The Italian's Secret Baby

‘But equally selfish,’ he suggested drily.

‘They love one another, so you can’t call them totally self-obsessed and narcissistic,’ she pointed out tolerantly.

‘Unlike me.’

Scarlet flushed under his ironic gaze. ‘I didn’t say that,’ she protested.

‘You didn’t need to. You can’t imagine me with children?’

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Scarlet frowned at the inflection in his voice. ‘You’re Italian Irish, aren’t you?’ She gave an offhand shrug. ‘With that background I expect you’ll have a big family one day, when you’re ready.’

In her head she could see children with Roman’s dark eyes and warm colouring running around…children just like Sam.

‘Or when I’ve grown up?’

‘I wasn’t going to say that. I’m a realist.’

Roman grinned. ‘You have a smart mouth.’ Lush, lovely and incredibly kissable—!

The fact his dark, devastatingly gorgeous eyes were glued to her lips, and that he was no longer grinning, made Scarlet very nervous.

‘I wouldn’t worry—a lot of men never grow up. You’re obviously enjoying playing the field.’ And, my, did he show dedication. She tried to make up for her lack of judgement in speaking her mind with a brittle, blindingly insincere smile.

‘But I expect one day you’ll get bored with it, and when you meet someone…’ Someone beautiful and talented to give him those golden babies.

‘You don’t sound very convinced.’

‘You’re right, I’ve always had my doubts about reformed rakes,’ she confided. Her glance skimmed the strong, arrogant lines in his hard-boned features. And if anyone could accurately be described as a rake, it was him.

‘Rakes?’

Scarlet, who was warming to one of her favourite themes, nodded, barely registering the stunned expression on his handsome face.

‘I know a lot of women think that with the love of a good woman, the good woman being them,’ she qualified drily, ‘even the most committed playboy will metamorphose overnight into a faithful husband.’ She shook her head and gave an incredulous laugh at the ability of her own sex to fool themselves.

‘But you don’t share this view?’

‘Look at me! Do I look like a hopeless romantic?’ she demanded.

He took her reckless offer and there was an extremely uncomfortable interval while he considered the question and her face. The defiant angle of Scarlet’s chin increased in direct proportion to the rapid thud of her racing heart.

Finally he delivered his judgement.

‘I don’t have one hell of a lot of hands-on experience with hopeless romantics but, yes, I’d say you do.’

His dry comment drew Scarlet’s eyes involuntarily to the hands he referred to. His long, tapering fingers curled lightly over the arms of the chair; they were square-tipped, suggesting sensitivity and strength. Something low in her belly tightened as she looked at them and imagined them moving over softer, paler flesh.

Colour significantly heightened, she dragged her eyes clear. ‘Well, I’m not, and,’ she informed him with feeling, ‘I’m glad. I don’t see how falling in love can fundamentally change a person’s character. Call me a cynic, but, the way I see it, once a faithless love rat always a—’ She broke off, her eyes widening. ‘Not that I’m calling you a faithless…’

His eyebrows lifted. ‘No? If you say so.’ His mobile lips formed a cynical smile as he shrugged.

It was pretty damned hard to refute her observations when you had fathered a child on a one-night stand and didn’t discover it until almost four years later.

In most people’s book that qualified as love-rattish behaviour. The fact it had been an accident did not make him any the less an irresponsible bastard.

‘Marriage means different things to different people. Some people are more…flexible…’ she finished awkwardly.#p#????#e#

‘I take it “flexible” is a euphemism for sleeping around.’

Scarlet gave an uncomfortable shrug and wondered how on earth she had got onto this subject. ‘I guess so.’

His nostrils flared as he looked at her. The expression of chilling hauteur on his dark patrician features sent a ripple down her spine.

‘I don’t think I’d be at all flexible at the idea of my wife sleeping with anyone else. I happen to consider fidelity an essential component of marriage.’

‘Well, it just goes to show you never can judge by appearances,’ she responded cheerily. ‘Look at me—’ she suggested.