Having the Billionaire's Baby(22)

"Did he get any notes on the questions they plan on asking?"

"Yes." Mel rummaged on her desk, picked up a sheet of printed paper and   held it out gratefully to Callie. Marc's neat handwriting lined the   margins and the spaces between the questions. "Have you got time to run   through this with me?"

"I'll do anything you want, if it means I don't have to do that interview."

They started going through the questions together, both thoroughly   professional, even if the interaction lacked ease or warmth. At the   sound of Nick clearing his throat they looked up. He stood at the door.   "I'll see you both later."

Callie nodded. Melody uttered a small "Oh". Then recovered. "Okay."



The door swung shut behind him, his absence leaving a strange vacuum. Had Melody wanted to call him back too?

But any doubts Callie had about the potential for uneasiness between   them turned out to be unnecessary. There was so much to do that there   was no time for awkwardness. Jason had always been the main contact   between Ivy Cottage and the vineyard, and then Marc; but Callie had kept   herself up-to-date and had occasionally dealt with Melody, and they'd   always worked well together. It was no different today, professionally   speaking. Occasionally Callie caught Melody looking at her, her glance   quick and curious.                       
       
           



       

It was several rushed hours later before Nick came back through the door. "Lunch? Rosa's waiting."

"You go ahead," Melody said, "I brought lunch to have here. I've got a phone call to make."

"You're sure?" Nick asked.

Melody's glance darted between Nick and Callie. "Positive." Callie figured she planned to phone Jason.

Nick shrugged and held the door open. She passed by him and they walked   toward his vehicle. "How did it go this morning?" he asked.

"Well. Everything's on target. We got a lot done. Though the big stuff   was already sorted. It's really only tying up the details over the next   couple of days. But there are more than enough of them."

He nodded as he helped her into the car. "You're not too tired?"

She turned in her seat and met his gaze, didn't want the closeness she   felt at his concern, didn't want special treatment. "I'm not an   invalid."

"Just busy," he said calmly, "and pregnant. And you had a late night and   an early start. It wasn't an unreasonable question." He shut her door   gently, crossed in front of the car to get in behind the wheel.

"Sorry. I'm fine." Callie backed down. "Thanks for asking." She had to   make this work, had to stop herself reacting-correction, overreacting-to   him.

His knowing eyes didn't conceal the flash of humor as he glanced at her.

He pulled away from the winery and back onto the main road, then turned off again a few miles farther along.

A couple of minutes later he slowed and turned again, this time into a   cypress-lined driveway. As the road wound its way up a hill, the trees   gave way to reveal a sprawling Mediterranean-style villa.

"This is home?"

"I divide my time between here and my apartment in Sydney. I prefer it   here, but the business dictates I spend a fair amount of time where I'm   accessible for meetings and close to the airport." He looked out the   window, scanning the surrounding countryside. "My family has lived in   this area for three generations." He glanced at her, his green eyes   enigmatic. "Four soon, I guess."

She supposed he could call it that. Though how much time their child got   to spend here remained to be seen. Or perhaps he was referring only to   Jason and Melody's child.

He slowed to a halt and got out. Before she'd even finished unbuckling   her belt he had opened her door. A wave of heat washed into the cool   interior. Nick's face was level with hers. Her gaze lighted on his lips.   And the heat intensified. She remembered too well kissing those full   lips. For a moment she thought of kissing them once again, of tasting   him. Quickly averting her gaze, she blamed errant hormones for the   passing temptation.



"I'm glad Melody won't be here," he said as he held out his hand.

Unresisting, Callie placed her hand in his. "Why?" she stepped down from   the car. Nick didn't move, didn't release his clasp. They stood mere   inches apart. Could he feel the way he made her pulse race?

He looked toward the house. "It's best we meet Rosa on our own."

Did he even know he was still holding her hand, his clasp warm and sure,   gently possessive? "You're making her sound scary. Does she bite?"   Callie extricated her hand. She needed to think straight.

"No. And she's not scary." He turned back. "But I should warn you about her."

Her gaze was caught by the dark lashes fringing those deep green eyes.   He was still so close, so captivating. She need only lift her hand to   touch him again. "Warn me?" She tried to keep her voice light. But it   obviously wasn't only his grandmother someone needed to warn her away   from, because she didn't seem able to heed her own warnings not to let   herself feel anything for him.

Nick searched her gaze before speaking. "Sometimes she knows things, or   thinks she does." The words seemed drawn reluctantly from him.

Callie tried to read in his eyes the meaning of the emphasis he'd placed on the word know. "What sort of things?"

"Usually, only things to do with family." A slight frown creased his brow.

She wanted to touch her fingertips to his forehead, to smooth away the lines. She swallowed. "Like what?"

"Like, who's calling when the phone rings. Or she'll suddenly decide to   make extra cannelloni for dinner, and then friends drop in on the spur   of the moment. Coincidental things, but uncanny all the same." His gaze   held hers-a hint of apology in it-and he took a deep breath.   "Pregnancy-the expansion of the Brunicadi clan-is her specialty."                       
       
           



       

They both looked toward the house just as the enormous front door swung   open. "Dominic." A plump, gray-haired woman dressed in head-to-toe   black, her face creasing into a smile, bustled toward them.

"Rosa," he greeted her.

She kissed Nick on both cheeks before enfolding him in an embrace. Then   she turned to Callie, and before Nick had even finished introducing  them  had kissed her twice too. Still holding Callie's shoulders, she  stepped  back and surveyed her. Her eyes narrowed for a moment. "Come  inside.  Lunch is ready. I've made gnocchi."

As they walked into the house she glanced twice more at Callie.

They were in the cool, spacious kitchen, filled with the aromas of   cooking, when Rosa looked again at Callie then turned to Nick. "Why   didn't you tell me?"

Surely she couldn't have guessed already. Callie glanced at Nick, who   had tilted his head inquiringly, as though he didn't know what his   grandmother was asking. But Callie was suddenly certain that everybody   knew what was being asked.

"The bambina."

He glanced at Callie, gave a resigned shrug. "We haven't told anyone,   Rosa. You're the first to know." He almost made it sound like they were a   couple who planned on sharing their news with friends and family.

The old woman rounded on Callie, a smile crinkling her already   well-wrinkled face. "When is the bambina due? You need to eat more,   you're too skinny." She grabbed Callie's hand, her grip surprisingly   firm, and pulled her toward an expansive table.

She had Callie sitting with an enormous bowl of gnocchi in an aromatic   sauce in front of her before she'd had time to gather her breath. "I   bought pink wool last week. Now I know why." Another Brunicadi certain   she was having a girl. Callie glanced at Nick.

But he was looking at his grandmother. "It's early days, Rosa," he cautioned.

"Paah! You think these things can change halfway through," she said   scathingly. "It's a girl. I'll start knitting this afternoon." Rosa   scarcely paused. "When is the wedding? I'm not having Melody tell me I   need another new dress. She's too wasteful, that one."

Nick looked at her, giving her a chance to change her mind before he gave Rosa the bad news. Callie shook her head.

"We're not getting married," he said, and she was grateful for the certainty of that statement, at least in front of his family.