Gianni's Pride Read Online Free PDF Page A

…?’ She lifted her eyes to Gianni’s face and as she encountered a distinctly hostile expression her voice faded.
    Gianni’s square jaw had tightened several notches in response to an attitude that he had plenty of experience of, an attitude that never failed to get under his skin. He was in a position to know that being female did not necessarily make a person a childcare expert and having a Y chromosome did not make him utterly clueless.
    ‘He’s not going to fall.’ Gianni’s confident pronouncement coincided with his son landing on his bottom on the polished boards.
    With a cry Miranda moved in to help but the boy’s father, who had responded with much quicker instincts and a lot more agility, had dropped to a crouch beside the boy, hiding him from her view.
    He might be pretty clueless about long journeys with a child prone to car sickness, Gianni reflected, but at least he did know enough to keep anxiety out of his voice as he asked lightly, ‘Are you all right—hurt anywhere?’
    Liam was inclined to laugh off bumps and bruises unless he picked up on an adult’s anxiety—then things could tip over into hysteria.
    There were tears in the limpid blue gaze that lifted to his father. Gianni smiled reassuringly and ran his hands lightly down his son’s body to check for any obvious injuries.
    The boy blinked several times and bit his wobbling lip before he shook his head and said, ‘I’m fine … Fitzgeralds are tough.’
    Gianni patted his son’s shoulder and gave a thumbs-up sign as he rose to his feet. ‘Good man.’
    Miranda, who had watched the revealing interchange with a disapproving frown, was forced to swallow to clear the emotional lump in her throat when the boy returned the thumbs-up gesture and beamed with pride as he struggled valiantly to his feet.
    This was a very appealing kid who obviously wanted to please his father, who was clearly a paid-up member of the macho ‘boys don’t cry’ school of thought.
    She just hoped for this child’s sake that his mother provided a softening influence.
If ever I have a son
, she thought fiercely,
I’ll teach him that a boy is allowed to have feelings. He’s allowed to cry
.
    ‘You haven’t said I told you so yet.’ Gianni turned his head and arched a sardonic brow. Caught unawares, Miranda found herself pinned by a heavy-lidded cynical stare.
    ‘I haven’t said big boys don’t cry either,’ she fired back, unable to totally shake the illogical feeling that those mocking eyes could see right into her head.
    One corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile. ‘Are you suggesting I’m not in touch with my feminine side, Miranda?’
    Miranda was startled to hear him use her name with such familiarity. The way he said it made it sound …
different
? ‘N-no …’ On another occasion the suggestion might have made her laugh—feminine? The man who oozed more testosterone than a rugby team!
    ‘I’m half Italian, half Irish—neither are known for their inhibitions when it comes to expressing emotions.’
    Miranda looked at the sensual curve of his mouth and thought,
I can believe it
.
    ‘Frequently loudly,’ he admitted with a flash of white teeth.
    Miranda turned her head quickly to break the hold of his mesmeric gleaming stare and, ignoring her violently quivering stomach muscles, directed her attention to the little boy. ‘Are you sure he’s all right?’
    It was the child under discussion who responded to the question. ‘No, I’m not all right. The car made me sick … a lot,’ the little boy announced with a hint of pride. He gave her a look resembling a mistreated puppy—it would have melted stone—and said pathetically, ‘The car smells. Daddy was mad.’
    ‘Was he? I’m sure that helped a lot.’ The smiling comment passed over the child’s head but hit its target.
    Reconciled to being considered the monster in this scene, Gianni shrugged and thought,
Why fight it?
‘A man and his car—you know how it is.’
    Miranda