Her Brooding Italian Boss by Susan Meier Read Free Book Online Page B

squeezed his eyes shut.
He’d wanted to paint her.
For real. At the wedding he’d wanted to capture the expression in her eyes, but that had been more like a wish.
    What he’d just felt was a genuine yearning to see her form on a canvas, to bring her essence to life.
    Excitement raced through him and he studied her back, her hair, her peaceful face against the soft white pillow. His unwanted attraction to her blossomed, but the desire to paint didn’t return.
    Anguish filled him, but he brushed it off. He couldn’t explain the fleeting moment of wanting to paint her, but it was gone and that might be for the best. His decision to let her go was a good one. Even if his ability to paint returned, he could not paint her. It could take weeks to get the image of her he wanted and by that time she’d be showing and he’d experience all the sadness of the loss of his child a hundred times over.
    He quietly tiptoed backward toward the door and left her as she lay.
    * * *
    The next morning, Laura Beth awakened to the bright Italian sun peeking in through the blinds behind the sheer aqua curtains. She stretched luxuriously on the smooth, cool sheets that felt like—terry cloth?
    Her brow furrowed and she looked down with a gasp as the events of the night before tumbled back. She’d been too tired to make herself something to eat but had forced herself to shower, then she’d fallen asleep before she could even get into pajamas. Pregnancy was full of surprises.
    But that was fine. Today was the second day of her life as a realist. No more dreaming or rhapsodizing for her. She had a child to consider. She might have told Antonio the night before that she envisioned herself going back to Kentucky, but that wasn’t the optimal plan. Her parents would eventually come around and love the baby, no matter that it didn’t have a participating father and that their daughter wasn’t married. But there weren’t a lot of jobs for IT—information technology—people in Starlight, Kentucky, the small town in which she’d grown up. If she was going to earn a decent living, it would be by getting a job where she could use her degree. And that was what she needed to consider while she had this one-month reprieve. She had to think about exactly what kind of job she could do and in what city she would find it.
    She dressed in her best jeans—which were nonetheless worn—and a pink tank top, then ambled downstairs feeling a little better. Because she’d slept later than she normally did, her morning sickness was barely noticeable. Antonio might not be giving her a shot to prove that she could be a good assistant, but she needed time to really think through her options. And he was giving it to her. In beautiful Italy.
    Technically, she was lucky.
    Very lucky.
    When she opened the door to the huge stainless-steel kitchen, the noise of shuffling pots and chatting servants greeted her. Antonio’s staff hadn’t been around the day before. He’d mentioned giving them time off while he was in New York for the two weeks for Eloise and Ricky’s wedding. But today they were in the kitchen, going about what looked to be typical duties.
    “Good morning!”
    The three women froze. Dressed in yellow uniforms, with their hair tucked into neat buns at the backs of their heads, they could have been triplets, except the woman at the stove appeared to be in her seventies. The woman at the table was probably in her thirties. And the woman with the dust cloth looked to be in her early twenties.
    The oldest woman said, “Good morning,” but it sounded more like “
Goot
morning.”
    Laura Beth eased a little farther into the room. “I’m a friend of Antonio’s. I’m staying here for a few weeks. Hopefully, I’m going to be helping him clean his outer office.”
    The youngest woman smiled. Her big brown eyes brightened.
“Sì.”
    The oldest woman batted a hand. “Her English isn’t good. God only knows what she thought you said.” She walked