Caroline Anderson - The Valtieri Baby

Could he trust himself enough to try? Trust her? He wasn’t sure.

What if she suddenly realised she wasn’t as strong as she thought? What if it all fell apart and she found she couldn’t take it and wanted out? If he let himself love her…

But if he didn’t try, if he didn’t let her try, then they’d lose it all anyway. Life had no guarantees.

‘OK,’ he said, feeling the ground fall away from under his feet. ‘We’ll try—but I’m not promising anything, Anita. I’ve never stuck at this in my life, and I’m thirty-five. That’s a long time to spend moving on.’

‘I know. And we’ll take it step by step, and I won’t put any pressure on you, I promise. Let’s just see what happens.’

Her eyes were gentle, her face so close he only had to move his head a little way for their lips to touch.

She met him halfway, her breath easing over his face in a soft sigh as their lips met. With a ragged groan he gathered her into his arms and kissed her as if she was the most precious thing he’d ever held, and deep inside her she felt a glimmer of hope spring to life.

She knew he loved her. All she had to do was wait for him to realise it, too…

Dear Reader,

A few years ago I wrote a book, The Valtieri Marriage Deal , about a scrummy Italian doctor called Luca Valtieri. He had two brothers, equally gorgeous, who since then have clamoured for their own books. Massimo ( Valtieri’s Bride ), a widower with three adorable children, was the eldest of the family, and Gio, a lawyer, was the youngest brother. They had a family friend, Anita, who planned Luca’s wedding and then Massimo’s, and I thought, What better than to match her up with Gio?

He’s cynical, wary, commitment-phobic, and Anita has loved him her entire life. A wedding planner, she’s deeply romantic and has been waiting years for him to realise that he loves her. But there’s a tragedy lurking in his past—something he’s never told her—and it’s keeping them apart.

And then he’s injured as a result of an attack, and she looks after him. They’re thrown together, and there’s no escape as they travel the passionate and emotional rollercoaster that ensues.

I’ve loved every one of these brothers, but Gio, for me, has a special place in my heart. I hope you find a place for him, too, as you travel their rollercoaster with them.

Love,

Caroline

CAROLINE ANDERSONhas the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, ‘I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband, John, and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!’ Caroline also writes for the Mills & Boon ®Medical Romance™ series.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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For my husband, John, my daughters, Sarah and

Hannah, and my grandson, Maximus, who underline

for me on a daily basis how precious and

important family is. I love you.

‘SIGNORE Valtieri! Wait! Please, Signore, listen to me!’

Her distraught voice sliced through the evening shadows, and Gio’s heart sank. Not now, he thought. Please, not now. He really, really didn’t have the energy to deal with Camilla Ponti diplomatically, and he certainly didn’t have the time.

He’d already stalled his holiday once because of her, and he wasn’t doing it again.

She’d been about to take action against his client, Marco Renaldo, but Marco had insisted on talking to her before the case came to court. Gio had postponed his departure for a day so they could meet this afternoon, and she’d dropped her claim.

Not quietly.

She’d sobbed and begged and pleaded, but her former business partner had left her no choice. Drop the case, or he’d reveal her fraud and embezzlement of the company’s funds. She’d given in, but she’d blamed Gio for putting him up to it, because she was convinced he’d cost her her share of the company.

It was absurd. She’d forfeited any rights to it herself. He couldn’t believe she’d even thought she had a case! The meeting over, he’d sent a text to Anita arranging to pick her up at six, then, more than ready to get out of the city, he’d gone home and stripped off the exquisitely cut suit, the tasteful silk tie Anita had given him for Christmas, the blinding white shirt. He’d put away the immaculate hand-made shoes, the monogrammed cufflinks, also from Anita, and showered and pulled on his favourite jeans and sweater, the battered leather jacket and boots that had seen better days.

Then he’d pulled the refuse bag out of the kitchen waste bin, flung in the remnants of food from the fridge, tossed an empty wine bottle in on top and headed for the door.

He couldn’t get out of Firenze and away from all this quick enough. His luggage was in the car, and he was looking forward to two weeks on the slopes with his family skiing, eating, and thinking about precisely nothing.

Except Anita would be there. Just thinking about it sent a tingle of anticipation through his veins. He’d missed her recently. He’d been avoiding her ever since the night of his brother’s wedding when things had got a little complicated—again—but at least with his whole family present there’d be plenty of people to diffuse the tension, and he knew a huge part of the attraction of this holiday was that she’d be there.

He couldn’t get there soon enough. For some reason, the cut and thrust of his job had lost its lustre recently, and after a day like today he just felt tired and jaded.

And now this.

This woman, who’d somehow found out where he lived and was lying in wait so she could carry on their earlier conversation. Frankly, he’d heard enough.

‘Signora Ponti, there is really nothing more to say,’ he began, groping for diplomacy, but it was wasted on her.

‘You don’t understand! You have to help me—please, listen to me! I need the money—’

‘Signora, everyone needs money, but you can’t just have it if it isn’t yours, and as Signore Renaldo pointed out, you’ve already stolen more than enough from him—’

‘It wasn’t like that! I had reasons—’

‘Everyone has reasons,’ he said tiredly. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m meeting someone and I’m already late.’

‘But I earned that money, I really need it,’ she sobbed, reaching for him with desperate hands. ‘Please, you have to listen!’

He stepped back out of reach, his patience exhausted. ‘No, I don’t. I’ve heard enough,’ he said flatly, and started to turn away, the bag of refuse still in his hand.