The Italian's Convenient Wife. Catherine Spencer

happens to those who don’t want to marry or have children?”

      “There is no such creature,” he said, scandalized. “To have a husband and bear his children is an honor no self-respecting Italian woman would reject.”

      Callie couldn’t let such an arrogant, outdated remark go unchallenged. “You’re living in the dark ages, if you believe that!”

      Paolo directed a look at his father and smiled. After a barely perceptible pause, Salvatore smiled, too, albeit thinly, and said, “I daresay I am a little out of touch. Tell me what it is you do, my dear, that you find so absorbing.”

      A little unnerved by his abrupt turnabout, she said, “I’m an architect.”

      “You must be very clever. What is your area of expertise?”

      “I specialize in the restoration of Victorian houses.”

      “An admirable undertaking.” Salvatore nodded approval. “We are not so different in our thinking, after all, in that we both recognize the importance of preserving the past. You must have spent years acquiring the knowledge to embark on such a career. Remind me again where you attended school.”

      “In the States,” she replied evasively, suddenly uncomfortable at being the center of his probing attention. He could nod his handsome head and twinkle his dark eyes all he pleased, but he had a mind like a steel trap, and it was busily at work trying to put her off balance.

      Nor was he the only one. Not about to let her get away with such a vague answer, Paolo said, “You’re being much too modest, Caroline. As I recall, you won a scholarship to one of America’s Ivy league universities. Smith, wasn’t it?”

      “Smith?” Salvatore sat up straighter. “Then it’s small wonder you don’t have time for marriage or children. It would be a pity to waste such a fine education. How long were you there?”

      “I wasn’t,” she said, desperate to steer the conversation into safer channels. “And I didn’t say—”

      But Paolo cut her off. “You mean, you didn’t go to Smith, after all? Why ever not?”

      “What does it matter?” she shot back irritably. “The point I’m trying to make, if you’d do me the courtesy of letting me finish a sentence, is that I never said I didn’t want children. In fact, I shortly hope to take on just such a responsibility, and very much look forward to doing so.”

      “You’re getting married?”

      “You’re pregnant?”

      Almost simultaneously, Salvatore and Paolo fired the questions at her.

      “Neither,” she said, aware that she’d painted herself into a corner. But there was no escaping it now, not unless she wanted to give the impression she didn’t care what happened to her niece and nephew, and really, what was the point in delaying the inevitable?

      Bracing herself, she said, as tactfully as she knew how, “I’m talking about Gina and Clemente. I know this probably comes as a shock to you, and please be assured I’m not trying to be deliberately hurtful, but I’m well able to provide a home for the twins in the States, and I’m wondering if their living with me might be good for them, at least for a while.”