Italian Bachelors: Ruthless Propositions: Taming Her Italian Boss / The Uncompromising Italian / Secrets of the Playboy's Bride. Fiona Harper
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‘If you don’t think I’m cut out to be a nanny, why on earth do you want me to stay and look after Sofia?’
Max gave her a weary look. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t think you could do the job.’ He smiled gently. ‘I said it because I didn’t think you should commit yourself to something when your talent clearly lies elsewhere.’
Ruby’s eyes widened. ‘You think I have talent?’
He frowned. ‘Don’t you? Your drawings are fabulous, and that doodle you did on my plans set ideas firing off in my head so fast I could hardly keep up with them.’ The smile grew into a grin. ‘I have my “wow factor” for the Institute now, Ruby, and it’s all because of you.’
She closed her eyes and opened them again, not quite able to believe what she was hearing. ‘Do you... Do you think I should be an architect?’
His eyes warmed, making her forget the salty lagoon breeze that kept lifting the shorter bits of her hair now and then. ‘I think you could do that if you wanted to, but there’s something about your sketches that’s so full of life and personality. I think you’ve got something there. They’re quirky and original and full of...’
You. His eyes must have said that bit, because his mouth had stopped moving.
‘They’re captivating.’
Ruby felt the echo of his words rumble deep down inside her. Or maybe it was the crack of thunder that shook the sky over their heads.
Oh, heck. She really was in trouble, wasn’t she? How could she leave now?
And maybe Max was right. Maybe it was time to stop running. She might not have to see being a nanny through to the bitter end, but she could see this job through. How could she leave them all in the lurch like this? Sofia wouldn’t understand where she’d gone and feel abandoned all over again, Fina would be saddled with looking after a toddler full time, and Max wouldn’t have time to work on his plans, and she really wanted him to do that.
She still didn’t believe there was much in the future for them, even if some bizarre chemistry was popping between them, but she’d like to visit the National Institute of Fine Art on a rainy afternoon in a few years’ time and sit under Max’s atrium and feel happy—and maybe a little sad—to know that she’d had something to do with it, that in some lasting way she had a tiny connection to him.
She looked down at the rucksack threatening to pitch off the dock and into the canal. The taxi driver, whom she’d forgotten all about, coughed and mumbled something grumpily about being made to hang about in this kind of weather. She shot him a look of desperation.
He shrugged in that fatalistic Italian way, his expression saying, Are you coming or not?
Ruby looked back at Max. He was waiting. Not shouting. Not bulldozering. It was totally her choice and she knew he would hold no grudges if she got on this boat and told the driver to take her to the Piazzale Roma to catch a train.
She swallowed and twisted to face the driver and rummaged in her pocket and gave him a tip for his trouble. ‘Mi dispiace, signore.’
* * *
Ruby woke up to sunshine pouring into her bedroom the next morning. She stumbled over to the window, which overlooked a narrow little canal that ran down the side of the palazzo. It almost felt as if the night before had never happened. There was no hint of the storm. The sky was the clear pale blue of a baby’s blanket, hardly a cloud to mar it, and where the sun hit the canal it was a fierce and glittering emerald.
Things were just as surreal at breakfast, with Fina bustling around and fussing over Sofia, never once mentioning that Ruby had packed her bags and tried to leave last night.
Max had been in the library since before she’d got up, and that had been pretty early. She half expected him to bury himself away all day, working on his plans until it was time to pack up and leave for the airport. She didn’t know what would be worse: not seeing him most of the day or spending a bittersweet last few hours with him before he returned to London. She’d forgotten all about that last night when she’d agreed to stay. So when the salon door opened at ten o’clock and Max walked in, Ruby’s heart leapt and cowered at the same time.
‘What do you want to do this morning?’ he asked his niece, glancing briefly at Ruby and giving a nod of greeting.
‘Fishing!’ Sofia yelled and ran off in the direction of the cupboard where the crabbing gear was kept.
Both Ruby and Max charged after her, knowing just how tightly that cupboard was packed and just how much mischief an unattended two-year-old could get up to inside it. They managed to beat Sofia to the lines and hooks, but Max gave her a bucket and a small net to carry to keep her happy. And then they bustled around, getting into the boat, coaxing Sofia into a life jacket, making sure she didn’t let go of her bucket and leave it floating down a canal somewhere.
She and Max worked as a team, exchanging words when needed, passing equipment to each other, but it wasn’t until they were standing at Max’s favourite crabbing spot, the little boat moored up and bobbing about a short distance away, that they slowed down enough for Ruby to get a sense of his mood.
She watched him gently helping Sofia wind an empty line back up without getting it tangled. He’d been polite this morning, almost friendly.
Had she imagined it? Had it all been some weird dream, a spell cast by this contrary city?
She let out a long sigh. Maybe it was better if that was the case. It was sheer craziness. Even if she’d seen what she’d thought she’d seen in his eyes last night, what did she think was going to happen? A wild fling in his mother’s house, with a toddler running around?
Once again, get real, Ruby.
She knelt down and took interest in what Sofia was doing. She’d plopped the crab line into the water for the fourth or fifth time, but so far no luck. The little girl heaved out a sigh. ‘Fish go ʼway,’ she said slightly despondently.
Ruby couldn’t help but smile. Despite her self-contained manner, Sofia had a little bit of her grandmother’s flair for drama in her. She forgot herself, looked up at Max to share the joke. He was crouching the other side of Sofia, who was sitting on the edge of the fondamenta where the railings parted, her little legs swinging above the water, and their eyes met across the top of her head.
Ruby almost fell in the canal.
It was all there, everything he hadn’t said last night and everything he had.
Oh, heck. Just when she’d almost managed to talk some sense into herself.
And it still all did make sense. He was her boss. He was going back to London in a matter of hours. He was her total polar opposite. In what world was that anything but a recipe for disaster?
Everywhere but Venice, she discovered as a slow smile spread across her lips. She felt she must be glowing. Actually radiating something. It would probably scare the fish away.
She wanted to lean across, press her lips to his, wind her arms around his neck and just taste him. Feel him. Dive into him.
‘Fish!’ Sofia yelled, and it was almost her who did the diving. She got so excited she almost toppled off the edge into the canal. It was only Max’s quick reflexes that saved her.
After that they made sure they had their eyes on Sofia instead of each other at all times. It didn’t matter, though. It was pulsing in the air around them, like a wonderful secret, a song carried on a radio wave that only they could tune into.
She felt it as they ended their crabbing expedition, a weary Sofia rubbing her eyes and complaining about being hungry. She felt it as they stood mere inches apart at the front of the boat, Max steering, her holding Sofia so she could see over the top of the little motorboat’s windscreen. Felt it as they passed buckets and nets and bags to each other from boat to dry land.
As they pulled the last of the luggage from the boat and