He’d got that right, she thought as she stifled a yawn. Tom’s death, the funeral five days later, and Gianfranco the next day—it suddenly hit her she had barely slept or eaten for a week. The fact Gianfranco had recognised it was surprising; he wasn’t known for his sensitivity.
‘Goodnight,’ she said firmly, but she could not meet his dark watchful eyes, and she speedily crossed the room with more haste than grace.
Kelly glanced around the bedroom, it was the same room she had occupied before, and Anna had laid her cotton nightie out on the massive four-poster bed. She wondered if Gianfranco still occupied the bedroom next door, and immediately dismissed the thought. Contemplating Gianfranco in bed, any bed, did nothing for her peace of mind.
Picking up her nightie, she walked into the adjoining bathroom. In minutes she had had a shower, and, after drying herself quickly with a large bath towel, she slipped the nightie over her head. A brief glance in the mirror and she grimaced. The white nightie was a simple mass of gathered cotton falling from a round neckline to her feet—with her hair brushed loose and her face free of make-up, the only point of colour was the purple rings under her eyes. She looked like a ghost.
Shrugging her shoulders, Kelly returned to the bedroom, and then on to the nursery. She stood for a few minutes staring down at her sleeping daughter, and then made a silent prayer that Annalou would be happy here. For herself she didn’t care. Annalou was everything.
Had she done the right thing? A resigned sigh escaped her. Deep in her heart Kelly knew she had never really had a choice. Gianfranco turning up yesterday had only precipitated matters, as if she was honest Kelly had already decided to get in touch with Gianfranco after Annalou had asked about her father at Easter. Tom’s illness and the need to look after him had given her an excuse to delay, but with Tom’s death she’d had no more excuses. Which was probably why she imagined she had conjured Gianfranco up yesterday on the beach, she thought wryly.
Sighing, she touched a finger to her daughter’s cheek. Had she jumped to conclusions three years ago, as Gianfranco had said? If not, did it matter that Gianfranco had loved Olivia? Olivia was no longer in the equation.
For years she’d tried not to think about her husband because it had hurt too much, but now she faced the facts. Last night had taught her she was still as deeply attracted to him as ever. Only now she did not call it love. She was older and wiser, and for the first time since meeting Gianfranco again Kelly considered the possibility of trying to make the marriage work.
She didn’t trust him, but then again he didn’t trust her, so they were equal on that score. But they did have a child together, and she did not doubt his love for Annalou; in the short twenty-four hours the bond between father and daughter was obvious for all to see. If Kelly wanted to keep her daughter and give her the happy home life she deserved—and she did—then maybe the best way of achieving that was to reconcile with Gianfranco. Quietly closing the door behind her, Kelly walked back to the bedroom. She was too bone-deep tired to make a decision now, and, crawling into bed, she curled up in a foetal position, yawned widely and within seconds exhaustion claimed her.
Kelly’s lashes fluttered against her cheeks and her head fell onto the pillow, the supporting warmth removed. She frowned; she could hear voices and instinctively curled her legs across smooth flesh, unwilling to wake up yet. She snuggled deeper, against a hard male thigh—aroused male! Her eyes flew open and she jerked up. ‘What the hell!’ she exclaimed, her head spinning: the other side of the bed was occupied.
‘Buongiorno, signora.’ Anna was in the process of placing a tray with coffee and two cups on the bedside table.
Gianfranco was in her bed, lounging back against the pillows, looking incredibly sexy and, if Kelly wasn’t mistaken, stark naked. She tore her eyes away from Gianfranco and back to Anna, and quickly moved to the edge of the bed. ‘Thank you for the coffee, but where is Annalou?’ she demanded.
‘Run along, Anna,’ Gianfranco instructed. ‘I will explain.’
He had a hell of a lot of explaining to do. Like why was he in her bed? Kelly thought furiously, her blue eyes flashing back to his.
‘Relax. I am informed our daughter is washed and dressed, and at this moment in the kitchen having breakfast. She’s apparently completely besotted with the household cat,’ he drawled. His deep voice, husky with sleep, was like a caress across her skin, and his slumbrous dark eyes were holding her own.
Her whole body flushed with heat, she swallowed convulsively, and tore her eyes away from his as she recalled the feel of his hard thighs only moments ago. Dynamic and all male, he projected a raw virility that was almost frightening in its intensity. Her gaze lingered over the black hair on his broad chest angling down to where the fine sheet covered his thighs. Surely he had not looked so good years ago.
She gulped and said the first thing that came into her head. ‘Why did Anna bring your coffee—it always used to be Aldo?’
A cynical smile quirked the corners of his firm lips. ‘It occurred to me I was perhaps a little insensitive three years ago when you were a new bride, and sharing a bed with a man for the first time, to have another man wake you up in the morning. I was used to Aldo but I remember you used to blush and huddle under the bedclothes.’
‘You’re right, I did.’ For a moment she was touched that he had recognised her embarrassment, even if it was three years too late.
‘Of course it hardly matters now,’ Gianfranco drawled, reclining back against the pillows. ‘But I had already arranged it before I left for England and discovered the life you had been leading.’
Kelly recognised the sarcasm, and any softening she had felt towards him vanished in a puff of smoke. ‘It was a hell of a lot better than the one I had here,’ she gibed, and slid off the bed before turning to challenge him. ‘And now perhaps you can explain what you think you are doing in my bed.’
‘Our bed, Kelly.’
‘That’s rich coming from you. You couldn’t get out of it fast enough when we were married,’ she shot back with some sarcasm of her own. It still rankled, even after three years.
‘As I recall, you never objected—the safety of our unborn baby was your top priority.’ He looked at her quizzically, as if she had just given him the answer he had been looking for. ‘I did not know you cared.’
‘I didn’t.’ She shook her head, her long hair flying around her shoulders in tumbling disarray. ‘I don’t.’ He was far too astute and she was mortified at what she had almost given away. ‘I’ll pour the coffee before it gets cold,’ she mumbled, and made a production of filling the two cups while fighting to regain her self-control. Taking a deep breath, Kelly turned back to face him and held out the cup and saucer.
He took it from her hand and drank, replacing the cup on the bedside table; then, leaning back, he watched her with an impassive expression that made Kelly very nervous, and when he spoke in a voice lacking all emotion she almost spilled her own coffee.
‘The last time you were here we spent a few weeks sharing a bed, and then the doctor said no sex. I slept in a separate bedroom because I wanted you with a hunger, a passion I could not control.’
Kelly sucked in a breath, her startled gaze flying to his, and she saw the heat in the glittering black depths of his eyes he did not try to hide, and felt reciprocal warmth ignite low in her belly.
‘Yes, Kelly. I was a danger to our unborn child because I did not trust myself not to make love to you. You only had to touch me, smile, and everything else faded into oblivion against the irresistible urge to have you.’
Her mouth fell open in amazement. As excuses went it was a Lulu, but she wasn’t sure she believed him. She bit her lip. ‘Yes, well,’ she muttered, and, lifting her coffee-cup, she drained it. The conversation was becoming far too personal, and she didn’t want to go there…