Pregnant: Father Wanted

‘Nothing about the tours is “off-the-shelf”. We aim to satisfy our clients’ individual wishes while ensuring total immersion in the life and culture of the area.’

She chuckled. ‘That sounded like a well-practised sales spiel.’

Ric broke into a grin that made his eyes sparkle. One cheek dimpled and Lyssa suppressed another sigh. He really was exceptionally good-looking and if this trip had taken place at another time, in another life…

But there was no point in letting herself think that way. No point at all.

‘I practised it specially for you,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘for the important travel writer I had to make an effort to impress, but you don’t seem very impressed.’

She shrugged. ‘I’ve heard so many of those speeches and read so many brochures, they all sound the same after a while.’

‘So what does impress you about the places you visit, then? It’s important that I know. I need to make sure you don’t leave disappointed.’

‘It’s hard to say.’ She picked at a piece of ham that was falling from the panini. ‘Often it’s the smallest things. You know, if the waiters in a town are unfriendly, or a hotel’s receptionist is helpful—it all influences your opinion. But then, it’s important to remember that other travellers might have a very different experience, so you have to try to remain objective when you write the story.’

He nodded.

‘Of course, bigger things can make a difference too. If, say, you visit a town where there’s a vibrant festival going on and the whole place is buzzing with excitement, and the next day you visit another where the streets are empty and everyone seems to be asleep, you’re going to gain very different impressions of the two towns. But on another day, it might be reversed. You see what I mean?’

‘How long have you been doing this for a living?’

‘Five years, give or take.’

‘No. You don’t look…’

‘Old enough? I know. I’m twenty-six but I look about eighteen, don’t I?’

‘Well—’

‘No, don’t bother.’ She flapped a hand. ‘There’s no correct answer. Actually, I do look older when I’ve had time to prepare… clothes, make-up. But you took me by sur prise this morning.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, don’t apologise. It’s good that you were on time. Makes a good impression.’

Smiling again, he said, ‘Well, that’s a start. I did something right.’

Lyssa nodded, her mouth full, and Ric waited till she’d finished chewing before he spoke again.

‘Do you enjoy being a travel writer?’

‘I love it. It’s the best job in the world.’

‘And have you been to Italy before?’

‘No. Actually this is the first time I’ve been to Europe. Until now all of my jobs have been nearer to home—Asia, New Zealand, the Pacific islands.’

He frowned, a vertical line appearing between his eyebrows. ‘Are you saying you travelled through Asia on your own?’

‘Oh, yes; Asia is—’

‘But anything could have happened to you.’

Indignant, she pulled herself up straighter. ‘I’m tougher than I look. I’m perfectly capable. I can cope with any unforeseen incidents.’

He held up his palms in apology. ‘I interrupted you. Please, go on.’

She studied his face for a moment before, deciding he was genuinely apologetic, she continued. ‘As I was saying, Asia is fantastic, of course, but I’ve been looking forward to Europe for so long. Italy especially, since my family is Italian. I’m fascinated by the history you have all around you here.’

‘Asia has history.’

‘Oh, it does, of course, but it’s different. I love to hear about the Romans, Greeks, Carthaginians, Trojans.’

‘Ah, well, I can give you what you want. You should leave here a very happy woman.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ She didn’t flatter herself that there was a double meaning to his words, but even so, warmth in the region of her throat felt suspiciously like the start of a blush. She quickly bent her head to examine the panini.

‘Would you like a coffee before we set off again?’

She’d love one. A hefty dose of caffeine would go down very nicely right now, but since the positive test result she’d been revolted by the taste. She fervently hoped this was one side effect that would be reversed as soon as the baby was born.

She shook her head. ‘Just water for me, thanks.’

Moments later Ric placed a glass of iced water in front of her and a frothy cappuccino on his side of the table.

She wasn’t turned off by the strong aroma of coffee, just the taste. She inhaled deeply then took a gulp of water and watched enviously as he scooped up froth. ‘I thought no self-respecting Italian would drink cappuccino after breakfast?’

‘It’s still early enough to count as breakfast time,’ he said in a serious tone.

‘Right.’

‘I’d like to think I am a self-respecting Italian.’

She winced. She really should think before she spoke. ‘No offence intended.’

A smile tugged at his lips and she saw the teasing light in his eyes. ‘None taken. Did you know the cappuccino was invented by Capuchin monks?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘They used coffee to keep them awake through the long nights of religious practice.’

‘And millions of people are grateful to them.’

She caught her breath at the sparkle in Ric’s eyes as he lifted his cup. It was a good thing she didn’t have the slightest interest in him as a man, because he certainly had a lot to be interested in. Just the way his eyes glinted could almost make her forget she was nearly a mother.

He’d left the dark suit jacket back in the car and the crisp white shirt showed off his broad shoulders and slim waist. And then, she thought with a silent sigh, there was the way he moved. Without being obvious, she’d watched him go inside earlier and really, he was wasted as a tour guide. With his height and his lean shape he was more suited to…well, anything.

Actually, she suspected he must have a lucrative second source of income to own the type of car he drove. Either that, or being a tour guide paid much more than writing about those same tours.

Not that it was any of her business.

Looks weren’t everything, she reminded herself. Ric Rossetti might turn out to be a bore at best, and she had to spend three weeks with him.

By the time they’d arrived in Salerno and Ric had pointed out some of the historical sites, Lyssa was starving again. They wandered along the main boulevard, Corso Umberto, and she was relieved when Ric led her down a tiny street to a little restaurant. She hoped the portions weren’t on the small side too.

The owner came forward to greet Ric and was clearly pleased to see him. They’d barely settled at their table before they were served a beautifully displayed platter of antipasto.

‘Unless you’d prefer to order from the menu, Roberto would like to surprise us.’

‘Ooh, yes. Let him surprise us. As long as it’s food and plenty of it, I’ll be happy.’

Ric laughed. ‘You can rest assured on that score.’

‘The owners are friends of yours?’

‘Not exactly. I’ll order a bottle of frascati, shall I?’

‘Not for me, thanks.’ She pointed at the thick green jug on the table. ‘I’ll stick to water.’

‘Are you sure? Would you prefer something else? Lambrusco, or Prosecco?’

‘No, thanks. I don’t drink at all, but don’t let that stop you ordering whatever you want.’

He shook his head at the hovering waiter and poured them both water from the frosty jug.

Surprised, she asked him about Salerno while they ate antipasto and was soon astonished by the level of detail he was able to provide about any period of history—from the Goth to the Norman occupations of the town—and yet she was far from bored.

He paused while she got excited over the arrival of ravioli filled with crabmeat in a buttery sauce. She sniffed at the bowl before taking a forkful of the creamy pasta. She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them to see Ric watching her with that sparkle of amusement in his eyes again.

He smiled. ‘The plan was to see some more of the town this afternoon, then stay overnight and set out from here on the Amalfi Coast drive tomorrow. But, since you like history, perhaps you’d prefer to head south this afternoon, to visit Paestum?’

‘I’ve never heard of Paestum.’

‘It was an ancient Greek city which was abandoned in the ninth century AD, mainly because of malaria, since it was surrounded by marshes. It gradually became buried by swamps and it was forgotten about for nine hundred years until the construction of a new road, when it was rediscovered and excavated. They found three well-preserved temples as well as other buildings.’

‘Oh, wow, that sounds great. I’d love to visit if we can fit it in.’

‘No problem. I’ll make a call and arrange a hotel down there for tonight.’

Lyssa grinned at the waiter as he placed grilled sea bream with a salsa verde and fried artichokes in front of her. ‘This looks wonderful.’

Then, as she was about to start eating, a man with the deepest wrinkles she’d ever seen approached their table.

‘Scusi, mi scusi.’

He smiled at Ric and spoke in a stream of Italian that Lyssa had no hope of following. He didn’t seem to care, he had eyes only for Ric, so she settled back to enjoy the meal.

Moments later the man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, borrowed a pen from a passing waiter and thrust them both at Ric, who, she thought, was very patient with the old man as he scribbled on the paper and smiled at the man’s profuse thanks.

Puzzled, she watched the man walk away then asked, ‘Did you just give him your autograph?’

He nodded and picked up his cutlery. ‘How’s your food?’

‘Brilliant. Look, I know I’m being nosy, but I’m intrigued to know what that was all about.’

‘How much did you understand?’

‘Hardly anything. I wasn’t listening, actually. I was eating.’

‘Good choice. Roberto’s chef is one of the best in my opinion.’

‘So…?’

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to explain, but then he looked up and his dark eyes locked with hers.

‘I should explain. I play football. For one of Italy’s major clubs. In Milano.’

‘Oh.’ She nodded. ‘That explains the car.’

He smiled. ‘Yes. I refused to use the minibus.’

She tilted her head. ‘My brothers are sport mad. They watch the Italian soccer—that’s what we call football back home—on the sports channel.’

‘Do they?’

‘Yes. They might even have heard of you.’

She didn’t like football herself. She didn’t think much of the players either. From what she knew of sportsmen—at least, those who made the news—most of them seemed to be insensitive, looks-obsessed jerks. She didn’t like their hedonistic lifestyles, nor the way they treated their wives and girlfriends.

Knowing Ric was part of that world put things into perspective for her. He might be extraordinarily good-looking, but he was not her type at all. And she clearly wasn’t his type either, since she wasn’t a blonde bimbo.

The thought of bringing up her baby in that world repulsed her, which was fine, as there was not the remotest chance of that happening.

‘I don’t get it myself.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t understand why people become so passionate about it. It’s just a game.’

‘We’ll have to agree to disagree, then.’

‘Yes.’ She narrowed her eyes and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Another thing I don’t understand is why you’re working as a tour guide. You can’t possibly need the money.’

After a short burst of laughter, he said, ‘No, I don’t. You’re very direct, aren’t you?’

‘Direct is a nice way of putting it. I speak without thinking most of the time. It’s a bad habit. I really should try to fix it.’

‘No, I like it.’

Her eyes met his and she felt a jolt as her insides reacted to his words. Pathetic, she told herself. She wasn’t so starved of affection that she could be affected by a statement that wasn’t even a real compliment.

Or was she?

She cleared her throat. ‘So, the tour guide thing?’

‘It is my uncle’s business. I’ve been staying with my uncle and aunt. Their regular driver, Gino, had an accident. It wasn’t his fault but he has a broken leg and he was supposed to drive you, so they asked me to help out.’

‘I see.’

She smiled and nodded at Roberto when he appeared at their table to check they were enjoying their meal, then returned her gaze to Ric, curious to know more.

‘Shouldn’t you be in Milan now?’

‘No.’ Something flashed in his eyes but it had gone before she’d had time to work out what it was. ‘I’m on rehabilitation leave. I’ve had a knee reconstruction.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. That must be so frustrating.’

‘It is.’ He took a drink of water, then sighed. ‘And it’s not my first operation on the same knee. I’ve been through the whole recovery period before.’

She clicked her tongue in sympathy. ‘Aren’t you worried about being recognised?’

Ric flicked a dismissive wave. ‘I might be recognised, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Not here. In Milan, yes, it can be a nuisance. In other cities, Rome for instance, possibly. But generally I find the paparazzi limit themselves to covering high-profile events or the celebrity nightspots. My day-to-day activities aren’t normally interesting enough for the media, and down here I don’t think we’ll see any photographers.’

‘What about fans?’

‘They’re rarely a problem. Like the man who came to the table today, they’re usually polite. They deserve to be treated politely in return. These people spend their hard-earned money to go to games. The least they deserve is respect. I hope you don’t object if we have the occasional interruption?’

‘No, not at all.’

After thanking Roberto for the delicious food and refusing a gelato to follow—even she had finally eaten enough—they got up from the table. As they headed for the door she wondered whether Ric had a girlfriend and, if he did, whether she matched the image Lyssa had of footballers’ women. Supermodel-slim. Perfectly groomed. Tall. All the things she wasn’t.

She didn’t have body issues, but she was just an average woman and fully aware of her shortcomings. These sports people lived like rock stars and they had the women to match. She’d thought of them as bimbos, but that might be unfair. She shouldn’t judge them for choosing to obsess about their looks.

She wasn’t interested in Ric, so it made no difference, but still she felt a little spear of disappointment that she could never have been his type even if things had been different for her.

She shook off the feeling as they emerged into the bright spring sunshine and Ric excused himself to make a phone call. She was being silly. She was here to do a job and she had no business being attracted to Ric. The fact that he was completely out of her league was just an additional reason not to entertain such a ridiculous notion.

Later, Lyssa gazed at the majestic Poseidon Temple with the Basilica standing next to it in a field of wild red poppies. She listened to Ric explaining that it was built around the same time as the Parthenon in Athens and was considered the best preserved example of a Doric temple in the world.

It wasn’t the accent that made his speech so entertaining, and it wasn’t the facts, though he had a way of including details that fascinated her. No, there was something about his smooth-as-velvet voice combined with his matter-of-fact manner that made her want to listen to every word.

‘Since you’re not a real tour guide, how do you know so much about the history of the place?’ she asked as they turned to head back to the car.

He shrugged. ‘What can I say? Even as a child, I found it interesting.’

‘Did you grow up around here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do your parents still live here?’

‘They died the day I turned twelve.’

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. ‘Both at once?’

‘Yes. Car accident.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her heart going out to him. She hesitated, but was unable to resist asking, ‘Who did you live with after the accident?’

‘I moved in with my uncle and aunt.’

‘The ones who own Amalfitori?’

‘Yes.’

They were strolling slowly and he was a step ahead of her, making it difficult to see his face, but his voice sounded as matter-of-fact as ever, as if he didn’t find the subject painful.

Or maybe he was just good at hiding it.

‘Were you an only child?’

‘No, my sisters were babies. My uncle and aunt took them in too. They required a lot of attention.’

‘Did they have children of their own as well?’

‘Yes. Older children. My cousins were sixteen, seventeen and nineteen.’

Too old to be interested in the same things as a twelve-year-old, she assumed. Not an only child, then, but probably a lonely one.

He turned to gesture to her to go ahead of him and she saw the sadness in his eyes. She had to swallow before speaking again. ‘So you had to find something to occupy yourself and history was it?’

For a moment he looked surprised, as if he hadn’t expected her to understand, but then he nodded. ‘You’re right. I spent hours studying history books.’

After a pause, she said, ‘Well, thanks for the suggestion, Paestum was definitely worth the visit.’

‘You’re welcome. It’s in my interests to make you happy.’ His dimple appeared as he smiled. ‘And you’re easy to please.’

His protective hand on her back as he guided her past a group of tourists was pleasing her at that moment. She told herself not to be quite so easily pleased. She couldn’t afford to be an idiot.

‘Well…’ she walked away from his hand, moving to her side of the car and looking at him across the roof ‘…I hope you can keep up the high standard you’ve set.’

‘I intend to.’

After he’d steered the car back onto the road, he said, ‘You mentioned you had brothers.’

‘Mmm. Older brothers. Two.’

‘Did they look after you when you were growing up?’

She blew out a breath. ‘If, by that, you mean did they frighten off every boy who came near me, yes, they did.’

He chuckled. ‘Good. That’s what brothers are supposed to do.’

Groaning, she said, ‘They were so annoying. When I went out with a group of friends, they’d turn up to keep an eye on me. You don’t do that to your sisters, do you?’

‘No,’ he said with a grimace, ‘but only because they’re away at school in Switzerland.’

‘Boarding-school?’

‘Yes. Well, I thought it was the best option under the circumstances. My uncle and aunt shouldn’t have the responsibility, and they’re not easy girls to keep under control.’

‘Do you see them at all?’

‘Of course. Whenever I can. I haven’t abandoned them if that’s what you’re thinking.’

She searched his face. Satisfied by what she saw, she relaxed. ‘Well, I found out much later that my brothers had ulterior motives. It wasn’t only me they were keeping an eye on, it was my friends.’

She rolled her eyes.

‘Oh.’

‘Yes, oh. It was all right for them to go out with girls of my age, but not for me to go out with boys of their age. Or of any age for that matter.’

‘What about your parents? What did they think?’

‘Oh, they were no help at all. They were so strict. They didn’t like me mixing with Australian girls because they thought they’d corrupt me. If they could have done they’d have locked me away till I was married, though how I’d have met anyone to marry I don’t know.’

She heaved a sigh from deep inside. ‘Honestly, growing up in an Italian family in a country like Australia was difficult at times.’

‘Difficult? How?’

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a fabulous life and I’m grateful, but it’s the whole caught-between-two-cultures thing. My parents were stuck in the old ways, the ways they grew up with, but I was part of a different world. I’m sure things had changed where they’d come from too, but they couldn’t believe that because they couldn’t see it with their own eyes. You know what I mean?’

‘I can see how that would be a problem.’

‘Everything I wanted to do was different from the way things were done in their youth, therefore it was wrong. Clothes, music, dancing…and they blamed the new country for all of it.’

He shot her a glance. ‘So you weren’t allowed to be like your friends?’

‘No. Oh, and my nonna lived with us too. She was so embarrassing.’

‘Embarrassing how?’

‘Well, I’d be at school lining up at the canteen to buy lunch like everyone else—a burger or a meat pie or something—when my nonna would turn up with this enormous meal she’d cooked for me. She expected me to sit down and eat it while she watched, and she was very hard to refuse.’

She waved away Ric’s laughter. ‘You might think it’s funny, but I can tell you, it wasn’t at the time. Then there was shopping. Oh, my goodness, you have no idea what that was like.’

‘Why?’

‘Well, fruit and vegetables, for example. I don’t know what it’s like here, but over there the shopkeepers don’t like you to touch them. They put up signs to that effect. But both my mother and my nonna just pretended they couldn’t read English and went ahead and poked and prodded everything in the shop. They practically squeezed all the juice out of something before they decided it wasn’t good enough to buy.’

Ric grinned. ‘You’re exaggerating, surely?’

‘No, I am not.’ Actually, she was a little, but it had been good to hear Ric laugh after the sadness of their earlier conversation. ‘Oh, I could go on, but I won’t. Just consider yourself lucky not to have grown up overseas.’

‘I will.’

‘Have you travelled at all?’

‘I have. I’ve even lived abroad. In England. I played football over there for a while.’

‘Really? That explains your very good English. Did you like it there?’

‘Yes, I would have liked to stay longer but…’ He shrugged. ‘I was on loan and my club wanted me back. Anyway, I’ve travelled throughout Europe and to America, but I’ve never been to Australia.’ He turned off the main road. ‘Here’s the hotel.’

Lyssa sat forward as they drove through a shady pine wood. ‘This is nice.’

The hotel itself was a three-storey white building, well away from the road, with arched windows opening onto wrought-iron balconies.

The beautiful young woman behind the reception desk greeted Ric with a smile. ‘We’ve been expecting you,’ she said.

Lyssa made a point of smiling at her, just to check whether she was invisible. She might as well have been for all the notice the receptionist took of her. With a resigned shrug she turned away to look around the small, elegant hotel with its ceramic-tiled floors and thick white walls. Who could blame the girl for ogling Ric? She’d had to stop herself doing the same thing—and she wasn’t interested in him as a man, only as a tour guide.

Ric joined her and they made arrangements to meet later for dinner before heading off to their respective rooms.

Lyssa’s high-ceilinged room had a bright blue bedspread, tubs of red pelargoniums on the balcony and a view through the pine trees to the sea. With a satisfied sigh, she sat on the edge of the bed.

It had been a busy first day and her energy level was waning. She was tempted to lie down for a while, but she’d learned her lesson. There was no such thing as a brief doze now that she was pregnant. Once her head hit the pillow she’d be out for the count.

It would make more sense to jump straight into the shower and take her time freshening up before dinner. That would definitely make her feel better.

She’d packed a few simple non-crushable dresses, her standard wardrobe for evening wear while travelling, so she pulled one out of the suitcase and took it into the bathroom with her.

After the shower, she took the time to straighten all the kinks out of her hair, then applied the makeup she hadn’t had time for that morning. Finally, she slipped the simple leaf-green dress over her head and stood in front of the mirror as the slinky fabric slithered over her hips.