dark eyes creased at the corners as his smile warmed the dark depths. Sam, whose nerve-endings were twanging like an overstrung guitar, knew that if he ever smiled at her that way she was in deep trouble. And you’re not now?
‘You weren’t glad before?’
‘You were welcome as Kat’s big brother before, and now you’re welcome because you are a brave and resourceful man who laughs in the face of danger.’
‘It’s always nice to feel welcome,’ Alessandro responded, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes briefly flickering in Sam’s direction.
Sam, her heart thudding wildly in her chest, pretended not to notice.
‘Shall I take Harry?’
Emma didn’t argue when he shook his head and said, ‘Harry would like to find his mum, and if the route should take us anywhere near ice cream this would not be a bad thing.’
Sam looked at the smear of chocolate down his cheek, at the sleek hair ruffled by childish fingers, and her indignation escalated. Alessandro looked so damned relaxed and at ease with a grubby, cranky kid on his hip…How dared he slip out of the hedonistic playboy role she had assigned him?
‘No idea where Rachel is,’ Emma admitted. ‘But as for the ice cream, I’ll get that for you myself…’
At that moment Rachel, wrapped in her habitual air of unruffled serenity, walked into the room. She took in the situation at one glance.
‘I take it from the glazed looks that you have been treated to one of Harry’s grade A tantrums? Goodness, Harry,’ she reproached, as her son wrapped his arms limpet-like around her neck, ‘you’ll put Aunty Sam totally off having children,’ she observed, flashing Alessandro a warm smile as the transfer of grubby child was smoothly completed. She arched an enquiring brow as she lifted her eyes to the tall Italian. ‘It looks like I have you to thank Mr Di Livio…’
Alessandro gave a self-deprecating shrug. ‘Not at all. Harry and I were just becoming acquainted and discovering a mutual fondness for ice cream. Now, if you’ll excuse me…Oh, and ladies…’ the voltage of his smile switched up several notches as he added firmly ‘…it’s Alessandro.’
‘If you don’t have children,’ Emma called after him, ‘it will be a total…no, a criminal waste!’
Without breaking stride Alessandro flung her an attractive grin over his shoulder. ‘I am not married.’
‘Where were you three years ago?’
‘Being cited in a divorce case,’ Sam muttered. Did Marisa Sinclair, who had lost both her husband and her lover, regret her affair? Sam wondered. Or did she consider it a price worth paying?
‘Sam, how could you? I’m sure he heard you,’ Emma remonstrated as the tall, dark-headed Italian vanished from view.
Sam gave a defensive shrug. ‘What if he did? And what do you mean, how could I? You don’t like him.’
Rachel stood looking bewildered by this uncharacteristic display of childish venom. ‘Did I miss something?’
‘Sam doesn’t like the gorgeous Alessandro,’ Emma explained.
Rachel laughed as she expertly wiped excess chocolate from around her son’s mouth. ‘That much I had gathered. Well,’ she conceded, ‘he’s not the sort of man who inspires liking, is he?’ She gave a naughty grin and added, ‘Personally, I think he’s rather sweet.’
‘Sweet?’ Sam echoed, staring at her friends as though they’d lost their minds. ‘He’s not sweet,’ she hissed. ‘He’s a snake!’
Emma and Rachel looked at their normally good-natured friend in amazement. ‘What has the poor guy done to you?’ Emma asked.
Goaded, Sam yelled, ‘The poor guy kissed me!’
Sam registered the identical looks of shock closely followed by delight that spread across her friends’ faces, and with a groan closed her eyes. ‘Pretend I didn’t say that,’ she begged, knowing there was little to no chance of her plea being heeded.
‘You and Alessandro…’ Emma drew a shuddering breath. ‘Wow!’ she gasped enviously. ‘I’m assuming that he is a very good kisser. How could a man who looks like that not be…?’ she concluded logically.
‘He,’ snipped Sam crossly, ‘would be the first person to agree with you.’
Emma looked totally unperturbed by the loathing in Sam’s retort. ‘I sort of thought he would be…I bet he’s something in bed.’
‘Don’t look at me!’ cried a pink-cheeked Sam, flinging up her hands in exasperation as she gazed balefully at her best friends. ‘I’ve no intention of finding out.’
Rachel grinned. ‘Well, I call that mean. You’re a free agent, and what have Emma and I got left except enjoying a sex life vicariously through our friends? And, let’s face it, Sam, so far your love life has not exactly been any compensation.’
‘So sorry,’ Sam drawled. ‘Look, you two,’ she added uneasily, ‘you’re not going to make a big thing out of this, are you? It was nothing…absolutely nothing.’
‘Nothing that’s got you pretty hot under the collar…Oh, all right,’ Rachel placated as Sam gave a frustrated groan. ‘We’ll be the souls of discretion,’ she promised, miming a zipping motion across her lips, as she winked at Emma.
By the time Sam had extracted the spare tyre from her boot she had been supplied with ample evidence that the age of chivalry was dead and buried. The only attention her plight had gained so far had been honks on the horn from several lorries. She had been trying to figure out which way up the jack went for five minutes when a car actually pulled up. Her knowledge and interest in cars was, to put it mildly, limited. The one that had drawn up was big and black and to her uneducated eye looked expensive.
Brushing her drenched hair from her eyes, she peered through a sheet of rain which was falling horizontally…If it wasn’t a man behind the wheel it was a very large female.
Just my luck!
A woman would have been much less likely to dish out patronising stuff about clueless female drivers in this situation, and with a woman she wouldn’t have had to worry about the sleaze factor. Oh, well, she thought, giving a stoical shrug. This was a situation that called for a lot of smiling and teeth-gritting, and if necessary the defending of her virtue…that was if she wanted to get back to town before she drowned—and she did.
And when you thought about it, it was her own fault. If she didn’t want to be treated like a stereotypical helpless female she should have picked the car maintenance evening class and given Italian Summer Cooking a miss.
Knowing your way around a risotto is not going to get you home, Sam…so smile nicely and book in to the next car maintenance class.
‘Hello, there—’ Sam broke off, her jaw dropping as she identified her rescuer. ‘You!’ she ejaculated in disgust.
It was
