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‘May I join you?’ Lorenzo’s silky Italian accent purred against her ear, catching her unawares, and a shiver prickled across her skin despite the heat of the tropical sun.
Her body was still humming from their amazing lovemaking at the waterfall that morning. She couldn’t imagine how Lorenzo had been able to switch from that experience to spending the last couple of hours sending emails and making work phone calls.
‘Of course,’ she smiled, her breath catching in her throat as she turned to face him.
He looked incredible, she thought, wearing a tight black singlet that revealed altogether too much of his powerfully muscled shoulders and a pair of black shorts that showed off his strong, sexy legs.
‘How is Emma?’ he asked, taking the lounger next to them.
He leant back on his elbows so that his head was in the shade and stretched his long, bronzed legs out in front of him in the sun.
‘Very well,’ she said, looking down at him stretched out beside he
r. There was a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach—it was the first time he had ever asked after the baby. ‘Although I can’t seem to find the sunblock and I thought it was time for another coat, even though we’re sitting in the shade.’
‘Another pale English beauty,’ he said. ‘Tell me what I’m looking for, and I’ll go back inside and bring you what you need.’
‘Thanks, but it would be easier for me to fetch it,’ Chloe said, lifting Emma up into her arms. ‘I’m not entirely sure where it is. I may have lost it, in which case I’ll pop to the hotel shop and buy some more.’
She tugged the baby’s sunhat down snugly to shade her face, slipped her sunglasses on top of her head, and was just about to step out from under the large thatched parasol, when Lorenzo spoke.
‘Then leave Emma with me,’ he said.
Chloe paused, surprised by Lorenzo’s suggestion. It was the first time he’d ever shown any inclination to be left alone with the baby.
Suddenly she realised she’d hesitated too long, and she glanced at him, startled to see her face reflected in the lenses of his sunglasses. She drew in a deep breath and pulled her own sunglasses down from on top of her head, hoping he had not read what was on her mind from the expression in her eyes.
Then she realised he was watching her reaction, and she felt her cheeks redden with embarrassment. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she did not trust him with the baby.
‘All right,’ she said, stepping back towards Lorenzo.
She started to chatter to Emma awkwardly, trying to cover up her delay in handing her over by beginning the stream of one-way conversation she usually maintained to keep the baby girl’s attention.
‘I’m just popping back inside,’ she said to the infant. ‘I won’t be long. You go to Lorenzo…’
All at once her voice dried up. Calling him Lorenzo had sounded wrong. But she couldn’t call him Daddy—he was not Emma’s father.
When Liz had asked Chloe to care for her daughter, she’d told her that she wanted Emma to call her Mummy, just like any other adopted child would refer to their adoptive mother. Then Chloe would use her judgement to decide when to tell her adopted daughter about her natural mother.
But Lorenzo had approached the adoption from an altogether different angle. Chloe had no idea what his thoughts on the subject were.
‘Come to Daddy,’ Lorenzo said, reaching out his arms to take the baby from Chloe.
‘I’m sorry…’ she started to say. ‘I didn’t know what—’
‘Emma’s biological father is not part of her life,’ Lorenzo said flatly. ‘I am the only father Emma will ever know and she will call me Daddy. No child growing up under my roof will be made to feel different from any other.’
A sudden swelling of emotion filled Chloe. She’d been concerned that Lorenzo had not truly accepted Emma. She believed he would always provide for her and do what he saw as the right thing. But she had worried that Emma would grow up knowing she was not the same as Lorenzo’s natural children.
‘That’s good,’ she said, knowing that it sounded inadequate in the circumstances—but she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. She was glad she was wearing sunglasses so that Lorenzo could not see the tears suddenly sparkling in her eyes. ‘I know you don’t want Emma to feel unloved…’ She hesitated again, struggling to finish her comment smoothly. She hadn’t meant to stumble into that other minefield—the discussion of love. ‘I mean unwanted.’
‘Unloved is the correct word,’ Lorenzo said. ‘No child growing up in my family will feel unloved.’
He reached up and took Emma decisively from Chloe’s arms.
It was clear from his manner that he considered the conversation over—but Chloe did not mind. As far as she was concerned they had just made a massive step forward.
That evening Chloe and Lorenzo watched a display of the séga, the high-spirited and colourful national dance of Mauritius. It had been Chloe’s idea—they had spent so much time alone together, mostly making love, that she was beginning to feel slightly detached from reality.
