That evening Celine called Pierce and he invited her to meet with him in his home office so she could be introduced to his little charge. They’d talk further, he’d said, and then she could make her final decision.
And so it was that she found herself walking toward the magnificent steps of Pierce D’Amato’s residence. She clutched the strap of her bag tighter, gave her palms one last swipe on the seat of her jeans and climbed the steps to the expansive marble-tiled entrance.
She rang the bell then stood there plucking at the buckle on her bag, trying to steel her nerves for her next meeting with Pierce. Try as she might she could not wipe from her mind the memory of his strong toned body and she wondered how she’d react when he opened the door. She took a deep breath, trying to slow her racing heart. It would not do to let this man see her sweat.
The door opened and a plump gray haired woman smiled up at her. “Miss Santini. Welcome. I was expecting you. I am Elizabeth Simpson. Come in.”
Celine released her breath, thankful that it was the housekeeper who opened the door. That would buy her some time to get her wits together. She gave the woman a smile and a whispered “thank you” then entered the house.
Celine was in awe. The foyer was huge with a high cathedral ceiling graced with a sparkling chandelier that looked like a host of tiny stars floating in mid-air. The white columns reached gracefully up to the ceiling and multicolored tiles of marble glistened beneath her feet. She was almost afraid to step on them. This wasn’t the entrance to a private home. It was more like the lobby to a grand hotel.
“I’ll take you to the office and let Mr. D’Amato know you’ve arrived,” Mrs. Simpson said as she led the way down a hallway that seemed to run along the length of the house. “You’re a bit early so he’s not quite ready but he won’t keep you waiting.”
“Thank you,” Celine said again but she was hardly listening to the woman. She was too distracted by the splendid paintings that lined the walls. She loved art and paintings in particular. She could live for days in a museum and not miss life in the outside world. Pierce’s collection fascinated her. She caught her breath at the sixth one. Was that a Picasso? No, it couldn’t be. She stared at it, almost bumping into Mrs. Simpson as she walked. She would have to come back and check that out later.
They were walking past wide French doors now, and through them Celine saw a huge swimming pool, its water glistening brilliant blue in the bright sunshine. And there in the pool, his back to her, was the man who had occupied her thoughts since the day they met. Pierce was standing in the shallow end of the pool, the skin of his shoulders and back deeply tanned by the rays of the hot sun. His hair, wet and slicked back, gleamed in the sunlight.
Celine almost stopped walking. Her eyes fixed on the broad shoulders she remembered, the narrow waist, and those lean h*ps now encased in black hip-hugging swim trunks. She could see the outline of firm cheeks through the wet material that clung to his body. For the second time in two days she was seeing this man without his clothes on.
Celine bit her lip to keep from smiling. If she were totally honest she would admit that neither experience had been painful.
She caught a glimpse of a little blonde head just by Pierce’s hand and realized that he was in the water with the little girl she’d heard about. He was probably giving her a swimming lesson. For a man who made it clear how busy he was it came as a surprise to Celine that he was spending a weekday afternoon entertaining a child. She admired that. She smiled and kept on walking.
Mrs. Simpson was right. Pierce did not take long to appear at the office door. She’d been sitting there less than five minutes, just enough time for Mrs. Simpson to bring her a cup of herbal tea, when Pierce arrived fully dressed in white button down shirt and navy trousers.
“You’re early,” he said as he walked over and gave her a nod of greeting. “I didn’t expect you for another half hour.”
“I’m sorry,” Celine said. “I wasn’t sure what the traffic would be like so I decided to give myself ample time.” She laid the cup and saucer on the table beside her. Pierce sounded quite formal. This was a job interview, of course, and she would be as professional as he was.
He turned those intense green eyes on her. “Thank you,” he said with a smile. “I appreciate punctuality. Now let’s bring you up to speed on what this job requires.” Pierce gave Celine the details on Kylie’s situation and the kind of help he was looking for. Kylie’s mother, a cousin of his and a widow, had been in a serious motor vehicle accident and had sustained severe head injuries. Now she lay in a coma with only a fifty percent chance of recovery. The little girl had been at the daycare center when it happened. Not having any close relatives, Kylie’s mother had listed Pierce's name as the emergency contact person. And so it was that he became an overnight surrogate parent.
“What about Kylie’s father?” Celine asked, her heart going out to the little girl who was now without her mother. “Why doesn’t he help?”
Pierce shook his head, his face solemn. “Sadly, he died when Kylie was only two. He had congenital heart disease. Had a heart attack and died when he was only twenty-seven.”
“Oh, no,” Celine whispered. What a tragedy for a child to experience. First, the loss of her father and now a mother who was barely clinging to life. What must the little one be going through?
At that moment Mrs. Simpson came in holding the hand of the little girl who’d been the subject of their conversation. She was dressed in a white puff sleeve summer dress with a yellow bow. She looked like a delicate little daisy.
“Here she is, Mr. D’Amato. Kylie is ready to meet your guest.” Mrs. Simpson smiled at Kylie and gave her a little push toward Pierce. The child walked slowly up to him and with a serious little face she rested her tiny hand in his outstretched one.
Pierce gave her a gentle smile then said softly, “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, Kylie. This is Celine who came all the way from Cambridge to meet you.” He turned the child to face Celine. “Why don’t you go over and say hello?”