Pregnant: Father Wanted

‘So…?’

For a moment she thought he wasn’t going to explain, but then he looked up and his dark eyes locked with hers.

‘I should explain. I play football. For one of Italy’s major clubs. In Milano.’

‘Oh.’ She nodded. ‘That explains the car.’

He smiled. ‘Yes. I refused to use the minibus.’

She tilted her head. ‘My brothers are sport mad. They watch the Italian soccer—that’s what we call football back home—on the sports channel.’

‘Do they?’

‘Yes. They might even have heard of you.’

She didn’t like football herself. She didn’t think much of the players either. From what she knew of sportsmen—at least, those who made the news—most of them seemed to be insensitive, looks-obsessed jerks. She didn’t like their hedonistic lifestyles, nor the way they treated their wives and girlfriends.

Knowing Ric was part of that world put things into perspective for her. He might be extraordinarily good-looking, but he was not her type at all. And she clearly wasn’t his type either, since she wasn’t a blonde bimbo.

The thought of bringing up her baby in that world repulsed her, which was fine, as there was not the remotest chance of that happening.

‘I don’t get it myself.’ She shrugged. ‘I don’t understand why people become so passionate about it. It’s just a game.’

‘We’ll have to agree to disagree, then.’

‘Yes.’ She narrowed her eyes and looked at him thoughtfully. ‘Another thing I don’t understand is why you’re working as a tour guide. You can’t possibly need the money.’

After a short burst of laughter, he said, ‘No, I don’t. You’re very direct, aren’t you?’

‘Direct is a nice way of putting it. I speak without thinking most of the time. It’s a bad habit. I really should try to fix it.’

‘No, I like it.’

Her eyes met his and she felt a jolt as her insides reacted to his words. Pathetic, she told herself. She wasn’t so starved of affection that she could be affected by a statement that wasn’t even a real compliment.

Or was she?

She cleared her throat. ‘So, the tour guide thing?’

‘It is my uncle’s business. I’ve been staying with my uncle and aunt. Their regular driver, Gino, had an accident. It wasn’t his fault but he has a broken leg and he was supposed to drive you, so they asked me to help out.’

‘I see.’

She smiled and nodded at Roberto when he appeared at their table to check they were enjoying their meal, then returned her gaze to Ric, curious to know more.

‘Shouldn’t you be in Milan now?’

‘No.’ Something flashed in his eyes but it had gone before she’d had time to work out what it was. ‘I’m on rehabilitation leave. I’ve had a knee reconstruction.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. That must be so frustrating.’

‘It is.’ He took a drink of water, then sighed. ‘And it’s not my first operation on the same knee. I’ve been through the whole recovery period before.’

She clicked her tongue in sympathy. ‘Aren’t you worried about being recognised?’

Ric flicked a dismissive wave. ‘I might be recognised, but it shouldn’t be a problem. Not here. In Milan, yes, it can be a nuisance. In other cities, Rome for instance, possibly. But generally I find the paparazzi limit themselves to covering high-profile events or the celebrity nightspots. My day-to-day activities aren’t normally interesting enough for the media, and down here I don’t think we’ll see any photographers.’

‘What about fans?’

‘They’re rarely a problem. Like the man who came to the table today, they’re usually polite. They deserve to be treated politely in return. These people spend their hard-earned money to go to games. The least they deserve is respect. I hope you don’t object if we have the occasional interruption?’

‘No, not at all.’

After thanking Roberto for the delicious food and refusing a gelato to follow—even she had finally eaten enough—they got up from the table. As they headed for the door she wondered whether Ric had a girlfriend and, if he did, whether she matched the image Lyssa had of footballers’ women. Supermodel-slim. Perfectly groomed. Tall. All the things she wasn’t.

She didn’t have body issues, but she was just an average woman and fully aware of her shortcomings. These sports people lived like rock stars and they had the women to match. She’d thought of them as bimbos, but that might be unfair. She shouldn’t judge them for choosing to obsess about their looks.

She wasn’t interested in Ric, so it made no difference, but still she felt a little spear of disappointment that she could never have been his type even if things had been different for her.

She shook off the feeling as they emerged into the bright spring sunshine and Ric excused himself to make a phone call. She was being silly. She was here to do a job and she had no business being attracted to Ric. The fact that he was completely out of her league was just an additional reason not to entertain such a ridiculous notion.

Later, Lyssa gazed at the majestic Poseidon Temple with the Basilica standing next to it in a field of wild red poppies. She listened to Ric explaining that it was built around the same time as the Parthenon in Athens and was considered the best preserved example of a Doric temple in the world.

It wasn’t the accent that made his speech so entertaining, and it wasn’t the facts, though he had a way of including details that fascinated her. No, there was something about his smooth-as-velvet voice combined with his matter-of-fact manner that made her want to listen to every word.

‘Since you’re not a real tour guide, how do you know so much about the history of the place?’ she asked as they turned to head back to the car.

He shrugged. ‘What can I say? Even as a child, I found it interesting.’

‘Did you grow up around here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do your parents still live here?’

‘They died the day I turned twelve.’

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. ‘Both at once?’

‘Yes. Car accident.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her heart going out to him. She hesitated, but was unable to resist asking, ‘Who did you live with after the accident?’

‘I moved in with my uncle and aunt.’

‘The ones who own Amalfitori?’

‘Yes.’