Brunetti's Secret Son

She bit her lip and flushed bright red. ‘That still doesn’t excuse your rudely interrupting me.’

‘I’m only doing what you asked, gattina, and reminding you that you said you’d come with us to view the site. If you’ve changed your mind, all you have to do is say so. Lucca would be disappointed, of course, but...’ Romeo shrugged.

She frowned and checked the clock on the laptop. ‘I haven’t changed my mind. I just didn’t realise what the time was, that’s all.’ She looked at him and her gaze swung away almost immediately. ‘I... I’ll be right there.’

He narrowed his eyes when she remained seated. ‘Is there a problem I should know about?’ he grated, realising he was reaching the end of a hitherto unknown rope of patience.

‘No.’ Her lower lip protruded in an annoyed action so reminiscent of their son that he almost laughed. But his annoyance was far greater than his mirth. And it grew the longer she remained seated.

‘Do I need to eject you from that chair?’ he asked softly.

Her loose, waist-length hair slid over her shoulders as she swivelled her chair sideways. ‘I only meant that I’d meet you outside after I get changed.’

He assessed her blue vest top. ‘There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing.’

Her colour rose higher. ‘Not the top maybe, but the shorts aren’t appropriate for going outside.’

Romeo’s legs moved of their own accord, skirting the desk to where she sat. ‘Stand up.’

She threw him another of those highly annoyed looks but reluctantly stood.

He nearly swallowed his tongue.

The bright pink hot pants moulded her hips like a second skin and ended a scant inch below where the material met between her thighs. Instant arousal like nothing he’d ever experienced before battered him so hard, he was sure his insides had been rearranged in the process.

‘Che diavolo,’ he managed to squeeze out when he dragged his gaze from that triangle of temptation between her thighs and the silky smooth length of her shapely legs to her bare feet and up again.

‘Don’t blame me,’ she muttered with husky accusation. ‘It’s not my fault your personal shoppers got my size wrong. If you’d let me go with them like I suggested, none of this would’ve happened.’

He met her impossibly blue eyes with a stunned exhalation. ‘Are you telling me all your clothes are too small?’

He’d had a new wardrobe organised for Maisie and Lucca when it had become apparent that she’d packed clothes suitable for an Irish summer, not the tropical Hawaiian heat. And he for one had been tired of Maisie’s ugly swimsuit after seeing it a second time.

She lifted her hand to fiddle with her hair and a glimpse of her toned midriff sent his temperature soaring another thousand degrees. ‘They’re a size smaller than I’d normally prefer.’

‘And you didn’t say something because?’ He was aware his voice was uneven, hell, strangled, and that continuing to stand this close to her while she was dressed like a naughty cheerleader was an immensely bad idea, but his feet refused to move anywhere but closer, the need to slide his fingers between her legs, test the heat of those hot pants, almost overpowering.

‘Would I have sounded anything but a diva if I’d demanded they send everything back?’

Since he knew every single one of the women he’d dated before would’ve made exactly that demand, and more, he allowed himself a smile. ‘You’re my wife. You’re well within your rights to demand anything you want, as often as you want.’

She seemed to grow unsteady, her hand reaching out blindly for the sturdiness of the desk. But her gaze didn’t move from his, an action for which he felt almost elated. Romeo couldn’t take in how much he’d missed looking into her eyes until that moment. Which was absurd, but unshakeably true.

‘It’s okay, it’s not a big deal. I can get away with most of the tops and dresses, and I’d planned to only wear the shorts indoors.’ She licked her lips and laughed a touch nervously. ‘Besides, I can stand to lose a pound or ten.’

‘Nothing about your body requires adjustment,’ he growled.

She was perfect. And she was blushing in the full-bodied way again that was pure combustion to his libido.

His eyes dropped to where she was winding one leg around the other, her toes brushing her opposite insole. Hunger clawed through him.

Madre di Dio!

‘Go. Change if you must. We’ll be waiting out front,’ he forced out before the unbearable need pounding through him overcame his better judgement and he bent her over the desk.