The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain
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‘We could have taken the tube.’ And then she laughed at his shocked expression. ‘I presume you never take the tube anywhere?’
‘Not these days,’ he admitted.
Not since he’d made his fortune, thought Penny. She could have made some comment about his carbon footprint but she didn’t. ‘Actually it’s nice to be driven like this,’ she declared instead, giving a little bounce on her seat.
‘I noticed your car was pretty ancient,’ he said, still with that half-smile.
Penny shrugged. ‘Nannies’salaries don’t lead to new cars. Though,’ she added daringly, ‘if I stay with you long enough I might be able to afford one.’
‘I’ll buy you one,’ he said at once.
Penny’s mouth fell open and she stared at him. He’d said it as though it meant nothing. Which it probably didn’t. Not to him. But hell would freeze over before she’d let him do that.
‘You look surprised.’
‘As indeed I am,’ she replied. ‘Why would you want to do a thing like that? My car’s perfectly reliable. I don’t need another one just yet.’
‘So you’re rejecting my offer?’
He actually looked offended, thought Penny. ‘I am, most definitely.’
‘Some of the nannies I’ve employed have not owned a car,’ he informed her, ‘so there’s one in the garage bought solely for the purpose of ferrying my daughter around. You’re welcome to use it.’
‘No thanks,’ said Penny promptly, ‘but you can buy my petrol, I’ll let you do that.’
Dark brows slid up. ‘A woman with morals. A refreshing change. I like it.’
Penny wished her heart wouldn’t thump so loudly; she was afraid he might hear it. ‘There are a few of us left,’ she tossed smartly, flashing him a sideways glance.
If only he wasn’t sitting so close! There was space between them, yes, several inches in fact, but not enough. She could feel the warmth of him even with the air-conditioning, and her senses were attuned in a way that alarmed her.
She was tempted to edge towards the door but didn’t want to give herself away. All she had to do was remember that this was a business lunch. They were going to discuss exactly what he expected of her where his daughter was concerned. Just that. Nothing else. Not themselves, nothing personal.
So why was she worried?
‘You’re still not relaxed, Penny.’
She jerked her head round. He was watching her. Those incredible dark eyes were smiling and she knew that he had sensed her unease. More than that, he’d seen how rigid her body was, how her hands were still locked. She could hardly believe herself. She was behaving in a totally alien manner. Usually she was brimming with confidence, nothing ever fazed her.
Except this man.
Damn! What did he have that was different—apart from great wealth, of course? But that shouldn’t have made her feel like a dithering wreck. What he did have, in spades, was sex appeal. And it was this that was troubling her.
She had never encountered anyone like Santo De Luca before. Plenty of men were good-looking, were good company, were great guys, were fun, and some even thought they were God’s gift to women. But Santo was like none of these, he was in a different class entirely.
At school she’d been in the drama group and, although she’d done no acting since, Penny knew that she would have to act now as she’d never done before. So she smiled, and she shrugged, and she said, ‘It’s unnerving having lunch with your employer after only one day. I feel like I’m under the spotlight, as though I’m going to be interrogated. Am I?’
‘We’ll talk about whatever you want to talk about,’ he answered easily, his incredible eyes locking into hers.
To Penny’s relief the car slowed to a halt. But her relief was short-lived when they entered the bistro. An informal restaurant was her idea of a bistro. Tables on the pavement, tables inside with checked tablecloths, candles in bottles with melted wax down their sides, everything nice and casual.
This was nothing like it.
To begin with it looked expensive, terribly expensive. The room was large, airy and formal. Tablecloths were white damask, the tables spaced well apart; there were fresh flowers on them and the silverware gleamed. You wouldn’t get a bowl of fries here, that was for sure. Foie gras and caviare looked more in keeping. But she held her head high and pretended that she was used to walking into such stylish places.
If only! One meal here would probably cost a whole week’s wages.
Santo was greeted with a warm handshake and respect, making it evident that he was a regular customer.
‘This isn’t what I expected,’ she said after they had been shown to their table.
‘It’s not to your liking?’ he asked immediately. ‘We can go somewhere else if—’
‘It’s not that,’ Penny cut in. ‘I expected something a little less formal. I wouldn’t actually call this a bistro.’
‘To me it’s a bistro,’ he said easily. ‘It’s very relaxed here. And the food, it is squisito.’ He circled his thumb and finger. ‘You will like it, I promise you.’
Why are you doing this? she wanted to ask. Are you trying to impress me? She hoped he wasn’t after something else. Fancying him was one thing but she would never allow herself to be compromised.
But she was worrying for nothing. Santo was a gentleman. He discussed the menu with her, passionately, and their food was perfect in every way. By the end of the meal she was totally relaxed.
They had talked about anything and everything except themselves. She did enquire which part of Italy he came from, which she discovered was Rome, but he had noticeably clammed up at that point. She didn’t dare ask whether he had parents still alive, brothers or sisters, and she’d posed no further questions. Though she couldn’t help but be intrigued.
On the other hand he had found out that her favourite colour was brown. ‘Brown?’ he’d asked incredulously. ‘It cannot be your favourite. I can see you in something sky-blue or aquamarine, something to bring out the fantastic colour of your eyes. Have you ever tried those colours?’
Fantastic colour of her eyes! What else had he noticed about her? It was a scary thought. She didn’t like the idea of her employer observing something so personal.
‘Most of my wardrobe is in autumn colours,’ she admitted, ‘and this—’ she spread her hands, looking down at the skirt she wore, and her cream blouse with its tiny brown flowers ‘—is one of my favourite outfits.’