A Taste Of Italy

He lowered her feet to the floor until she stood next to him, beside the bed, eyes locked as slowly they peeled away each other’s clothes, layer by layer, like the emotions Leon had peeled away for her, until she was as bare as him.

She stepped forward until her breasts brushed his chest and with a muffled groan he crushed her to him. And she knew it was her turn to comfort him. She needed to comfort someone because she couldn’t comfort Jack. Her hands curved around his neck and she pulled him closer so she could wrap herself around him, and draw his pain into her. In some unexplained way it eased her own suffering as they stood locked together in a ball of consolation that slowly unravelled into something else.

It started with a kiss, a slow gathering of speed. Kissing Leon was like running beside the wolf she thought him, down an unexpectedly steep hill, barely able to keep her feet. The momentum grew and her heart shuddered and skipped as she was swept alongside the rush of Leon, the heat of his chest, his powerful hands, his eyes above her, burning fiercely down as he searched her face for consent.

She reached up and pulled his mouth to hers again and she could feel the need in her chest and belly and in the heart of her as he gathered her closer, stroked her, murmured soft endearments of wonder in Italian which deepened the mist of escape and made her want to melt into him even more.

His hands slid down her back, marvelling at the smoothness of her skin, curling around her bottom and lifting her until her weight was in his hands. When he lifted her higher she rose against his chest. She’d never felt so small and helpless, dominated yet so safe and protected. She ran her cheek against the bulge of his arms, savouring the tension of steel beneath her skin from this mountain of a man who made her feel like a feather, as effortlessly he carried her until she felt the wall behind her. Then the nudge of him against her belly.

In a moment of clarity that came from the coolness of the wall on her back, she told herself she shouldn’t do this, didn’t deserve to experience this man at this moment in this way, would not die if she didn’t. But she didn’t really believe it.

She did believe she’d always regret not taking the gift of solace they offered each other in their darkest hour. And soon he would be gone.

He stilled, as if sensing her thoughts, and when she looked again into the midnight of his eyes, she knew she could stop this. Her heart felt the tear of denial, the breath of resolution and the tiniest lift of her skin away from his but something inside her snapped. No. She needed this for her sanity because with that one millimetre of distance between them, the outside world pummelled her and the pain made her wrap her legs around his corded thighs, hook her ankles and implore him to save her.

Afterwards, they lay together on the bed, en-twined, her head on his chest as he stroked her hair and, against her will, against any conviction she’d be able to, she fell into a dreamless sleep and rested.

Leon listened to the slowing of her breathing and his arm tightened protectively around her. How would he forget this woman? What had happened between them was something he hadn’t expected and he certainly hadn’t foreseen the severity of the impact of their collision.

More barricades had tumbled under her hands, barriers he’d closely guarded and never planned to breach. He would regret this night and yet could not wish it undone. His eyes widened in the dark when he realised what else he’d done. Or not done.

His sins compounded. Not only had he not protected her son, he’d not protected her.

The flash of light on his silenced phone was muted by his shirt pocket on the floor but he saw it. He buried the enormity of that other problem for another time as he slipped his arm out from under her head. She snuggled back into him and he paused until her breathing resumed before he slid from the bed.

His brow creased as he read the message, then he gathered his clothes swiftly and left the room.

CHAPTER SEVEN

SHE was woken by ringing as he came back into the room. He leaned over and switched on the bed lamp before he reached for the phone beside the bed and gave it to her. ‘Yes,’ she listened, mouthed, ‘the police’ at him and then said, ‘I understand.’ She listened again and then nodded, her eyes closing with relief. He could read it in her face. She put the phone down. ‘They’re safe.’

He didn’t tell her he’d known already. Just turned her into his body and hugged her. It was her he needed to hug and not just because of the boys. Crushed her into his chest and closed his eyes as if blotting out all the terrifying pictures his mind had been filled with before his bodyguards had rung him.

Tammy pulled back and her tear-streaked face looked up into his. Searched his eyes, searched his face. ‘They wouldn’t have made a mistake. Would they?’

He shook his head. ‘They’re on their way home now.’ He didn’t tell her there had been a gunfight. Between two groups. Coming on them his men had scooped the boys from the confusion, had been fortunate one unidentified man had thrown himself in front of the boys to save them and been badly wounded. They’d left the dead and dying where they were for the police. He didn’t say his bodyguards wanted to know what enemies he had that they knew nothing of.

Perhaps it wasn’t over yet. It was an unexpected nightmare he’d dragged her into and he would never forgive himself. How many people were after him in his life? But there was much he didn’t understand.

She searched his face and pulled away a little. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

How could she tell? ‘The boys aren’t hurt.’

Still she watched him. Closely. ‘Your people?’

He shook his head. ‘No.’

Her head lifted as if she could scent danger. ‘Then something went wrong with the kidnappers. So it’s not finished.’

He squeezed her shoulders tight beneath his hands. ‘It will be finished.’

She moved out of his embrace and her narrowed eyes flicked over him and away. ‘You can’t promise that.’

‘I promised the boys would be returned.’

She looked at him and slowly she nodded. ‘You did.’ He could feel the distance grow between them. Despite what had passed only an hour ago. Or perhaps because of it. He thought briefly of a subject they hadn’t broached but she went on.

‘And I trusted you. But I don’t know if I could do that again with my son’s life.’ And there was more there than was spoken and they both knew.

He inclined his head. ‘I understand.’

She moved to slide out of the bed and he laid his hand on her shoulder to stay her. ‘There is another thing we must discuss.’

She wrinkled her forehead. ‘Yes?’

‘I did not protect you when we made love. What of those chances?’

She shook her head. ‘I’m meticulous.’

‘Then there is nothing else you need to worry about.’

‘Or you,’ she confirmed.

The Saturday night before they left was so much harder to have Leon in the house, Tammy reflected with a sigh, thanks to a moment of weakness.

When she’d finally held her son safe in her arms that morning, Jack had asked if Paulo and his dad could stay their last night with them. Of course she’d said yes. She understood Jack’s need and would have given her son anything he desired in that moment, that precious, arm-filling, flesh-and-blood hug of her unharmed child.

Both boys hadn’t wanted to be separated after their ordeal and the day had been spent quietly watching over them as they slept and feeding them when they were awake. Leon had spent hours with the police.

How could she say no? What could she say, that she needed as much space as she could get from Leon now that she knew the man? Knew him with a depth and intensity and physical knowledge that scared the living daylights out of her.

Had heard his deepest fears exposed, had wept for the young orphan, had seen a little of his growing feelings for her. During her darkest hour those things had immeasurably comforted. Now they would both pay the price and tonight was incredibly awkward. And on top of it all was the guilt that Leon didn’t know she’d understood his words.

Then there were the secrets he held. Where had he been when she’d been woken by the phone? Certainly not beside her in a state of undress. Plus the fact that two quiet men were outside, somewhere watching over her house and the people inside. She felt as if her world was spinning out of her control. She, who prided herself on control.

Leon had been reluctant to confirm their presence, but she’d seen them leaning on the tree across the road, and another out the back against her father’s fence. His bodyguards.

Again she thought of Vincente and his cronies and the secrets and murky dealings she’d learned more of each day, and it hardened her resolve to stay aloof from this other dark man. But she needed all that resolve to not seek the same comfort she knew she could lose herself in.

The boys were finally asleep for the night. She’d been in and checked on them so many times she was almost dizzy with it.

Leon circled her, wary of intruding on her space, wary of her, as he should be. She was afraid of her self, her thoughts, her dilemmas that loomed large in the emotionally fogged compartments in her brain.

He came closer until he stopped in front of her. Lifted his hand and brushed the hair out of her eyes.

She shrugged and shifted out of his reach because she knew how easily she could have thrown herself back into his arms and that was the last thing she wanted communicated to him.

For Leon it was confirmation that she didn’t need him. She had her son back. He was just prolonging her embarrassment. He watched her turn away again and search the room for the peace she obviously hadn’t found next to him. ‘The boys are safe now,’ he said.

‘Are they?’ She sighed. ‘Really? I have to bow to your superior knowledge, there, don’t I?’

It was his fault. Letting her guess it was all not finished. He laughed without humour. Still she didn’t trust him. ‘Why don’t I believe you could bow before anyone?’

Her eyes pinned him. ‘Well, what if these criminals do come back to hurt the boys?’

He ran his hand down her arm. His aim had been to gentle her but all he seemed to achieve was to reinforce her agitation and his own aching feeling of loss. In the past twenty-four hours he’d changed.

Making love with Tamara had changed him. Had cost him something he hadn’t wanted to give, ever again. But now was not the time to rail at himself for something he’d had no control of. Later he would sift what could be salvaged from the wreckage. He said again, ‘The boys are safe.’

‘You don’t know that.’ She looked at him. ‘You can’t lie that you aren’t frightened they’ll come back for Paulo.’

He sighed and he fought the dark pictures away. The way he’d only just caught them last time, Paulo pale and almost lifeless in his arms, the panic at the airport. The sickness of dread. And now again, unexpectedly, in this far-off land, and the fact that no ransom had been demanded. ‘But there was no reason to take Jack.’

‘There wasn’t yesterday.’ Tammy shook her head. ‘But now he knows what the men look like.’

He raked restless fingers through his hair. Nearly all the men had been caught. With one close to the end when last he’d heard. ‘What if it was not Paulo they were after?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

Neither did he. ‘Is there any reason somebody would want Jack?’

Her hand flew up as if to brush aside the idea. Vehemently. ‘Of course not. They were after Paulo.’

He watched her, narrowed his eyes as he tried to understand the nuance he was missing. Something that didn’t ring true, though she’d never given him cause to disbelieve her before. It was hard to pinpoint his unease. ‘My bodyguard was told they were delivering Jack.’

She shook her head. ‘They made a mistake.’

He heard her words but this was what he couldn’t understand. There had to be a connection. ‘What about his father?’

She avoided his eyes. ‘He’s never seen his father.’ He’d been in jail for all of Jack’s life, but she didn’t want to share that delightful pearl of information. She shook her head again. ‘Jack knows I haven’t seen or heard from his family since Ben moved me out of Sydney eight years ago. Before Jack was born. Jack’s father was not someone I’m proud of falling in love with.’ And I’m not making the same mistake twice.

Leon sat and pulled her down next to him. ‘How old were you, Tammy?’

She stood again and walked away. She didn’t want to talk about this now. When she had her back to him she answered, ‘Does it matter?’

Leon persisted and she didn’t understand why. ‘Does anyone in this man’s family know about Jack?’

She shook her head but she didn’t even know that. She’d been pregnant, fifteen, with belly quietly bulging under the bulky clothes she’d worn. Her grandmother had panicked and her father had arrived. Thank goodness for the love of Misty and her dad. She was fairly sure Vincente was working himself up from a petty gangster and she would have been in the thick of it.

‘I guess his mother knew I was pregnant because she worked for my grandmother, but whether or not she knew who the father was, I’m not sure. The whole world knew when I left.’

‘So perhaps they could know?’

What was he getting at, digging through this old history? That horrible black trepidation was creeping over her again and she hated the feeling. Mistrusted it more than ever after yesterday.

She felt cold and she rubbed the goose flesh on her arms. It wasn’t a cool night. ‘This has nothing to do with the fact your son was kidnapped and mine was taken as well. Don’t try and blame this on me. Our life was normal before you came.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He thrust his fingers deep through his hair. ‘You’re right. Unless he was Italian there can be no connection.’

Tammy’s breath jammed in her throat and she hoped Leon didn’t hear it stick. Another shiver ran through her as her heart slowed and then sped up twice as fast. She could feel her blood trickling coldly in her chest as she tossed that idea around like a hard lump of ice. No way.

Leon crossed to her. Her face gave away the turmoil he’d caused. He was a fool and a thoughtless one. ‘Forget I asked. Please, Tamara, forgive me.’ And he could do little else but gently draw her into his arms and kiss her.

She was so soft beneath him. Her cheek like satin against his face, her hair fluid under his fingers in that way he would never forget. How could he cause her more distress? He stroked her arm. ‘Come lie down with me. Just to hold you. Nothing else. Let me keep you warm.’

She wanted to. So badly. It was a great theory to just hug and wrap themselves around each other and drift off to sleep but she doubted it would end that way.

She shivered again. ‘I am cold.’

Was it wrong to want to lie with this man? To experience the immersion in another human being, to feel the power of her inner woman that she’d only just discovered because he’d shown her? She wanted to lose herself in him, or perhaps truly find herself, and in doing so maybe gain some peace. Why did this man, a man leaving tomorrow, have to be the one who had shown her that? The only man she’d ever sought peace from. Why was that? Why did everything go so wrong?

She wrapped her arms across her chest and attempted humour. ‘If you took me to bed I don’t know if I could keep my hands off you.’

The worried crease across his brow jumped and the tiniest twinkle lit his eyes. ‘Perhaps I could sacrifice myself to your needs. If that should happen I would forgive you. Medicinal purposes, of course.’

No. They couldn’t. There was the chance of the boys wandering in. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘I could stay on top of the bedclothes.’

‘And how would you warm me, then?’ Perhaps that would work. She was so tired and cold and miserable and the thought of leaving her troubles for him to mind while she rested was beyond tempting.

‘I’ll be out in a minute.’ She dived into the bedroom and shut the door. She imagined his face when he saw her in her too-big, dark blue striped, flannelette pyjamas.

But when she returned he didn’t comment. Just took her hand and led her to the bed. She doubted he wanted to risk her changing her mind and making him sleep in the den. When she stood before him he took both her hands and kissed them.

‘Tonight will look after itself.’

Sometime in the night she awoke, her pyjamas strangling her. Her arm had little movement where she lay on the ungiving fabric and she felt trapped. Trapped and claustrophobic by the material and ripped off by the thought that tomorrow Leon would be gone. The bare skin of her feet had wormed between his legs and soaked in his heat and his hand had slipped between the buttons of her shirt and rested like a brand to cup her breast.

She lifted her free hand up to move his fingers but instead she stroked the back of his hand. He kissed her neck.

So he was awake also. ‘Stai bene?’ Then, ‘Are you okay?’

She almost said sì. ‘I’m a little uncomfortable.’

‘Your pyjamas?’ She could hear the laughter in his voice and the sound was more precious than she expected.

‘Yep.’

‘I have a solution.’

‘I’m sure you do.’ The solution was delightful.

The next morning dawned clear and bright. Unlike her head. Tammy still felt fogged with the twists and turns of the past few days, let alone the disaster of sleeping with Leon again. Her face flamed in the privacy of the bathroom. Goodness knows how she was going to face the boys. At least Leon had been up and dressed before either boy had appeared.

Today they left for Italy. She was still telling herself his leaving was a good thing.

Emma and Gianni returned to Brisbane today from their honeymoon and Montana was also driving up with Dawn, taking Grace to meet up with her mother and new step-father, before they all flew out.

Leon had taken the boys to the shop while she showered, to buy bread rolls and cold meats for brunch, a last-minute attempt to create some normalcy from Paulo’s trip to Australia. A family picnic by the lake before they left.

She’d told Jack they weren’t seeing them off at the airport. It was the last thing Tammy wanted—a long, drawn-out goodbye in front of strangers or even to sit opposite Leon at a small café table and make small talk in front of their sons. The picnic would be hard enough but at least it was private.

Tammy was meeting them back in the kitchen in half an hour to make the hamper. When they’d gone she slipped next door in search of her father.

Ben was painting the bottom of his old rowboat down the long yard that backed onto the lake. No trip to the beach this weekend. The ghost gum towered into the sky and shaded the grassy knoll above the water where he worked. The boatshed was where her father came when he was stressed.

She’d spent months of lazy summer afternoons with Ben and Misty here, watching swans and ducks when Jack was a baby. She realised time, peaceful and trouble-free time, so different to now, had drifted by like the floating leaves from the overhanging trees.

‘Hello, there, Tam.’ Her father looked up with a smile and his piercing blue eyes narrowed at the strain in her face.

He wiped the excess paint off the paintbrush and balanced it carefully across the top of the open paint tin before he stood. ‘How are you? How’s Jack? What’s happened was huge. Bigger than anything we’ve had to cope with before.’ He came closer. ‘You okay, honey?’

She watched one large drip of red paint slide down the end of the brush and fall onto the grass like a drop of blood. A spectre of foreboding. But she didn’t have premonitions—that was Misty’s way. She shivered. She was here for a reason. ‘I’ll be fine when Leon’s gone and Jack’s safe.’ As if to convince herself?

Her father’s dark brows, so like her own, raised in question. He slid an arm around her shoulders and drew her to sit beside him on the circular iron stool that ringed the trunk of the biggest gum.

‘You think the two go together, do you? Leon and trouble?’

‘Of course.’ So quickly she could say that but still there was that tiny seed of doubt planted last night, an illogical but still possible seed that maybe the trouble had come from her.

She wasn’t sure how to broach a subject every-one in her family had left alone for more than eight years.

‘Do you remember when you came for me that last time at Grandma’s?’

Ben’s black brows rose in surprise. ‘Of course.’

‘Did you ever learn much about Jack’s father?’

Ben’s arm slid away and he straightened and gazed across the lake. ‘Yes. A little.’

She wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d said, ‘No—nothing,’ so the other answer made her curious. She couldn’t read his face. ‘What could you know? I didn’t tell you much.’

Still he didn’t look at her. ‘I found out what I needed to. To be sure you were safe when I took you away. To be sure Jack was safe.’

She really didn’t want to hear those words. To be sure Jack was safe. Her stomach plummeted as she watched his profile. ‘I think Vincente was involved with the mob on a small scale.’

Ben winced. ‘I believe he was. I spoke to his mother and he was betrothed to a woman in Italy so he was never going to marry you.’

‘Do you think there is any reason they’d want Jack now?’ She’d said it. Out loud because she needed her father to deny, say it was nonsense, because she couldn’t say it to Leon, whom she needed to tell.

Ben looked away again and didn’t meet her eyes. Her stomach sank and she didn’t want to think about the ramifications of that. He hesitated but then he said, ‘Can’t think of one.’

Tammy sighed with relief. ‘Of course not.’