Sue MacKay - The Italian Surgeon's Secret Baby

‘Sorry.’ Elene burst through the doorway, her chest rising and falling as though she’d run through the house. ‘That’s one powerful shower. I’ve probably used all your hot water, but it was worth it. All the aches gone, leaving me feeling normal again.’

She certainly looked it. Standing tall for someone so short, her face was relaxed for the first time since he’d discovered her in his waiting room, her gaze clear of worry; she looked alert. Hot and sexy normal. The spoon he stirred the sauce with clattered into the pot. This is Elene. She doesn’t do sexy. Not around him, any rate. She did once.

With effort he rolled a shoulder. ‘There’s a glass of Sangiovese on the table. One of Italy’s best secrets.’ Getting back on track was essential. For his sanity, for the days ahead when they’d no doubt be battling over childcare issues. She’d once called him a fly-by-night. Well, Miss Lowe, I’m going to prove how wrong you were. He had not liked her contemptuous opinion of him, even when he’d understood she was trying to protect Danielle.

Not that he’d deny he’d spent a year living loosely after his fiancée, Sandy, had stolen from his charity and attempted to bring his esteemed family into disrepute by accusing him of taking the funds and setting her up to take the fall. Except Sandy was the one to languish in jail. His family had pushed him to take a year off and go live a little, put his mistake behind him. He’d gone reluctantly, the guilt heavy, but it seemed his parents knew what they were doing. New Zealand, with its great outdoors culture and the easy lifestyle, had been liberating and exciting. Yet from the day he’d landed back on Italian soil he’d been determined never to cause a ripple of trouble for his family again and got on with achieving his interrupted goals. With the exception of one—loving a woman enough to marry her and have bambini . His gaze drifted to Elene, now savouring the wine.

‘Delicious.’ Elene gave him a smile that slid under his skin as easily as cream over hot pie. ‘I haven’t had a Sangiovese since I was last in Italy.’

‘How long ago was that?’ Might as well learn as much as possible while she was in a good mood.

‘Three years. I worked at a hospital in Firenze most of my stay. Loved every moment.’ Another sip, and those full lips were momentarily rich, dark red.

Mattia’s belly tightened. He took a large gulp from his glass. Should not have brought her here. Oh, yes, and what was he supposed to have done when she had nowhere to go? Another mouthful and he reached for the bottle. This was going to be a long night, followed by some long days, and more nights. ‘You had a licence to practice here?’

‘I did, and I’ve kept it up. Easier than having to redo it further down the track if I decided to revisit my family.’

That might come in handy for the future. ‘Your mother’s Italian, right?’ He vaguely remembered something about Elene’s heritage after she’d spoken to him in Italian once in Theatre.

Elene nodded. ‘When she was two her parents moved to New Zealand. Years later she met my dad, who owned a vineyard with his brother in Masterton. Now one of my younger sisters is the winemaker and my parents are happy dishing out advice and being grandparents.’

Grandparents? To his daughter? How did they feel about Elene bringing Aimee over here to meet him and his family? He wasn’t asking. There’d been enough shocks for one day. Time to relax and enjoy dinner—and the company. ‘So you’ll be a pasta fan, then.’

‘Duh.’ Her deliberate eye-roll made him laugh.

‘What about all that lamb and beef Kiwis seem to eat by the ton? You enjoy those too?’

‘What’s not to like about roast lamb leg or medium rare sirloin steak?’ She grinned.

His stomach flipped. He’d never seen her grin before. Better for him if he didn’t again. For some inexplicable reason that grin affected him deeply. It was cheeky, friendly, normal around him. This was not the Elene he thought he knew.

Elene glanced behind him. ‘Your pot’s boiling over.’

Whipping around, he rescued the pot before too big a mess was made on the stove top. Distracted, that was the problem. ‘What about food for Aimee?’

‘I’ve got that covered. I brought enough to get through the first days.’ She was beside him, holding up a sealed packet with a teddy bear with oats in its paw on the front. ‘Just need a small jug to heat this up.’

‘I’ll have to get her onto pasta quick-smart.’ Handing Elene what she required, Mattia returned to concentrating on the pasta sauce. Burning it in front of her was not an option. Nor was letting the water boil over again.

Silence fell between them, occasionally broken by Aimee’s mutterings as she placed block on top of block, only to have them tumble to the floor time after time. Patiently she’d start again, until Elene knelt down to straighten the stack after each placement. Finally all the blocks were used up and Aimee shrieked with delight, clapping her hands wildly and knocking the stack over.

Mattia watched them together. Two very different heads bent over the blocks. One with straight auburn hair, the other black and curly. Chalk and cheese. Elene and Aimee. ‘Why did Danielle choose Aimee for a name?’

That auburn head flipped up, a challenge in her gaze. ‘You don’t like her name?’

‘Did I say that? I was wondering if there was a connection to someone Danielle had been close to, someone special.’ He liked the name even if it wasn’t Italian.

She nodded. ‘Danielle was raised by her Grandma Aimee.’

Mattia nodded. ‘That’s nice. Middle name?’

Defiance filled her eyes. ‘Elene.’

‘So she’s got an Italian name. I like that. Surname?’ Shut up. Mattia snatched up the pot and drained the water from the pasta. And waited for the explosion.

* * *

Elene knew Mattia must be bursting with questions, but right now she needed to take it easy. They’d been together for only a couple of hours and there were ordinary things to do, like feeding Aimee and playing with her until that pent-up energy wore off. Deliberately or not, he’d lured her into a false sense of security. Concentration was required so as not to miss anything.

‘Don’t tell me it’s Lowe,’ Mattia growled impatiently.

Her hackles rose in an instant. ‘What would be wrong with that?’ Her father would’ve been proud for Aimee to have the family name.

‘Nothing, I suppose.’

‘You suppose? Oh, buster, you suppose nothing. You haven’t got a clue what’s happened since you left Wellington. What Danielle wanted for her daughter. What she suffered, knowing she’d never see Aimee grow up. All you’re worried about is a name.’ Where did those damned tears come from? She slashed at her cheeks and reached for Aimee to hug her tight, only Mattia was there, holding out a paper towel for her to wipe her face before he picked up his daughter.

‘Tell me more so I am clued up.’

Reaching for her wine, Elene drew deep breaths. She and Danielle had tried to prepare for this moment, but it was always going to be difficult explaining her friend’s reasons for refusing to tell Mattia about his child, and her own fear that he’d want full custody of his daughter.

‘Elene?’ He said her name softly, touching her deeply, questioning her determination not to fall in love again. ‘I understand talking about her must be difficult.’

She nodded. ‘Did Danielle ever mention her childhood to you?’ She’d be surprised if she had.

Topping up her glass, Mattia said, ‘Not a word.’

‘Her mother ran away when she was three and her father brought her up. Make that dragged her up. There was little money, a continuous stream of women who were unkind to her, and she had few friends. At fourteen she got pregnant and her father tried to force her to have an abortion. Somehow, and I’m not sure of the details here, she avoided the termination, only to have her father make her sign the baby over for adoption.’