Italian Summer With The Single Dad

She’d been there during the formal family photos, organising them all. Addressing them by name, adjusting ties and corsages, gentle hands on shoulders—turn this way a little please—flashing her warm, bright smile. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her. She was lovely...and so good with people, so polished. She’d caught his eye a couple of times and then she’d smiled and blushed a little bit and he’d found himself smiling too because she was flirting with him and for some reason he liked it. In no time at all the family photo session was done. It had gone so smoothly that if he hadn’t seen them fighting he would have assumed that Olivia and Holdsworth were the best of friends.

He shifted his gaze back to the lake. Lucas was facing Sophie now, forehead to forehead. Sophie was giggling and Holdsworth was calling out instructions from behind the camera. ‘Keep it! Hold it!’

He felt a smile growing on his lips. Sophie and Lucas were besotted with each other, perfect for one another. He could see a happy future for them because they were soulmates. That was what he’d written in his speech anyway, but as a deep ache filled his heart he wondered if he’d be able to say those words at all. The climbing voices around him suddenly felt too loud. He parked his glass and slipped away into the garden.

The grounds of Kensall Manor were extensive. As he walked, the voices on the terrace dwindled to a burble then gave way to birdsong. He passed through a wrought iron gate into an orchard and wandered through gnarled apple trees laden with blossom, alive with the buzzing and humming of bees. He let his mind drift to memories of his own wedding day. He could still see Izzy walking towards him through the lemon trees, patches of sunlight dappling on her skin, splashing the silk chiffon of her dress. She’d had that look in her eye, that secret smile she kept for him alone. His heart had buckled in his chest as she’d turned towards him and threaded her fingers into his. She had been his one perfect love, his life, his everything, and now she was gone, snatched from him in a tragic instant. He swallowed hard, plucked a blossom from a low branch. Marrying your soulmate was not a passport to a happy future. The future was as delicate and destructible as the flower he held in his hand.

He drew a steadying breath and checked his watch. He wondered if Alessia had woken from her nap yet. So many new faces, and this big strange house in the English countryside—it was bound to be tiring for a three-year-old. He hadn’t been sure about bringing her at all, but of course his mother was always keen to see her granddaughter, and Lucas had insisted that his little niece should come to the wedding.

He crushed the flower between his fingers and let it fall to the ground. In half an hour the guests were going to be seated for the wedding breakfast and the more he thought about his speech, the more anxious he felt. He checked his inside pocket, touched the paper folded up inside. He wasn’t nervous about speaking in public—as a hotelier, talking to people was an integral part of his life—but the speech he’d written about soulmates and everlasting love would unravel him, he just knew it. Perhaps if he altered some lines here and there, skimmed over the emotional stuff, he’d manage to hold it together. He just needed a pen and a quiet place to do it.

‘Oh, I’m sorry—’ He stopped mid-stride, the breath catching in his throat. Olivia Gardner was sitting in front of a laptop surrounded by camera equipment. ‘I was told this room was empty.’

‘It’s almost empty.’ She smiled hesitantly. ‘There’s only me here.’

He noticed a faint colour in her cheeks as she held his gaze. He noticed his own pulse. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course.’

He stepped into the room and closed the door. ‘I need to look at my speech.’

She plugged a device into the side of her laptop. ‘Don’t mind me—if you want to practise, I mean.’

‘It’s not speaking I’m worried about.’ He reached into his pocket for the thin wad of paper. ‘I need to revise what I’m saying.’

‘Ah.’ She pressed a key and looked up. ‘I get it! You’re having second thoughts about giving your brother a roasting...?’

‘Something like that.’ He couldn’t tell her that he was trying to avoid embarrassing himself. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got a pen?’

‘I have.’ She rooted through the pockets of the jacket hanging over the back of her chair. ‘Somewhere...’

He stepped closer, noticed thumbnail images filling the computer screen.

‘Here!’ She was holding out a silver pen, warm brown eyes fixed on his.

‘Thanks.’ He took the pen, motioned to the laptop. ‘Editing already?’

‘No. Just downloading and backing up. We bank images as we go along, just in case.’

‘Can I see some?’

She glanced at the door and it wasn’t hard to read her thoughts.

‘You don’t have to worry—Holdsworth’s at the lake with Lucas and Sophie.’ He smiled. ‘It can be our little secret.’

She hesitated then met his gaze squarely. ‘It’s not—Ralph’s a very talented photographer—’

‘Who’s difficult to work with, I imagine...?’

Her lips were quirking into a half-smile. ‘He can be challenging...’

‘Extremely challenging, from what I’ve seen.’

She was pressing her lips together hard, trying to suppress a smile but her eyes were giving her away. ‘Ralph’s...okay.’

She might have issues with her boss but she was keeping them to herself. Zach admired her loyalty though he wondered if Holdsworth deserved it.

‘I’d really like to see your pictures. What about the photo you took of us leaning? Will you show me that one at least?’

She scrunched her face up. ‘Well, I do have to flag some photos for a slideshow... I suppose if you happened to be sitting close by, you might accidentally see some images...’

The mischievous gleam in her eye was irresistible. He knew he ought to be looking at his speech, but his curiosity about her was getting the better of him. She struck him as talented and he wanted to know if he was right. He sat beside her then opened up his speech and smoothed it out on the table. There was something joyful about the little conspiracy they were sharing and when he spoke he couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice. ‘I’ll just work on my speech...’

She turned to face him, eyebrows arching. ‘And I’ll go through the pictures I took this morning...’

For a long moment he held her gaze. He noticed the curve of her cheek, the wisp of hair falling against her neck, the sweet shape of her mouth and he noticed the way her expression was changing, how the light in her eyes felt like a soft pocket of warmth—felt like home. Confused suddenly, he forced himself to look away and concentrate on the screen.

Her pictures were good! Sharp, clear, well-composed. The leaning shot made him laugh—Lucas was going to love it. She’d caught some great candid moments on the terrace too. When he saw a familiar little face with thick dark lashes the breath caught in his throat.

‘Stop!’

‘You want to see this one?’

He nodded.

With a click, she enlarged the image so that his daughter’s face filled the screen. He stared at the photograph. Alessia was wearing her mother’s secret smile. She was a happy little girl but he’d never seen that smile on her face before. Suddenly he felt disorientated, stranded between the past and the present.

Olivia leaned back in her chair. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she? Is she a relative?’

‘Yes.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Alessia is my daughter.’

‘Oh!’ She looked shocked then a little embarrassed. ‘I didn’t know she was yours...’

Two spots of colour were blooming on her cheeks and instantly he felt guilty. She hadn’t seen him with Alessia. His mother had been babysitting all day, and Alessia had been taking a nap while the family photos were being taken. Olivia knew nothing about his situation. All she knew was that he’d been catching her eye all day, smiling at her, receptive to her flirting. Maybe he’d even encouraged it. He’d have to think about that later, but right now he owed her an explanation.

‘Her name is Alessia.’ He swallowed. ‘The way you’ve caught her—her smile. She looks just like her mother.’

He noticed Olivia glancing at the gold band on his left hand, noticed a new flush of colour creeping upwards from the base of her throat.

‘Is your wife—?’

‘No! She isn’t here.’ With difficulty, he held her gaze. ‘She passed away two years ago.’

Olivia’s face crumpled. ‘Oh, no. No! I’m so sorry.’ Her words escaped in a gasp and she lifted her hand as if she was going to touch him, but she didn’t, just held his gaze with glistening eyes. ‘Alessia must have been a baby.’

He nodded slowly. ‘We’d just celebrated her first birthday...’ In his mind he could see Izzy holding the lemon birthday cake she’d made, icing sugar in her hair and on her nose, and that scary moment when Alessia had reached out to touch the single burning candle. He’d blown it out just in time.

Olivia turned to look at the screen. ‘If Alessia looks like her mother, your wife must have been beautiful.’

‘She was...’ He watched her, staring at the screen, chewing her lip. He supposed she was taking it all in, feeling foolish perhaps... He couldn’t tell her he was feeling foolish too. He’d never expected to feel attracted to his brother’s wedding photographer, never expected to be sitting beside her, breathing in the scent of her perfume, telling her about his wife and daughter.

The mounting noise of footsteps and voices in the hall outside seemed to draw a line under the moment and it was a relief. He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I’d better go... Everyone’s coming in...’ He folded up his untouched speech. ‘Looks like I’m going with the speech as it is.’

‘I’m sure it’ll be great!’ She smiled. ‘Actually, it better be great because I’ll be taking pictures during the speeches—you need to give me some good moments!’

There was something reassuring in her gaze, something that bolstered his spirits. He got to his feet, slipped the pen into his pocket. ‘I’ll do my best.’

Olivia adjusted her ponytail and fanned her face with her hands. The great hall was warm in the aftermath of dinner, but it wasn’t the only reason her cheeks felt hot. She was still reeling from everything Zach had told her, felt so stupid for thinking...for imagining... How had she managed not to notice his wedding ring? So much for supposedly having an eye for detail!

She looked across to the top table. He was scribbling furiously on a piece of paper—revising his speech after all. His mother was sitting in the next seat with Alessia on her knee. Alessia was clasping a crayon, bent over a colouring book, concentrating hard, except for the moments when she stopped to look at Zach. Alessia was copying him and he had no idea. Fathers and daughters... She pushed the thought away, lifted the camera and snapped a lady in a pink hat blowing bubbles from a tiny bottle.

Zach had let her down gently she supposed, but the more she thought about it, the more she realised that he’d been at it too with his lingering looks and little smiles during the family photos—it definitely wasn’t her imagination.

She scanned the room for more photo opportunities, snapped a man putting on his wife’s hat, acting the fool. She looked at Zach again. His lips were moving, rehearsing the new words he’d written, her silver pen glinting in his hand.

Maybe the truth was that they were attracted to each other, but a random wedding day crush wasn’t going to lead to anything, especially since a widower with a daughter was the last thing she was looking for.

Too complicated!

She didn’t like loose ends. She liked things cut and dried, wanted someone she could build a life with, not someone who had a life she’d have to fit into. She glanced at Alessia. She knew nothing about small children, didn’t see herself as a stepmother. She was only twenty-four; she was still carving out a career. Emotional entanglements would only take her eye off the ball. She had to push forward, seize opportunities...

She scanned the room, saw Ralph talking to a young couple then discreetly handing them a business card. Networking was easy for him—he had a good reputation, a solid client base. If she started up on her own she’d have to break in and that was difficult, especially since she wanted high-end clients.

Yet again she found her gaze drifting back to the top table. Zach had really liked her photographs. He might recommend her to people he knew. The Merrill family owned a hotel chain after all... Suddenly he looked up, straight into her eyes and there it was again, that feeling that there was something between them. She smiled back quickly and looked away. No! She wouldn’t be able to ask Zach for any favours. He only had to look at her and her head started to spin.

When she saw the Master of Ceremonies approaching the top table to announce the speeches, she lifted her camera. Photographing the speeches was another concession Ralph had made to her. She needed to focus on getting great pictures because, until she found the courage to break out on her own, she needed this job.

CHAPTER TWO

Six weeks later...

OLIVIA MADE HER way down the aisle of the bus and sank into a seat. She hefted her camera bag onto the vacant seat beside her and rummaged in her other bag for her sunglasses. In spite of the tinted windows, it seemed too bright. Bright and sunny and warm. Deliciously warm!

As she watched the other passengers piling aboard with belongings of all shapes and sizes, she had the urge to pinch herself yet again, just in case she was dreaming. Was she really here in Italy, on the final leg of her journey to start a new job in Ravello?

The bus belched, lurched then pulled away from the airport bus stop, cruising slowly to the exit before joining a busy road. The sun glinted off the chrome of unfamiliar cars, dappled through the leaves of unfamiliar trees and she felt her lips curving into a smile. It was real, and it was all because of what had happened after the Merrill wedding...

They’d been driving back to London when Ralph had suddenly announced that he was letting her go.

She couldn’t believe her ears. ‘You’re letting me go! Why? Because I took a few photographs of the groomsmen? For goodness’ sake, Ralph.’

‘It’s not that.’

‘What then?’

He threw her a sheepish look. ‘Because you’re after my job!’

‘I’m not!’

He pulled up at a set of traffic lights and turned to face her. ‘Okay, I’m not saying you want my exact job, but you want more than I can give you. I’m not looking for a partner, Liv. I want an assistant. At the very most I want someone who’s happy shooting the flowers and the frilly bits—a few guests now and again. You, my darling, want to be the photographer with a capital F.’

‘It’s P! And yes, I won’t deny that I want to be a wedding photographer...one day...but I’m not ready.’

‘You’re more than ready.’ The traffic light changed and Ralph drove on. ‘I watched you working with those boys today and you were great. You get on with people, your technical skills are top-notch. It’s time for you to fly the nest.’

She felt as if the air was rearranging itself around her. Ralph had been getting on her nerves for ever, but this wasn’t what she’d planned—she didn’t have a plan. Maybe that was the problem. She’d spent most of her time with Ralph just simmering with frustration, but she’d never done anything about it. She hadn’t imagined that he would be the one to push her off the plank.

‘Don’t look so glum, darling. You can have some of my old gear as a leaving present.’ He tipped her a wink. ‘You’re going to be a big success. Just make sure you’re not a big success on my patch!’

After the initial shock, she realised that he was right. Letting her go was a backhanded compliment. Although the thought of launching herself as a wedding photographer was scary, she knew she had the skills, and handling Ralph’s admin had given her a good insight into the business side of things. Her biggest challenge was going to be finding the right clients, but then...

On her very last afternoon Ralph muttered something about having left some kit for her as promised, then he’d shot off to some ‘important’ meeting which didn’t seem to be marked in the diary. When she went into his office and saw what he’d put out for her she was overwhelmed. Some of the gear had hardly been used, just mothballed in favour of something newer or fancier. She was looking at everything he’d given her, feeling a bit emotional about it, when the telephone had rung.

‘Good afternoon. Holdsworth Photography.’

‘Hello. Is that Olivia Gardner?’

The man’s voice was familiar. Probably one of Ralph’s bridegrooms. ‘Yes. Can I help—?’

‘I have something of yours...’ Little pause. ‘It’s got your name engraved on it.’

‘Something of mine?’ A rapid clicking sound filled her ears and suddenly she knew why she’d recognised his voice. ‘Zach Merrill! You’ve got my pen!’

‘I forgot to give it back... I’m so sorry.’

She could hear the smile in his voice, momentarily lost herself in a memory of intent blue eyes. ‘There’s no need to apologise. You were stressing about your speech, if I remember rightly. In such circumstances, petty theft is excusable.’ She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t help feeling a little glow at the thought of him, even if he was absolutely not her dream man. ‘It was very good, by the way—your speech, and I’ve heard lots of speeches—’

‘Thanks! I’m not so sure, but I’ll take your word for it.’

His voice in her ear sounded warm, intimate somehow. She was blushing, glad that he couldn’t see her face. She cleared her throat, tried to sound blasé. ‘So—about the pen. It was a twenty-first birthday present—can I have it back?’

‘Of course. You might even want to collect it in person...’

His voice was playful. She felt her forehead creasing, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. ‘Okay, you’ve got my attention.’

‘Actually, this isn’t just about the pen—’ His tone downshifted, became serious. ‘I need to talk to you about something. Calling you at work was the only way I could reach you, but it’s not a conversation we can have if Holdsworth’s about.’

‘He’s not here—but it wouldn’t matter anyway. It’s my last day today.’

‘Your last day! You’ve got a new job?’ He sounded disappointed.

She chewed her bottom lip. She was growing more confused by the second. ‘No.’ Deep breath. ‘Actually, I’m going out on my own.’

‘Ahh.’ He was smiling again, she could tell. ‘Well, in that case I’ll get straight to the point. You may remember that my family owns a chain of hotels.’

She could feel her heart thumping. ‘Yes.’

‘In addition, I own an exclusive wedding venue. High-end. We look after everything: accommodation, catering, ceremony and...photography.’ His voice tightened. ‘I’ve just come off the phone with my photographer, Michele. Some idiot knocked him off his moped, fractured his leg. Poor guy’s going to be out of action for at least six weeks.’ He sighed. ‘So, here’s the thing... I’m booked solid and I need a wedding photographer to fill in—someone I can trust.’

Olivia’s head began to spin so fast that it took a moment for everything to sink in. Was Zach Merrill offering her a succession of high-end wedding clients on a plate? She felt her spine tingle. This was her moment, her chance to prove herself. She tried to calm her galloping heart with a slow, measured breath. ‘You’re asking me to step into your photographer’s shoes?’

‘Yes. I’ve seen the quality of your work, the way you interact with people. You’d be perfect, I know you would. Is there any way you could help me out?’

Ah—let me see...

‘Yes! That is, I want to say yes, but I have so many questions! I mean—I don’t even know where your venue is—although I’ve worked in a lot of places with Ralph so I might know it.’

He’d laughed then. ‘I doubt it. Casa Isabella is in Ravello.’

‘As in—Italy?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Wow!’

After his call, she’d looked at Casa Isabella online, scrolled through the website pages with wide, excited eyes. It was a grand old palazzo, slightly faded but elegant. Its secluded hillside setting above Ravello offered spectacular views of the Tyrrhenian Sea from its terrace and balconies, but it was the garden that had taken her breath away. Ancient cypress trees on terraced lawns, a stone pond with a sparkling fountain, arches leading to secret garden rooms with weathered statues. Achingly romantic, it was a wedding photographer’s dream venue...

And now she was here, all set to photograph six weddings in a prestige venue—in Italy! Portfolio couples! She felt sick with nerves, a little dizzy, high on adrenaline, still incredulous but happy and excited too. No wonder she kept wanting to pinch herself.

She pulled a bottle of water from her bag and took a steadying sip as the poor dwellings on the outskirts of Naples gave way to hillsides covered in olive trees. The bus trundled through small towns with narrow streets, screeched to a halt more than once to avoid scooters weaving through the traffic. She gazed at the sun-baked terracotta roofs, so different to roofs in England. She got her phone out, took pictures through the window—ancient churches, walls covered in brightly scrambling bougainvillea. She watched people going about their day-to-day business, saw people sitting at roadside cafés reading the papers or chatting with friends. Between the towns, she glimpsed lemon groves behind crumbling walls and then, on the skyline, she saw the mighty Vesuvius, its peak rising into a smear of hazy cloud.

She sipped her water again and thought about Zach. Now that he was going to be her boss, it was inappropriate to think about him in anything other than a platonic way, yet when she pictured his eyes, recalled how handsome he’d looked at Lucas and Sophie’s wedding, she felt a little glow of anticipation that made her lips curve upwards into a secret little smile.

Zach Merrill leaned against the wing of his convertible, pushed his sunglasses onto his head and looked along the valley, searching the twisting road for signs of Olivia’s bus. He couldn’t believe how things had worked out. After Michele had called him from the hospital, he’d contacted some photographers he knew, but none of them were free. Calling Olivia had been a long shot, but he’d seen that she was tired of working for Holdsworth, had hoped that she would consider his offer. How lucky that she’d been free to come.

His fingers closed around the pen in his pocket. He remembered the look in her eyes when she’d handed it to him, warm light pouring into him, making him dizzy. He’d had to look away, force himself to concentrate on the pictures filling her computer screen, but it was lucky too that he’d seen those photographs, seen the quality of her work. If he hadn’t—Alessia’s face captured so perfectly—he might not have thought of her as a replacement for Michele at all.

He pulled the pen from his pocket, ran his finger over the inscription. He hadn’t meant to steal her twenty-first birthday pen. He hadn’t been himself that day...noticing Olivia with her bright brown hair and warm smile, liking the way she was looking at him, the way she was flirting, and then he’d been remembering Izzy and worrying about his speech. Emotions piling up, layers of confusion, his feelings all over the place...and then seeing Alessia’s face in the photograph...so like her mother’s.

And now Olivia was on her way to Ravello, as if some invisible ink was drawing them together.