Sighing as she looked at her brand-new, shiny wedding ring, she began to get undressed.
But when she woke up in the morning and drew open the blinds, she sucked in a breath of excitement at the sight of the city which lay beneath her, and it changed and lifted her mood. It couldn’t fail to. It was like a picture-postcard view, she thought. And there was so much to discover.
She showered and dressed and wandered into the kitchen to find the tantalising aroma of good coffee and Luca squeezing oranges, a basket of newly baked bread on the table.
He gave her a slightly rueful look. ‘I hope this is okay?’
She sat down, suddenly hungry. ‘It looks wonderful.’ She remembered the time when she had stayed with him, exclaiming that his fridge had been completely bare, save for two bottles of champagne and a tin of caviare. And he had taken her out to a nearby café for breakfast, explaining that he never ate in.
‘You’ve taken to eating breakfast at home now, then?’ she questioned as she poured her coffee.
‘I shopped for these first thing,’ he said, feeling like a man who had accomplished a mission impossible! ‘I guess things are going to have to change around here.’
Automatically, her hand crept to her stomach. ‘Well, er, yes,’ she said drily.
He laughed. ‘Homes have food, so I guess I’m going to have to learn how to shop. And cook.’
Eve laughed. He wore the expression of a man who had just announced his intention to wade through a pit of snakes. ‘If you shop—I’m happy to cook.’
‘You cook?’
She gave him a look of mock reprimand. ‘Of course I cook! I love cooking.’ She risked it. ‘I could teach you, if you like.’
A woman teaching him!
‘You might not be able to stand taking orders from a woman, of course,’ she said shrewdly.
He met her eyes. ‘Oh, I think I could bear taking orders from you, Eve.’
She hastily broke the warm, fragrant bread. She was going to have to watch herself, if some simple, throwaway comment like that was going to have her heart racing with some completely disproportionate pleasure, as if he had just offered her the moon and the stars.
He sat down opposite her, feeling oddly relaxed. It felt strange to be eating breakfast with a woman in his own home and not covertly glancing at his watch and wondering how soon he could get his own space back.
‘I’ve made you an appointment to see an obstetrician tomorrow morning,’ he said, and then added, ‘He’s the best in the city.’
She supposed that went without saying. Everything that was the best would now be hers for the taking, and she must try to appreciate it. Not get bogged down with wanting everything to be perfect, because nothing ever was, everyone knew that.
‘And I think we might arrange a small party—that way you can get to meet everyone at once—what do you think?’
It was her first real entrée into his life. A whole circle of Luca’s smart and sophisticated friends—how were they going to accept her? She hadn’t even put that into part of the equation. ‘What will they think?’
He raised his eyebrows in faintly insolent query. ‘That you’re my wife and that you’re expecting my baby—what else is there for them to think?’
He was right. Even if it had been a conventional love marriage, he would not have gone around telling his friends so. They would just have made the assumption. Would they notice that he didn’t touch her? That they behaved as benignly as two flatmates? She stirred her coffee. ‘Luca.’
He let his eyes drift over her. Her hair was loose and the morning light was spilling over it. He had never seen so many different hues in a head of hair and it looked like molasses and honey with warm hints of amber. Her green-grey eyes were bright and clear, their lashes long and curling even though she wasn’t wearing a scrap of make-up. She looked wholesome and clean and healthy, he thought, and that, surprisingly, was incredibly sexy. He hadn’t slept a wink last night, imagining her in the bed next door to his. What, he wondered, was she wearing in bed at the moment? Did pregnant women feel the need to cover up? He shifted slightly. ‘Mmm?’
‘I’d like to learn Italian, please. And as soon as possible.’
He heard the determination in her voice. It didn’t surprise him, but it pleased him. ‘All my friends speak English,’ he commented. ‘Spanish, too.’
‘Yes. Yes, I sort of somehow imagined that they would.’
‘And the baby is going to take a while to learn how to speak!’ he teased.
‘Yes, I know that, too! But I don’t want to be one of those women who move to another country and lets her…her…husband do all the talking for her.’ The word sounded strange on her lips. As if she were a fraud for saying it.
‘I can’t imagine you letting anyone do the talking for you, Eve,’ he said drily. ‘But, of course, I will arrange for a tutor for you. That might be better than going out to a class, particularly at the moment, don’t you think?’