Roman Holiday Page 22

  Nick strolled over to the bed and hunkered down in front of her. He reached for her hand and took it gently between his own.

  “Caroline, you were sick and weak. Your son did exactly the right thing in phoning me. I was available and I came. I have siblings, I’ve dealt with lots of odd scenarios involving bodily fluids over the years. It’s really not a big deal.”

  But it really was, Caro thought. This man resented her, resented her son. He’d believed she was a swindler and a crook. He neither trusted nor liked her. Granted, at one time he’d wanted her, but that was different and those days were past.

  And yet . . .

  He’d come over, taken care of her, presumably taken care of Toby, and stayed the night. She turned her head and in a glance took in his focused gaze and the crumpled bed linen. He continued to look at her unwaveringly.

  “You slept here, didn’t you? Beside me.”

  Nick nodded. “Toby was here, too. He slept on this side . . . ” He indicated the other side of the bed, where Toby sat cross-legged munching toast. “And I lay with you here. I was concerned that if you got sick again during the night Toby may not be able to get you to a bowl in time. Or worse.”

  He let those words hang in the air. He’d been afraid she may have choked and Toby would have been alone with her.

  He’d been protecting both of them.

  Caro swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. He’d been so kind. And as yet had received no thanks. Not honest thanks, anyway. She met his gaze.

  “Thank you, Nick. I really appreciate your help – not just with me but with Toby. I . . . I know you could have easily just sent a doctor, but I’m glad you didn’t.” She smiled as she added, “Though that might have been the less awkward route to take.”

  “And miss you being beholden to me? Not a chance.” He straightened, letting her hand fall back to her lap as he reached for the tray. “Come on, kid.” He turned to Toby, who was idly making patterns on the bedspread with his fingers. “We’ll let your mother wash herself in private, this time, and get out of her hair. Are you sure you’re okay to tackle the shower yourself? I could . . . ” His voice lowered to her ears only, “Stay and help.”

  Oh, sweet divine Jesus. Caro felt her cheeks burn again as his suggestion raced its needy way through her weakened body. What she wouldn’t give to have that man’s hands soap her all over . . . Okay then, feeling better, are we? Pulling herself together, she narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Oh, I just bet you could. But,” she said as his mouth twitched, “no thanks. I’m good.” She turned to Toby. “Skedaddle, you two. I’ll be down shortly. I’ll join you in the den when I’m sorted here.”

  She shooed them out and crawled from the bed. God, she was weak. Her legs wobbly, her breathing quick, a light dew dampening her skin, she walked slowly to the bathroom. The anticipation of the hot water, scented body wash and moisturiser, and blessedly clean hair urged her on. The bathroom was clean. No evidence of last night’s debacle remained other than a couple of crumpled towels in the laundry basket.

  God, poor Toby. What a scare for him.

  She plucked a fluffy towel from the neat stack and, leaning forwards, turned on the shower. As the heat and steam filled the room, Caro stripped from her nightshirt, relieved to find yesterday’s underwear still in situ, and tried to erase the vision of Nick undressing and redressing her. What should be a sexy, romantic thing to do had been nasty and smelly, but he’d done it anyway. He’d earned some pretty major brownie points over the last several hours, that, she couldn’t deny.

  As Caro stepped under the hot spray, relief poured through her. She soaped her hair and body in the luxurious scented creams and lotions provided by the di Lucas. She took possibly the longest shower of her life but emerged rosy-cheeked and more stable on her feet. Wrapping herself in the huge towel, she was determined to be better, nicer and warmer to Nick. Whether that was opening a can of worms was to be decided, but she needed to show her appreciation on behalf of both herself and Toby.

  And speaking of, things seemed much more relaxed in that area with “Nick said this”, “Nick said that”, “Nick thinks” and so on. But was that a good thing? Did she need her son getting attached to Nick when she and he were so at odds?

  Awkward much?

  What was she doing except overthinking, as usual? And God knew she was at odds with both of them, so if they at least were getting on, well, she’d take that as a win.

  For now.

  Chapter 16

  The scene that faced Caro when she eventually wandered downstairs to the den was like something from a Hallmark film. A fire blazed in the grate, Christmas music played through the sound system, and Nick and Toby were sprawled on the ground, a Scrabble board between them. She glanced at the tall clock, noting it was just after 6 p.m. Great. She needed a brandy – medicinal purposes, of course, as she could rarely bring herself to break the not-before-six rule. Shifting her gaze to Nick’s long form, she saw a tumbler of amber liquid by his side. Maybe he needed it as much as she.

  She cleared her throat and entered the room fully. “Hey, boys, any food going a-begging?”

  Toby’s head spun to meet her and he scrambled to his feet. Within seconds he had her enveloped in a big hug.

  “Hey, darling, it’s okay. I’m okay. Honest.”

  She returned his embrace, understanding all too well how he might be feeling. If he’d been the one puking his guts out, she’d have been terrified. They were a team.

  “What?”

  She could hear his muffled words coming from where his face was tucked into the warmth of her old-fashioned dressing gown. She’d decided to forgo vanity. Her hair was clean and shiny again, and she smelled like a human, but there was no way she was dressing to impress. Not only could she not handle the fashion side of things – oh wait, let me see, what does one wear to hang out with the man who’d recently been holding her hair back from regurgitated food? Yeah, not so much. But she also simply didn’t have the energy to put on all the layers, so she chose another fresh sleep shirt, lounge pants and her cosy dressing gown.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The words were audible though whispered. Toby raised his face to hers, his eyes dark pools of chocolate, his mouth serious, chin tilted in that particular way of his. Toni’s way, she remembered.

  “Nothing to be sorry for. Nothing. I’ve been thinking and I bet it was the mushrooms Maria left for us. Remember? You didn’t want them but I must have overindulged. Not your fault, Tobias Anthony, not your fault at all.” She gave him an extra squeeze and set him apart from her. “Got it?” she continued, not letting him break eye contact.

  Nodding, Toby agreed reluctantly. “Yeah, maybe, but . . . ”

  “No buts, we’re done with it. Now, I want to know who’s winning but before you tell me, can you feed me, please? I find I am rather peckish!”

  “We made chicken soup,” Toby announced as if that’s the normal way of things. “Nick and me.”

  “And I,” she corrected automatically. “Did you now?” She raised a brow at the still-lounging Nick as he quirked one back at her. “Are you a chef, too?”

  Nick rose effortlessly to his feet, glass in hand, and walked towards her, his gaze quizzical.

  “I get by. Are you sure you’re okay?” One long finger came out to rest briefly on her cheek, stroking downwards. “You’re still a little pale.”

  Taking a step back from his touch, she nodded.

  “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit hungry, as I said. And chicken soup sounds perfect about now.”

  Caro ran a hand over Toby’s head and he smiled, the first genuine smile she’d seen from him in what seemed like weeks.

  “He has a good recipe for the soup. Said his mum used to make it when he was sick. I think you’ll like it. Wait here by the fire, I’ll bring it in for you both,” Toby said eagerly.

  And he left them alone.

  Awkward suddenly, Caro aimed for the armchair closest to the fire and sat, cu
rling her legs beneath her.

  “I’d like one of those, if you wouldn’t mind,” she said, gesturing to the glass in Nick’s hand.

  “This is Scotch. I’ll get you a brandy. It’ll be better for your stomach.”

  He moved to the drinks cabinet and poured a generous measure into a snifter. Caro smiled, remembering how that was always Toby’s job at home, passing around the drinks, both the aperitifs and the digestifs. He’d been in charge of that task for years and the normalness of it made her long desperately for home. For her mum with her oodles of comfort in every gesture. For her dad and his quiet but solid and safe ways. For her brothers and sisters and the madness they wrought daily.She missed them all.Crikey, Caro thought, she was getting maudlin and she hadn’t even had the damn alcohol yet.

  She took the glass from Nick’s hand, their fingers brushing. Instantly, two sets of eyes locked and held. She could feel the tingle all the way up her arm, feel the buzz, the zing, the dance in her belly.

  Damn it.

  A moment passed, then two. Sighing, Nick broke the contact, both visible and physical, and stepped back towards the long leather couch opposite the hearth. He cupped his own glass, his hands resting between his thighs as he sat forwards, bracing his elbows on his bent knees. His demeanour was serious. He raised his eyes to meet hers and just looked. She squirmed under his intense scrutiny, conscious of everything they’d shared so intimately, not just in a good way weeks ago but also last night, in a not so good way.

  “What?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her cheeks warm.

  “You had me worried.” His voice was low, steady.

  Caro couldn’t look away.

  “I spent many hours last night wondering if I should be bringing you to hospital, if I should have insisted on a doctor.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “Good question.” His mouth twitched, his little almost-smile that was so damn sexy Caro could feel her insides kick up again. “I guess I wanted to show Toby he could trust me with you. That you could trust me.” He paused, scraping a hand over his rough jaw. “I haven’t been . . . ” He hesitated. “I haven’t trusted you when I should have and I realise Toby needs me to trust him. To trust in him and his right to this family.” Nick cleared his throat. “What I’m trying to say is—”

  “Oh my God!” Caro interrupted. “Are you apologising to me? To us?”

  “That was my aim, yeah.” He locked his eyes with hers. “It’s the least I can do considering what I’ve put you through. I should never have demanded the DNA test – it’s obvious in so many ways that the kid is Toni’s. If I hadn’t believed it before, last night would have convinced me.”

  Caro raised her brow. “What happened last night? I mean, other than what we already know.”

  Nick’s mouth did its twitchy thing. “He’s some kid, for one kid – he had the sense to call an adult whom he knew would help. Shows smart thinking under pressure – granted, that’s more from my side of the family traits, but he gets kudos anyway.” Nick paused to swallow some Scotch. “He took such care of you, he wouldn’t let you go, wouldn’t even let your body rest on the floor. That kid held on tight till I practically had to prise his death grip from your arms. That there, that kind of devotion, that’s pure Toni.

  “You’ve done something really right with raising him, Caroline, allowing him to be himself and letting that softness, that tender side show through, too. It’ll make him a much stronger man one day. Just like Toni.”

  Caro took a deep breath. She was confused. Like any parent, she liked hearing praise given about her boy, but that part about devotion and Toni? Seriously, that just hurt like a thousand little jabs. He may have been devoted and kind and tender to his other family, but he sure as hell deserted her like the proverbial sinking ship when she sent word of her pregnancy. What kind of devotion was that?

  “Well, thanks and all, but let’s agree to differ on some of Toni’s qualities, shall we? Your experience of them and mine are coloured in very different hues.”

  “We need to talk about that, Caroline. I need to understand what happened.”

  “You know what? We don’t. It’s none of your business. I accept your apology for the way you acted over the last few weeks – I get you were protecting Antonio and Valentina, I really do – but my past with Toni stays there, in the past. I don’t need some glorified version of his side of things sugar-coating what he, in fact, didn’t do, which was step up when I asked.”

  Caro could feel her heartbeat kick up a gear as all the tightly held emotions simmered just below a very thin surface. Nick stood as he heard Toby coming down the hall. He reached out his hand and gripped her arm.

  “We’ll discuss this. But later. When Toby’s not around. I don’t want him getting the wrong idea about his dad.”

  “You don’t want him getting ideas?”

  Caro literally sputtered in disbelief at the audacity of the man. He spent one evening in the company of her son and he thinks he has the right to know what he should or shouldn’t know? Please!

  “Soup’s up.”

  The boy in question entered the den carrying a tray with three bowls of steaming soup and a plate of crusty bread. Caro’s stomach made such a loud rumble that they all just looked at each other and laughed. But Nick wasn’t getting away with this latest tack – not by a long shot. She caught his eye, narrowing hers at him deliberately, and mouthed “later” as she turned to help Toby with the tray.

  Nick couldn’t remember when he’d last spent such a relaxing and fun evening. That is, an evening that didn’t involve female body parts on display or in action. Granted, there’d been a few hairy moments before Toby had brought in the soup.

  Christ! he was an idiot.

  Doing a mental head slap as he brought the tray of empty dishes to the kitchen, he doubted his own brain power. What the hell had he been thinking? Trying to tell Caroline what she should or shouldn’t discuss with her own son?Did he need a frigging lobotomy?But that aside, Nick thought, as he loaded the dishwasher, it had been an evening of firsts for him. He’d never seen the mother–son team in action, naturally, and it was an eye-opener.

  There was no discipline. Nothing. She never raised her voice or chided him on anything. And the kid? Didn’t once sass his mom, answer her back in a cheeky or disrespectful way, didn’t hassle her for a later bedtime when it came – nothing. Nada. What was wrong with these people? On reflection, he figured the kid wasn’t normal – yeah, that must be it. But there was no evidence to support that. They just got on. With each other. Happily. It definitely wasn’t normal, that much he knew.

  He boiled the kettle for mint tea, figuring Caroline’s stomach needed it still, and thought about his own childhood and early teens. He and his elder brother and younger sister had bickered with each other and were constantly reprimanded by one or both of his parents. Was it the only-child thing, then? He shook his head, dipping a tea bag into the steaming water and walking back towards the den. Nah, couldn’t be just that. His pal Ray growing up had been an only and a more impossible brat you couldn’t encounter.

  So they’d eaten their soup which, he admitted not at all modestly at the time, was pretty damn tasty and they’d torn off chunks of bread from crusty loaves, also left by Maria. Caroline had only eaten half of her soup, but it was better than nothing. Toby had demolished what was left in her bowl – growing-boy card pulled there – and then they’d continued with their game.

  Caroline watched them finish that one and had participated in the next several. She, too, had ended up cross-legged on the floor and the talk had been primarily game-centred but . . . nice . . . was the only word Nick could come up with. Easy, nice, comfortable. Relaxed. And fun. Toby’s sense of humour, while age-appropriate, had quite the edge of sarcasm to it.

  “Being around adults since day one,” Caroline had interjected when Nick had been stunned by a clever pun by the boy. “And not just any adults. My sisters and brothers are, let’s just say, i
rreverent at the best of times.”

  Nick had nodded but was more than happy to let the banter of the duo wash calmly over him.

  By about 9 p.m. Toby was flagging and all Caroline said was, “One more game, my boy, and then it’s bedtime,” and that had been it. No pleading, recriminations and bargaining. He took his loss in that game – he was definitely tired – and sliding his remaining tiles into the bag, stood, kissed his mum gently on the cheek and wished them both goodnight.

  Although, as Nick placed the tea next to Caroline’s elbow on a side table, he remembered the kid had thrown a rather stern look in Nick’s direction as Toby, like the parent, had added, “Don’t stay up too late, now,” and left the room. He may as well have done that universal two fingers to the eyes and pointing them at the victim signal of “I’m watching you” – that kid was no dummy.

  Nick decided his lovely evening may well come to an end but he needed to clear the air.

  “We do need to talk, Caroline. About you, the kid, me, the di Lucas, the future . . . and feel free to put them in order of preference. I’m easy.”

  He sat back on the couch and drained the last of his second Scotch. He needed a clear head, so no more alcohol till they’d got some things straight.

  “I want to reiterate what I said earlier,” he began again.

  “Do you have to?”

  “Dammit, Caroline, we need boundaries.” He made the mistake of catching her eyes, which were smiling gently at him. Her soft mouth was curled slightly as if she held a secret. “You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”

  “No. I’m not,” she agreed. “I think you’re overreacting and being bossy and controlling. And I also think . . . ” She drew breath, although her tone was that of parent to child. “I also think that you need to take a chill pill and leave things alone.”

  “Leave things alone? How can I do that? Your son, my sort of cousin, will be head of this family one day. He’ll have huge responsibilities. He’ll have to learn the whole hotel business, but early like Toni, not come late to it like I had to.” Nick got up, paced the length of the den, returned. “He’ll be financially responsible for every member of this family. Do you realise what that means? It’s a massive task for anyone.”