others put in.”
“This kind of effort must be twenty-four seven.”
“What about you?” He asked, meandering toward a trickling water feature displaying a god-like figure ready to sling a lightning bolt.
“No green thumbs here.” Moving to join him, she tipped her head at the fountain. “Is that Zeus?” She remembered a recent movie about the Titans. “The god of war, right?”
“Zeus is the god of justice. The supreme protector. Perhaps because he could have lost his life at the very moment he entered the world.”
“Really? How?” Moving to sit on the cool fountain ledge, she took another bite. She loved to hear about ancient legends.
“His father, Cronus, believed in a prophecy. He would be overthrown by his son as he had once overthrown his own father. To save her newborn, Rhea, Zeus’s mother, gave him up at birth then tricked her husband into thinking a rock wrapped in swaddling clothes was the child, which Cronus promptly disposed of. He didn’t know that his son, Zeus, was being reared by a nymph in Crete. When he was grown, Zeus joined forces with his other siblings to defeat the Titans, including his father.”
She couldn’t help but be drawn by Mateo’s story, as well as the emotion simmering beneath his words. Had she imagined the shadow that had crossed his gaze when he spoke of that mother needing to give up her child?
“What happened to Zeus after the clash?” She asked.
“He ruled over Olympus as well as the mortals, and fathered many children.”
“Sounds noble.”
“The great majority of his offspring were conceived through adulterous affairs, I’m afraid.”
Oh. “Not so good for the demigod kids.”
“Not so good for any child.”
Bailey studied his classic profile as he peered off into the night … the high forehead and proud, hawkish nose. She wanted to ask more. Not only about this adulterous yet protective Roman god but also about the narrator of his tale. Not that Mateo’s life was any of her business. Although …
For the moment he seemed to have put aside his more paranoid feelings toward her, and this was an informal chat. In the morning she’d be well rested and on her way, so where was the harm in asking more?
Making a pretense of examining the gardens, she crossed her ankles and swung her feet out and back.
“Mama mentioned that you left Casa Buona when you were twelve.”
His hesitation—a single beat—was barely enough to notice.
“My father was moving to Australia. He explained about the opportunities here. Ernesto was an accountant and wanted to look after my higher education.”
“Have you lived in Sydney since?”
He nodded. “But I travel when I can.”
“You must have built a lot of memories here after so long.”
Who were his friends? All professionals like him? Did he have any other family Down Under?
But Mateo didn’t respond. He merely looked over the gardens with those dark thoughtful eyes. From the firm set of his jaw, her host had divulged all he would tonight. Understandable. They were little more than strangers. And, despite this intimate atmosphere, they were destined to remain that way.
A statue caught Bailey’s eye. After slipping off her perch, she crossed over and ran a hand across the cool stone.
“I like this one.”
It was a mother, her head bowed over the baby she held. The tone conjured up memories of Bailey’s own mother … how loving and devoted she’d been. Like Rhea. Both mothers had needed to leave their child, though neither woman had wanted to. If she lived to one hundred, Bailey would miss her till the day she died.
“Is this supposed to be Zeus as an infant?” She asked, her gaze on the baby now.
Mateo’s deep voice came from behind. “No. More a signature to my profession, I suppose.”
His profession. An obstetrician. One of the best in Australia, Mama had said, and more than once.
“How many babies have you brought into the world?” She asked, studying the soft loving smile adorning the statue’s face.
When he didn’t reply, she edged around and almost lost her breath. Mateo was standing close … close enough for her to inhale that undeniable masculine scent. Near enough to be drawn by its natural heady lure. As his intense gaze glittered down and searched hers, a lock of dark hair dropped over his brow and jumped in the breeze.
“… to count.”
Coming to, Bailey gathered herself. He’d been speaking, but she’d only caught his last words.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “To count what?”
His brows swooped together. “How many babies I’ve delivered. Too many to count.”
Bailey withered as her cheeks heated up. How had she lost track of their conversation so completely?
But she knew how. Whether he was being polite or fiery and passionate, Mateo exuded an energy that drew her in.
Indisputable.
Unwelcome.
Heartbeat throbbing in her throat, she lowered her gaze and turned a little away. “Guess they all blur after a time.”
“Not at all. Each safe delivery is an accomplishment I never take for granted.”
The obvious remained unsaid. Even in this day and age, some deliveries wouldn’t go as planned. No matter how skilled, every doctor suffered defeats. Just like criminal lawyers.
She remembered her parents speaking about one client her father had failed to see acquitted. The man’s family had lost nearly all their possessions in a fire, and her father donated a sizable amount to get them sturdily on their feet again. She’d felt so very proud of him. But he seemed to lose those deeper feelings for compassion after her mother passed away.
As Mateo’s gaze ran over the mother and child, Bailey wondered again about his direct family. He’d lived with his grandmother in Italy. Had come to Australia with his father. Where was his mother?
“I’m turning in,” he said, rolling back one big bare shoulder. “There’s a television and small library in your room if you can’t get back to sleep.” That dark gaze skimmed her face a final time and tingling warmth filtered over her before he rotated away. “Sogni d’oro, Bailey.”
“Sogni d’oro,” she replied and then smiled.
Sweet dreams.
Mateo sauntered back inside, his gait relaxed yet purposeful.
He
