence flag for her at Lyrebird Lake.

No conversation occurred until they drove into the cobbled courtyard of the Lakeside and the restaurant lights spilled into the car park and reflected back off the water.

She stayed in her seat, very tempted to open her own door just to tease him, but that would be petty. Was she bored with his old-fashioned manners already? Her door swung away and he held his hand out to help her.

‘May I assist you?’ His voice was low and courteous, no hint of assertiveness as it curled around her like a tender scarf. It was interesting he hadn’t presumed this time.

No, she wasn’t bored with being spoilt, she thought as she shivered in the sensations and hugged them to herself. His fingers were warm and strong when she took his hand, just like last time, and she felt the same burning sensation up her arm and the tightening of her breasts.

‘Are you cold?’

He was genuinely attentive. She didn’t know how to deal with the unfamiliarity of his concern. ‘A little,’ she prevaricated, more to hide her embarrassment, and instantly he slipped his jacket off and the warmth of man-heated silk caressed her shoulders.

Like an unexpected gift the subtle wash of his aftershave mixed with the scent of male bombarded already overloaded senses and her heel slipped on the cobbles under her feet as she actually felt faint for a second.

His arm came around her. ‘Are you well?’ He frowned down at her. ‘It has been an emotional day. Perhaps I should take you home.’

‘No, I’m fine. Really.’ She straightened out of his embrace and stepped back. ‘I just slipped in my heels.’ Her heart was thumping in her chest like a drum and she took a long cool breath of the night air into her lungs and stood tall. Or as tall as she could with her height. Despite the pinching in her toes she definitely needed high heels with this guy. ‘I’m fine,’ she said again. ‘Just a silly slip. Let’s go in.’

His brows remained creased, but he nodded reluctantly. ‘As you wish.’ He glanced over her attire again with a tiny glint in his eyes. ‘It would be a shame not to share your beautiful preparations with the world.’

Yes, she thought dryly. She could hardly wait for the gossip. It would fly.

The restaurant was dimly lit with red lamps in brackets on the wall and candles on the tables. Maybe no one would see her. They were led to a white linen-covered table that faced out over the lake, a shiny-green-leafed ficus provided privacy from the next couple and the room buzzed with the hum of quiet conversations.

‘And a good table, as well,’ Emma said with a glance around, and strangely, for a town she’d grown up in, there wasn’t a familiar face to be seen. But other tables seemed as private or strategically placed as theirs so maybe there were. Either way, the town would hear tomorrow that Emma had been out with a man! And a stranger.

She handed him back his jacket and Gianni lifted one imperious eyebrow as he waited for her to be seated but didn’t comment. She didn’t need it when she’d only been covering her nervousness anyway.

She sat and he did too and suddenly her brain froze as she had a brief moment of panic about what conversation she could make with this Italian she barely knew in such an intimate setting. How would they fill the time between courses?

It wasn’t like she did this every night. Or spoke to strange men. The only men she conversed with were her family and friends and husbands and partners of women she cared for in labour. Then again, Gianni looked to be socially practised enough for both of them. She hoped.

His pale grey suit shone discreetly and she guessed some designer’s label would be sewn inside on silk, and his shirt and tie, though understated, shrieked unlimited funds.

The maître d’ draped the starched napkin across her lap and reverently handed her the menu. The choices had no prices, not to trouble her pretty head over cost, she guessed, and she smiled. Well, well, Lyrebird Lake. You multi-layered lady. Her country town had city chic. She’d had no idea. Another first, and she was going to enjoy the experience. If it killed her.

Her escort bent his head to discuss wine with the waiter and her eyes were drawn to the harsh lines of Gianni’s face. Such a strong and arrogant jaw, angular cheek bones and a Roman nose that proclaimed lineage and power. He could almost be classified as too grand to relax with yet she didn’t feel intimidated by him. Especially now she’d decided this was going to be fun.

She wondered why she still felt secure. He was certainly imposing, and so different from any man she knew, but something in his eyes, and perhaps that obscure vulnerability only she seemed to see in the chiselled fullness of his mouth, drew her like a moth to a flame and dared her to touch the light. Thrilled her with danger that crackled along her nerves and dusted the smile on her lips that she couldn’t seem to lose.

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