Prognosis Baby Daddy - Amy Andrews Page 0,4

passed dozens and dozens of restaurants and hotels lining the route, all decorated with gorgeous splashes of vibrant bougainvillea.

They passed several roadside vendors selling fruit from small trucks and even passed one with a raised metal frame upon which dozens and dozens of red chillies had been strung up, hanging in colourful plump bunches.

‘Ben!’ she yelled, pointing at an oncoming bus directly in their path as she clutched his thigh and shut her eyes.

Ben laughed and took the necessary evasive action. ‘It’s OK now, you can open your eyes,’ he teased.

‘Oh, God, how much longer?’ she asked, still holding his leg, the bulk strangely reassuring. It had taken them an hour to travel a handful of kilometres.

‘Not long.’ He grinned down at her.

Katya found his smile contagious and the confidence in his brown eyes soothing. She had seen that look, the calm, quietly confident look, many times in his operating theatre. And she needed that right now because the terrifying ride had wider implications. There were three people in this car and the thought of having an accident — the baby getting hurt — was too much to bear.

She smiled back at him, pleased that on a scenic cliff road on the Amalfi coast she was with someone who could handle the perils of the journey. She became aware of her hand resting on his thigh and felt heat creep into her face.

‘Sorry,’ she said, withdrawing her hand.

‘Don’t be.’ He returned his attention to the road. ‘It felt good.’

Katya swallowed, her hand still warm from the bulky muscle. Yes, it had. Precisely why she shouldn’t have done it.

‘Here it is,’ he said a few minutes later, and turned off the coast road onto the Via Pasitea, the main thoroughfare that meandered down through the maze of cliff-face villas of Positano.

Katya breathed easier now the crazy pace and chaos had settled. They were still being overtaken by the odd moped but she didn’t feel as if she was about to die. She even got to appreciate the scenery.

It was late afternoon by now and the fading sunlight reflected off the colourful façades of the buildings that lined the road and the cliff faces in every direction.

Yellow, pink, white, terracotta.

Flowering bougainvillea crept over walls and hung off trellises everywhere. Every home, restaurant and hotel was decorated with flower boxes ablaze with beautiful colourful blooms. The Mediterranean sparkled in the distance. Positano dazzled the eye and Katya was instantly charmed.

Ben waved at people as he passed. They called out to him and he smiled and greeted them by name. He seemed to know everyone.

‘A popular man,’ she mused.

‘My family has had a home here for many generations.’ He shrugged.

Katya turned back to the window, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the scenery. How would that be? To have grown up here? For the baby to grow up here? She thought back to her dreary upbringing in Moscow. State housing, sketchy services, going hungry on too many nights, going cold even more and a pervading climate of fear that even as a child she had been aware of.

No neighbours greeting you as a long-lost friend — just keep your head down and stay the hell out of trouble.

She wanted more than that for this baby.

‘Here we are,’ he said, slowing the vehicle.

Katya could just make out a whitewashed villa through the mesh wire of a very high fence. Ben removed a remote control from the centre console and a heavy-duty security gate swung open. He drove into the narrow space, just big enough for two small cars, and turned the engine off.

‘Welcome to Positano.’

Katya looked over at the imposing villa. Inside the fence it looked even grander, dominating the cliff face perched over the sea below. Its grandeur scared the hell out of her. She suddenly felt like Cinderella at the ball and hoped she didn’t trip or say something stupid or eat with the wrong utensil.

She pictured Ben’s mother, a plump old lady with a mole on her chin and a twinkle in her eye, slaving over a hot oven for her.

For her.

Cooking a feast, Ben had said. The last thing she wanted to do was show how very little breeding she had. Not because she cared necessarily but, hey, a girl had her pride.

She climbed out of the car and allowed Ben to get her case for her then lead her to the front door. The side wall that faced them was stark white, two rows of arched windows breaking up the