Reunited by a Baby Secret (The Vineyards of Calanetti, Book 3) Page 11

  Her heart started to pound, wonder filling her from the inside out, and she couldn’t stop from reaching a hand towards the image on the monitor. She couldn’t remember a more amazing moment in her life. Her baby!

  Their baby.

  She turned to Ryan and her heart stilled at the expression that spread across his face. She watched as his amazement turned to awe. He blinked hard several times, and a fist seized her heart. He swallowed and leaned towards the monitor...and she watched him fall in love with their baby.

  That was the moment her chest cracked open. She felt as if she were falling and falling—as if there were no end in sight, no bottom to bring her up short—and then Ryan seized her hand, a breath whooshed out of her, and the world righted itself again.

  He squeezed her hand, not taking his eyes from the screen. ‘That’s really something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Utterly amazing,’ she breathed, not taking her eyes from his face.

  But then he suddenly shot back, shaking his fingers free from hers, the colour leaching from him.

  ‘Ryan?’

  He glanced at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, but if I don’t get a move on I won’t make my appointment this afternoon in Rome. I won’t be back till tomorrow.’

  With that he spun on his heel and left the room. Marianna turned back to the monitor and the image of her baby. Her temples started to throb.

  * * *

  Ryan stared around the chaos of the kitchen and grimaced. He rubbed the back of his head. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Nothing!’

  He glanced at his watch. Angelo and Nico weren’t due to arrive for at least another hour, but...

  The house was spick and span with not a single item out of place. Marianna had slaved over it all day. Ryan valued neatness and utility, but this was...so neat. Then again, maybe the kitchen made up for it. He turned to view it again and had to blink. The yellow on the walls was...bright.

  He spun back to the rest of the room. It wasn’t as if the neatness made things sterile, like a hotel room. Marianna’s new scatter cushions and strategically draped throw rugs brightened the sofa, making it look like an inviting oasis to rest one’s weary bones. But...

  He shuffled his feet. ‘Marianna—’

  ‘No, no, don’t talk to me! I have to concentrate. This recipe is complicated.’

  He touched her arm. ‘It’s just your brothers. They won’t care if you ring out for pizza.’

  ‘Ring out?’ Her mouth dropped open, her hair fizzing about her face in outrage.

  He stared at that mouth and tension coiled up through him.

  ‘I’m not ringing out! This dinner is going to be perfect!’

  Why? Not because of him, he hoped. He didn’t want her putting this kind of pressure on herself on his behalf.

  He tapped a clenched fist against his mouth. It’d be pointless trying to reason with her when she was in this mood, though. Mind you, she’d been distant—wary—ever since he’d returned from Rome yesterday.

  He winced anew when he recalled the way he’d bolted from the clinic during the ultrasound. The moment had been... He rubbed his nape. Well, it’d been perfect for a bit...before he’d started to feel as if he were drowning. Emotions he’d had no name for had pummelled him, trying to drag him under, and he’d needed to get away—needed time to breathe and pull himself back together.

  It was all of those happy family vibes flying about the room. They’d tried to wrestle him into a straitjacket and put a noose around his neck. Worse still, for a moment he’d wanted to let them.

  He didn’t do happy families. He’d be the best father he could be to this child, but he wasn’t marrying Marianna. He dragged a hand down his face. That would be a disaster.

  He’d calmed down. Eventually. He had his head together again.

  Now all he had to do was get through this evening.

  He glanced at Marianna again. Her jerky movements and the way she muttered under her breath told him how much importance she’d placed on this meal. He made a mental note to do all he could to get along with her brothers tonight.

  ‘There’s nothing you can do. Go sit on the sofa and enjoy doing nothing for a change.’

  He didn’t. When she became absorbed again in some complicated manoeuvre involving flour, butter and potato, he slid in behind her and made a start on washing up the tower of dishes that was in danger of toppling over and burying her.

  The scent of her earlier preparations—sautéed onion, garlic and bacon—rose up around him, making his mouth water. He managed to clear one entire sink of dishes without her yelling at him to get out from under her feet or accusing him once of being a neat freak. He even managed to dry and put them away, sliding out of her way whenever she spun around to seize another dish or wooden spoon or ingredient.

  He was just starting on a second sink full of dishes—how could anyone use so many dishes to make one meal?—when a commotion sounded at the front door and Angelo and Nico marched in. Angelo carried an armful of flowers in one hand and a gift-wrapped vase under his arm. Nico bore a brightly wrapped gift. ‘Happy housewarming!’ they bellowed.

  Marianna glared at them and pointed to the clock on the wall. ‘You’re early!’

  ‘We couldn’t wait to see you, bella sorella,’ Angelo said, dropping an arm to her shoulders and easing her away from the stove and towards the living area. In one smooth movement Nico slid into her place and took over the cooking. ‘Besides, we come bearing gifts.’

  It was masterfully done and if he hadn’t had wet hands Ryan would’ve applauded.

  Marianna glanced at the flowers and clasped her hands beneath her chin. ‘Oh! They’re beautiful.’

  Without a word, Ryan took the vase Angelo handed across the breakfast bar and filled it with water.

  Marianna spun around to point a finger at Nico. ‘I know exactly what the two of you are doing!’

  Angelo took the now-filled vase and placed it on the coffee table. ‘Should I just dump the flowers in?’

  Marianna immediately swung back. ‘No, you should not!’ And set about arranging the flowers. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that I know what the two of you are doing. You still don’t think I can cook gnocchi.’

  ‘You can’t,’ Nico said with a grin. ‘And we knew it’s what you’d try to make tonight.’

  She shrugged. ‘It’s your favourite.’ She straightened. ‘And I’ll have you know I’ve become very adept at the dish.’

  ‘No, you haven’t,’ Angelo said with a grin. ‘You’re a brilliant tosser of salads, Mari, you make masterful pizzas, and your omelettes are to die for, but gnocchi isn’t your thing. In the same way that Nico can’t master a good sauterne.’

  ‘Pah!’ She waved that away. ‘We don’t grow the right grapes for sauterne.’

  ‘And yet he keeps trying,’ Angelo said with a teasing grin at his brother.

  ‘Ooh, says you.’ Marianna rolled her eyes. ‘You keep telling me you have a green thumb, but who keeps killing my African violets?’

  Ryan watched the three of them tease each other, boss each other, and a chasm of longing suddenly cracked open in his chest. He didn’t understand it. He tried to shake it off. He told himself he was glad his child would have this family. And he was...but when Marianna eventually married the man of her dreams would their child feel an outsider amidst all of this belonging? As he did.

  ‘You’ve done a good job in here, Ryan,’ Nico said in an undertone. ‘How on earth did you make it into the kitchen without having something thrown at you?’

  ‘Subterfuge...and a quick two-step shuffle to get out of her way whenever she was reaching for something.’

  Her brothers obviously knew her well. And then it hit him. Nico had just called him Ryan, not Paulo. Did that mean Marianna’s brothers had decided on a temporary ceasefire? He put the last dried dish away. ‘Anything I can do?’

  ‘Know anything about gnocchi?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Know anything about wine?’<
br />
  Ryan glanced at the bottle Nico had placed on the bench earlier. ‘I know how to pour it.’

  ‘Then pour away.’

  He poured three glasses of wine and then filled a fourth with mineral water, three ice cubes and a slice of lime—the exact way Marianna liked it. When he took their drinks to them, though, Marianna pursed her lips, glanced over at Nico, and started to rise. Nico chose that moment to move out from behind the breakfast bar with his glass of wine and handed her the wrapped package, ensuring she remained ensconced on the sofa. ‘It’s not a housewarming present,’ he warned. ‘It’s a...’ He shrugged. ‘Open and see.’

  Ryan watched in interest, his breath catching in his chest when Marianna pulled forth the most exquisite teddy bear he’d ever seen. Her eyes filled with tears and she hugged it. ‘Oh, Angelo and Nico, it’s perfect. Just perfect!’

  His heart thudded. Why hadn’t he thought to buy a toy for their baby? Since the scan all he could think about was the baby—the tiny life growing inside Marianna. The moment he’d been able to make out the baby’s image on the monitor a love so powerful and protective had surged through him that, even now, just thinking about it left him reeling. He craved to be the best father he could be. He didn’t want this child to doubt for a single second that it was loved.

  His hands clenched. Could he really bear to be away from Monte Calanetti once the baby was born? Could he really envisage spending months at a time away from his child?

  Nico turned with a wry grin. ‘Want to put a diaper on teddy to match the one on dolly?’

  He forced a smile to lips that didn’t want to work. ‘You might be surprised to find yourself with serious competition in the diaper-changing stakes.’

  As one, he and Nico turned to Angelo with raised eyebrows. The other man raised his hands. ‘No way.’

  Ryan took a sip of wine. ‘Has Mari showed you the ultrasound pictures yet? Our baby is beautiful.’

  Mari’s mouth slackened as she turned those big brown eyes of hers to him. They filled and his chest cramped—please don’t cry, he silently begged—and then they shone. ‘Our baby is perfect!’ She leapt up to seize the scan photos for her brothers to admire.

  Ryan found it hard to believe, but he enjoyed the meal. He didn’t doubt that the other two men were reserving their judgement for the time being, but they’d put their overt hostility to one side.

  Why?

  The answer became increasingly clear as the meal progressed. They adored Marianna and they wanted her to be happy. How could they not love her? She bossed them outrageously, she said deliberately preposterous things to make them laugh, she’d touch their arms in ways that spoke of silent communications he had no knowledge of, but he could see how both men blossomed under her attention, how they relished and treasured it.

  In return, she looked up to them so much and loved them so hard that an ache started up deep inside him.

  He gripped his cutlery until it bit into him. He wanted her to look up to him like that. He wanted to win her respect. He wanted...

  Not love. Never that.

  His heart throbbed. Would she love their baby with the same fierceness that she loved her brothers? If she did, then...then this baby didn’t need him.

  When the children of another man took up her heart and her time, though, would her love lose its strength?

  A hard rock of resentment lodged in his gut.

  If you don’t like the idea, pal, marry her yourself.

  He shot back in his seat. As if that’d work! Couples shouldn’t marry just because they were expecting a baby. It made things ten times worse when they broke up. His parents were proof positive of that. No. He wouldn’t be party to making Marianna resent their child more than she inevitably would.

  He glanced up to find all eyes at the table on him. He straightened and cleared his throat. He had no idea what question had just been shot his way, but... ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to raise.’

  Marianna stared at him and her eyes suddenly narrowed. Nico gestured for him to continue.

  ‘I understand that harvest time is pretty busy?’

  Nico nodded. ‘Flat out.’

  Ryan glanced first at Marianna and then her brothers. ‘Please tell me Marianna won’t be working sixty-to eighty-hour weeks.’

  ‘She’ll be on maternity leave from August,’ Angelo said. ‘Nico and I have already discussed it.’

  He let out a breath. Good.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Marianna’s eyes flashed and she folded her arms. ‘You haven’t discussed this with me.’

  He stared at her folded arms, at the way her fingers clenched and unclenched, recalled the way she’d flung that vase at him and reached out and took the bowl containing the remainder of the fruit salad they’d had for dessert, pretending to help himself to more before placing it out of her reach. Just to be on the safe side.

  ‘I’ll have you know that come harvest I’ll still be more than capable of pulling my weight.’

  ‘I need you to monitor the grapes until the end of July,’ Nico said. ‘But after that I take over.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts.’

  Ryan reached a hand towards her, but she ignored it. He soldiered on anyway. ‘You’re going to be in the last few weeks of your pregnancy. You’re going to have a sore back and aching legs.’ He wished he could bear those things for her.

  ‘It doesn’t make me incapable of doing my job.’

  ‘No one is saying it is,’ Angelo said.

  She made a wild flourish in the air. ‘You cannot exclude me from this!’

  Nico seized her hand. ‘We’re not excluding you, but your health and your bambino’s health is precious to us. You can sit in a chair in the shade and direct proceedings.’

  ‘You mean I can sit and watch you all work while I put my feet up!’

  ‘You’ll still be a part of it.’

  She pulled her hand free from Nico’s. ‘That’s bunk and you know it.’

  Ryan folded his arms. ‘You’re going to have to keep an eye on her.’

  Nico met Ryan’s gaze with a challenge in his own. ‘You could always come back for harvest and keep an eye on her yourself.’

  It took an effort not to run a finger around the collar of his shirt. If things went to plan, he’d be neck deep in his assignment for Conti Industries. He might be able to get away for the odd day, but a week, let alone a whole month, would be out of the question. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’ But he already knew he wouldn’t be back for the harvest.

  ‘Oh, and now they think I need a babysitter! Fabulous!”

  Marianna stalked away to throw herself down on the sofa, where she glowered at them all. Ryan pushed his chair back a tad so he could still include her in the conversation. ‘Marianna gave me a tour of the winery the other day.’

  ‘And?’ Angelo said.

  ‘You two know what I do, right? That I get called in to turn ailing companies around?’

  Nico glared. ‘My vineyard is not ailing.’

  From the corner of his eye he saw Marianna straighten and turn towards them. ‘It’s not,’ Ryan agreed.

  Nico’s glare abated but Angelo’s interest had been piqued. ‘But?’

  ‘You have bottling facilities that stand idle for much of the year. Did you know that further down the valley there’s a brewery that specialises in boutique vinegars? It’s an outfit that doesn’t have its own bottling facilities. Currently they’re sending their stock to Florence for bottling.’

  ‘You’re suggesting we could bottle their vinegar?’

  Ryan shrugged.

  Angelo pursed his lips and glanced at Nico. ‘They’d be interested. It’d reduce their transportation costs. And it’d bring additional money into the vineyard with very little effort on our part.’

  Nico tapped a finger to the table. ‘It’d create more jobs too.’

  Angelo and Nico started talking at each other in a rush. Ryan glanced across at Marianna to find her frownin
g at him, consternation and something else he couldn’t identify in the depths of her eyes.

  She started when she realised he watched her. Seizing a magazine, she buried her nose in it. But he couldn’t help noticing that she didn’t turn a single page.

  Ryan turned back to the other men. ‘I figured it was worth mentioning.’ If they were interested in expanding their operations here, it’d be a good place to start.

  ‘How’d you know about this?’ Angelo asked.

  ‘It’s my job to know.’ Old habits died hard. ‘I was called in a couple of years ago to overhaul a vineyard in the Barossa Valley. It’s one of the things we did to improve their bottom line.’

  ‘And did you save it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Of course.’

  Nico and Angelo started talking ten to the dozen. Marianna came back to the table and joined the debate. Ryan sat back and watched, and hoped he’d proved himself in some small way, hoped he’d eased Marianna’s mind and shown her that he and her brothers could get on.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MARIANNA GAVE UP all pretence of conviviality the moment her brothers’ broad figures disappeared into the warm darkness of the spring night. Trudging back into the living room, she slumped onto the sofa and stared at the beautiful teddy bear they’d bought for their prospective niece or nephew.

  Her eyes filled. Oh, how she loved them!

  Ryan clattered about, taking their now-empty coffee cups and wine glasses into the kitchen. ‘The evening seemed to go well, don’t you think?’

  A happy lilt she hadn’t heard since Thailand threaded through his voice. She slumped further into the sofa. Of course he’d be happy. He’d had a chance to prove his worth and show off his expertise to her brothers.

  He started to run hot water into the sink. ‘Leave them.’ She didn’t shout, though it took an effort not to. Who’d have thought he’d have turned out to be such a neat freak? ‘I’ll do them in the morning.’ At least washing dishes was something she could do.

  Even though she didn’t turn around, she sensed his hesitation before he turned the taps off. He moved across to the living area and she could feel him as he drew closer, as if some invisible cord attached her to him. All nonsense!