them, clapping and cheering.
Nat risked a quick glance at him, dismayed at the heat she saw in his eyes again. Her blush intensified. She hightailed it out of the lift without a backward glance.
Alessandro had not long been home with Julian early that evening when the doorbell rang. He opened it to a middleaged woman and ushered her in. Debbie Woodruff was the tenth applicant for live-in nanny he’d interviewed.
He had no intention of the crèche being a long-term solution for Julian. Yes, it was open 24 hours a day and Julian seemed to like it there, at least when Nat was on anyway, but he’d already been dragged halfway round the world. His son deserved stability. And that was one thing he could give him.
Debbie seemed very nice and was plainly well qualified. Julian was polite, as always, saying please and thank you as Camilla had taught him, eating carefully, playing quietly. But he wasn’t enthused. And Alessandro had to admit he wasn’t either.
He wasn’t sure what he wanted. Someone to love Julian, he guessed. Not for it just to be another job. A pay cheque. What his son needed was a mother.
His mother.
Guilt seized him as he saw Debbie out. The one thing Julian needed the most, and he couldn’t give it to him. It was his job. He was the father. He was supposed to provide for his son.
Alessandro entered the lounge room. Julian looked at him but didn’t smile or acknowledge him. He sat next to his son and wished he knew how to bridge the gap. Wished his father had been around to be a role model for him, instead of the distant provider. Wished he hadn’t let Camilla distance him from his own son.
He looked down at Julian, who was watching television. ‘Did you like her?’ he asked.
Julian turned and looked at his father. ‘She was okay.’
Hardly a glowing endorsement. ‘Have you liked any of them?’
Julian shrugged, looking at him with big, solemn eyes.
‘Who do you like?’ he asked in frustration.
‘Nat,’ Julian said, and turned back to the TV.
Of course.
Great. Nat, who couldn’t mind her own business. Nat, who spoke her mind. Nat of the lift. Nat of the zipper. Nat, who he’d dreamt about every night since they’d met.
Anyone but her.
Alessandro looked down at his son and sighed. Julian wanted Nat. And that was all that mattered.
Nat it was. That he could do.
Chapter Three
ALESSANDRO spotted Nat at the dining room checkout the next day and hurried towards her. He was just in time to hear the waitress say, ‘Eight dollars and twenty cents, please.’
He fished out his wallet and handed over a twenty before Nat had even zipped open her purse. ‘Take it out of this,’ he said.
Nat felt every nerve ending leap at his unexpected appearance. She glanced back at him, her heart doing a funny shimmy in her chest at his sheer masculinity. She frowned, both at her unwanted response and his motivation to pay for her lunch. ‘Thanks. I pay my own way,’ she said, presenting her own twenty.
The waitress looked from her to Alessandro and Nat couldn’t help but notice that when he wanted to, Alessandro Lombardi could indeed pull a hundred-watt smile. His face went from darkly handsome, deeply tortured widower to blatantly sexy, Roman sex god. His curved lips utterly desirable.
After another stifling night with only a fan that seemed to do nothing other than push the hot air around and little sleep, it was especially irksome.
He pushed his money closer. ‘Keep the change,’ he murmured.
Nat rolled her eyes as the waitress practically swooned as she reached for his crisp orange note. She stuffed hers back into her purse, picked up her tray in disgust and left him to it. Within seconds she could sense him shadowing her.
‘Italian women may think it’s charming to be taken care of but I don’t,’ she said, steaming ahead to a table that overlooked the rose gardens St Auburn’s was famous for. ‘So don’t pull your macho rubbish with me.’
Last time she’d let a man pay for her, she’d been sucked in to wasting five years of her life on him.
Alessandro pulled out her chair for her as she angled herself into it and ignored her glare. ‘I wanted to talk to you about Julian. I thought the least I could do was buy you lunch while you listened.’
Nat eyed him across the table. She folded her arms. She was damned if the man didn’t already know her Achilles heel. She’d spent the morning with Julian and he hadn’t seemed any worse than normal. Not that that was much reassurance. ‘Is he okay?’
Alessandro’s gaze was drawn to the way her crossed arms emphasised the shape of her breasts. She was in crèche clothes today—shorts and T-shirt—and he noticed how her shirt displayed their full, round shape to perfection. He wondered for the hundredth time how they’d feel in his hands. In his mouth.
Damn it!
That wasn’t why he was here. He was here for Julian. Not for himself. But it was fair warning that gave him pause. Nat would be very distracting should she be crazy enough to agree to his plan.
‘Of course,’ he dismissed, annoyed at himself. Seeing her confusion, he hastily added, ‘I just wanted to ask you something.’
Nat opened up her packaged egg and lettuce sandwiches and took a bite, intrigued despite herself. ‘Ask away.’
If anything, he looked more tired than she’d ever seen him. His hair look more tousled, like he’d been continually running his hands through it, and the furrows in his forehead were more prominent.
‘How come you work at both the crèche and the hospital?’
She quirked an eyebrow. Not quite what she’d been expecting. ‘You have to ask me that after Ernie?’
He regarded her for a moment. ‘So it’s a self-preservation strategy?’
‘I prefer to call it a happy medium. Too many hospital shifts and I get burnt out. But I miss it if I’m away too long.’
‘The best of both worlds?’
She shrugged. ‘I like to temper the Ernie days with the Julian days. Both workplaces let me have permanent shifts. No weekends, no night duty. Two days at St Auburn’s gives me my hospital hit, keeps my hand in, let’s me know I’m alive. Three days at the crèche restores my sanity. It keeps me Zen.’
Alessandro considered her statement. How many years had it been since he’d felt Zen? Definitely not for the last five years at least. Definitely not with her keeping him constantly off balance. ‘Do you have child-care qualifications too?’
She
