The Italians: Luca, Marco and Alessandro: Between the Italian's Sheets / The Moretti Heir / Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
thought you were my entertainment.’
‘I’ll entertain you again and again. But this is for while I’m at work.’
And, if last night was anything to go by, it would be her recovery time. She followed him into the big, light room. A large sofa stretched in front of her and opposite was a wall of bookcases.
‘Take your pick, but if you don’t fancy reading…’ He pushed a couple of buttons on a remote and with a click and a whir half the bookcases seemed to disappear and a giant flat-screen TV was revealed.
‘Oh, that’s clever.’
‘Very Batman, don’t you think?’ he joked. ‘The DVDs are in this cabinet. I have a reasonable collection, but if you want to watch something else just let me know and I can get it delivered.’
A reasonable collection? There were masses of DVDs—enough to rival the entire stock of the DVD store where she’d worked. Although they were a little on the action/thriller side. Not too many romcom chick flicks—maybe his ex took them when they split up? She felt burningly curious about that part of his life—what had gone wrong? She’d ask some time, but was cautious about prying too much too soon. There had been real pain in his eyes when he’d admitted to being hurt and she didn’t want to spoil the lightness of the mood now. Not when she sensed this was a little out of the ordinary for him. It was way out of the ordinary for her too.
‘I take them out of the cases. It makes it easier to store more.’
‘And are they filed alphabetically, by genre, or director or something?’
‘No.’ He grinned. ‘In order of purchase. By all means sort them if you want, though. Watch any, watch all.’
‘You expect me to figure out all these remote controls? The stereo, the TV, the DVD player, the curtains…’
He laughed and gestured towards the bi-folding doors along the back wall. ‘Through there is a formal lounge I don’t tend to use unless I have some sort of gathering. Now follow. I’ve saved the best ’til last.’
His room? She was very curious about that. But while he led her to the stairs it wasn’t up but down that he went. At the very bottom they were confronted with a closed door. He pushed buttons on the keypad on the wall beside them. ‘I’ll give you the number.’
‘I’m going to need a two-hundred-page manual to remember how to work this place.’
‘It won’t take you that long.’
‘Why the security?’
‘My housekeeper has a young son. I don’t want him in here without supervision.’
‘Supervision?’ What on earth was in there? ‘And you said I had nothing to fear? Let me guess, it’s a soundproof room and filled with electric guitars and drum kit ’cos you’re really a metal head.’
He shook his head.
‘Wine cellar?’
He grinned. ‘I have a couple of cabinets upstairs but the bulk of my collection is stored offsite.’
He was serious about that?
‘Believe it or not this is much more fun.’ He opened the door.
She blinked as he switched on the lights. Oh, wow. She would never have expected this.
The expanse of blue was lit underneath—the light was subtle and it was warm and cast pretty patterns on the gleaming white walls.
‘Oh.’ The water was about two lanes wide and went the length of the room.
‘There’s a small gym down there and a bathroom through there.’ He walked down the last step onto the small paved area at the head of the pool. ‘Nice, huh?’ He whipped off his tee shirt, and kicked away his shoes. His hands went to his belt.
‘Very nice.’ Her smile broadened as he pulled his jeans down and stepped out of them. His boxers followed. ‘Really, very nice.’
He winked back, then turned, dived straight in, his arms moving in a perfect arc. He surfaced several feet out in the pool, droplets of water flew as he shook his head. ‘Aren’t you coming in?’
She stood at the edge and thought of the lamest excuse she could. ‘I don’t have my swimsuit with me.’
‘Emily, this is hardly the public pools. You don’t need a swimsuit.’
Time for honesty, then. ‘Actually, I’m not the most confident swimmer.’
‘You come from an island nation. I thought you were all born swimming.’
‘I can swim. I’m just not that confident. I don’t like it when my feet can’t touch the bottom. It looks really deep there.’
‘It is really deep. But I can make it shallower for you.’
‘How?’
‘It has an adjustable floor. I can’t do it right now, but will do later if you want.’
Adjustable floor? ‘Why do you have it so deep?’
‘I like diving.’
‘As in somersaults and flips and stuff?’
‘No, as in scuba-and free diving. I practise down here. Have you ever gone scuba diving? Underwater gardens are as beautiful as the trees and flowers sort.’
‘I don’t think that’s for me.’ She shook her head. ‘I’d be afraid of being swallowed whole and never finding my way to the surface.’
‘It’s easy. Come on, come in. It’s really shallow this end. Think of it as a giant bath.’
It was too beautiful to resist. Just like him.
‘I’m not going in that deep end.’ She tried not to feel self-conscious as she stripped, felt better as he swam closer, looking more wicked the more naked she became.
She stepped down the ladder. It was a giant bath—but tepid, neither too cold nor too warm.
‘You’re not a risk-taker?’ He reached out for her.
‘I haven’t been in a position to be able to take risks.’ She let him pull her through the water.
‘But you’re in a position to now.’
Yes. And she already was taking a huge risk.
The floor of the pool suddenly dropped away.
‘Hold onto me.’ He put her arms around his neck. Their bodies bumped, warm and wet, and she wound her legs round his waist. His legs worked, keeping them both afloat, moving them through the water.
‘Does nothing scare you?’ she asked. He seemed so strong, so sure of himself.
‘The things that scare me are the things that happen outside of my control but that impact on my life.’
‘What—like hurricanes?’ She felt his puff of laughter.
‘Hurricanes of the human kind.’
‘Like losing your mum?’
‘Yeah, I guess.’ No laughter this time.
‘What was boarding school like?’ She still couldn’t get over that one—how isolated he must have been.
‘Actually it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t an archetypal horror. I had good teachers, stability—year in, year out, same place, same people. My father provided the money for a first-class education and all the extras I could want. Swimming, skiing, scuba. I studied hard but I had a good time too. More of a good time than you probably did. Was there no one else for you and Kate?’
‘Mum had a brother but he lived hours away and wasn’t able to help. We were OK. I had Kate.’ She looked down into the blue;