shoulder until she saw her friend. Emma nodded. ‘There’s Dawn. Off you go.’
She ignored his flat ‘no’. ‘Dawn is the daughter of Andy, the medical director at our hospital, and his wife Montana,’ she told Gianni. ‘Montana began the birth centre in Lyrebird Lake and now we have seven midwives and a great team. People drive long distances to give birth here.’
Emma was filling the silence. Not something she usually did. He probably wasn’t interested. She kept her eyes on her daughter as she skipped across the grass, but she was tempted to drink in one more close-up appraisal of the drop-dead gorgeous Gianni Bonmarito. Who for some reason she enjoyed teasing. There was something about the snippets told by Angus that captured her imagination. And confirmed the absolute tragedy and darkness she saw in his eyes.
She didn’t know why he affected her so deeply, so achingly that she wanted to draw his big swarthy head down on her breast and soothe his brow. Maybe kiss those heavy, lash-framed eyelids and comfort the inner demons she could see in his soul. Grace ran off with Dawn, and Emma turned back to the man beside her and glanced quickly one more time.
New heat that had nothing to do with an unexpectedly warm day tickled her skin. She’d known that final glance would ruin her. She looked away to the house instead. ‘I’d better see if I can entice Louisa, Angus’s stepmother, out to the group. She should be with us.’ And I need to get away from you.
‘I will come.’ Gianni fell into step beside her and though her brain said, Please don’t, she could feel the thrum of awareness between them like a tiny swarm of nuisance gnats that often dusted the lake in the late afternoon. All strange feelings she wasn’t usually disturbed with.
She went for lightness. ‘So you’re good in the kitchen, are you?’ It was easier to tease and the thought made her smile. He looked anything but the kind of man who would prepare a meal with his own hands.
‘I enjoy cooking. My parents had a wonderful house-keeper who humoured me in the kitchen. Especially my national dishes. I find the sensuality of food delightful.’ An unexpectedly wicked light shone in his eyes and as she intercepted the innuendo his words dusted her cheeks with pink. She promised herself she wouldn’t be caught alone with Gianni in a kitchen any time soon and dropped the topic like the hot gnocchi it was.
The silence lengthened and she tumbled into speech. ‘I tried to get Louisa to join us before,’ she said, ‘but she seemed happier focussed on the catering rather than being a part of the group in her loss.’
He didn’t answer, didn’t help the silence with his own attempt to lighten the awareness between them, until even the way they moved in perfect synchronisation towards the wide wooden steps that led onto the porch stretched her nerves. She’d never met anyone like him.
Politely, Gianni paused to allow her to precede him up the steps. He should say something but he could think of nothing except the way he was aware of her every movement and sway of her hips. Heat flowed between them as she slid past his body, and even though they didn’t touch his flesh prickled. His eyes were drawn again to the swing of her slim hips. Hips that enticed as easily as his breath eased in and out. It was the sun raising both their temperatures, he told himself sternly.
The house was a large, many-gabled country home with a stained-glass-edged front door that led to a central hallway. It was dim and cool inside, to his relief, and the scent of furniture oil and eucalyptus grounded him.
He glanced into high-ceilinged bedrooms that led off the hallway and the old-fashioned furniture looked warm and welcoming. Like everything in this town.
She must have seen his look. ‘The doctor’s surgery and clinic rooms are in the back of the house and have a separate entrance,’ Emma said. ‘Visiting medical and nursing staff can stay here and Louisa caters for them.’ Then they came to the back half of the house. ‘This is the heart of the home—Louisa’s kitchen.’
Louisa, a round dumpling of a woman with soft pillow breasts that many a tiny child had snuggled into, stood at the old stone sink and stared out the window, a dishcloth lying still in her hand against a cup.
She had the look on her face he’d seen too many times in his work, the grief for a loved one passing, Gianni thought with a rush of sympathy. The look he had seen so frequently in Samoa after the tsunami. Grief that stayed with him late in the night and never allowed his own demons to settle.
Emma crossed the room and rested one hand on the cup in case she startled Louisa into dropping it, and the other arm she slid around the little woman’s waist.
‘You okay?’ Emma’s voice was melodic, caring and made the twists in his belly ache harder. He watched her hug Louisa softly in sympathy and Louisa turned her lined face so she could rest her head against Emma’s shoulder for a moment.
He could almost taste the comfort the older woman gained. Who was this Emma Rose, compassionately maternal to a woman three times her age? He wondered what had happened in this young woman’s life to give her such wisdom beyond her years. It was better to think of this than his whimsy for a hug himself.
But the glimpses of Emma’s effect on him had been enough to warn him she was far too dangerous for hugging. Dangerous in a way he hadn’t been susceptible to for too many years. In ways he didn’t want to be susceptible to ever again.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Louisa sighed and Gianni saw the effort she made to smile. ‘I’m just thanking the Lord for the last five years, and the twenty years as his friend before that. He was a good man.’
Emma squeezed her shoulder one more time and then stepped away. ‘I know it. And he loved you dearly, as we all do. Is there something we can do for you?’ Gianni saw her glance back at him and even that brief acknowledgement was enough to make his belly tighten.
But this Emma was a woman from the other side of the world. A side of the world he was leaving tomorrow. He’d need to remember that.
‘Bless you both. No.’ The Yorkshire accent seemed broader as Louisa jollied herself back into efficiency. ‘I’ll come out and sit in the shade with you, though, and enjoy the company of Ned’s family and friends.’
‘Your family and friends,’ Emma corrected gently.
‘Aye, of course,’ she said, and sighed.
Together the three of them moved out to the lawn and Gianni walked on Louisa’s other side so that she was drawn into the group under the tree and settled in a comfortable chair.
Gianni watched as she was fussed over and one of the women handed her a baby to nurse. Instantly Louisa was diverted. He looked at Emma who unobtrusively nodded with satisfaction.
He liked it that she was pleased the older woman was comforted. The feel of these people made him think of the best times he’d had as a child. Times he and his brother had escaped to play with the happy-go-lucky village children where such a sense of support and warmth had been unburdened by the responsibility of being part of the most important family. Carefree. Like Emma made him feel. He needed to put distance between them. Even a little would help prevent his fingers from stroking her cheek because he could imagine the silk beneath his fingers too vividly. ‘Perhaps you’d like a glass of punch, Emma?’ Gianni indicated the clothcovered table under the tree.
‘I’ll come with you.’ Emma glanced down at Louisa, who had buried her nose in the baby’s hair. ‘Louisa is settled.’
‘Well done,’ he said quietly
