"Alessandro? I need you."

He followed Lauren’s voice into the kitchen. "What’s up?"

She stood gazing down at Nick, who sat in the middle of the floor, pots, pans, lids and an assortment of wooden utensils spread out around him. She didn’t appear happy. "I’ve decided," she announced in a brave voice. "It’s time."

"I’m almost afraid to ask. Time for what?"

"Nick’s hair has gotten too long." From the way she said it, he’d have thought it was the worst possible tragedy. "I have to...to—"

"Cut it?" Alessandro suggested, taken aback when she swiveled to glare at him. "What? What did I say wrong?"

"Don’t you dare make light of this."

"Who’s making light of it?"

"A baby’s first hair cut is a milestone."

"A milestone long overdue, if you want my opinion." Apparently she didn’t, since her glare grew more fierce, promising serious retribution. He pitched his voice to soothe. "Honey, you’ll be doing the kid a favor."

She folded her arms across her chest. "A favor."

"Right. He’s supposed to be a boy, but with all those waves and curls he’s starting to look a bit—" A quick glance at Lauren’s expression had him backpedaling. Fast. "Not that there’s anything wrong with looking a bit— But you have to agree. He is a boy."

"Thank you kindly for pointing out the error of my ways." Boy, he hated when she went seriously Southern on him. Nothing cut worse than words that sounded sweet enough to rot teeth, while somehow managing to flay a man alive. "I need scissors if I’m gonna correct my parental incompetence." She held out her hand as though she expected him to produce them from thin air.

"Tell you what. You get the scissors. They’re in the medicine chest in the master bath, and I’ll have a little pep talk with Nick. We’ll be ready for you as soon as you get back." He didn’t even attempt to argue the "parental incompetence" part. There wasn’t a chance in hell that could lead anyplace he wanted to go.

She opened her mouth to argue, but to his everlasting relief she changed her mind. He didn’t plan to ask how he’d gotten so lucky. The minute she’d trotted off, Alessandro folded his hands across his chest and fixed Nick with a man-to-man look. "That was a close one."

Nick indicated his agreement by picking up a wooden spoon in one hand, and a pot lid in the other. Showing off his eight pearly teeth in a wide grin, he banged the spoon and lid together, thoroughly pleased with the clatter he created.

"Okay, little buddy. Listen up. It’s time for another first for you. This one’s going to be a breeze. Not for your—" His brows drew together in a frown as he considered how best to finish his sentence. Then his frown eased. There was only one description that fit. "Not for your momma. This won’t be anything close to a breeze for her. More like a hurricane, which means highly destructive and accompanied by a heavy downpour."

"Ma-ma," Nick crowed, banging the lid with even greater enthusiasm.

"Right. I suspect she’ll cry her way through each tiny snip, but don’t let that scare you. It’s a woman thing. As you get older you’ll find there are a lot of women things you’ll have to deal with."

Alessandro unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it over a nearby chair. Stooping next to Nick, he removed the boy’s shirt, as well. "Your best bet is to hold your peace and let them cry it out. Trying to rationalize tends to make women mad, as you might have noticed by that stellar example I just set. You don’t want to do that. And using logic only makes them madder. You definitely don’t want to do that. Or argue." He winced. "You’re too young to hear what happens then, but trust me. It’s very, very bad."

"Ma-ma." Nick crashed the wooden spoon against the pots and pans. "Ma-ma. Ma-ma. Ma-ma."

Alessandro whistled softly. "I gotta hand it to you, buddy. Once you finally learn a word you stick with it."

Leaving Nick to his Ringo Starr imitation, Alessandro rummaged through the recycle bin by the backdoor and pulled out a layer of newspapers. He spread them in a broad circle on the kitchen floor. "Okay, Nick. Now remember what I told you," he instructed. "No fussing. It’ll give your momma the perfect excuse to never cut your hair again. And we can’t have that. Don’t get me wrong. I like the opposite sex just fine, but we don’t need to look like them. A man should look like a man."

Setting a chair in the middle of the papers, he continued his lecture. "Also... While fussing is a no-no, so’s grinning. Try not to act too happy. No point rubbing in the fact that she should have done this months ago and you’re pleased as punch that she’s finally gotten around to it. Are we clear about how to handle this?"

Nick stared with such an intent expression, Alessandro could have sworn he understood every word. Unable to explain what drove him, he held out his arms. Nick used the leg of the chair to lever himself upward and then he threw himself into the embrace. He carried a scent unlike anything Alessandro had ever smelled before—fortunately, not that of a dirty diaper. He’d had close and personal contact with that particular odor over the past few days. A little too close and personal for comfort.

No, this was entirely different. A unique fragrance filled Alessandro’s nostrils, something fresh and young and earthy. Something distinctive. Something he hadn’t taken the time or opportunity to register before, perhaps because he’d been so careful to hold himself at a safe distance, reluctant to establish any sort of intimate contact. But he wasn’t safe any longer and Nick’s scent flooded his senses, changing his perception of the boy.

It was almost as though he’d imprinted Nick’s essence on some primal level, claiming it as his own.

This was his son.

Related Salvatore Books:

 

Who's Holding the Baby? (Luc and Pietro's story)

Bridegroom on Approval  (Marco's story)

The Bride's Proposition (Stefano's story)

The Baby Gift (Alessandro's story)

 

From the book:

 

THE BABY GIFT

by Day Leclaire

Harlequin Romance #3631--December '00

ISBN: 0-373-03631-0

 

A review for Day Leclaire's emotional new book: "With pending legal problems and no job, a beautiful woman travels cross-country to deliver THE BABY GIFT (4 1/2 GOLD) to a gorgeous Italian hunk who has no memory of either this woman or making a baby. Claiming this baby as her nephew, she sticks around to make sure the new father and infant bond, but complications arise when the truth begins to reveal itself. With passionate characters, intense scenes, and a layered premise, Day Leclaire will touch your heart with this must-read." Shannon Short, Romantic Times

Copyright © 2000 by Day Leclaire.  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.  For more romance information surf to: http://www.eharlequin.com