The Sicilian's Unexpected Duty

‘Is no problem,’ he said, brushing his way past her and perching on her bed. ‘As you suggested, I will wait for you.’

‘Not in here, you won’t.’

‘And you are going to stop me how?’ he asked in a chiding fashion.

She speared him with the nastiest glare she could muster.

He laughed softly, which made her scowl all the more.

Still laughing, he rummaged through one of the boxes and held up a pair of skimpy black lace knickers. ‘Are you going to wear these?’

She snatched them from him, knowing her cheeks had turned a deep red to match her hair. ‘Get out and let me get changed.’

‘I would but I have a feeling you will get ready quicker if I’m in here with you.’

Calling him every nasty word she knew under her breath but loud enough for him to hear, Cara gathered her selected outfit and swept off back into the en suite, letting the door shut with a bang.

For a moment she was reluctant to take the towel off. She had no fear he would barge in on her—where that certainty came from, she could not say—but it wouldn’t surprise her in the least to learn he had X-ray vision.

The thought made her feel distinctly off-kilter, in a way that was completely inappropriate.

The thought of Pepe staring at her naked body while she was oblivious should not make her breasts feel heavy...

Swallowing away moisture that had suddenly filled her mouth, she pulled her knickers on, too late recalling them being the same pair Pepe had just fingered.

This was how he’d been able to seduce her so easily.

For some reason her testosterone-immune body reacted to Pepe and became pathetic and weak-willed around him.

By the end of their weekend together she had been like a lust-filled nympho.

What was it about him?

And what was so wrong with her that she still reacted to him, even after everything he had done? Not forgetting that she was pregnant—shouldn’t pregnancy act as a natural form of anti-aphrodisiac? If it didn’t, it jolly well should.

Pathetic. That’s what she was.

Dressed, she went back into the room. Pepe had moved to an armchair in the corner, his long legs stretched out, doing something on his phone.

His eyebrows rose when he saw her. ‘Are you going to be much longer?’

‘I’m good to go.’

‘Your hair’s still wet.’

‘It’s a bit damp, that’s all.’ She’d towel-dried it as well as she could.

‘It’s cold outside.’

‘My hairdryer’s in Dublin.’

Pepe was fast beginning to recognise the look Cara threw at him as her ‘if you’d let me get my stuff as I’ve asked you repeatedly, I wouldn’t have this problem, ergo, this problem is your fault’ look.

‘I will ensure a hairdryer is here for you when we return from the vineyard.’

‘I’m hoping my hair will be dry by then.’

‘Hmm.’ He gazed at her musingly. ‘I would say sarcasm doesn’t suit you but it actually does.’

She scowled. ‘Funnily enough, it’s only when I’m around you that my sarcastic gene comes out.’

‘I will have to work hard to eradicate it,’ he said, getting to his feet and leaning over to swipe her nose. She did have the cutest nose. ‘And I’ll work hard to eradicate the evil looks you keep throwing at me.’

‘The only way that’s going to happen is if you find your reasonable gene and let me return to Dublin.’

‘You’re welcome to return to Dublin any time you like,’ he said, smiling to disguise his irritation. ‘I have made it clear what the consequences will be if you do so.’

‘Like I said, you need to find your reasonable gene. Find it and I might lose my sarcastic gene.’

‘I have already found my reasonable gene. It is unfortunate it differs from your definition of reasonable but there you go—you can’t please everyone.’ He expanded his hands and mocked a bow. ‘Now, my fiery little geisha, it is time for us to leave.’

‘What did you call me?’ The look she gave him was no mere scowl. If looks could turn a man to stone he would now be made of granite.

‘So touchy.’

‘Calling me a geisha is pretty much on a par with calling me a concubine.’

‘Not at all—a concubine is a permanent fixture in a man’s life, there to give pleasure. A geisha is a hostess and an artiste. It is rare for a geisha to have sex with a male client.’

She didn’t look in the slightest bit mollified. If anything, her scowl deepened.

‘I can see I have my work cut out with you,’ he said with a theatrical sigh. ‘Maybe it is a good thing you will be with me for five months—I fear it will take me that long to get a smile out of you.’