Pregnant: Father Wanted

‘Oh, it does, of course, but it’s different. I love to hear about the Romans, Greeks, Carthaginians, Trojans.’

‘Ah, well, I can give you what you want. You should leave here a very happy woman.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ She didn’t flatter herself that there was a double meaning to his words, but even so, warmth in the region of her throat felt suspiciously like the start of a blush. She quickly bent her head to examine the panini.

‘Would you like a coffee before we set off again?’

She’d love one. A hefty dose of caffeine would go down very nicely right now, but since the positive test result she’d been revolted by the taste. She fervently hoped this was one side effect that would be reversed as soon as the baby was born.

She shook her head. ‘Just water for me, thanks.’

Moments later Ric placed a glass of iced water in front of her and a frothy cappuccino on his side of the table.

She wasn’t turned off by the strong aroma of coffee, just the taste. She inhaled deeply then took a gulp of water and watched enviously as he scooped up froth. ‘I thought no self-respecting Italian would drink cappuccino after breakfast?’

‘It’s still early enough to count as breakfast time,’ he said in a serious tone.

‘Right.’

‘I’d like to think I am a self-respecting Italian.’

She winced. She really should think before she spoke. ‘No offence intended.’

A smile tugged at his lips and she saw the teasing light in his eyes. ‘None taken. Did you know the cappuccino was invented by Capuchin monks?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘They used coffee to keep them awake through the long nights of religious practice.’

‘And millions of people are grateful to them.’

She caught her breath at the sparkle in Ric’s eyes as he lifted his cup. It was a good thing she didn’t have the slightest interest in him as a man, because he certainly had a lot to be interested in. Just the way his eyes glinted could almost make her forget she was nearly a mother.

He’d left the dark suit jacket back in the car and the crisp white shirt showed off his broad shoulders and slim waist. And then, she thought with a silent sigh, there was the way he moved. Without being obvious, she’d watched him go inside earlier and really, he was wasted as a tour guide. With his height and his lean shape he was more suited to…well, anything.

Actually, she suspected he must have a lucrative second source of income to own the type of car he drove. Either that, or being a tour guide paid much more than writing about those same tours.

Not that it was any of her business.

Looks weren’t everything, she reminded herself. Ric Rossetti might turn out to be a bore at best, and she had to spend three weeks with him.

By the time they’d arrived in Salerno and Ric had pointed out some of the historical sites, Lyssa was starving again. They wandered along the main boulevard, Corso Umberto, and she was relieved when Ric led her down a tiny street to a little restaurant. She hoped the portions weren’t on the small side too.

The owner came forward to greet Ric and was clearly pleased to see him. They’d barely settled at their table before they were served a beautifully displayed platter of antipasto.

‘Unless you’d prefer to order from the menu, Roberto would like to surprise us.’

‘Ooh, yes. Let him surprise us. As long as it’s food and plenty of it, I’ll be happy.’

Ric laughed. ‘You can rest assured on that score.’

‘The owners are friends of yours?’

‘Not exactly. I’ll order a bottle of frascati, shall I?’

‘Not for me, thanks.’ She pointed at the thick green jug on the table. ‘I’ll stick to water.’

‘Are you sure? Would you prefer something else? Lambrusco, or Prosecco?’

‘No, thanks. I don’t drink at all, but don’t let that stop you ordering whatever you want.’

He shook his head at the hovering waiter and poured them both water from the frosty jug.

Surprised, she asked him about Salerno while they ate antipasto and was soon astonished by the level of detail he was able to provide about any period of history—from the Goth to the Norman occupations of the town—and yet she was far from bored.

He paused while she got excited over the arrival of ravioli filled with crabmeat in a buttery sauce. She sniffed at the bowl before taking a forkful of the creamy pasta. She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them to see Ric watching her with that sparkle of amusement in his eyes again.

He smiled. ‘The plan was to see some more of the town this afternoon, then stay overnight and set out from here on the Amalfi Coast drive tomorrow. But, since you like history, perhaps you’d prefer to head south this afternoon, to visit Paestum?’

‘I’ve never heard of Paestum.’

‘It was an ancient Greek city which was abandoned in the ninth century AD, mainly because of malaria, since it was surrounded by marshes. It gradually became buried by swamps and it was forgotten about for nine hundred years until the construction of a new road, when it was rediscovered and excavated. They found three well-preserved temples as well as other buildings.’

‘Oh, wow, that sounds great. I’d love to visit if we can fit it in.’

‘No problem. I’ll make a call and arrange a hotel down there for tonight.’

Lyssa grinned at the waiter as he placed grilled sea bream with a salsa verde and fried artichokes in front of her. ‘This looks wonderful.’

Then, as she was about to start eating, a man with the deepest wrinkles she’d ever seen approached their table.

‘Scusi, mi scusi.’

He smiled at Ric and spoke in a stream of Italian that Lyssa had no hope of following. He didn’t seem to care, he had eyes only for Ric, so she settled back to enjoy the meal.

Moments later the man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, borrowed a pen from a passing waiter and thrust them both at Ric, who, she thought, was very patient with the old man as he scribbled on the paper and smiled at the man’s profuse thanks.

Puzzled, she watched the man walk away then asked, ‘Did you just give him your autograph?’

He nodded and picked up his cutlery. ‘How’s your food?’

‘Brilliant. Look, I know I’m being nosy, but I’m intrigued to know what that was all about.’

‘How much did you understand?’

‘Hardly anything. I wasn’t listening, actually. I was eating.’

‘Good choice. Roberto’s chef is one of the best in my opinion.’