Italian Summer With The Single Dad

An inconvenient attraction...

...on the picture-perfect Amalfi Coast!

Wedding photographer Olivia Gardner is thrilled to be spending the summer working at a luxurious Italian palazzo. The only problem? Her instant attraction to widowed single dad and owner Zach Merrill! Olivia can see that guarded Zach’s locked his heart away for the sake of his little girl. But watching the way he dotes on his daughter has Olivia hoping she could have a place in this ready-made family.

After ten years as a television camerawoman, ELLA HAYES started her own photography business so that she could work around the demands of her young family. As an award-winning wedding photographer she’s documented hundreds of love stories in beautiful locations, both at home and abroad. She lives in central Scotland with her husband and two grown-up sons. She loves reading, travelling with her camera, running and great coffee.

Also by Ella Hayes

Her Brooding Scottish Heir

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Italian Summer with the Single Dad

Ella Hayes

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90325-1

ITALIAN SUMMER WITH THE SINGLE DAD

© 2020 Ella Hayes

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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For Mum

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

‘TILT IT UP! No! More...more! There...no, there! Now, don’t move.’

Olivia Gardner gripped the silver reflector and gritted her teeth. She couldn’t understand why Ralph Holdsworth became so obnoxious the minute they arrived at a wedding. He was tolerable the rest of the time, albeit a little highly strung. He might be the go-to wedding photographer for those wealthy enough to afford him—his talent was undeniable—but assisting him was not the dream job she’d imagined. Most of the time she felt as if she was walking on eggshells. If she hadn’t been learning so much about wedding photography she’d have walked out months ago.

He stepped back, lowered his camera and motioned to the bride. ‘Okay, darling, let’s move over to the window. Liv! The dress...?’

Olivia parked the reflector and dropped to her haunches, fanning out the dress the way Ralph liked it. She hated the way he called all the brides ‘darling’. How hard would it be to remember their names? She made a point of memorising the names of the entire bridal party ahead of any wedding.

Today’s bride, Sophie, was a sweet-faced girl with porcelain skin, blonde hair and a slender figure. Her wedding dress was ivory silk embellished with tiny pearls and it felt soft and papery between Olivia’s fingers as she pulled it out and smoothed it down. She tried to ignore Ralph’s impatient glance as she moved onto the veil. It was a full veil, fine antique lace, a family heirloom probably. The bride’s ‘something old’.

Carefully, she draped the ornate edge over Sophie’s shoulder and the girl smiled at her, mouthed a thank you. She could sense Sophie’s nerves, gave her arm a little squeeze before she turned to pick up the reflector, but Ralph was waving an impatient hand in her direction.

‘I don’t need that now! Go pap some guests.’

She swallowed her irritation. She knew he didn’t mean to be offhand, but it was annoying when he spoke to her like that in front of clients. Without a word, she picked up her camera and slipped out of the room.

Slowly she made her way along the wide hallway towards the staircase. She wished she had the courage to strike out on her own, but she was wary. She’d been down that road before. Armed with her photography degree, she’d started freelancing for an independent arts magazine but the circulation was low, the pay dismal. She’d stuck it out for a year to build a portfolio then tried to break into other magazines, but it was impossible. Magazines had their pet photographers.

She’d been working as a part-time barista when she met Ralph Holdsworth. He’d offered her a job and she’d jumped at it. He was a top wedding photographer, well-connected! At first he hadn’t let her touch a camera. On wedding days she scurried around with reflectors, fluffed dresses and made sure that the right people were arranged into the right groups for the family photos. At the studio he set her to work editing an endless stream of wedding images which, he told her, would be an education in itself, and she handled all his paperwork too because he hated anything that wasn’t creative. Twelve months and over forty weddings later, he’d given her a camera. She was to be his second shooter, responsible for the candid shots and the little details he didn’t want to do, but he still expected her to help with the bridal portraits and to assemble the guests for the formal pictures.

Today’s wedding was taking place in the garden of Kensall Manor, the bride’s family home. The house was Tudor, all oak beams and half-panelled walls with mellow plaster above. On the galleried landing she paused to watch the comings and goings in the grand hall below: catering staff bustling about with trays, guests looking for somewhere to leave wedding gifts. And then the hall suddenly emptied. She was about to make a move when a tall, dark-haired man in a morning suit strode in carrying a shallow open box containing the men’s buttonholes. There was something powerful in the set of his shoulders, something about him that made Olivia press herself closer to the balustrade to get a better view. He was looking around, for the groomsmen she supposed, then quite unexpectedly he looked up and caught her eye. She barely had time to catch her breath, to register the tiny, indefinable reaction in his eyes before he broke into a smile.

‘Hello, up there! I don’t suppose you’ve seen the bridegroom...?’

Blue eyes, something shining through them. She could feel her heart thumping in her chest, an unwelcome flush of heat rising through her as she called up a mental list of the wedding party. This had to be Zach Merrill, the groom’s older brother and best man. As she cleared her throat to speak, she prayed that he wouldn’t notice her blushing. ‘No, I’m sorry, but if I see him I’ll tell him the best man’s looking for him.’

He looked bemused. ‘How do you know I’m the—?’

‘You’re wearing the weight of responsibility on your shoulders...’

He lifted an eyebrow then broke into a smile which stole the breath from her lungs. ‘Is it that obvious?’

She nodded.

‘Zach!’

A man’s voice rang out from somewhere off the hall and he turned to look, made a gesture of acknowledgement then lifted his eyes to hers once more.

‘You can call off the search! I’ve found him.’

Blue eyes staring into hers. Somehow, she found her voice. ‘That’s lucky! Can’t have a wedding without a groom.’

He laughed, started to walk away then stopped and looked up again. ‘Goodbye then...’

She smiled softly. ‘Bye.’

She watched him disappear then shook herself. Fraternising with the best man wasn’t going to get her anywhere; she was supposed to be working. As she trotted down the stairs she pushed him to the back of her mind and tried to concentrate on the little tingle of excitement she always felt at the start of a wedding day.

She loved photographing weddings. Everything from the smallest details to the grandest gestures, but most of all she loved the ceremony. The way the bride and groom looked at each other...little nervous smiles, eyes glistening with happy tears. She found something compelling about the ritual of commitment, about the idea of two people starting out together, taking their first steps into uncharted waters. No loose ends. The thought of it always made her feel happy.

As she stepped out into the warm spring sunshine she hung the camera around her neck then followed the broad path that led to the southern aspect of the property. She could see guests mingling on the long terrace next to the house. She could hear the buzz of conversation and glasses tinkling and she knew she ought to go straight over, but instead she cut across the immaculate lawn to where rows of chevalier chairs were set out for a ceremony in front of the ornamental lake. It was perfect! She gazed at the scene, lifted her camera and put her eye to the viewfinder. For a moment she pictured herself in the frame, standing with the man she loved, her fingers laced in his, their eyes locked, lips pledging love and fidelity, and then...the kiss.

She lowered the camera and watched a lone coot swimming across the glassy surface of the lake. She wished she could switch off her old teenage fantasy but it was always there in her head, playing on a loop. She didn’t understand where her silly romantic notions came from. Her own parents had never married—they were far too modern for that!

She came back to herself and glanced over her shoulder. If Ralph caught her staring down the aisle when there were guests to photograph she’d soon be out of a job. It didn’t take much to set him off when he was in the thick of a wedding shoot. She supposed he was a victim of his own success—under pressure to produce astonishing images all the time. The last thing she wanted to do was provoke him. Besides, she thought as she made her way towards the terrace, ‘papping’ guests was a step up from carrying his camera bag, even if she knew that she was capable of so much more.

From the periphery she scanned the crowd then lifted the camera with its long paparazzi lens. She snapped close-ups of smiling faces, bright hats, animated groups. She moved around, working the different angles, picking out details—champagne flutes sparkling on a tray, an elegant woman with immaculate red lipstick and long red nails. She spied a little girl with dark serious eyes peering through a sea of legs. She was a pretty little thing, so Olivia crouched down to play peek-a-boo from behind the camera. The girl buried her small fingers into the fabric of a woman’s skirt, eyes brightening. Olivia pulled a funny face and the girl returned a shy smile. She fired a burst of frames then winked at the child and stood up. She liked photographing children—no hang-ups, no vanity.

With a couple of hundred shots done, she left the terrace and walked across the lawn to take some wider views. The old house must have been extended over the years. She could see the different materials in the two wings that flanked the original Tudor construction but the meld was pleasing, the exterior softened with an ancient wisteria and a rampant, scrambling clematis. All Ralph’s clients owned properties like this. Sometimes she couldn’t believe that this was her life now: every weekend spent in some elegant home or some fancy hotel. It was a far cry from the small Sussex cottage where she’d grown up.

She checked her watch. The great hall would be set for the wedding breakfast by now, which meant she’d be able to photograph the room in its pristine state. Lifting the camera from around her neck, she set off towards the front of the house but as she stepped onto the sweeping driveway she stopped, toes pressed to the tarmac. Up ahead, the groom was chatting and laughing with his two groomsmen—and Zach! She felt her heart flip over and land in her stomach. The way Zach was standing, the way his shoulders shifted under his morning coat as he moved... It would be so easy just to stand and watch...

Get a grip.

She took a deep breath and forced her feet to move. There was no avoiding an encounter if she wanted to get back into the house, so she’d just have to play it cool. As she drew nearer, she tried to concentrate on the ushers’ names. Charlie and Will—or was it Bill? Cousins anyway. They were a little shorter than the Merrill brothers and infinitely less nervous from the look of things.

Far too soon she found herself standing in front of the little group.

‘Good morning!’ She could feel Zach looking at her, but she fixed her eyes on the groom. ‘Lucas, we haven’t met before. I’m Olivia Gardner, Ralph Holdsworth’s assistant.’

Lucas extended a hand and shook hers warmly. ‘Hi, Olivia. Pleased to meet you.’ She noticed a tiny fleck of toothpaste at the corner of his mouth, the lopsided rose on his lapel. He motioned to Zach. ‘This is my brother, Zach, and these good-for-nothing hangers-on are Charlie and Will.’

Charlie threw a playful punch at Lucas’s arm. ‘Good-for-nothing hangers-on? You’re going to pay for that!’

As a friendly skirmish broke out, Zach stepped into the space between herself and the jostling men. It was a gallant protective gesture but it meant that he was now rather close. She took a little step back, lifted her eyes hesitantly.

He rolled his eyes then smiled. ‘See what I have to put up with?’ He held out his hand. ‘It’s nice to meet you properly, Olivia. Are you here all day?’

His palm was warm and dry. It felt nice. ‘Yes. Until after the first dance...’

‘It’s a long day for you.’ His gaze shifted to the camera in her hand. ‘That looks heavy.’

His dark hair was on the long side, combed back from a lightly tanned face. She noticed fine lines etched into the skin around his eyes and, now that she was close, she could see kindness in his gaze, something else too that she couldn’t quite pin down. She suddenly realised it was her turn to speak.

‘It is... Heavy, I mean...but you get used to it.’

Lucas was straightening his jacket. ‘Will you take a picture of us, Olivia?’

‘Of course.’ She hung the camera around her neck and stepped forward. ‘Can I sort your buttonhole first?’

He glanced at the crooked rose on his lapel and pulled a face. ‘Charlie, you idiot! You’ve roughed me up.’

She smiled. ‘It wasn’t Charlie’s fault.’ She flipped over Lucas’s lapel, pulled out the long pin then fixed it back into place. ‘Roses are heavy—they can easily slip to the side if they’re not pinned properly.’

‘Is mine okay?’

Zach was looking at her. She tried to ignore the little rush of heat rising through her as she stepped towards him and turned back the lapel of his jacket. This close, she could smell his cologne—citrus top note, woody base.

He lifted his chin while she worked at the pin. ‘You have an eye for detail.’

‘It’s an occupational necessity.’ She lowered her voice as she re-pinned the flower. ‘Lucas has toothpaste at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps you could mention it to him before I take the photo...?’ She stepped back and lifted her eyes to his. ‘Okay?’

There was amusement on his face as he adjusted his collar. ‘No problem.’

She turned away and drew a steadying breath. Zach Merrill was giving her vertigo. As she put some distance between herself and the group, she felt her heart drumming against her chest and when she turned around to line up the photograph and adjust the camera settings she was all fingers and thumbs. She took another deep breath. ‘Okay, gentlemen—’ Four pairs of eyes looked her way. ‘Lucas and Zach, can you stand shoulder to shoulder, please, then Charlie and Will, can you take the wings?’

‘Wingmen!’ Will laughed. ‘I like that!’

They shuffled into position and Olivia framed the shot. It was hard to concentrate on Lucas when Zach’s face kept drawing her eye, but she simply had to—it was Lucas’s day—she had to make sure that he looked perfect. She took some shots, adjusted the zoom, took a few more and then suddenly she went cold. Ralph always photographed the groom and his attendants. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this.

‘Can we do a fun one?’ Lucas was looking at her expectantly.

She smiled. ‘What did you have in mind?’ Her stomach was churning. She couldn’t refuse. Lucas was the client after all, but Ralph was going to arrive at any moment and he wouldn’t like it.

Zach was smiling at her and there was something in his eyes that chased her fears away. ‘He wants to do a leaning shot. Look! We’ll show you.’

She glanced at the big entrance door. No sign of Ralph—hopefully, he was still busy with Sophie and the bridesmaids. She tried to push him out of her thoughts as she watched Lucas and the men arranging themselves into a line. On a count of three, they canted their bodies at a forty-five-degree angle and burst out laughing. She couldn’t help laughing too and fired off a succession of frames. This was what she loved about photographing weddings, being part of spontaneous moments like this.

‘Olivia!’

The camera skewed in her hands. She took a breath and looked over to the vast doorway where Ralph was standing, rigid as a statue. A small shiver of guilt forked through her limbs and then slowly, deliberately, she tucked it away. She’d done nothing wrong. He was just being cranky as usual. She looked over at the men, who were still laughing and jostling each other. They didn’t seem to have noticed anything and she was relieved. She pinned on a bright smile and stepped towards them.

‘Ralph’s here to take your formal pictures now.’ She could feel Zach’s eyes on her but forced herself to look at Lucas. ‘Have fun! I’ll see you later.’

As she walked towards the house she wondered if Zach was still watching her, but then she pushed the thought away because Ralph was waiting for her in the doorway, his eyes flinty, his mouth a grim straight line.

Zach Merrill couldn’t help noticing the way Olivia had reacted to Holdsworth’s voice. She’d sort of curled into herself, then quickly conjured up some fake brightness before walking away. He’d watched the pair of them talking in the doorway. He couldn’t read their lips but he could read their body language. For some reason Holdsworth had been remonstrating with her, and from the tilt of her chin he could tell she’d been fighting her corner, whatever that might be.

He couldn’t imagine what Holdsworth was upset about. Olivia Gardner struck him as polite and professional. How subtly she’d handled the issue with the lopsided rose on his brother’s lapel, the rogue spot of toothpaste. She had an eye for detail, an easy, engaging manner, a lovely smile... She was clearly an asset and he hoped that Holdsworth could see it. Zach certainly knew which one of them he preferred. He came back to the moment, focused on what Holdsworth was saying.

‘Okay, guys, walk forward now, swing your arms, talk to each other...laughing’s good, keep it natural.’

The photographer was lying on his stomach, a plastic sheet spread out beneath him. He was pointing a camera in their direction. They only had to walk towards him but he was making them do it again and again; it was getting hard to keep up the fake chatter and laughter. As they set off for the umpteenth time Lucas leaned in and whispered to him that Holdsworth was costing Sophie’s parents a small fortune so maybe doing every shot a hundred times was how he justified his fee. They both laughed out loud at that one, then laughed all over again when Holdsworth called out, ‘That’s the money shot!’

He was doing his best to be sociable, but now that the ceremony was over Zach was feeling restless. He’d caught up with his family, mingled with the guests, but he’d only been half listening to conversations, smiling in all the right places. It was his brother’s wedding: a special occasion. He knew he ought to be enjoying himself, but it felt too much like work. He’d rather have been talking to the band. He’d seen them rocking up in their van, jaunty strides as they unloaded their amps and speakers, the big black cases for drums and keyboards. Guitars!

He lifted a fresh glass from a passing tray and retreated to a quiet corner of the terrace. He watched Holdsworth directing Lucas and Sophie into romantic poses at the lakeside, waving his hands about, cameras swinging from his shoulders, full of nervous energy. An image flashed into his head—Olivia and Holdsworth in the doorway—an altercation. He scanned the edges of the crowd, looking for the girl’s nimble figure, her chestnut ponytail, the red camera strap around her neck, but she was nowhere to be seen.