on that.
He was taken.
It was probably his nature to be kind to everyone. It didn’t mean that he was attracted to her, anywhere near as strongly as she was attracted to him. How could he be? She wasn’t in the same class as his fiancée.
The home-baked carrot cake with the delicious soft cream-cheese topping kept tempting her. She’d already had one piece. Would it look greedy if she took another? She was always hungry after a performance. It took so much energy. Apart from which, her stomach had been churning with nerves beforehand, making it impossible to eat a proper lunch.
Alex reached out and helped himself to a second slice. Catching her watching his action, he grinned, his blue eyes twinkling a teasing awareness of her own temptation. “It’s my favourite cake. Can’t resist.”
“It sure is the best,” she agreed on a pleasurable sigh.
“Like some more?”
He was already moving a serving towards her plate and Gina couldn’t resist, either. “Yes, please.”
“It’s terribly rich,” Michelle remarked critically.
“An indulgence in rich food now and then is one of the pleasures of life,” Isabella declared.
“If you want to pay the price,” Michelle mocked, her gaze flicking over Gina’s well-rounded arms.
“Oh, some people burn off the calories easily enough,” Alex drawled, then smiled at Gina. “I imagine keeping up with a highly active little boy like Marco gives you plenty of exercise.”
Her heart fluttered at the support he was giving her against his fiancée’s opinion. She wasn’t fat in his eyes. He liked her. He had to like her to be defending her weakness for the calorie-laden cake. Or maybe he didn’t care if she put on weight. Why would he? She wasn’t the woman he was going to marry.
“Marco does keep me busy,” she replied to Alex, then wrenched her gaze away from him, bypassing the fashionably thin woman he loved, to excuse her appetite for rich food to Isabella. “It’s Sunday. I’ve always considered it a day to relax a bit on rules and simply enjoy.”
“That is the Italian tradition,” the old lady approved. “Besides, I like my cooking to be appreciated.”
“It really is a superb cake,” Gina instantly responded.
“Thank you, my dear.”
Gina wasn’t into the game-playing of scoring off people, but she couldn’t help taking considerable satisfaction in Isabella’s benevolent approval. Strict dieting could be taken too far. When people took the trouble to provide special treats, unless there was some medical problem forbidding any indulgence, it seemed impolite not to partake of anything. It was like ignoring the efforts to please. Possibly Michelle felt no need to please in return. She had only taken black tea with a slice of lemon, disdaining all the food offered.
Not that it was any of her business how these relationships worked, Gina told herself, but she had the strong feeling Isabella wasn’t overly fond of her grandson’s choice. Neither was she. Although it could be jealousy prompting the dislike that was growing in leaps and bounds.
Marco provided a fortuitous distraction, pelting across the lawn with his hands cupped together to contain something. “Look what I found, Mama!” he crowed excitedly.
“Come and show me, Marco,” Isabella called, turning in her chair to beckon him to her.
Her encouraging smile—or her natural air of authority—drew him to the other side of the table and he came to a triumphant halt between Isabella and Michelle. His eyes danced delightedly at the older woman and Gina knew he was basking in her indulgent interest, wanting to show off to her.
“It’s a surp’ise!” he told her, beaming sheer mischief.
“I like surprises,” Isabella assured him.
“Look!” he cried, uncupping his hands like a master magician.
A small cane toad instantly leapt from his uncovered palm, straight onto Michelle Banks’ lap.
She jumped up from her chair, shrieking with horror, her hands moving in frantic, scissor-like slaps to get the creature off her. Perversely it hopped onto her arm before escaping to freedom, and Michelle shuddered all over at having suffered its touch on her skin.
“You filthy child!” she flung at Marco. “Bringing that slimy thing up here and letting it jump on me!”
She stepped towards him, her face screwed into venomous fury, her long lean body bending forward, arm outswinging.
The realisation that she was going to hit Marco had Gina leaping to her feet. But she was too far away to stop it, too shocked to even call out “No!”
It was Alex, surging from his chair, who caught Michelle’s arm, halting it in midair, his fingers closing around it with warning force and lowering it her side. Virtually in the same instant, Isabella acted, reaching out and scooping Marco back from the line of fire.
“There is no harm done, Michelle,” Alex stated, his voice hard with command, the power of the man literally shimmering from him in such strong waves, Gina instinctively held her breath, her heart thumping wildly against the constriction in her chest.
He was defending her son…saving him from the physical abuse his fiancée would still deliver, given half a chance.
“No harm!” Michelle screeched, her body snapping upright, her gaze slicing daggers at Alex for intervening. Frustrated in one act of violence, she bared her teeth at Marco who shrank back, not understanding his offence. “You’ve ruined my trousers with your filthy carelessness,” she accused, her rage unabated.
“Hardly ruined,” Alex bit out, his jaw tightening at this further outburst.
“Boys will be boys.” Isabella’s tone was deliberately temperate but she flashed a quelling look at Michelle as she put her arm around Marco in a comforting hug. “All living creatures are fascinating to them at this age.”
“Cane toads!” Michelle raved on, her revulsion still volatile. “Ugly, creepy cane toads!”
Marco was cowering back in the protective circle of Isabella’s arm, fright stamped on his face as he stared, goggle-eyed at his attacker.
Gina shook herself out of the gut-knotting tension. Her son needed her help, her reassurance. Alex and Isabella King were protecting him but she was his mother.
“I’m sorry the toad accidentally leapt on you, Michelle,” she said quietly, “but please don’t blame my son for it. Marco thinks catching toads is good. He sometimes helps one of his uncles do it and he’s used to being praised for bringing them to him.”
Blazing outrage was swung directly on her. “You let him help his uncle catch these disgusting things?”
Gina nodded, keeping her composure very calm for her son’s sake. “To Marco, it’s a great game. His uncle organises toad races for tourists. He gives them names like Fat Freddo, Forest Lump, Prince Charming…”
“Prince
