Alessandro and the Cheery Nanny. Amy Andrews

looking down at her and was reminded of their first meeting when she’d had the bean-bag disadvantage. He was looking at her with that now familiar coolness in his eyes.

      ‘Sit down, for God’s sake,’ she grouched.

      Alessandro frowned. Nat Davies was one bossy little package. He slid down the wall, planting his feet evenly in front of him, his knees bent. ‘Are you always this disagreeable?’

      Nat, who was excruciatingly aware of his encroaching masculinity, shot him a startled look. She opened her mouth to protest. No, she wasn’t. Despite her father’s desertion and the recent ending of a long-term messy relationship that would have caused the most congenial woman to become a bitter hag, she was essentially a very agreeable person.

      Perennially happy. Everyone said so. She almost told him so too. But then a quick review of the twice she’d spoken to him had her conceding that his comment was probably fair.

      She raised her gaze from the very fascinating way his trousers pulled across his thigh muscles. ‘I owe you an apology. For the other day. After Ernie. I was out of line. It was none of my business.’

      Alessandro was surprised by her admission. It was refreshing to be with a woman who could apologise. ‘You did overstep the line a little.’

      Nat wanted to protest again, justify her reaction as being in Julian’s interests, but he was right. ‘I get too involved. I always have. The matron where I trained said I was a hopeless case.’

      Alessandro smiled grudgingly. He removed his stethoscope and loosened his tie. It was already starting to get stuffy without the benefit of the air-conditioning. ‘There are worse human flaws.’

      He knew that only too well.

      Nat stared at how even a small lift to his beautiful mouth transformed his face. Combined with the now skew tie and the undone top button, revealing a tantalising glimpse of very male neck, he really was a sight to behold. She smiled back. ‘She didn’t think so.’

      Alessandro straightened a leg, stretching it out in front of him. He shrugged, looking directly at her. ‘We’d just lost the battle to save a man’s life. Death affects everyone in different ways.’

      The teasing light she’d glimpsed briefly snuffed out and he seemed bleak and serious again. An older version of Julian. She hesitated briefly before voicing the question that entered her head. But they had to talk about something. And maybe he was looking for an opening? ‘How long ago did your wife die?’

      Alex felt the automatic tensing of the muscles in his neck. A fragment of a memory slipped out unbidden from the steel trap in his brain. Opening his door on the other side of the world to two grim-looking policemen. He drew his leg up again.

      Nat watched him withdraw, startled by a twist of empathy deep inside.

       Oh, no. No. No. No.

      Alessandro Lombardi was a big boy. He didn’t need her empathy. It was bad enough that she was sexually attracted to him. He didn’t need her to comfort him and fix things too. His wife was dead—she couldn’t fix that. Only time could fix that.

      ‘I’m sorry. There I go again. None of my business.’

      No. It wasn’t. But he was damned if he wasn’t opening his mouth to tell her anyway. ‘Nine months.’

      Nat was surprised. Both that he had responded and by the nine months. She’d known it was recent but it was still confronting. No wonder they were both so raw. ‘I’m so very sorry,’ she murmured.

      Alessandro watched as her gaze filled with pity, the blue of her irises turning soft and glassy in the gentle light. He couldn’t bear to see it. A sudden black fury streaked through him fast and hot like a lightning bolt from the deep well of self-hatred that bubbled never far from the surface. He didn’t deserve her pity. He wasn’t worthy of it. All he deserved was her contempt.

      This was why he’d left England. To get far away from other people’s pity. Their well-meaning words and greeting-card platitudes. Knowing that he had driven her to her death, that he alone was responsible…the hypocrisy had eaten him up inside.

      Looking into Julian’s face every day was more than he could stand. It was much easier not to.

      He dropped his gaze. It took all of his willpower to drag himself back from the storm of broiling emotions squeezing his gut. ‘Nat,’ he said to the floor, before raising his face to meet hers, ‘is that short for something?’

      There had been a moment, before he’d looked down, when she’d glimpsed a heart-breaking well of despair. But it was shuttered now, safely masked behind a gaze that could have been hewn from arctic tundra.

      He was obviously still deeply in love with his wife. It was also obvious he wasn’t going to talk about it with her.

      ‘Natalie,’ she said, taking the not-so-subtle hint. ‘I was supposed to be a boy.’

      ‘Ah.’

      ‘Nathaniel. Nat for short.’

      She told the story she knew off by heart, careful not to betray how inadequate it made her feel. How she’d never felt like she quite measured up because her father had wanted a boy. ‘My parents had kind of got used to thinking of me as Nat so they decided on Natalie.’

      ‘Nathalie.’ Alessandro rolled the Italian version round his tongue. ‘It’s pretty. Much prettier than Nat.’

      It certainly was when he said it. His accent made a th pronunciation shading it with an exotic sound plain old Nat never had. Coming from his lips it sounded all grown up. No girl-next-door connotation. No one-size-fits-all, unisex, if-only-you’d-been-a-boy name.

      In one breath he’d feminised it.

      And right then, sitting on the floor in the gloom of a broken-down lift, she could see how women fell in love at first sight. Not that she was quite that stupid. Not any more. After Rob she knew better than to get involved with a man who was in love with another woman. Even a dead one.

      But raw heat coated her insides and she squirmed against the floor to quell the sticky tentacles of desire.

      ‘I prefer Nat,’ she dismissed lightly, brushing at imaginary fluff on her skirt.

      Alessandro dropped his eyes, watching the nervous gesture. It was preferable to the vulnerability he’d seen in her unmasked gaze.

      ‘Ah, yes, Nat. Nat, Nat, Nat. I hear that name so often at home these days I’m beginning to think you must have magical powers. I think you could give Harry Potter a run for his money.’

      Nat, pleased to be off more personal subjects, laughed out loud. Right. If she had magical powers she sure as hell would have used them shamelessly to her advantage long before now. Made her father love her more. Made Rob love her more. Made them stay.

      ‘Julian talks about me?’

      Despite not wanting to, Alessandro noticed the way her uniform pulled across her chest. The way the slide nestled in her cleavage. It had been such a long time since he’d noticed anything much about a woman at all but it was becoming a habit with this bossy, talkative Australian nurse.

      He sent her a tight smile. ‘Nonstop.’

      Nat grinned. ‘Sorry.’ But she really wasn’t. It made her happy to think she was making a difference to the serious little boy who came to the crèche. She knew she looked out for him on her days there and her heart melted faster than an ice-cube in this damn heat wave, when his sad little face lit up like a New Year’s Eve firework display the moment he spotted her.

      Alessandro shrugged. ‘I’m pleased he…has someone.’ Even if hearing her name incessantly meant she was never far from his thoughts. Even if that transferred into the rare moments of sleep he managed to snatch during nights that seemed to last an eternity. Those few precious hours were suddenly full of her. Bizarre erotic snapshots the likes of which he hadn’t experienced since puberty.

      Just