Never Gamble With a Caffarelli (Those Scandalous Caffarellis 3)

Who she loved.

It was ironic but in many ways she reminded him of himself. She had forged a reputation for herself as scatty and irresponsible, as a wild tearaway who had no intention of putting down roots. She had shied away from commitment like he did. She had hated the thought of the formality and entrapment of marriage. She was a free spirit who wanted to live and enjoy life on her terms.

But was that who she really was? Or was it what she thought people expected her to be?

Remy tried to think of another girl who would be in his bed in the flickering firelight some time in the future and couldn’t quite do it. He kept seeing Angelique with her fragrant cloud of dark hair, her arresting grey-blue eyes and her bee-stung mouth with its lush, kiss-me ripeness...

He gave himself a mental shake.

He wasn’t interested in a future with her. He wasn’t interested in a future with anyone.

He was interested in the here and now.

Today and tomorrow were his only focus.

He didn’t want to think any further ahead.

Angelique swung her legs over the edge of the bed, but as she stood up she tottered for a moment and went a ghastly shade of white. He put out a hand to steady her. ‘Are you all right?’

She looked a little dazed for a moment or two but then her colour slowly returned. ‘Whoa, that was strange. I thought I was going to faint. It’s not like I’ve not been eating enough. I still feel full from all that chocolate pudding I had last night.’

He pushed a tiny tendril of hair back from her face. ‘Maybe I’ve been keeping you up too late.’

She smiled cheekily as she danced her fingertips down his bare forearm. He felt the electric shock of her touch all the way to his groin. ‘I’m the one who’s been keeping you up.’

He was up right now—painfully so. But she was still looking peaky even if she was putting on a brave front. He knew that about her if nothing else. She was excellent at hiding behind various masks. He gently patted her on the behind. ‘Have your shower while I rustle up some breakfast. How does bacon and eggs sound?’

The colour drained from her face again and she quickly thrust a hand to her mouth and bolted for the en suite. Remy followed her to find her hunched over the toilet seat, retching without actually bringing anything up. ‘Oh, ma petite, why didn’t you say you were feeling sick?’ he said.

She wiped her mouth on the face cloth he handed her. ‘I didn’t feel sick until you mentioned... Urgh.’ She gave a little shudder. ‘I’m not even going to say the words.’

‘Shall I call a doctor?’

‘What on earth for?’ She got to her feet and grabbed her hair and, using its length, tied it in a loose knot behind her head. ‘It’s just a stomach bug. I’ve had them before. It’ll pass in twenty-four hours or so.’

He reached for her forehead but it was clammy rather than hot. ‘Do you want to go back to bed?’

She pushed his hand away, a little frown creasing her forehead. ‘Stop fussing, Remy. I’m fine.’

‘You look pale.’

‘I haven’t got my make-up on.’

‘Personally, I prefer you without it.’ He followed her back into the bedroom. ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?’

‘And make me look like a drama queen for dragging him or her out here to diagnose a virus? No thanks.’

Remy pulled back the covers on the bed. ‘In. Rest for an hour and see how you feel.’

She rolled her eyes and flopped back down on the bed. ‘You should keep well away from me. It might be catching.’

‘I’ll risk it.’

‘I should probably warn you, I’m not a very good nurse. I have no patience or compassion.’

He smiled as he touched her cheek with a lazy finger. ‘I think you’d make a very good nurse. You’d look hot in a uniform too.’

She cranked one eye open. ‘I thought you preferred me without clothes?’