Chapter 5
Peyton was finger-painting with McKenzie when the doorbell chimed on Sunday afternoon. Who in the hell could that be? On a Sunday afternoon?
She just didn’t get visitors, other than her parents, and they’d left a few hours ago. And if she did, she liked to have prior knowledge to screen them first. The days of people just popping in were long gone. Even Nat knew to call before she brought Juliano around for a play.
Peyton tried to control, as much as she could without making her daughter a virtual prisoner, the numbers of people to whom McKenzie was exposed.
The more outside contacts, the greater the risk to McKenzie’s less than robust immune system.
Peyton knew only too well that a mild illness a normal toddler could shake off in a few days usually landed McKenzie in hospital on a drip.
Did that make her a control freak? Yes. But she was okay with the label. She was her daughter’s first line of defence – nothing was more important.
Another chime had her calling out, ‘Coming,’ as she diverted to the kitchen to quickly wash her hands.
Drying her hands with paper towel, she made a beeline for the door, preparing herself mentally to be polite but move whoever it was on promptly as she yanked on the knob with barely concealed impatience.
Consequently, she was totally unprepared for Valentino Lombardi to be standing there, dimples a’dazzling as he smiled and said, ‘Buongiorno.’
Breath rushed out of Peyton’s lungs at the sight of him lounging in her doorway looking dark and tousled and incredibly sexy in faded blue jeans and white T-shirt.
Damp curls clung to the back of his neck as if he’d not long been out of the shower, the wildly spicy aroma of his cologne infusing her nostrils with an almost feral-like temptation.
It made her excruciatingly aware of her own rumpled, sexless state.
Baggy trackpants and a tatty oversized T-shirt falling off her shoulder, streaked with paint.
She was excruciatingly aware of the last time they’d seen each other, when she’d asked him for something she’d known in her heart of hearts he couldn’t give.
Not since Arnie had walked out on her after Daisy’s death had she felt so completely vulnerable and exposed. So at the mercy of a man.
But if, even for a second, Peyton had thought it would work, she’d have got on her knees and begged.
She must have been looking at him blankly because one black eyebrow winged upwards. ‘You were expecting somebody else, yes?’
His enquiry snapping Peyton out of her inertia, she folded her arms. ‘I wasn’t expecting anybody.’
Didn’t he know it was etiquette to call before you dropped in on someone?
A big grin told Peyton he was unconcerned by etiquette. ‘You have paint on your face.’
Impatiently, Peyton wiped at her face, annoyed that she cared what she looked like around this man. ‘How do you know where I live?’ she asked, going on the defensive.
‘Alessandro.’
Of course… Peyton made a mental note to call Nat to tell her husband not to give out her address to Italian lotharios. Although she had ignored a few calls earlier which probably had been Nat.
Noticing the tightening of her lips, Valentino rushed to explain. ‘Don’t be cross with them. I told them I wanted to meet McKenzie before the surgery tomorrow.’
McKenzie chose that moment to appear, grabbing hold of Peyton’s leg with her paint-smeared fingers and shyly looking up – all the way up – at Valentino. Peyton shifted to shield her daughter a little.
He smiled. ‘Here she is.’
Placing a bag Peyton hadn’t noticed on the ground, he crouched to get on her level, still dwarfing McKenzie’s diminutive frame. ‘Hello.’
A lump formed in Peyton’s throat as she watched him sign the word as well.
McKenzie’s eyes, framed by blonde ringlets, widened for a moment before she shyly signed her greeting back.
‘I’m Valentino,’ he said, his finger spelling his name.
She was too young to understand what the letters spelled but McKenzie knew how to sign her own name, the rapid movement of her tiny fingers clawing at Peyton’s heart as they always did. Had she known her daughter would be deaf, she’d have chosen a shorter name.
‘Hello, McKenzie.’ Valentino continued to sign and speak. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you. You have paint on your nose.’
Peyton watched as McKenzie, shy by nature, actually grinned at Valentino as he gently swiped at it with his finger. For goodness’ sake – she was three years old! Did the man have to charm every female he came into contact with?
Peyton drew her daughter closer, her hand firm on McKenzie’s shoulder. ‘Do you usually make house calls?’
Valentino grinned one last time at McKenzie before rising to his full height. ‘No.’
‘Then why are you here? You could meet my daughter tomorrow morning.’
‘I wanted to see you were okay. After Friday.’ He grabbed the bag and pulled out a bottle of wine and a brown paper bag. ‘I brought a peace offering.’
Peyton knew Valentino felt bad about having to say no to her; they didn’t have to rehash it. And seriously, with tomorrow looming larger and larger, did he really think she could relax over a glass of wine with him?
‘There was no need,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m fine.’
Maddeningly, he just grinned before crouching once more. ‘What do you say, McKenzie?’ he signed. ‘Can I come in?’
Her traitorous daughter smiled and nodded enthusiastically, holding out her multicoloured hand. Valentino took the offering as he rose, his gaze meeting Peyton’s, daring her to contradict.
Peyton narrowed her eyes at him. ‘That was low.’
Completely unrepentant, he smiled as he took a step forward and, temporarily bested, Peyton fell quickly back to allow him to enter.
‘I brought food,’ he said as he brushed past. Peyton opened her mouth to tell him she wasn’t hungry, but he continued on.
‘I’ve found the most amazing delicatessen near where I’m staying. ’
He glanced at McKenzie and signed, ‘Where is the kitchen?’
Peyton stared as her quiet, introverted little girl pointed and then happily led Valentino where he wanted to go.
What was even happening now? It was a few moments before she registered the drift of Valentino’s chatter coming from the other room and the fact she was still standing like a powered-down robot in the hallway, staring after them.
Sighing, she wondered how long it would take to get him out.
By the time she’d reached the kitchen, Valentino had seated McKenzie on the bench beside him, poured two glasses of wine and was supervising as her daughter distributed a variety of olives into little bowls.
Absently she noticed that Valentino had had the good sense to wash the paint off McKenzie’s hands first.
It was strangely sexy to see him in her kitchen, laughing with her daughter. His broad shoulders stretched the confines of his white T-shirt as his hip rested casually against her counter. Even more sexy was the way he signed and talked without conscious thought, as if it was completely natural.
Like he’d been doing it all his life.
Perversely though, it irritated her – must the man be perfect? Leaning against the jamb she said, ‘Making yourself at home, I see.’
It was meant sarcastically but the man was impervious to insult, smiling as his gaze turned to her, bathing her in warm heat. It roved over her face and dropped to take in her bare shoulder where the shirt had slipped off, lingering on the bony ridge of her collarbone.
Or maybe the lack of bra strap?
‘McKenzie is very helpful,’ he said, signing as his eyes finally met and held hers.
McKenzie grinned at her mother, and Peyton’s heart rose in her throat. Her daughter never took to anyone this quickly. Trust her to take to a guy who, like her father, was only going to be a temporary fixture in her life.
Peyton watched as Valentino removed the still warm baguette from the bakery bag. ‘Ah,’ he murmured as he held it to his nose and inhaled the yeasty fragrance. ‘Quello sente l’odore di buon.’
He offered it to McKenzie to smell, which she did, mimicking him perfectly. ‘You like?’ he signed, and McKenzie nodded. He located a knife in a drawer near his hip and sliced the bread into thick discs before arranging them on the plate next to the olives.
‘Is there somewhere we can eat this?’
Another spike of irritation needled somewhere behind Peyton’s left eye. ‘Will the deck be good enough for your lordship?’ she enquired with saccharine sweetness, also signing as she spoke.
Valentino winked at McKenzie, who giggled. ‘Perfect.’ Gesturing to Peyton, he said, ‘Lead the way.’
Scooping McKenzie off the bench, he placed her feet on the ground and Peyton was conscious of her skipping just behind as she made her way outside, passing through their airy living room cluttered with children’s toys and framed photographs.
Annoyingly, she was also aware of Valentino, bearing the food and wine on a tray he’d managed to locate, lagging up the rear.
She could feel the heat of his gaze on her back just as it had been the night of the wedding as he’d followed her to the dance floor, and her stupid heart skipped several beats.
Stepping through the sliding doors to the deck, Peyton indicated for him to put the food on the sturdy wooden table as she settled into a seat, making room for McKenzie on her chair.
Unfortunately, he didn’t take the seat opposite but the one at the head of the table. The one closest to her. Naturally. Which did nothing for the erratic cant of her pulse. ‘Does she know about tomorrow?’ he asked, not signing this time.
Peyton rolled her eyes. ‘Of course.’ Did he think she’d just spring an operation on her daughter? Hell, the two them had been counting this day down for the past several months.
He nodded as he handed her a glass of wine. ‘Okay.’ He busied himself removing the plates from the tray as he said, ‘Do you want to tell her who I am?’