The Italian's Pregnant Mistress

Francesca looked at him. ‘He’s a really nice guy, Angelo. I’m sorry if you think he was flirting with Georgina, but he wouldn’t.’

‘Because he’s so committed to you?’

‘I know you want to hurt me, Angelo, but don’t bring Jack into it. Don’t ruin what we’ve built up. Jack’s worked hard for this and it hasn’t been easy for him.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

Francesca could have kicked herself. He had detected something in her voice and he was all ears now.

‘I mean that…that he’s had to…sacrifice earning while he was doing his catering course…and…’

‘Don’t tell me that you didn’t support him financially. With all that cash you’d managed to tuck away over the years?’ He looked at her with a shuttered expression. Something wasn’t making sense but, whatever connection he was missing, he couldn’t locate it. ‘Trying to buy his love, Francesca?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You might be able to pull the purse-strings but if your man has a wandering eye then he’s always going to have a wandering eye. You might think that you’re calling the shots, but what’s he up to when your back’s turned?’

Since she knew exactly what Jack was up to when her back was turned she could afford to smile at that misconception. ‘I know what he’s up to.’ Chatting up women and having random affairs, because when it came to relationships the slightest hint of commitment was enough to send him hurtling off in the opposite direction. Her only advice to him was to practise safe sex. Beyond that, he was on his own.

Angelo didn’t like the answer. ‘And you don’t care?’

‘He’s not up to anything that I disapprove of.’ Her voice was steadier now that she was on safe ground and she was no longer trembling. But he was still in her house and there was no way she could relax with him sitting there, inches away from her. She glanced meaningfully at the front door, just visible from where she was standing.

Angelo stood up and she licked her lips nervously. She was tall but she had always felt physically dwarfed by him and it was even more apparent here, in the small kitchen, with the atmosphere crackling between them.

‘Very trusting. Very optimistic.’

‘And what about you?’ she flung at him. She threw her head back and stared up into those black, fathomless eyes. ‘If you noticed Jack flirting with your fiancée you must have noticed that she wasn’t exactly pushing him away in horror!’ Damned if he was going to stride into her house and issue smug, patronising generalisations on the quality of her love life as if she was a halfwit incapable of making the correct choices. ‘So what have you got to say to that?’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘I’M SORRY. That was out of order.’ Francesca backed out of the kitchen and turned away, walking quickly towards the front door, anxious to get him out of her house, even more anxious to curtail a dangerous conversation that had her teetering between a recognition that she had to be polite and a yearning to draw blood.

‘Tricky, isn’t it?’ Angelo drawled, strolling towards her and then propping himself up with one hand on the door, making sure that she couldn’t actually open it.

‘What is?’

‘Pretending.’

‘Pretending what? I’m not pretending anything!’ Her voice was laced with panic.

‘Oh, yes, you are,’ he chided softly. ‘We both are. Pretending that the past is over and done with and we no longer give a damn about what happens in each other’s lives…’

‘I don’t give a damn what happens in yours!’ Francesca finally raised her eyes and looked at him. She found herself mesmerised by his mouth. She imagined it touching hers and she had to fight the convulsive shudder that threatened to rip through her. ‘You’re the one who keeps referring to our past! I’m just interested in getting on with this job and doing it to the best of my ability!’

‘Oh, really. And do you normally tremble like a leaf when you’re in the company of one of your male clients? Because you’re trembling now.’