Happy Mother's Day!

She decided that she had to be totally open and frank with Francesco. She genuinely thought that they could work this through together … she just hoped that after tonight he still thought their marriage was worth the effort!

Despite all her protests it was pretty hard under the circumstances to co

ntinue to claim that her parents’ dysfunctional marriage had not left its mark. When it came to men she had some serious trust issues.

It wasn’t that she actually believed deep down that Francesco had any intention of being unfaithful. Her aggressive overreaction that evening had more to do with her deepseated and previously unacknowledged fear that if faced with a similar situation she would react as her mother had.

Erin awaited his return with a mixture of trepidation and resolution. She would not give up on this marriage. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her.

Francesco was the best thing that had ever happened to her!

By three-thirty she was feeling less upbeat.

Around six-thirty she finally realised Francesco wasn’t coming back at all. Her soul-searching of the night before now seemed utterly pathetic. While she had been trying to think of ways to heal their marriage he had been hitting out at her by sleeping with the first warm and willing body.

Recalling his warning parting shot, she didn’t know why it had taken her this long to work that one out.

Erin knew without soul-searching that the one thing that was a total deal-breaker for her was infidelity—she couldn’t and wouldn’t live with that!

Around eight-thirty, looking more piratical than ever with the dark shadow on his lower face lending him an air of dangerously attractive dissipation, Francesco finally returned.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, propping his shoulders against the wall.

She zipped up her flight bag and straightened up. Reminding herself of the reason for his drained and exhausted appearance enabled her to treat him to a dazzling and icy smile of total indifference.

‘I’m doing exactly what it looks like. Now, if you’ll excuse me—I’ll be late for my flight.’

The colour seeped out from under his tan. He appeared genuinely shocked by her attitude. ‘You’re not serious?’

‘Never more so,’ she promised, fighting the crazy compulsion she had to sweep the hank of dark hair from his brow.

‘We need to talk about this.’

‘Why? Are you going to tell there’s a perfectly innocent reason for you staying out all night?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it doesn’t work that way. You either trust me or you don’t.’ He gave a take-it-or-leave-it shrug that made her want to scream in sheer frustration. ‘What you believe is up to you. Your problem, Erin, is as much as you despise me at the moment you despise yourself more … because you want me anyway. And that,’ he concluded with terrifying accuracy, ‘is tearing you up inside.’

It was as if he had been walking around inside her head. The idea was not a comfortable one. ‘Who says I want you?’

His eyes, dark and cynical, locked on to hers. ‘You don’t really need me to answer that, do you?’

The mortified heat flew to her cheeks.

‘This is a waste of time. There is nothing to talk aboutyou made your choice last night.’

She liked to think that if he had tried to stop her she would have had the resolution to walk away. But she’d never know because he didn’t try, he just stood there and let her leave.

‘You rejected me.’

The sound of his deep voice dragged Erin’s wandering thoughts back to the present with a jolt. Reject … was that how he saw it? She was astonished at this interpretation.

He took a step closer.

‘What have you been doing to yourself, Erin?’ He looked at her parchment-pale face and something twisted in his chest. He might no longer believe himself to be in love, but this was the mother of his child; it was only natural that he should feel a strong desire to protect her.

‘You are nothing but skin and bone!’ he condemned, frowning at the sharp angles of her delicate collar-bones as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his hand a moment later empty. Was it so unreasonable of him to want her to tell him about the baby of her own volition?

She lifted her eyes to his. If ever a moment screamed perfect, this was it. Tell him, said the voice in her head. Tell him …!