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Her Brooding Italian Boss
SUSAN MEIER


From his assistant…to his muse! Pregnant and broke, Laura Beth’s only option is to take a job with brooding yet brilliant artist Antonio Bartulocci. He may be darkly handsome, but the fiery Italian proves to be a difficult boss! Since his wife’s betrayal, Antonio has been unable to pick up a brush. But captivated by Laura Beth’s guileless beauty, he wonders if she could be the woman to unlock the talent he thought he’d lost forever… It’s a miracle which reminds him of all that’s now good in this life: Laura Beth!







“Before you knew I was pregnant you didn’t want me working for you. You said you don’t want a PA. But it’s clear you need one. So obviously there’s a reason you’re fighting having someone work for you.”

He sighed.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. Because I don’t care. What I do care about is earning my keep.”

He sighed again. “You are a pregnant woman who needs a rest. Just take the time here with me to have some fun.”

She raised her chin. “No. If you won’t let me work I won’t take your charity. I’m going home.”

“You don’t have a home to go back to.”

“Then let me stay here for two weeks as your assistant. If you don’t like what I do, or still feel you don’t need someone at the end of two weeks, I’ll take another two weeks to rest and then go home.”

When they’d first begun arguing, before he’d known she was pregnant, his eyes had been sharp. Glowing. She could have sworn he wanted to kiss her. It was as if he had been daring her to step closer—

Had he been daring her to step closer?


Her Brooding Italian Boss

Susan Meier






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


SUSAN MEIER is the author of over fifty books for Mills & Boon. The Tycoon’s Secret Daughter was a RITA


finalist and Nanny for the Millionaire’s Twins won the Book Buyers’ Best award and was a finalist in the National Readers’ Choice awards. She is married and has three children. One of eleven siblings, she loves to write about the complexity of families and totally believes in the power of love.


Contents

Cover (#uc9c36a2b-b517-5c36-8e7f-5a62472b9a39)

Introduction (#ueeec51fe-10f6-5870-bebb-d951e6e85b00)

Title Page (#u3adea5cd-73c0-5339-b2a6-216f09517ded)

About the Author (#u6c77ed7c-cb7e-5269-a5a4-ba94daa612bf)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_518bf225-a980-57b0-8c9d-b3242e0cd867)

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_467c1582-76df-5ff2-9d65-08679b30a52c)

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_b5135b89-5dc4-5abd-981c-9349466d961a)

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_05f037f0-6158-5194-aab1-37b88841164d)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_79fe92ee-8ada-5bf2-ae75-a993ef1f0905)

LAURA BETH MATTHEWS sat on the rim of the old porcelain tub in the New York City apartment she had to vacate by the next morning. Her long brown hair had been swirled into a sophisticated French twist. Her lilac organza bridesmaid gown was an original Eloise Vaughn design. A pregnancy test shook in her right hand.

Tears pooled in her eyes. There was no question now. She was going to have a baby.

“Laura Beth! Come on!” Eloise called from the hall as she knocked on the bathroom door. “I’m the bride! I should at least get ten minutes in the bathroom to check my makeup.”

“Sorry!” She swiped at her tears and quickly examined her face in the medicine cabinet mirror. No real mascara smudges yet, but the day was young.

For the first time since she, Eloise and their third original roommate, Olivia Prentiss Engle, had decided to spend the night before Eloise’s wedding together and dress together, Laura Beth regretted it. She was pregnant. The father of her child, one of Olivia’s husband’s vice presidents, had called her a slut when she’d told him she was late and they might be parents. And now she didn’t just have to smile her way through a wedding; she had to hide a pregnancy test in a tiny bathroom.

She glanced around. “I’ll be two more seconds.” Out of time, she wrapped the stick in toilet paper and tossed it in the little wastebasket. Satisfied neither Olivia nor Eloise would rummage through the trash, she sucked in a breath, pasted on a happy smile and opened the door.

Eloise stood before her, glowing, a vision in her original Artie Best gown, designed specifically by her boss, the one and only Artie Best. Smooth silk rode Eloise’s feminine curves. Rhinestones sparkled across the sweetheart neckline. And real diamonds—enough to support the population of a third-world country for a decade—glittered at her throat.

Tears pooled in Laura Beth’s eyes again, but this time they were tears of joy for her friend. Eloise, Olivia and Laura Beth had moved to New York City with stars in their eyes. Now Olivia was a married mom. Eloise would be married in a few hours. And Laura Beth was pregnant, with a deadbeat for her child’s father and twenty-four hours to vacate her apartment.

She was in deep trouble.

* * *

Antonio Bartulocci studied his shoulder-length curly black hair in the mirror. He’d gotten it cut for Ricky and Eloise’s wedding, but he still debated tying it back, out of the way. He looked to the left, then the right, and decided he was worrying over nothing. Eloise and Ricky were his friends because they liked him just as he was. They didn’t care that he was a tad bohemian. Most artists were.

He straightened his silver tie one last time before he walked out of the bedroom of his suite in his father’s Park Avenue penthouse and headed for the main room.

Comfortable aqua sofas faced each other atop a pale gray area rug, flanked by white Queen Anne chairs. A gray stone fireplace took up the back wall, and a dark walnut wet bar sat in the corner. The view of the New York City skyline from the wall of windows in the back had taken Antonio’s breath away when he first saw it. Since his wife’s death, it barely registered.

“Hurry up, Antonio,” his father called from the bar as he poured bourbon into a crystal glass. He wore a simple black suit, a white shirt and yellow striped tie that would be replaced by a tuxedo for the reception later that night. Though he was well into his seventies and a few pounds overweight, Italian billionaire Constanzo Bartulocci was a dashing man. A man whose looks spoke of money and power, who lived not in an ordinary world, but in one he could control. Unlike Antonio’s world, where passion, inspiration and luck ruled.

“I’m right behind you.”

Constanzo jumped and faced his son, his right hand over his heart. “You scare me.”

Antonio laughed. “I’ll bet I do.”

After downing his drink in one long swallow, Constanzo pointed at the door. “Let’s get going. I don’t want to end up in a crush of reporters like we did the last time we went somewhere.”

Antonio straightened his tie one more time. “Hey, you made me the paparazzi monster I am today.”

“You are not a monster.” The lilt of an Italian accent warmed his father’s voice. “You could be one of the most important painters of the twenty-first century. You are a talent.”

He knew that, of course. But having talent wasn’t what most people imagined. He didn’t put his gift away in a shiny box and take it out when he needed it. Talent, the need to paint, the breathtaking yearning to explore life on a canvas, were what drove him. But for the past two years he hadn’t even been able to pick up a brush. Forget about painting, accepting commissions, having a purpose in life. Now, he ate, drank, slept—but didn’t really live. Because he’d made millions on his art in the past few years, and, with his savvy businessman father’s help, he’d parlayed those millions into hundreds of millions through investments, money wasn’t an issue. He had the freedom and the resources to ignore his calling.

The private elevator door silently opened. Antonio and his father stepped inside. Constanzo sighed. “If you had a personal assistant, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Antonio worked to hide a wince. He didn’t have to ask what his father meant. He knew. “I’m sorry.”

“I wanted you to be the artist who did the murals for Tucker’s new building. Those works would have been seen by thousands of people. Ordinary people. You would have brought art to the masses in a concrete way. But you missed the deadline.”

“I don’t have a brain for remembering dates.”

“Which is exactly why you need a personal assistant.”

Antonio fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut. What he needed was to be left alone. Or maybe to roll back the clock so far that he hadn’t married the woman who’d betrayed him. But that wasn’t going to happen. He was stuck in a combination of grief and guilt that paralyzed him.

Constanzo’s limousine awaited them on the street. They walked under the building portico without speaking. Antonio motioned for his father to enter first.

When he slid in behind him, soft white leather greeted him. A discreet minibar sat near the media controls. His father hit a few buttons and classical music quietly entered the space.

The driver closed the door and in less than a minute the limo pulled onto the street.

“A PA could also handle some of the Gisella problems that remain.”

Antonio’s jaw twitched.

Constanzo sighed. “Well, you don’t seem to want to handle them.” He sighed again, more deeply this time. “Antonio, it’s been two years. You cannot grieve forever.”

Antonio glanced at his father. He let his lips lift into a small smile. Pretending he was grieving had been the only way he’d survived the years since his wife’s death. Beautiful Gisella had burst into his life like a whirlwind. Twenty-four hours after they’d met they’d been in bed. Twenty-four weeks after that they were married. He’d been so smitten, so hopelessly in love, that days, weeks, months hadn’t mattered. But looking back, he recognized the signs he should have seen. Her modeling career hadn’t tanked, but it had been teetering, and marriage to the newly famous Italian painter had put her in the limelight again. Her sudden interest in international causes hadn’t cropped up until she found a way to use them to keep herself, her name, in the papers and on everybody’s lips. She’d even spoken at the UN. He’d been so proud...so stupid.

“My son, I know adult children don’t like nagging, meddling parents, but this time I am correct. You must move on.”

Without replying, he looked out the window at the hustle and bustle of New York City in the spring. Bumper-to-bumper traffic, most of it taxicabs. Optimistic residents walking up and down the sidewalk in lightweight coats. The sun glittering off the glass of towering buildings. At one time he’d loved this city more than he’d loved the Italian countryside that was his home. But she’d even ruined that for him.

“Please do not spoil Ricky and Eloise’s day with your sadness.”

“I’m not sad, Dad. I’m fine.”

The limo stopped. They exited and headed into the enormous gray stone cathedral.

The ceremony was long and Antonio’s mind wandered to his own wedding, in this same church, to a woman who hadn’t really loved him.

No, he wasn’t sad. He was angry, so furious some days his heart beat slow and heavy with it. But he couldn’t ruin the reputation of a woman who’d used him to become a cultural icon any more than he could pretend she’d been the perfect wife she’d portrayed.

Which meant he couldn’t have a PA digging through papers in his office or documents on his computer.

The ceremony ended. The priest said, “I now introduce Mr. and Mrs. Richard Langley.”

His best friend, Ricky, and his beautiful new wife, Eloise, turned and faced the crowd of friends and relatives sitting in the pews. A round of applause burst through the church and Ricky and Eloise headed down the aisle. Matron of honor Olivia Engle and best man Tucker Engle, also husband and wife, followed them out of the church. Antonio walked to the center aisle to meet his partner, Laura Beth Matthews.

Laura Beth was a sweet young woman he’d met and had gotten to know fairly well over the years when she’d visited Olivia and Tucker at their Italian villa, and every time there was a baptism, birthday or holiday party at the Engle penthouse on Park Avenue. Unfortunately, she had usually been with an annoying boyfriend, someone who didn’t fit into Tucker Engle’s world or Ricky Langley’s, but who desperately tried to.

Laura Beth slid her hand to Antonio’s elbow and he smiled at her before they walked down the aisle and out of the church.

As Ricky and Eloise greeted the long line of guests filing through the vestibule, Antonio turned to Laura Beth. “You look lovely.”

She glanced down at the pale purple dress. “Eloise designs the most beautiful gowns.”

“Ah, so she did this herself.”

Laura Beth nodded. When she brought her gaze back to his, though, her green eyes were dull. Not sad for the change in her life that the marriage of her last roommate would bring, but lifeless.

He caught her forearm to bring her attention to him. “Are you okay?”

She suddenly brightened. “Sure. Yes. I’m fine. Wonderful. It was just a stressful morning.”

“Tell me about it. Have you ever tried traveling with a billionaire who expects everybody and everything to be at his fingertips?”

Laura Beth laughed. “Oh, come on. I love your father! He’s not a prima donna.”

“You’ve only dealt with him when you were on vacation or at a party for one of Tucker and Olivia’s kids. Just try flying across the Atlantic with him.”

She laughed again and something lightened in Antonio’s chest. With her dark brown hair and bright green eyes, Laura Beth was much too pretty to be so—

He paused, not able to put a label on her mood. Nervous didn’t quite hit the mark. Unhappy wasn’t it either. She seemed more like distant. As if she were preoccupied.

Seeing Ricky and Eloise still had a line of guests filing out of the church, he said, “So what’s up?”

Her head snapped in his direction. “Up?”

“You’re here one minute, but your mind is gone the next. You’re obviously mulling something over. Or trying to figure something out.”

“I...um...well, I have to be out of my apartment tomorrow before noon.”

His eyebrows rose. “And you’re not packed?”

“No, I’m packed. I just don’t have anywhere to go.”

“You could stay at Constanzo’s penthouse. We leave tomorrow morning.”

She blushed. “Yeah, I could stay at Tucker and Olivia’s, too.” The red of her face deepened. “I’m always taking advantage of other people’s goodwill.”

The greeting line for wedding guests suddenly ended. Ricky and Eloise headed outside. Antonio caught Laura Beth’s hand and led her to the side door. “Let’s go. We want to be outside to toss confetti when they come out.”

* * *

When Antonio took her hand and guided her out into the warm spring day, Laura Beth’s heart tugged. With his shoulder-length curly black hair and penetrating dark eyes, he was the epitome of the sexy artist. But that wasn’t why her heart skipped a beat. His very casual way of making her feel a part of things, when her brain kept dragging her away, lifted her spirits. He was a good man, with a big heart and so much talent she almost couldn’t fathom it.

She’d had a crush on him from the day she’d met him. But she’d been dating Bruce. Then Antonio had gotten married, and two short years after that he was mourning the loss of his beautiful, equally talented, dedicated wife. So though she’d crushed on him, she’d never even let the thought of flirting with him fully form. And now, pregnant, she only let the thought flit through her brain. She absolutely wouldn’t act on it.

She should just get off her self-pity train and help Antonio enjoy the wedding, not expect him to help her.

So she made light, happy conversation while they posed for pictures as members of the wedding party, and hours later in the ballroom of the Waldorf, while they ate dinner. Antonio laughed in all the right places, but Laura Beth could see the glimmer of sadness in his eyes. As much as she wanted to be able to entertain him, she was failing. Her own troubles weighed her down, just as his dampened his mood. They’d both run out of jokes and neutral topics and even fun-filled facts. Worse, every time he turned his dark, brooding eyes on her, she wanted to flirt. Flirt! He had troubles. She had troubles. And she wanted to flirt? Ridiculous. So after the wedding party dance, she shuffled off to the ladies’ room.

She sat on the cushioned sofa along the back wall and took several deep breaths. She might be able to hide out in her apartment one more night, but then she seriously had to decide where she’d sleep tomorrow. In Tucker and Olivia’s penthouse? Or Constanzo Bartulocci’s? Once again accepting charity.

How long could she live like this? She did not have a home. She did not have a full-time job. She was pregnant by a man who thought her a slut. She was a failure.

Tears filled her eyes.

Oh, great. Now she’d upset herself.

She sucked in a breath, brushed away her tears and rose from the comfortable sofa. She might not be able to pretend she wasn’t in financial trouble, but for the next few hours she still had to feign happiness and fulfill her bridesmaid responsibilities.

In the plush hall outside the ladies’ room, she straightened her shoulders and drank in another fortifying breath. She could do this.

The first person she saw as she entered the ballroom was Antonio, so she walked in the other direction. The pull of her attraction to him was so strong today she could have melted in his arms when they danced, and that was just wrong. He was grieving a wonderful woman whom he’d adored. And Laura Beth herself had problems to solve before she could even consider flirting with someone, let alone melting into his arms.

Walking past laughing entrepreneurs, happy socialites and waiters serving champagne, she had a strange epiphany, or maybe a rush of reality. She was only here because of her roommates. In the four years since she’d been invited into this rarified world by Olivia and Eloise, they had not only found their true callings, but they had fallen for the loves of their lives—while she hadn’t found squat. Rubbing elbows with executives, she hadn’t been able to prove herself enough to anyone to get a full-time job. And despite being in front of all these gorgeous eligible bachelors, she hadn’t yet found a man who wanted her.

Maybe her problem wasn’t that there was something wrong with her. Maybe she was in the wrong class of people. After all, she’d grown up blue-collar. Why did she believe that just because her friends fit into the glitzy, glamorous world of billionaires, she should fit in, too?

Maybe this whole mess—her inability to get a full-time job, her inability to keep her apartment and her pregnancy—was a wake-up call from the universe. Hey, Laura Beth, you’re in the wrong crowd. That’s why you’re failing!

It made so much sense that she stopped short, not quite at the open bar.

The answer was so obvious it stunned her. Though she would always be friends with Olivia and Eloise, she didn’t belong in this part of their world. She was common. Normal. Not that there was anything wrong with that. It was more that a common person, someone who didn’t fit in this world, would always come up short. But if she were to jump off her high horse and get a normal job, she would probably be very happy right now.

If only because she would get to be herself.

* * *

Antonio almost groaned when his dad sidled up to him at the bar. “So have you given any thought to my suggestion about a personal assistant?”

As much as Antonio loved his dad, he did have moments when he wished the old billionaire would just get lost.

“Dad, how about letting this go?”

“I think it’s the answer to your problems.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his partner for the wedding, Laura Beth, walk up beside him and order a ginger ale from the bartender. He would only have to tap her arm and snag her attention to get himself out of this conversation. But how fair was that? Not only did he need to put his foot down with his dad, but Laura Beth obviously wanted to be left alone. It wouldn’t be right to drag her into his drama.

He sucked in a breath and smiled at his dad. There was only one way to stop Constanzo—pretend to agree. Albeit temporarily. “You know what? I will think about the PA.” It really wasn’t a lie. He would think about hiring a PA, but that was as far as it would go. There was no way he wanted a stranger in his house. No way he wanted someone going through his things. No way he wanted a stranger to accidentally stumble upon any of his wife’s deceit when rummaging through papers or files or phone records while trying to organize him.

Constanzo’s face lit. “You will?”

“Sure.”

“And maybe start painting again?”

He stole a glance at Laura Beth, suddenly wishing he could capture that faraway look in her eyes, the expression that was half-wistful, half-sad. She was so naturally beautiful. High cheekbones gave her face a sculpted look that would serve her well as she aged. And her bounty of hair? He could see himself undoing that fancy hairdo and fanning his fingers through the silken strands to loosen it, right before he kissed her.

What? Where had that come from?

He shook his head to clear it, deciding it was time to get away from his dad before he had any more crazy thoughts.

He faced Constanzo. “I’ll paint when I paint. Now, I need to get mingling again.”

As he walked away from the bar, he noticed his dad bridging the gap between himself and Laura Beth and sighed with relief. This meant his dad wouldn’t follow him. Besides which, it would help Laura Beth get her mind off her troubles. When he wasn’t hounding Antonio about something or another in his life, Constanzo Bartulocci could be a very funny guy.

* * *

Laura Beth glanced at Constanzo and pasted a smile on her face. Now that she recognized she didn’t belong in this crowd, that she was pretending to be someone she wasn’t, she knew exactly what to do: enjoy the rest of the wedding, then get busy finding a normal job and some new roommates. Whoever she chose couldn’t ever replace Olivia and Eloise—no one would ever replace her two best friends—but she’d make it work.

“You seem sad tonight.”

Laura Beth nodded and smiled at Constanzo. He was like everybody’s rich uncle. But he didn’t flaunt his money. He made people laugh. He’d made her laugh at more than one of Olivia and Tucker’s family events. It wasn’t unusual or out of line for her to confide. She simply wouldn’t tell him everything.

“My second roommate got married today,” she said, taking advantage of the obvious. “I’m not exactly an old maid, but I’m on the road.”

Constanzo laughed. “You Americans. What is this old maid thing? Can’t a woman mature and enjoy life without being married?”

She laughed lightly. That was exactly the attitude she needed to cultivate. “Actually, yes, she can.”

“Good. A woman doesn’t need a man. She should want a man in her life. But he should complement her, not define her.”

She toasted him with her glass of ginger ale. “Wise words.”

“So, now that we’ve settled the old maid issue, what else has made you sad?”

“I’m fine.”

He studied her face, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Jeez. You’re as perceptive as Antonio.”

“Where do you think he gets it?”

“I thought it was the artist in him.”

Constanzo shook his head sadly. “Unfortunately, since his wife’s death, I think the artist in my son is withering and dying.”

His gaze drifted to Antonio, and Laura Beth followed his line of sight. Antonio was stunning in his tuxedo, with his hair a little wild. Every woman he passed eyed him with interest. The spark of her crush lit again, the desire to walk over and suggest another dance rising up in her. But that was wrong. Not only did she have troubles she had to solve before she got involved with another man, but as every woman around him drooled, Antonio didn’t seem to see anybody.

“The death of a spouse is difficult.”

Constanzo accepted that with a slight nod of his head. “I don’t want him to lose his entire life over this.”

“He’ll come around.”

“He needs a nudge.”

Laura Beth laughed. “A nudge?”

Constanzo sucked in a breath. “Yes, he needs to hire help. An assistant. Somebody who can live with him and get him on track.”

“Sounds like a tall order.”

“I don’t think so. We’ve been talking about him hiring a personal assistant, and he’s finally agreeable, which means he’s finally ready to heal and get back into life. I think once an assistant gets rid of the two years of junk he’s let accumulate in his office, Antonio will be able to see his future—not his past.”

Laura Beth mulled that over for a second. “Oddly, Constanzo, that actually makes sense.”

Constanzo laughed. “I like that you understand us. It’s part of why I find you to chat to at parties.”

She smiled. “There’s not much to understand. You’re a dad who loves his son. He’s a son who appreciates having a dad. All the rest is just stuff.”

He laughed again. “I wish I could hire you to be his PA.”

Laura Beth paused her ginger ale halfway to her lips.

“But I’m sure you wouldn’t want to live in Italy. And then there’s matter of the job itself. I’m sure you’re accustomed to much loftier employment.”

She sniffed a laugh. “My degree has gotten me nothing but temp jobs.”

His eyebrows rose. “So you’re interested?”

She thought that through. A real full-time job, that came with room and board? In a country away from her family and friends, so she could think through what to do about her pregnancy before she announced it?

“Yes. I’m interested.”


CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_6f5b8c11-b442-551b-82ec-443f1ce45045)

THE NEXT MORNING, as instructed by Constanzo, Laura Beth took a taxi to Tucker Engle’s private airstrip. She pulled her measly suitcase out of the backseat and paid the driver one-fifth of the money she had, leaving her a mere pittance. If this job didn’t pan out, she’d be penniless. But since she was already in trouble, and knew Antonio and Constanzo well, taking work as Antonio’s personal assistant wasn’t much of a risk.

A swirl of April air kicked up dust on the tarmac as she walked to the plane. Two pilots stood beside the lowered stairway, comparing information in logbooks. As she approached, one of the men saw her and smiled. He said something in Italian and she winced.

“Sorry. I don’t speak Italian.”

The pilot laughed. “I speak English. What can we do for you?”

“I’m Laura Beth Matthews. Constanzo told me he would call you to add my name to your passenger list.”

The pilot looked down, then back up again. But the second pilot pointed at the list.

“Ah, sì. Here you are.” He reached for her pathetic suitcase. “I will take care of this.”

Fear ruffled through her as a man she didn’t know took the entirety of her possessions out of her hand and walked away. But the second pilot pointed up the steps.

She sucked in a breath. She needed to get away. She needed time to think. She needed a job. She climbed the stairs.

At the doorway she stopped and gasped. The main area looked more like a living room than a plane. Rows of seats had been replaced by long, comfortable-looking sofas. Tables beside the sofas provided places for books, drinks or food. A desk and wet bar in the back filled the remaining space.

She eased toward the sofas, wondering where the heck Constanzo and Antonio were. Sitting on the soft leather, she leaned back, enjoying the feel of it against her nape. She’d been so nervous the night before she hadn’t slept, and part of her just wanted to nod off. Before she got too comfortable, though, a commotion sounded outside. She jumped up and looked out the window.

A big white limo had pulled up. Antonio got out and held the door for his dad. She tilted her head, watching them.

Dressed in jeans and an open dress shirt over a white T-shirt, Antonio looked totally different. She usually saw him in tuxedos at gallery openings or formal events, or trousers and white shirts at parties for Olivia and Tucker’s kids. Seeing him so casual sent a jolt of attraction through her. Especially with the way the breeze blew through his long curly hair, making her wonder if it was as soft as it looked.

She shook her head at her stupidity and raced back to her seat. She’d just gotten settled when Constanzo boarded the plane.

“Carissima. You made it.”

She rose, just in case she was sitting in the wrong place. “I did.”

Antonio entered behind his dad. He stopped when he saw her, his brow wrinkling. “Laura Beth?”

Though Antonio had been raised in the United States, he’d spent the past five years in Italy. Speaking Italian had changed the timbre of his voice. Her name rolled off his tongue sensually. A shiver breezed along her skin. And another thought suddenly hit her—this man was now her boss. She wouldn’t just be working to organize him. They’d be living together.

Oh, wow. No wonder her thoughts ran amok. She was going to be living with the guy she’d had a crush on for five years.

Right. Plain Jane Laura Beth would be living with a famous artist, who still grieved his equally gorgeous, equally wonderful wife. Common sense plucked away her fear. She had nothing to worry about.

She smiled and said, “Hello.”

Constanzo ambled to the back of the plane. “Can I get you a drink?”

She turned to watch Constanzo as he approached the bar. “No. Thanks.”

Antonio stopped in front of her. With his windblown hair and sun-kissed skin, he looked so good, so sexy, that her mouth watered. Especially when his dark eyes met hers.

“What are you doing here?”

Reminding herself Antonio wouldn’t ever be attracted to her and she had to get rid of this crush, she peeked back at Constanzo again.

He batted a hand. “I hired her. She’s out of her apartment and had no permanent job. It was perfect timing.”

Antonio’s lips lifted into a smile that would have stopped her heart if she hadn’t known he was off-limits. “Oh. That’s great.”

The pilot announced they’d been cleared for takeoff. Antonio pointed at the leather sofa, indicating Laura Beth should sit, then he sat beside her. Close enough to touch. Close enough that if they hit turbulence, they’d tumble together.

She squeezed her eyes shut. Stop!

She had to get ahold of these wayward thoughts or she’d drive herself crazy living with him! She was not in this guy’s league. She’d figured all this out yesterday. She was common, pregnant and needed a job more than a crush.

They both buckled in. The little jet taxied to the runway of the small airstrip and took off smoothly. It climbed for a few minutes and leveled off before the fasten-seat-belts light blinked off and the pilot announced they anticipated an uneventful flight, so they could move about the cabin.

To settle her nerves and maybe waylay the attraction that zapped her every time she looked down and saw Antonio’s thigh mere inches away from hers, Laura Beth pulled a book from her purse.

“Ah. I loved that novel.”

She glanced at the book, then at Antonio. “I never took you for a science fiction fan.”

“Are you kidding? Some of the best art is in science fiction. The imaginations and imagery required are magnificent.”

Laura Beth smiled, glad they had something normal to talk about, but her stomach picked that exact second to growl. Her face flushed.

Antonio laughed. “You skipped breakfast.”

She hadn’t been able eat breakfast. It seemed that now that she knew she was pregnant, morning sickness had kicked in.

“Um, I wasn’t hungry when I got up this morning.”

Antonio unbuckled his seat belt. He reached for her hand. “Come with me.”

She undid her seat belt and took the hand he’d offered. Her fingers tingled when his warm hand wrapped around them. As he pulled her up to stand, she reminded herself to stop noticing these things and followed him to the back of the plane.

The area she’d believed was a wet bar was actually a small kitchenette. She gaped at it. “You have to be kidding me.”

Antonio nudged his head in the direction of his dad, who had fallen asleep on the sofa across from the one where Antonio and Laura Beth had been sitting.

“Anything my dad could possibly want is always stocked on the plane. When we arrive at our destination, any food not eaten will be donated to a charity.” He laughed and opened the small fridge. “How about eggs and toast?”

Her stomach didn’t lurch at the thought, so she nodded.

Antonio studied her. “Hmm. Not very enthusiastic. So let’s try French toast.”

“I love French toast.” And she hadn’t had it in forever.

He motioned for her to sit at one of the bar stools, obviously needing her out of the way in the tiny space. He hit a button and what looked to be a grill appeared.

“This is so cool.”

“This is the life of a billionaire.”

She glanced around. Remembering her thoughts from the night before, she didn’t look at the plane as somebody who someday wanted to own one. She counted her blessings that she was here and had a job and a place to stay.

“It’s kind of fun getting to see things that I wouldn’t normally see.”

He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I’m never going to be a billionaire. So I’m never going to own a plane like this.”

“Ah.” He broke two eggs in a bowl, added milk, vanilla and a dash of what appeared to be cinnamon, beat the mixture, then rummaged for bread. When he found it, he dipped two slices into the egg mixture and put them on the small griddle. They sizzled.

She sniffed the vanilla. “Yum.”

“You really must be hungry.”

“I am.”

He turned to flip the two pieces of French toast. She tilted her head, taking in the details that made him who he was. Sexy dark hair. Wide shoulders. Trim hips. But his face was the showstopper. Dark, dark eyes in olive skin. A square jaw. High cheekbones.

Something soft and warm floated through her. She was just about to curse herself for looking at him again when she realized she’d never felt like this with Bruce. She’d liked Bruce—actually, she’d believed she’d loved him. But she’d never felt this odd combination of attraction and curiosity that mixed and mingled with the warmth of their friendship and turned her feelings into something more...something special.

She cleared her throat. What was she doing? Fantasizing again? This guy was her boss! Not only that, but he was a widower. Someone who’d lost his wife and still grieved her so much he no longer painted. What would he want with her? Plain, simple Laura Beth Matthews, who—oh, by the way—was also pregnant with another man’s child. Her job was to organize him back to the land of the living, not drool over him.

He made eight pieces of French toast, divided them onto two plates and handed one to her.

Her stomach rumbled again. “Thanks.”

He passed the syrup across the bar. She slathered it on her French toast, but waited for him to pick up his fork before she picked up hers. If there was one thing she’d learned from her years of attending Olivia and Tucker’s baby events and Ricky and Eloise’s elaborate parties, it was to follow the lead of the host and hostess.

He took a bite of his French toast, then smiled at her. “So getting a job where you get to live in was a pretty nifty way to handle the apartment problem.”

She reddened to the roots of her hair. “Does it seem sleazy?”

“No. It’s smart. After I rotated out of the foster-care system, I’d have killed for a job that got me off the streets.”

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have scrounged your way to Italy, where your dad found you.”

“Scrounged.” He grinned. “I love American words.”

“Hey, you’re half-American!”

“Yes, I am. And proud of it. I use both worlds.” He frowned. “Or did.” Then he brightened. “Never mind. How’s the toast?”

“I love it.” She pushed her plate away having eaten only two slices. “But I’m full.”

Antonio took her plate and his and set them in a metal drawer, which he closed. “Staff will get this when we land.”

She laughed. “Wow.”

“Hey, you better get used to living like this.”

Though she didn’t think Antonio was as persnickety or as pampered as his dad, she decided not to argue the point. Especially since she’d had a sleepless night, agonizing over her problems. With her tummy full and the lull of the plane, she just wanted to curl up on one of the sofas.

She wandered back to her seat, buckled herself in—in case they hit turbulence—and almost immediately fell asleep.

She awoke to the feeling of someone shaking her. “Laura Beth...we’re here.”

She snuggled into the blanket someone had thrown over her. “We’re where?”

“In Italy.”

Her eyes popped open. When she found herself staring into the gorgeous face of Antonio Bartulocci, it all tumbled back. They were on a plane to Italy. His dad had hired her. She didn’t have an apartment. She was pregnant.

Her stomach dropped.

She was pregnant. In a foreign country. Starting a new job. Working for Antonio, who needed her. But she was attracted to him. She thought he was the sexiest, most gorgeous man alive and she would be living with him. But he didn’t feel the same way about her.

That relaxed her. It could be a good thing if he only saw her as a friend. As long as she hid her crush, there’d be no problem. Plus, being on call twenty-four-seven to help him get his life back would keep her from dwelling on her problems.

That was the real silver lining. Not just the money. Not just a place to live. But someone to take care of, so she could forget about herself.

She pushed aside the soft cover. Her days of daydreaming she belonged in this world as anything other than an employee were over. She could take this job and run with it, create a halfway decent life for herself and her baby. Everything would be fine.

“Thanks for the blanket.”

Antonio smiled. “My pleasure.”

She found her purse and tucked her science fiction novel inside. Two gentlemen, Antonio and Constanzo waited for her to exit first.

Constanzo paused to say something to the pilots, but quickly joined them on the tarmac below the steps.

She glanced around. The sky was blue, as perfect as any she’d seen in Kentucky. Tall green grass in the fields surrounding the airstrip swayed in a subtle breeze that cut through the heat. “Another private airstrip?”

“You don’t think my dad’s going to have a plane and suffer the torment of going to a real airport and waiting to take off and land, do you?”

Pushing a strand of her hair off her face, she laughed. “Right. Spoiled.”

“Incredibly spoiled. You’re going to need to remember that.”

She frowned. It was the second time he’d said something odd about her getting accustomed to his dad. Still, he was her boss now. They might have been able to relate like friends on the plane, but here on Italian soil, his home turf, her role kicked in. She was his assistant. Basically, a secretary. But this was better than anything she’d even come close to finding in New York.

This was her life now.

Constanzo walked over. “Bags are on their way to the limo.”

Laura Beth said, “Wow. Fast.”

Antonio laughed. “So much for you to get used to about my dad.” He nudged his father’s shoulder. “Exactly how do you intend to explain to Bernice that you hired someone to help her?”

Laura Beth’s brow wrinkled.

Constanzo’s face reddened.

Laura Beth gasped as she faced Antonio. “You think Constanzo hired me to work for him?”

This time Antonio’s brow wrinkled. “You’re not working for my dad?”

Constanzo’s face reddened even more as both Laura Beth and Antonio turned to him.

“I did not hire her to help my PA. I hired her to be yours.”

* * *

Antonio’s mouth fell open at his father’s audacity. Anger whispered across his skin, causing his temper to bubble. He took a minute to pull in a breath and remind himself that his father hiring a PA was nothing compared to his deceased wife’s handiwork.

Still, when he spoke, his voice was harsh, angry. “Why are you meddling in my life?”

Constanzo headed for the limo again. “I’m not meddling.” He strolled across the quiet tarmac. “You said last night that you were thinking about this. When Laura Beth and I struck up a conversation and I realized she’d be perfect for the job, I did what I do best...I anticipated.”

He almost cursed. “You meddled!”

Laura Beth touched his arm to get his attention. Her fingertips warmed his skin, caused his breathing to stutter.

“I didn’t realize he didn’t have your permission.”

Constanzo bristled. “I did not need my son’s permission. He said last night he was agreeable. I anticipated.”

Antonio stayed outside the limo, unable to get himself to move into the car with his dad and Laura Beth, who had hesitantly climbed inside. Confusion and resentment clamored inside him. He wasn’t just angry about his dad hiring someone for him; his reactions to Laura Beth were wrong.

He’d always liked her. And, yes, he supposed there was a bit of an attraction there. But suddenly, today, maybe because they’d had such an intimate chat on the plane, he was feeling things he shouldn’t feel. Good God, she was a sweet girl trying to find her way in life. And he was an angry widower. He did not want to be attracted to her, and if she were smart she wouldn’t want to be attracted to him. Worse, they should not be living together.

He had to fire her.

No...Constanzo had to fire her.

Behind him, the chauffeur wheeled their luggage to the rear of the limo. One scruffy brown bag stood out.

It had to be Laura Beth’s.

Just one bag. And it was worn. So worn he would consider it unusable. But that was her best.

He scrubbed his hand across his mouth as a picture formed in his brain. Her two roommates hadn’t just found the loves of their lives, they’d made careers for themselves and she was still working temp jobs.

Damn it.

He couldn’t embarrass her by refusing to let her work for him. But he didn’t want to be living with an attractive woman—the first woman to stir something inside him since Gisella. Worse, he didn’t want someone rifling through his things.

He’d give Laura Beth a few days to rest in his country house, then gently explain that he didn’t want a PA. Since he was essentially firing her, he’d send her back to the US with a good-sized severance check and the codes for his dad’s penthouse so she’d be okay until she found a new job.

But today, once he had her settled, he intended to have this out with his dad.


CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_27fdab14-7dd5-5fb2-bac3-cbe706f6fa73)

LAURA BETH WATCHED Antonio climb into the limo. He didn’t say a word the entire drive to his father’s house.

Nerves skittered along her skin. He didn’t want her. It seemed he didn’t want a PA at all...Constanzo did. And the second he got out of the car, Antonio would fire her.

They reached Constanzo’s beautiful country home and he unceremoniously got out. Angry, too, he didn’t say a word to his son. When the limo began moving again, she couldn’t take the quiet.

“I’m so sorry.”

Antonio stared out the window. “Not your fault. As I told you on the plane, my dad has the mistaken belief that everything he wants should be there when he wants it. Sometimes that translates into a belief that everyone in his life should do what he wants when he wants it done.”

With that the car got quiet again. Any second now she expected him to apologize and fire her. But he didn’t. The twenty-minute drive was extremely quiet, but with every mile that passed without him saying, “You’re fired,” her spirits lifted a bit. They drove up to his gorgeous country home and he got out as if nothing were amiss.

Exiting the limo, she glanced around. Antonio’s home was nestled in a silent stretch of Italian countryside. Hills and valleys layered in rich green grass with a spattering of wildflowers surrounded the new house. A smaller, much older house sat at the end of a stone path.

As if seeing the direction of her gaze, Antonio said, “That’s my studio.”

She tilted her head as she studied it. In some ways the old stone house was more beautiful than the big elaborate home that had obviously been built within the past few years—probably for his wife.

Her face heated as envy tightened her chest, so she quickly reprimanded herself. This man she thought so handsome had had a wife, someone he’d adored. She’d been hired to be a glorified secretary. She was pregnant with another man’s child. And she’d also decided the night before that she was no longer going to try to fit herself into a world too grand for her. Being jealous of Antonio’s dead wife, being attracted to a famous artist slated to inherit the estate of one of the world’s wealthiest men...that was foolishness that she’d nip in the bud every time it popped into her head, until it left for good.

Antonio motioned to the door and she walked before him into the grand foyer of his home. A wide circular stairway and marble floors welcomed her. To the right, a painting of what looked to be the field outside his house brightened the huge foyer with its rich greens and striking blues of both the flowers and sky.

“I’ve seen this before.”

He laughed. “In Tucker and Olivia’s Montauk mansion.”

She faced him. “That’s right!”

“I bought it back from them.”

“I can see why. It’s beautiful.”

“It was the first thing I painted when I rented the run-down shack I now use as a studio.”

He walked up behind her. Little pinpricks of awareness danced up her spine. “The second I set foot on Italian soil, I knew this was my home, that the time I’d spent in foster care in America was an aberration. An accident.” He pointed at the painting. “This picture captures all the happiness of that discovery.”

“I see it.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Tucker did too. Made me pay him a pretty penny to get it back.” He motioned to the stairs. “Let me show you to your room.”

Taken aback by the abrupt change of mood, she almost didn’t follow him. Her skin was prickly and hot from his nearness, her breathing shallow. Still, she smiled and started up the steps, reminding herself that he was off-limits and she should be paying attention to the layout of the house rather than the nearness of her boss.

At the top of the staircase, Antonio directed her down a short hall. A glance to the left and right showed her the upstairs had been designed in such a way that private hallways led to individual rooms. And each wall had a painting. Some stark and stunning. Some warm and rich with color.

They finally stopped at a closed door. Antonio opened it and directed her inside. She gasped as she entered. Thick white carpets protected golden hardwood floors. A white headboard matched the white furniture, which was all brightened by an aqua comforter and bed skirt and sheer aqua curtains that billowed in the breeze of the open window.

“It’s beautiful.” She’d tried not to sound so pedestrian and poor, but the simple color scheme in the huge room with such beautiful furniture took her breath away.

“Thank you. I did this room myself.”

“You did?” She turned with a happy smile on her face, but her smile died when she saw him looking around oddly. “What?”

He shook his head. “It’s nothing. Foolish.”

“Come on.” She used the cajoling voice she’d use with her older brother when he had a secret. If they were going to be working together—and she hoped his recent change in mood was an indicator that they were—she needed to get him to trust her. “We’re friends. You can tell me.”

He sucked in a breath, walked a bit farther into the room. “Most men let their wives decorate, but mine was away—” He caught her gaze. “Traveling. She also showed no interest in the samples the designer sent to her, and one day I just decided to look at the whole house as a canvas and—” he shrugged “—here we are.”

“Well, if the rest of the rooms are as beautiful as this one, I can’t wait to see everything.”

He smiled slightly. “I’ll give you a tour tonight.”

She said, “Great,” but her heart sank. Talking about his wife had made him sad. He might give her the tour, but it would be grudgingly. The disparity of their stations in life and the reality of her situation poured through her. She might be trying to get him to trust her, but if she were simply a new assistant not a friend of friends, he wouldn’t give her the tour of his house. She might not even get such a grand bedroom. He probably wouldn’t have told her the tidbit about decorating it himself. And he wouldn’t be sad.

Maybe it was time to put herself in her place with him—for him.

“You don’t have to.” She laughed lightly, trying to sound like an employee, not a friend. “This is your home. There might be areas you wish to keep private.”

He faced her, his expression filled with sadness. “People in the public eye quickly realize there is no such thing as privacy. If you sense hesitancy about my showing you the house, it’s because the house reminds me of better times.”

She struggled to hold back a wince at her stupidity. Of course, memories of his dead wife affected him more than the oddness of having a friend working for him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He glanced around at her room again. “I’d love to have my inspiration back. I’d love to paint again.” He drew in a breath, as if erasing whatever memories had come to mind and faced her. “I need to go to my father’s for an hour or so. But it’s already late. Especially considering we’re five hours ahead of New York here. You may just want to turn in for the night.”

“Are you kidding? I had a seven-hour nap! Plus, I’m still on New York time.”

“Maybe you’d like to read by the pool? Or make yourself something to eat. The staff doesn’t return until tomorrow, but the kitchen is all yours.”

He left her then and she fell to the bed, trepidation filling her. So much for thinking he’d changed his mind about keeping her. He was going to Constanzo’s to confront him about hiring her. When he came back, he’d probably tell her that her services were no longer needed.

She wanted to stay. Not just because she needed a job, loved getting room and board and wanted some time away from everyone to figure out her life, but also because Antonio was so sad. Somebody needed to help him.

Empathy for Constanzo rippled through her, total understanding of why he desperately wanted to do something to lift his son out of his sadness. Antonio was a good man. Life had treated him abysmally by taking away his beloved wife. He deserved to have someone nudge him back into the real world. And having someone to help actually gave her a way to forget about her own troubles. It could be the perfect situation for both of them.

Except Antonio didn’t want her.

Her stomach rumbled and she rose. Might as well find the kitchen and make herself something to eat. Because this time tomorrow she’d probably be on a plane back to New York.

A failure again.

But on her way to the kitchen, the beauty of the house superseded her need for food as it lured her from one room to the next. She hadn’t expected a stuffy, formal house. Antonio was too creative for that. But she also hadn’t expected to be so charmed by paintings and sculptures that added life and energy to brightly colored sofas, or the eclectic dining room that had a long wood table and sixteen different-styled chairs around it.

Eventually she found herself at the door of a room with a desk and a tall-backed chair, which fronted a huge office with an enormous window through which she could see the pool and the field of flowers behind it.

His office?

With an office in front? For an assistant?

Had he had an assistant before? Could Constanzo be right? Was he ready for someone again?

She entered hesitantly. Stacks of papers littered the first desk, the desk she believed would belong to an assistant. But his room was empty, his desk dusty though free of clutter.

She walked in slowly, ran her fingers through the dust on his desk, curious again. From the coating of dust alone, she’d swear he hadn’t been in this room since his wife died.

At the wall of glass, she stopped. The window was actually a series of doors, which she slid aside. A warm breeze fluttered in, bringing the scent of the pool not more than twenty feet away. When forced to do paperwork, Antonio could be poolside.

Sheesh. The rich really knew how to live.

With a sigh, she closed the doors. But as she walked into the outer office, she saw all those papers piled high on the assistant’s desk. A film of dust dulled the white of envelopes. Dust covered the arms of the desk chair. But that was nothing compared to the sheer volume of untouched paperwork, unopened mail.

Glancing around, she combed her fingers through her hair. It was no wonder Constanzo wanted his son to hire a PA. He clearly needed some assistance.

And, technically, helping him straighten this mess was her job—

If she kept it.

She walked to the desk, lifted a piece of paper and realized it was a thank-you from a fan. Reading it, she lowered herself to the chair. Obviously, Antonio didn’t know the letter’s author. So a simple note to express appreciation for his kindness in writing would suffice as a reply.

She leaned back. A box of fancy letterhead caught her eye. A beautiful script A on Antonio linked with the B in Bartulocci. What fan wouldn’t want to get a thank-you on the actual letterhead of the artist he admired?

The desire to turn on the computer and write a quick thank-you tempted her. She faced the monitor that sat on the side arm of the desk. She could press the button that would turn it on...

No. She couldn’t. It wasn’t right.

Still, somebody had to help him, and she needed a way to prove herself.

She lifted her hand to the start button again, but paused halfway and bit her lip. The computer software would probably be in Italian—

Though Antonio had been raised in the US—

She shook her head. It was one thing to look at a few pieces of mail, quite another to actually write letters for him without his permission.

But how else would she prove herself?

* * *

Antonio stopped his motorcycle at the front door of his father’s country house. He didn’t knock. He just entered the foyer and walked back to his father’s game room. Sure enough, there he was, playing pool.

“I see the nap you had on the plane gave you energy too.”

He set down his cue stick. “Antonio! Why aren’t you home?”

“With the PA you hired for me?” He shook his head. “Because I don’t want a PA and because your meddling in my life has to stop.”

“I don’t meddle. I anticipate.”

Antonio groaned. “You meddle, Dad. And I can’t have it anymore. Not just because it infuriates me, but because this time you’re hurting an innocent woman. She’s going to be devastated when I send her home.”

“So if you’re the one sending her home, how can you say that I’m the one hurting her?”

“Because you’re the one who brought her here under false pretenses!”

“I did no such thing. You need her.”

Antonio groaned again. “There’s no reasoning with you. You always see what you want to see.”

“True. But that’s also why I win so much.” He walked to the wall of pool sticks, chose one and offered it to Antonio. “Here is a place you sometimes beat me.”

Antonio snatched the stick away from his dad. “If you win, I keep her. If I win, she goes home after a few weeks of rest. But you pay her severance and you let her stay in your penthouse in New York.”

Constanzo grinned. “You’re on.”

They decided on best out of three. Constanzo played pool constantly in his spare time, and was very, very good. But Antonio needed to prove a point, to get it across to his dad that he couldn’t take every matter into his own hands. He didn’t just want to win. He had to win. In the end, he beat his dad by one shot.

Constanzo sighed. “This is a big mistake. You need her. And she needs a break.”

Antonio headed for the door. “That’s why I’m going to let her stay a few weeks. It’ll give her time to relax enough that she can think through her problems.” He turned and faced his dad. “And you pay her a big enough severance that she can get a decent apartment.”

Constanzo sighed. “It is wrong to send her home. But I lost the bet and I agree. If she must go, I’m the one who owes her severance.”

Antonio got back on his bike feeling only slightly better. He didn’t want to hurt Laura Beth, and he didn’t like the fact that he’d had to gamble to get his way in a situation that his father shouldn’t have interfered with. But he’d won.

Revving the bike’s engine, he shot along the hills, past the green fields to his house, the wind blowing his hair and teasing his face. By the time he got home, darkness had fully descended and he noticed a light coming from his office. Confused, he parked in the garage and entered through the series of doors that took him from the garage, through the butler’s pantry and kitchen to the main living area.

Because there were no lights in the pool area, he thought Laura Beth must have been more tired than she’d thought and retired to her room. Glad he didn’t have to face her until the next day, he headed back to the office to turn off the light.

But when he stepped inside, he stopped dead in his tracks. There, behind the stacks of unopened mail and the wide computer monitor, was Laura Beth.

He raced to the desk. “What are you doing?”

She looked up at him. “I’ve been sitting here fighting the temptation to read your mail.” She pointed at one open fan letter. “I know you well enough that I could answer that for you. And any letter like it.”

Fear collided with anger. But the stacks appeared to be untouched. The computer hadn’t been turned on. She couldn’t have seen anything.

His head began to pound anyway. Still, he calmed his voice before he said, “You went into my office without permission.”

“I didn’t touch anything but this one letter that was already open.” She met his gaze. “Plus, it’s my job to get you organized.”

He sucked in a breath. Memories of finding his wife’s itineraries and the matching itineraries of her lovers swam through him, making him shake with anger. Not at Laura Beth, but at his wife. At her shameless audacity. And his just plain stupidity. Add to that the abortion information. The appointment on the calendar. The payment in her check registry. The way she hadn’t even tried to hide the fact that she’d taken his child from him.

How the hell could he face that? How could he face another person knowing that his wife hadn’t even told him of the pregnancy?

It took great effort for him to soften his voice, but he did it. “I’m not ready for this.”

She pointed at the stacks of papers again. “You don’t have to be ready. If most of this is fan mail, I can answer it. I can create lists of requests for charitable events. I can coordinate your schedule with Olivia,” she said, referring to her friend, who was also his manager. “And I think that’s Constanzo’s point. A smart PA could do a lot of this work for you.”

“I don’t want you in here! I don’t want anybody in here!”

His shout echoed off the walls of the quiet office. Laura Beth shrank back, her big green eyes round and frightened.

He ran his hand along his nape. “I’m sorry. But this will not work for me.” He motioned for her to rise. “Please come out from behind the desk.”

She rose and stepped away from his desk.

“You are welcome to stay for the next two weeks. Rest in the sun. Be a tourist. Hell, I can take you around to see the sights. But I do not want a PA.”

To his great dismay, her lower lip trembled.

“Seriously. When you return to New York, you can stay in Constanzo’s penthouse. And Constanzo is writing a check for a huge severance.”

The lower lip stopped trembling as fire came into her green eyes. “What?”

“This is Constanzo’s mistake. He will pay for it.”

“I don’t want your severance! I want a job. I’m insulted by your charity when it’s pretty clear I could earn my keep, and even more clear that you need me.”

To his surprise, she propelled herself toward him and stood directly in front of him. The tinge of flush in her cheeks matched the glitter of anger in her green eyes. Heat poured from her, triggering his attraction. He’d always loved the way she could stand up for herself.

“I don’t want to go home! I want this job. I need this job!”

She stepped closer. The raw power in her glittering eyes hit him like a punch in the gut. He hadn’t seen this kind of passion in years. Hadn’t felt it himself in forever. It was everything he could do not to pull her to him and kiss her senseless to capture it.

He stepped back. “You think you want this job. You think living in Italy will be a grand adventure. But trust me. You will miss your city and your family.”

She eliminated the distance between them again. The fire in his belly spiked. He caught her gaze. Was she daring him to kiss her?

She didn’t back down. She stood toe to toe with him. Fire matching fire. “And you can trust me when I tell you that I will not regret being thousands of miles away from my family. I need to be here. I want this job!”

He snorted in derision. He was feeling passion. She was talking about a job. He must really be tired to be so far off base, thinking a woman was daring him to kiss her when she was simply fighting to keep her job.

He turned away, started walking to the door.

Quiet, but close, as if she’d followed him, her voice drifted to him. “Antonio, I need to be away from my family and friends. For a while. I have more than job troubles to figure out.” She said nothing until he faced her again, then she caught his gaze. “I’m pregnant.”


CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_320957e6-9846-55db-acff-e6c10fa7b411)

“PREGNANT?”

Laura Beth watched Antonio, her heart chugging, her nerve endings glittering. Her announcement might have settled him down, but while they’d argued, she’d seen something in his eyes. She’d expected anger and had been prepared to deal with it, but the smoldering gazes? Sweet, considerate Antonio had been replaced by sexy Antonio, a man who looked as though he wanted to kiss her.

The only way she could think to deal with it was to tell him the truth, and now here they were, talking about something she wasn’t even ready to announce.

She stepped back. “I’m only two months along, but pregnant all the same.”

He rubbed his hands across his eyes, as if confused. Whatever had been happening with him in that argument had disappeared, and he was back to being sweet Antonio, her friend.

“I’m a man. Right now I have no idea if it’s appropriate to say congratulations or offer sympathy. I mean, I know this is trouble for you, but babies are wonderful.” He shook his head. “And my dad? He goes bananas over babies. Boy or girl. It doesn’t matter. He’s a cuddler.”

A laugh bubbled up. Not just from relief. He’d made her think about the baby as a baby. A little girl. Or a little boy. She wasn’t just going to be a mother; she was getting a baby.

“Congratulations are what I want.”

“So the father’s on board?”

She swallowed hard, not sure what to say. But she’d be answering this question for the remaining seven months of her pregnancy, so she might as well get used to it.

“No.” She cleared her throat. “Let’s just say his response was less than enthusiastic.”

“And there’s no wedding in your future?”

“He doesn’t want to see me again or see the baby at all.”

Antonio pointed a finger at her. “With my dad’s lawyers, we can force him to be part of the baby’s life.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want him to. He said he would send child support, but only if no one knows it’s coming from him.”

“I think you just blew that by telling me.”

She paced away. “If he doesn’t want to be part of our baby’s life, then I don’t want him to be. I think an angry dad would do more harm than good. And I don’t want his money.”

Thankfully, Antonio refrained from pointing out the obvious: that she needed money too much to turn any down. Instead, he asked, “What do you want?”

She shrugged and spread her hands. “Time. I have to tell my conservative parents that their little girl is about to become a mom with no father for her child. Ultimately, I’ll need a job that supports not just me, but me and a baby. So working for you kind of solved all my problems.”

He winced. “You can stay.”

Hope blossomed in her chest. Being here was the perfect opportunity for her. But she couldn’t take charity. “And be your assistant?”

“You’re my friend. You don’t have to work for your keep.”

She stormed over to him. “Yes! I do! I can’t be a charity case. Don’t you see?”

He sighed and shook his head. “All I see is a woman with a lot of pride.”

“Oh, yeah?” She crossed her arms on her chest. “What I see is a man with a lot of pride. You’re fighting with your dad about hiring one measly assistant—whom you need—and you won’t budge an inch! Why won’t you let me work for you?”

“We’re friends. I should be able to let you stay in my home as a guest, not an employee.”

“That’s not why you’re fighting Constanzo.”

He gaped at her. “Now you’re telling me how I feel?”

“Before you knew I was pregnant, you didn’t want me working for you. You said you don’t want a PA. But it’s clear you need one. So obviously there’s a reason you’re fighting having someone work for you.”

He sighed.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. Because I don’t care. What I do care about is earning my keep. And just from the glance I got at your mail, it was clear that I could at least answer your fan letters. I minored in accounting, so I could also keep track of your money. Anything else in your office, in your life, in your world, I wouldn’t care about.”

He sighed again. “You are a pregnant woman who needs a rest. Just take the time here with me to have some fun.”

She raised her chin. “No. If you won’t let me work, I won’t take your charity. Not even your offer of Constanzo’s penthouse. I’m going home.”

“You don’t have a home to go back to.”

“I’ll think of something.”

“If I tell Constanzo you’re pregnant and refusing a few weeks of rest, he won’t let you use his plane.”

“Then I’ll fly commercial.”

He raised his hands in defeat and slapped them down again. “You can’t afford that.”

“I know. But I’ll be fine.”

“No. You won’t!”

“Then let me stay here for two weeks as your assistant. If you don’t like what I do or still feel you don’t need someone at the end of two weeks, I’ll take another two weeks to rest and then go home.”

He stalled, as if unaccustomed to someone compromising. His brow furrowed. His expression and demeanor were so different than five minutes ago that confusion billowed through her. When they’d first begun arguing, before he’d known she was pregnant, his eyes had been sharp. Glowing. She could have sworn he wanted to kiss her.

Her eyes narrowed again. He might have been seductive Antonio, but he hadn’t made a move to kiss her. It was as if he had been daring her to step closer—

Had he been daring her to step closer?

He might have been. But to what end? She’d been close enough to kiss, yet he hadn’t kissed her.

She swallowed just as he said, “Really? If I let you work for me for two weeks then you’ll spend another two weeks resting and not arguing about going home?”

“Yes, I’ll get out of your hair if you let me work for two weeks and rest for two more. But that’s if you still want me to go home.” Her voice shook a bit as she considered that he might have actually been attracted to her. If she hadn’t told him about being pregnant...he might have kissed her. Just the thought almost made her swoon.

Telling herself it was foolishness to deal in what ifs, she said, “But who knows? You might—” she swallowed again “—like me.”

Her heart thrummed as their gazes met. He didn’t seem to get the double meaning.

He broke their connection and stepped back. “Constanzo can help you find a job in New York.”

She smiled sadly. Before he’d discovered she was pregnant he might have found her attractive, but he didn’t now. Though something in her heart pinched, it was okay. It had to be okay. She had bigger worries than disappointment over being wanted one minute and discarded the next. After all, why would a man who’d been married to a supermodel want a pregnant commoner?

She took a step back too. “I’d have to make a ton of money to be able to live in New York on my own, especially with the added expense of a baby. If I couldn’t make it as a single woman, it’s pretty far-fetched to think I could make it as a single mom. At the wedding, I thought about finding new roommates, but I now realize it might be impossible to find two women who want to share the small amount of space we could afford with an infant. I think, in the end, I’m going to have to go back to Kentucky. Live with my parents until the baby is born and then hope I can find a job.”

* * *

The sadness in her voice sat on Antonio’s shoulders like a cold, wet coat. Two minutes ago, she’d been so fiery he’d wanted to kiss her. But suddenly she’d become meek, docile.

Not that he wasn’t glad. Now that he knew she was pregnant, everything inside him had frozen with a new kind of fear. The last thing he needed in his life was someone who would remind him of the child he had lost. He might be able to keep her in his home for the four weeks of rest she needed, four weeks before her pregnancy showed...but he couldn’t handle watching another man’s baby grow when he knew his own child had been cast aside.

She pointed behind her to the door. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to go to the kitchen to make a sandwich.”

“I’ll show you—”

She waved a hand to stop him. “I’m fine. I really do need some time by myself.”

She turned and walked out of the room, and he fell to the tall-backed chair behind the desk and rubbed his hands down his face. The man who loved peace and quiet now had a constantly hungry pregnant woman in his home. Pregnant. As in with child. Here was a single woman with no money who was willing to beg and sacrifice to figure out what to do with her life so she could keep her child—and his wealthy wife, who could have hired all the help in the world, had aborted his baby.

He squeezed his eyes shut. He had to get her out of his house before her pregnancy showed, before the constant reminder drove him insane with sadness and anger.

But he wouldn’t do it at the expense of her feelings. She’d left his office believing she’d done something wrong, when she had done nothing wrong. His jumbled emotions had caused him to react poorly.




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