Firefighter's Doorstep Baby / The Soldier's Untamed Heart. Barbara McMahonЧитать онлайн книгу.
several moments neither spoke, then Cristiano said softly, “I come here when I need to get away.”
“A special place,” she said, smiling, feeling as if she’d been given a gift. “I wish I had one. It gets overwhelming sometimes with Dante and working and trying to balance everything. I would love a place like this to just sit and be.”
He nodded. “Maybe that’s what is appealing, I can just be myself here.”
She looked at him, tilting her head slightly. “Can’t you be yourself everywhere?”
He met her gaze and slowly shook his head. “People expect certain things.”
“And we always try to meet those expectations.” She sighed. “Probably why I feel so inadequate with Dante. I expect to be wise like my mother and I’m not.”
“She probably wasn’t that wise when you were six months old,” he said gently.
Mariella thought about that for a while. Was it true? Had her mother been learning as she went? “You might be right, but she always seemed to know what to say, how to explain things.”
“You’re a good mother to Dante. Don’t doubt yourself.”
Unexpectedly, Cristiano reached out and took her hand, resting their linked fingers on his thigh. “It’s beautiful here in winter when it looks as if powder sugar has been sprinkled on the trees. Now the trees are changing color, but spring will bring the new green of beginning leaves.”
“Thanks for bringing me here,” she said, returning her gaze to the magnificent view. The carefree feeling continued as if she had let all her worries vanish on the ride and the reward was this unexpected beauty.
They talked softly until the sun started slipping behind some of the trees and the temperature began to drop.
“Time to go,” he said.
Mariella nodded, reluctant to end the enchantment of the afternoon. She would never forget this.
He continued the loop arriving in the village near the resort. He continued to the center of town to drop her by the small grocery store where she said she needed to pick up some things for Dante.
“Thanks for the ride home,” she said, when she had dismounted. Giving into impulse, she kissed his cheek. “See you,” she said and turned swiftly to enter the store.
Cristiano watched as she walked away, so alive and happy. He didn’t want to think of the outcome had he not been riding that night.
But he felt like an impostor. He was no hero. He’d never tell her, or anyone, how fear engulfed him. How the nightmares of that incident in May haunted him unexpectedly day and night. Why couldn’t he get the images out of his mind? Granted he could go several days without them. Just when he’d think he had it licked, they’d spring up and threaten to render him powerless.
Though he had been able to cope at the fire. Maybe, maybe, he was getting over it.
Mariella entered the grocery store and glanced back through the glass door. Cristiano sat on his motorcycle, staring at the door. Could he see her? She felt her heart beating heavily. She had never ridden a motorcycle before. She’d not known how intimate it felt, pressed against his hard body, feeling his muscles move against her as he drove the powerful bike. She still felt tingly and so aware of him. She hated to move, but people would begin to wonder if she stayed at the door staring like a moonstruck teenager at her latest heartthrob.
She almost giggled as she forced herself to move.
Would she ever get the chance to ride behind him again? Visit his special spot? Life seemed especially sweet today. It could almost as easily have been over for her. Instead, she had ridden with a sexy guy who intrigued her, fascinated her, set her hormones rocking.
She was curious about the injuries he was recovering from. Maybe he’d re-injured himself rescuing her, though he looked to be in perfect health to her. His broad shoulders and muscles beneath the shirt he’d worn attested to robust health. He looked as if he could jump mountains. And obviously was strong enough to carry her and the baby from a burning building.
With the loss of all her things—especially her computer—the sooner she returned home, the sooner she could pick up the pieces of her life. Maybe it was a sign she was not to look for Dante’s father.
Fortunately her purchases fit into two bags and Mariella carried them back to the cottage. She also brought a bouquet of mixed mums for her hostess. She wanted to brighten the woman’s day in gratitude for watching Dante for her. She wished the Bertatalis didn’t feel so guilty. They had not known of the faulty wiring. All had ended well—except for the loss of her computer.
Was there a place in town she could use one? An Internet café? Or, she could take Cristiano up on his offer and use his. Well, that was a no-brainer.
The next morning after tidying up, bathing and dressing the baby, Mariella set off for Cristiano’s house. The road to the cottage was lightly traveled and easily navigated. However, it proved awkward pushing the baby stroller down the uneven graveled driveway.
The day was a copy of yesterday, sunny and balmy. Leaves had begun to change on some of the trees covering the hillside, bright spots of yellows and reds showed brilliant in the sunshine against the deep green of the conifers. She breathed the fresh air. What would it be like to live here year round? Nothing like New York where she’d been the past four years, with its concrete canyons and few open parks beyond Central Park.
Different from Rome, too. But that was home. Crowded, frenetic, yet comfortably providing all she really needed.
Rounding the bend, she saw the cottage. She studied it as she walked toward it. It was warm cream-colored stone, with a steep pitched roof of dark slate. The windows were wide with shutters on either side. It looked old, settled, perfect for its mountain backdrop. With an ageless look, it was hard to tell when it was built, but clearly a long time ago, she suspected from what she’d seen on the inside. He was lucky to have such a comfortable place to recuperate.
Cristiano was not on the patio this morning. She walked to the front door and knocked.
Cristiano opened the door a moment later and stared at her in surprise, then at the baby, his expression softening.
“What are you two doing here?” he asked, smiling at Dante.
“I came to take you up on your offer to use your computer. I need to check in with my clients.”
“Come on in.” He opened the door wide and she pushed the carriage in.
“It’s dark in here,” Mariella said, stepping into the living room. “Why is it all closed up?”
He looked around as if seeing the heavy drapes pulled over the windows for the first time.
“It suited me.”
“How odd.”
“They help insulate the windows.”
“It’s not that cold.”
He stared at her a moment, then shrugged. “I’ll get the laptop.”
In less than five minutes, Dante was happily kicking his legs from the baby seat playing with a spoon and plastic cup while Mariella booted up the computer on the kitchen table. Cristiano had hooked it to a phone line. It wouldn’t be the fastest connection, but at least she could check her email. Once Cristiano saw she was connected, he took off to give her privacy. She appreciated that, too aware of the man to concentrate on her work if he hovered nearby.
She gazed around the room while the computer booted up. It had a certain old-world charm that she loved. There was a huge fireplace, stone-cold now, at one end. She could envision a cheerful fire in the dead of winter when a sprinkle of snow might lie on the ground. How cozy this room would be. The large wooden table would seat a family of eight. The stone floor was cold, but, with a few rugs, could be comfortable in the winter months.
Which