The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain. Margaret Mayo
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Penny heard Santo’s car she imagined him coming in and throwing his jacket on the back of a chair, pouring himself a drink maybe. She imagined his strongly carved face, the high cheekbones, the straight nose and the slash of his mouth. Would his features be relaxed or would the trials of the day still be imposed on them?
Had he eaten? she wondered, and then laughed at herself for even thinking such a thing. What did she care? Emily had cooked a succulent roast of beef with all the trimmings and Penny had eaten every last morsel. Even Chloe had cleaned her plate.
In most of her other placements Penny had cooked for her charges; it made a change to have a meal provided for her. She didn’t know yet whether this was the norm. And if so, what was she to do with herself while Chloe was at school? There were definitely a few things she needed to discuss with Mr De Luca.
He had said he would talk to her tonight. Should she go down—or did he appreciate solitude after a long day at the office? She realised that she knew nothing about him—except that he stirred her senses like mad.
On the other hand, they really did need to talk. Even as the thought flashed through her mind a loud rap came on the door, startling her, making her jump, sending her heart into panic mode.
‘Miss Keeling!’
Oh, that voice. That deep glorious voice!
Nerve-ends tingled and a flood of warmth filled Penny’s body and for a few seconds she could do nothing. She couldn’t answer, she couldn’t even get up. It was crazy feeling like this about a man whom she’d only just met, and more importantly a man she was now working for.
But how could she hide such vast emotions? Supposing they showed on her face? How embarrassing would that be? For heaven’s sake, she was a professional not some giddy schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher.
She closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath, and when she opened them Santo was standing in front of her.
‘Were you ignoring me, Miss Keeling?’
Not ignoring; trying to prepare herself for the onslaught of her senses that she knew would take place. And it did! With his shirtsleeves rolled up, revealing sinewy forearms and his top three buttons undone so that her eyes feasted on smooth, tanned skin, skin that tempted her fingers to touch, to feel, to taste even, she could hardly get her breath.
‘I wouldn’t dare, Mr De Luca,’ she answered, surprised to hear how strong her voice sounded; no hint at all of her inner struggle.
Straight black brows rose and dark, dangerous eyes locked into hers.
He didn’t believe her and she could hardly blame him. She felt like an idiot now and pushed herself swiftly to her feet. ‘I was actually just thinking of coming down to see you. You said you needed to talk?’
‘That is correct,’ he answered brusquely. ‘But we may as well do it here.’
Before she could even bat an eyelid he had taken the companion chair next to hers. The two armchairs in the room were overstuffed and not entirely comfortable and she almost smiled when she saw Santo’s expression.
‘How can you sit in a chair like this?’ he asked, shifting his large frame. ‘I’ll get them changed immediately.’
Penny guessed that all the rooms in the house had been furnished by an interior designer with no thought for comfort, only aesthetic beauty. And they were beautiful chairs. But…
‘Come, we’ll talk downstairs. I can’t sit here.’
He strode from the room and Penny had no choice but to follow. She devoured him with her eyes as she did so, noting the way his shirt stretched across his broad, muscular back, the way his trousers were similarly taut over his behind and hips, emphasising once again his athletic physique.
Was she crazy for noticing all these things about her new employer? Was she heading for danger? Ought she to get out while the going was good? Or could she be strong enough to hide her feelings?
They were so out of character. She had never, in the whole of her twenty-seven years, felt like this about a man she hardly knew. A man who—according to her friend—had a fierce reputation for eating females for supper. And he certainly wouldn’t appreciate such feelings from his daughter’s nanny.
He led her into what had to be his private sitting room, a fairly small room with lovely deep black leather armchairs and French windows opening out on to a patio area filled with tubs of begonias in every shade of apricot imaginable. To one side was a hedge of honey-suckle and the sweet scent of it filtered into the room.
Penny inhaled appreciatively as she sat down. ‘What a beautiful smell.’
‘I enjoy this time of night,’ he agreed. ‘Everywhere’s so peaceful. Would you care for a drink?’
Much as she would like one Penny shook her head. She most definitely needed to keep it clear. It was intoxicated enough with the sheer sight of him. ‘You have a beautiful daughter, Mr De Luca.’
He nodded and gave a faint smile. ‘Thank you. How did you get on with her?’ He stretched his long legs out, crossing them at the ankles, looking totally relaxed for a change.
‘We hit it off straight away. She liked me, I think; I like her. You have nothing to fear. I will look after her well.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. She means everything to me.’ He picked up his drink, which he must have left on the table when he had come to seek her, and Penny couldn’t help noticing what beautiful, long fingers he had, how well-manicured his nails were. And for a very brief second she wondered what it would feel like to be touched by those fingers, to have them stroke her skin.
Simply thinking about it created a storm and it took an extreme effort to dash the thought away. Fantasising about this man was a dangerous occupation. One she would do well to steer away from.
‘I need you to tell me exactly what my responsibilities are,’ she said, stiffening her spine and hoping she sounded efficient and businesslike. ‘I expected to have to cook for Chloe but it would appear your housekeeper does that.’
‘Emily does all the cooking and washing,’ he agreed, ‘and I have cleaners who come in on a weekly basis. Obviously I’ll expect you to cook for my daughter when Emily has her day off. To be quite honest with you, Miss Keeling, I’m not entirely sure what a nanny’s duties are. I—’
He pulled up short, deciding against whatever it was he’d been going to say. ‘Naturally I wish you to take care of my daughter’s welfare, but when she’s at school your time is your own. Which in effect makes up for your early mornings and late evenings. Do you have a boyfriend? Will you be needing time off?’
‘Needing it, Mr De Luca?’ questioned Penny, her blue eyes sparking dramatically. ‘It’s my right. No one works seven days a week.’ Her tone was sharper than she’d intended. Possibly because of the way her senses were still all over the place.
‘So let’s say your hours are flexible,’ he agreed. ‘And if you do have a boyfriend I must ask that you do not bring him back here.’
Penny looked at him boldly, her chin high. ‘As a matter of fact there is no one. But surely that was something you should have queried before you took me on?’
He gave a very slight lift of his shoulders. ‘I’m new to this game.’
‘So you’re making up the rules as you go along?’ she asked.
Dark eyes narrowed and a muscle jerked dangerously in his jaw. ‘Are you questioning my values?’
Penny drew in a swift breath. ‘Not if my job depends on it. But I’m sure you see my point?’
To her surprise he threw his head back and laughed. ‘Touché, Penny. I may call you Penny?’
Oh, goodness, the way her name rolled off his tongue! He said it like no one else. Made it sound different and—dared she say