Brunetti's Secret Son

He watched her drop her sunglasses on the table and walk to the edge of the pool, her smile guarded as she observed Lucca’s antics. For the first time in his life, Romeo experienced the need to enquire as to a woman’s feelings. The unsettled feelings that had slashed through him in the car returned and grew as he watched her swim to the other end of the pool and stay there.

Normally, when the women he dated began exhibiting contrary attitudes, it was a prelude to them asking for more. Of his time. Of a commitment. It was the reason he’d drastically reduced his dating span from a few weeks to the odd weekend.

He had nothing more to offer a woman besides a good time in bed and a very generous parting gift come Monday morning.

So what did Maisie’s attitude mean?

She had his ring on her finger. Albeit temporarily, and for the sake of their son. But she also had him here, far from civilisation should they choose, and as exclusive as resorts came. And if and when she chose to alter the terms of their non-physical relationship to a physical one, he was more than willing to negotiate.

So what was wrong?

‘Faster, faster!’ Lucca urged as he rode on Romeo’s back. ‘Mummy, let’s race.’ He held out his arms to his mother. Maisie smiled and swam towards them, but she still avoided Romeo’s gaze. And kept a conspicuous distance between them as they splashed from one end of the pool to the other.

Eventually, he took a tired and protesting Lucca out of the water. Maisie followed them out and dried him, before taking him indoors. When she returned and perched on her lounger with that same air of withdrawal, he narrowed his eyes.

‘I don’t like mixed signals,’ he snapped.

Her head jerked towards him. ‘What?’

‘You were fine when you left the study. Something has obviously happened between then and now. What is it?’

‘Nothing. I just took a little time to think, that’s all.’

Something tightened in his chest, but he forced out the question. ‘And what did thinking produce?’

She flashed a bright, false smile. ‘I concluded that you’re right. Lucca and I have never had a holiday. This will be good for him...for all of us. As long as I can find something to keep me busy at times, I won’t stand in your way about the small things.’

He heard the words and processed them as the half-truth they were. Then sat back and formulated how to get the full truth out of her.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘WE’RE HEADING OUT to choose a venue for a duck pond. You said you’d join us.’ Romeo used a tone that made it clear his request wasn’t up for debate. His annoyance the past few days had grown into a simmering anger. Albeit that anger was directed more at himself for the unaccustomed feeling of caring so much.

But some of it was directed at the woman who raised her head from her video conversation with her friend in Dublin and looked at him with a blank stare.

He’d been on the receiving end of that stare every time he walked into a room, just as every time he came within touching distance she found a way to move away. He’d thought she would be happy when he’d arranged for her to work with the chef at the resort restaurant a few hours each day to keep her skills sharp. She’d been pleased and his chef had sung her praises, but Maisie continued to be aloof.

Enough was enough. He wanted that distance gone.

The voice that suggested he might live to regret closing that distance was ruthlessly suppressed. He strolled further into the room and stopped in front of her, arms folded. ‘Our son is waiting.’

Satisfaction burst through him when her eyes lit up with rebellious fire.

‘Um...sorry, Bronagh, I have to go. I’ll be in touch again at the end of the week.’ She smiled and signed off, then glared up at him. ‘Was there any need to be so rude?’

‘Perhaps you should ask yourself the same question.’

A frown marred the light, golden hue of her skin, the result of enjoying the Hawaiian sun. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘You’ve called your friend three times since we got here. You don’t think she’d be offended that you’re micromanaging her from a distance?’

Her eyes widened. ‘Of course not, we discussed me calling her before I left Dublin.’

‘Every other day?’

‘Maybe not, but—’

‘What percentage of your call involved discussing the restaurant?’