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hand and little Aurelia in the crook of her arm. Motherhood had softened her, and Jace’s pulse quickened as the weight of the baby pulled her blouse taut across the fullness of her breasts. Jace turned back to the stove, hiding his reaction to her appearance.
    He wasn’t accustomed to these scenes of domesticity, especially not with Anna in the center of it. She’d always been so chic, so…oh, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps an air of being unattainable? She’d been free and blithe and confident in herself. It was what had attracted him in the first place. Wanting something he couldn’t have.
    Seeing her like this—with her hair slightly messed and her makeup less than perfect, and with her babies—well, it was a completely different Anna. She was earthy and beautiful and it threw him off balance.
    The reality of it was this could have been them if he hadn’t been such a fool. Instead, he’d thrown her straight into Stefano’s arms. He might not be father material, but he’d do anything to make up for his part in the whole mess. Even put up with a toddler and a baby added in for good measure.
    He poured the last of the broth into the risotto and stirred, trying to block out the sound of Anna’s soft voice speaking to Matteo in Italian. The words sounded lyrical and strange, and a swell of resentment rose. It was her father, the damned stubborn Roberto Morelli, who insisted the family speak Italian as well as English. The old man had used it often enough when Jace was a boy, simply to remind him of his place and exclude him from conversations meant for family, not the help.
    But Anna hadn’t followed her father’s example. Neither had Alex. Jace’s good memories centered around them and the fun they’d had when Roberto wasn’t stomping around like a puffed-up dictator.
    He frowned, staring down into the pot. An hour with her and he was already feeling the old anger he’d worked hard to eradicate. He thought of his mom and dad in their little house outside Saanich. All his growing years they’d merely scraped by, never having any money for any extras or extravagances. He had seen what a toll it took on them, had seen their faces when they’d had to tell him no when he’d wanted something. He’d sworn the day he’d seen his mother cry as she counted change in her purse that he—and they—would never want for anything again. Now he supported them and himself. He had wanted more. He’d wanted to provide for his family. To be good enough for her, and Anna hadn’t been able to see that. She’d called him a proud fool and had run away crying. Well, maybe he had been. But he wasn’t going to be dirt under Roberto Morelli’s boots. And he damn well wasn’t going to be poor ever again, and neither would anyone he cared about.
    â€œCan I help?”
    Her soft voice was at his shoulder and the hair on the nape of his neck prickled. “Really, Anna, I don’t mind. I cook for myself all the time.” He avoided her eyes and busied himself slicing off rounds of bread.
    â€œJace…”
    When he turned to face her, her dark eyes pleaded with his. “I…I don’t want to feel like a guest.” At his raised brow, she continued on. “I don’t need to be pampered. I need…”
    â€œWhat do you need, Anna?”
    And damned if he didn’t hold his breath, waiting for her answer.
    â€œI need a place to belong. A place to be me. Or at least…” She paused again. “Oh, Jace, you’ve known me for years. I came here to be safe. I need a place to find me, and not be worried about who’s going to witness it. I’ve been Roberto’s daughter and Stefano’s wife for so long I don’t even remember who I am. If that makes any sense. I need to trust you. I know you disapprove. I’m asking you to let that go. For old times’ sake.”
    It made