Page 242 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“A little more, please.”

Cara tipped her head down, the action causing more of her curls to fall over her shoulder. “Like that?”

“A bit too much, actually,” the photographer replied. “Now we’re more like a curtain of hair, instead of a few stray curls.”

“Here, let me help.” Gian stepped into Cara’s view, and in front of the white backdrop. He smiled down at her, his fingers sliding along the column of her throat to push back the hair that had fallen over her shoulder. Cara had all she could do not to shiver, and guessing by the way Gian’s grin deepened, he saw it, too. “There, perfect.”

“Step back and let me see, Gian.”

At the photographer’s demand, Gian gave Cara a wink, and did as he was told.

“Yes, that’s much better,” the woman said. Then, her camera started up again, capturing images of Cara in a stone-still pose, with a sleeping, one-week old, naked Marcus in her arms. “You do seem to have a good eye for this sort of thing, Gian. Do you dabble in photography at all?”

Cara shot Gian a look that she hoped kept him quiet from discussing his little hobby with her and cameras. In his spot in the corner, now sitting back in the corner chair and watching the session, he seemed content and pleased. In his suit and shined leather shoes, his dark gaze staying pinned on her, he had never quite looked more handsome. He barely reacted at all to Cara’s unspoken warning.

“I certainly have an eye for someone,” he murmured.

“I hope you put it to use.”

“Oh, I do. I most certainly do.”

“Gian,” Cara said quietly.

His husky laughter filled the penthouse’s living room. The photographer had chosen it amongst the many others, because of all the floor-to-ceiling windows and natural light. Cara wouldn’t have minded going in to the woman’s studio, but Gian said it wasn’t necessary. She wanted photos, Gian had the woman come to her. It worked.

“I think we’re just about—”

Gian’s cell phone started ringing. “Done.”

The photographer smiled. “Yep. Just let me pack up. Cara, you can keep the muslin wrap for Marcus, as I don’t reuse items like those for other newborns. I have to say, he was one of the easier babies to photograph this week.”

“That’s because he spent an hour and a half on my boob before you got here,” Cara half-joked. “Milk-drunk.”

It wasn’t a lie.

It was kind of funny.

The truth was, Marcus happened to be a wonderful baby. Sure, he clusterfed at night before bed, and he liked to have his spaces quiet and dimly lit, but Cara figured that was just his way of transitioning into the world at a slower pace. Marcus rarely cried, he barely fussed. And then there was Gian … She swore the baby just knew his father was in the room, even when he couldn’t see Gian.

Marcus was attached to Cara, yes.

Gian was entirely different.

“Here, let me take him, mon ange,” Gian said, coming to stand at Cara’s side again while the photographer packed up her things. “Go get in that new dress I brought back for you from Ottawa yesterday. He’ll be okay with me.”

Already, Marcus’s hazy brown eyes fluttered open at the sound of his father’s voice. He tried peering around, but was only satisfied in his knowledge that his father was near when Gian scooped him from Cara’s embrace. Then, the baby blinked up at his father and promptly fell back asleep.

“Gian, that’s not an at-home kind of dress.”

He smiled, and kissed her cheek. “Maybe not, but it is fit for a queen in her castle. Go put it on. I’ll get him into a diaper and clothes, too.”

Cara thought about Gian’s ringing phone that had interrupted the end of the session, even though he hadn’t picked up the call, and wondered … “Is someone coming over?”

“A couple of people, actually.”

“Who?”

“Family.” His stare dropped down to Marcus. “Mostly for him, though.”