A Taste Of Italy: Midwife, Mother...Italian's Wife. Fiona McArthur
father?’
Ben’s arm slid away and he straightened and gazed across the lake. ‘Yes. A little.’
She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said, ‘No—nothing,’ so the other answer made her curious. She couldn’t read his face. ‘What could you know? I didn’t tell you much.’
Still he didn’t look at her. ‘I found out what I needed to. To be sure you were safe when I took you away. To be sure Jack was safe.’
She really didn’t want to hear those words. To be sure Jack was safe. Her stomach plummeted as she watched his profile. ‘I think Vincente was involved with the mob on a small scale.’
Ben winced. ‘I believe he was. I spoke to his mother and he was betrothed to a woman in Italy so he was never going to marry you.’
‘Do you think there is any reason they’d want Jack now?’ She’d said it. Out loud because she needed her father to deny, say it was nonsense, because she couldn’t say it to Leon, whom she needed to tell.
Ben looked away again and didn’t meet her eyes. Her stomach sank and she didn’t want to think about the ramifications of that. He hesitated but then he said, ‘Can’t think of one.’
Tammy sighed with relief. ‘Of course not.’
THE picnic had been Jack’s idea. The boys kicked a soccer ball between them as they walked down to the water along the shaded path and every now and then Jack cupped his hands around his mouth and called, ‘Coo-ee,’ across the lake. Paulo would imitate him. The echoes bounced off the hills across the lake and rolled back over the water and Tammy could hear the boys giggle up ahead as they trickled the ball between them.
Somewhere to the right a kookaburra laughed at nothing in particular and she drew the moment in with the breath of freshly mown grass that drifted across the street. It was good to remember what normal felt like.
Not that it was normal to have a gorgeous Italian man by her side. ‘The hamper not too heavy, Leon?’ Tammy glanced across as they strode down the leaf-strewn path.
Leon swung the hamper as if it was filled with fluff and nonsense but Tammy knew it must have weighed a ton. ‘It’s fine.’
Like heck it was. She’d put cans of soft drink, a thermos of freshly brewed coffee, mountains of savoury mini quiches, cold sausage rolls and a full bottle of tomato sauce in with the meat and rolls. Small boys could eat man-size portions. Then there were the sweets on plates Misty had forced on her.
As she walked she kept glancing at his bulging biceps and, becoming more noticeable, the veins in Leon’s right arm. She clamped her lips on the smile that wanted to spread across her face. She could tell there was a little strain adding up. He swapped to the other arm.
By the time they’d reached one of the picnic tables under the trees she could’ve put a drip in his veins with a garden hose. She waited for the sigh as he lifted the bag onto the table and wasn’t disappointed. She had to laugh.
He slanted a glance at her. ‘And what amuses you?’
‘How useful a man’s arm is when you need it.’ She grinned down at the hamper. ‘I’m afraid I loaded the food up. On my own I’d have put it in the car and driven it down.’
He smiled and said cryptically, ‘It kept my hands busy.’
Just one little comment like that and a dragon unfurled inside her stomach. He could seduce her in an instant in an open park with children a few feet away. How did he do that?
When the soccer ball came out of nowhere and almost hit her in the head, it put paid to the dragon and she stumbled back. Leon’s hand speared out to knock the ball away, then caught her arm to help her balance. He turned and raised his brows at the boys.
‘Oops. Sorry, Mum.’ There was a pause and then Jack added, ‘Sorry, Mr Bonmarito.’
‘Perhaps you could aim for those trees behind you,’ Leon suggested mildly, but the boys immediately spun to face the other way.
‘You’re proving handy this morning.’
‘Sì.’ Very quietly, under his breath, she heard him add, ‘And sometimes at night.’
Tammy fought the tide of colour away from her cheeks and just managed to keep it in check as she began to unpack the hamper. Change subject. ‘What time do you meet Gianni and Emma at the airport?’
‘Five. Our plane leaves at eight.’ Leon reached across and took the heavy thermos and weighed it in his hand. He raised his brows at her. ‘Could you not find a house brick to place in the bag as well?’
She grinned. He made her smile and she sneaked a look at his handsome profile as he gazed across the lake. She’d miss him. More than a little. She couldn’t remember ever being so at ease with a man on one hand and so supersensitised on the other.
Leon reached in and stole a juicy prawn wrapped in lettuce and she offered the tiny plastic container with seafood sauce.
He smiled and dipped, then took his time raising it to his mouth, a teasing light in his dark eyes and she couldn’t help but follow it. He was laughing at her but it was nice. She watched him indulgently as he closed his eyes in pleasure. But when he licked those glorious lips, capable of such heat and hunger, last night flooded back and she wished she’d just given him the sauce and run away.
‘Your seafood is amazing.’
‘Ah.’ Brain dead. Wake up. ‘Yes. I love it.’ She replaced the lid on the sauce in such a hurry it splashed over her hand, but before she could wipe it clean he’d taken her wrist and brought it to his mouth. A long slow sip of sauce and she was undone. Her dragon breathed a spurt of fire as her belly unfurled and there was no hope of keeping the pink out of her face this time. She glanced hurriedly at the boys but they were running and whooping between the trees with the ball.
She rushed into speech. ‘Misty’s excelled herself in sweets. It’s almost embarrassing.’ She opened the folded cloth to offer the plates with plastic film displaying their contents. ‘Let’s see,’ she garbled. ‘Oh, Lamingtons.’ Bite-size Lamingtons, chocolate eclairs oozing creamy custard, tiny swirls of meringue with tart lemon sauce in the middle. And another squat steel thermos jammed with homemade ice cream and some waffle cones to hold the ice cream which helped restore her sense of humour. With the crockery and the thermos she’d bet that weighed a ton too.
Leon wasn’t seeing the food. He would miss her. His hands stretched in his pockets where he’d thrust them away from her. He wanted to pull her into his arms and lose himself and could feel the tension between them stretching. Perhaps he should kick the ball with the boys as a more useful outlet for unexpected action. ‘Do you need help setting out the food?’
She shook her head. ‘A bit of space would be great.’
He grinned to himself. ‘Always so complimentary. It is fortunate my feelings cannot be hurt.’
‘Or mine,’ she retaliated, and he turned away with a shake of his head. She could be stubborn and blunt to the point of offence, but despite her efforts he could see through the independent facade she insisted on showing him. He had the impression it was he that brought out this harsher side of her and he acknowledged she had reason to distance him.
‘Kick me the ball, Paulo,’ he called, and the boys whooped as he joined their game. Fearlessly Jack attempted to tackle and when Leon sidestepped him Jack fell laughing to the ground.
Paulo swooped on his father while he was distracted and stole the ball and the three of them were bumping and pushing one another as they fought for possession. It was no surprise that soon they were all laughing and wrestling on the ground.
The immaculate Leon Bonmarito