Italian Bachelors: Ruthless Propositions: Taming Her Italian Boss / The Uncompromising Italian / Secrets of the Playboy's Bride

Like those eyes...

No. Not like those eyes. They had nothing to do with it.

For heaven’s sake! It wasn’t even as if Ruby was anything like the kind of women he usually went out with, the kind he’d hardly noticed he’d stopped seeing: cultured, sophisticated, beautiful.

He sighed. And next to Ruby they seemed like clones churned out by a production line.

In comparison, she was strangely easy to be with. There was no game-playing. No second-guessing whether he’d accidentally said the wrong thing because he was being subjected to some secret test. If Ruby thought he’d overstepped the mark, she just told him in no uncertain terms.

There was a knock at the door and he stopped pacing and faced it, grunted his permission to enter. A moment later his travelling nanny popped her head round the door. ‘Your mother wanted me to let you know that dinner is served.’

She looked down and away, as if she was feeling awkward. When she looked up again, a faint blush stained her cheeks.

The air grew instantly thick. Max nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he managed to say. ‘I’ll be along in a minute.’

She smiled hesitantly and shut the door again.

Max ran a hand through his hair and swore softly. Was he imagining it, or had she got prettier since that afternoon?

He went over and sat back down at his desk. He clicked over to his email and read a few messages to distract himself, although what they contained he couldn’t have said. When he felt a little more his usual self, he rose and went to the dining room, lecturing himself en route.

You have no business noticing her eyes, warm hazel or otherwise. She’s your employee. Get a grip and get over it.

Thankfully, he was sitting opposite his mother this evening at dinner, and Ruby was off to one side, so he didn’t catch her gaze while they ate their...whatever it was they ate. He kept his concentration on his plate as his mother once again pounced on their guest as both willing audience and source of conversation.

‘Maybe being a nanny will be your niche after all,’ she told Ruby. ‘You’re a natural with Sofia, and she’s already very fond of you.’

Ruby smiled at her. ‘Thank you. I’m loving spending time with her, too, and spending time in Venice. This really is the most remarkable place.’

Fina’s chest puffed up with pride in her home. ‘You’ve never visited before?’ she said.

‘No. I always wanted to, though.’

Fina clapped her hands. ‘Well, then we must make sure we don’t work you too hard, so you get time to see some of the sights! But the best time of day to see the city is the hour leading up to sunset, don’t you think, Massimo?’

Max let out a weary sigh. ‘I suppose so.’

Ruby smiled and sipped her glass of water. She’d refused wine, seeing as she was still on duty. ‘I’m sure it is, but I may have to wait until my next visit for that. By the time I’ve got Sofia bathed and in bed, it’s nearly always dark.’

Fina rose from the table to go and fetch the dessert from the sideboard. ‘Then Massimo must take you before he goes back to London. Don’t worry about Sofia. I’m sure her nonna can manage bedtime alone for one night.’

They both turned to look at him.

He should say no. Make an excuse that he had too much work to do, or tell his mother to drive the boat herself, but he looked back at Ruby, her eyes large and expectant, and found himself saying, ‘Okay, but later in the week. And as long as we’re not out too long. I have work to do.’ And then he returned to attacking his vegetables.

The women went back to chatting again but a while later Ruby piped up, ‘Oh! I almost forgot. Before Sofia went to bed, she insisted I give this to you.’ She pushed a piece of paper in his direction. ‘I was going to let her do it herself, but you seemed to be so busy, so I just...didn’t.’ She shrugged. ‘Well, here it is, anyway.’

He reached out and pulled the scrap towards him, careful not to brush her fingers. From the thick, riotous turquoise crayon that graced the sheet of paper, he could tell the colouring was Sofia’s, but the drawing, that was all Ruby’s. He smiled as he looked at it.

She’d drawn one of the crabs they’d caught that afternoon in dark ink. The little crab hanging on the end of the fishing line looked full of personality, feisty and ready to take on the world if anyone dared try to catch him and tame him. It really was rather good.

‘I think you caught him perfectly,’ he said, and made the mistake of looking up at her. ‘You’ve got that devilish expression down pat.’

She didn’t say anything. Just smiled. And her eyes warmed further.

Max returned his attention to his plate.

He forced himself to remember the conversation that had taken place round this dinner table only a few evenings ago. It didn’t matter how nice her eyes were, or how relaxed he felt around her, it would be foolishness in the highest degree to be bewitched by that.

Ruby Lange was a drifter. She’d said so herself. She didn’t finish what she started, always tempted to run after something better and brighter and shinier.

He didn’t need a woman like that in his life. He’d seen what his mother had done to his father, hadn’t he?

He returned his gaze to his plate.

Pork. They were eating pork.

He’d do well to keep his mind on concrete things like that. On his work. On his commission, his final gift to the parent who’d stuck around to raise him.

No more distractions, no matter how tempting.

* * *

The following evening Ruby approached dinner with a plan. Max was going home in just under forty-eight hours and still he was treating his mother like the enemy.

However, he’d softened up with Sofia nicely. He no longer held her as if she were an unexploded bomb, and interacted quite easily with her now. Sofia, who maybe had been lacking a positive male role model in her life, simply adored him. It was clear a bond was forming between them.

Surely the potential was there with Fina, too? All he needed was to be thrown in the deep end a bit, as he had been with Sofia.

So Ruby deliberately decided not to natter on at dinner time this evening, hoping it would encourage mother and son to converse. But as they waded their way through the main course, the only sound in the cavernous dining room was the clinking of cutlery and the dull thud of glasses being picked up and set down again.

Fina kept looking at him, willing him to glance her way, but mostly, unless he was reaching for the salt or refilling his glass, Max refused. As the meal wore on Ruby could sense more and more nervous energy in the woman sitting beside her. Fina must sense her chance for reconciliation ticking away with the hours and seconds until Max’s flight back to London. It didn’t seem as if he’d be in a hurry to return any time soon, either.

Eventually, Fina cracked. She put down her knife and fork and stared at him for a few seconds before opening her mouth. ‘Massimo. You’ve been having such a wonderful time here with Sofia these last few days.’

Max glanced up so briefly Ruby doubted he’d even had time to focus on Fina. He grunted then turned his attention to his plate.

Fina shot a nervous look at Ruby and Ruby nodded her encouragement.

‘Ruby’s been telling me all about your crabbing expeditions.’

Another grunt. This time without eye contact.

Fina swallowed. ‘I was thinking that maybe I’d invite the whole family to visit for the festival of San Martino in November. You used to love decorated biscuits of Martino on his horse, remember?’ She laughed. ‘You once asked me if we were cousins of the saint, because our last names were so similar.’

Max carried on cutting his chicken, and only when he’d precisely severed a chunk, put it in his mouth and chewed and swallowed it thoroughly, did he answer his mother. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to spare the time from work. If this commission goes through it’ll be full steam ahead until the new year.’ And then he went back to dissecting his meal.

Fina nodded, even though her son wasn’t watching, and hung her head over her plate.