The Italian's Wife

and regret. 'I won't let you put your father through any more pain,

Holly. You did what you shouldn't have done and you're paying the cost

of it now. If you try to keep the kiddy there'll be nothing but grief

ahead of you.'

Over the past months Holly had learned the truth of words that had

seemed so harsh to her at the time she had listened to them. Then she

had still been foolish enough to hope that Jeff was making a home for

them both in London,

that he would want their child as much as she did and that he would go

ahead and marry her just as he had promised. But Jeff had not made a

home for them, had been outraged that she should've dared to give birth

to a baby he did not want, and had never, ever had the smallest true

intention of marrying her.

Timmie would be much better off adopted, Holly forced herself to

concede. It would break her heart but it was cruel of her to keep him

when she could not provide for him as he deserved. Her eyes stung with

hot, prickling tears. There was no other choice available to her. She

couldn't earn enough in the employment market to pay for childcare or a

proper home. Even living off the state in recent weeks, as she had been

forced to do after a spate of ill health had seen her sacked from her

last job, she had managed no better. Everything she had once owned had

either been sold for cash or stolen. She now literally owned only what

she stood up in. It was time to do the right thing for Timmie. He would

have two caring parents and a decent home. How could she stand in her

son's way when she herself had so little to offer him?

The nurse bustled back in with a wide smile. 'Mr Lombardi is planning to

come and see you...now, aren't you the lucky one?'

'Mr...who?'

'Saverio Lombardi. The man whose limousine you almost dented!'

'A limousine...Lombardi? Isn't that the same name as this hospital?'

Holly queried in confusion. Had he been in a limousine? He had certainly

been travelling with an awful lot of people, she recalled dimly.

'This hospital is run by the Lombardi Foundation. It's a charitable

trust set up by Mr Lombardi. We only take in local patients on

emergency,' the nurse explained. 'People

22

come here from all over the world for surgery that they can't get in

their home countries. The foundation covers the costs. Mr Lombardi is a

very well-known philanthropist...surely you've heard of him?'

'No...I didn't notice the limo either.' The nurse was talking about

underprivileged people from less developed countries, Holly gathered in

some discomfiture, charity cases. Although she had been taken aback by

her luxurious surroundings, she had not realised that the hospital was

private. Indeed, she had assumed that the hospital was simply brand-new

and that she had got her own room either by sheer good fortune or

because Timmie's initial crying would have disturbed other patients. But

now it was obvious that luck and Timmie's lungs had had nothing to do

with it. She was a charity case too.

'Maybe you were too busy looking at those scorching tawny eyes of his,'

the other woman teased. 'Not to mention the rest of him. Rio Lombardi is

drop-dead gorgeous, and so fanciable you could kidnap him.'

On the other side of the ajar door, Rio hesitated in receipt of that

unsought accolade and raised his brows in exasperation. Then, strong

jawline squaring, he entered with a light warning knock on the door.

Holly jerked in dismay, her pale skin taking on instant discomfited

colour as if she had been the one talking out of turn, while the night

nurse scurried out with a bent head. But after just one look at the very

tall, powerfully built dark male coming to a halt at the foot of her

bed, Holly was challenged even to recall what had briefly embarrassed

her. In all her life she had never seen a more breathtakingly handsome

male and, no matter how hard she tried, she could not stop staring.

Drop-dead gorgeous had been no exaggeration. That lean, taut

bone-structure, composed of flaring dark brows,

proud cheekbones, wide narrow mouth and assertive jaw-line, was the very

essence of raw masculinity. As she encountered his stunning dark golden

eyes her mouth ran dry, and without any good reason at all she was

suddenly very conscious that she was naked beneath the thin hospital

gown she wore, suddenly hugely aware of her own female body. Her breasts

seemed to ache and heat flickered deep in her pelvis, an oddly charged

heat that drew her every muscle so taut that she could hardly breathe as

he studied her.

Luxuriant black lashes screened his gaze as his attention lingered on

her soft full mouth. In that quick upward glance he made to connect with

her scrutiny again, she met the flashburn effect of those intense eyes

of his and was appalled to find herself wondering how that beautiful

male mouth would feel on her own.

'How are you feeling?' Rio Lombardi asked quietly.

'F-f-fine,' Holly stammered helplessly, aghast at a mind that could

throw up such inappropriate thoughts, terrified that he might somehow

suspect the effect he was having on her. 'But I've got concussion.'

'I know...' As Rio Lombardi strolled over to the cot to gaze down at her

son, Holly, her face burning like a bonfire, struggled to get a grip on

herself. But it was no use, for she could not drag her magnetised

attention from him. He was well over six feet tall, his impressive

physique lean and muscular, and in spite of his size he moved with

extraordinary grace. 'Timmie looks happy, though.'

'Yeah...nice cosy cot,' Holly mumbled, feeling like an idiot as soon as

the inane words escaped her.

Rio Lombardi glanced up from his scrutiny of Timmie's slumbering and

peaceful little face, a faint smile still soft, the hard line of his

sculpted lips. 'You shouldn't have

24

been on the streets with him,' he remarked with quiet assurance.

'I...I know,' Holly stressed jerkily, her dilated gaze clinging to the

mesmeric tawny hold of his, her heart jumping as if she had just leapt

off a cliff, pounding inside her so hard she could hardly squeeze the

words out.

She was still blushing as fierily as a schoolgirl, Rio registered with

reluctant amusement. He had switched his attention to Timmie to give her

a moment in which to compose herself but his subtlety had been wasted.

He turned her on and she couldn't hide it. Yet there was something

strangely touching about her lack of artifice, her total inability to

conceal what she was feeling and thinking. Those big blue eyes were like

windows and that lush pink mouth betrayed her tension.

Her slight, slender body barely made a decent impression in the bed. She

had the most amazing hair, though, Rio acknowledged. Released from

whatever had held it in temporary subjection, her hair now cascaded in

snaking corkscrew ringlets halfway to her waist, catching the light like

rich, gleaming bronze. His attention strayed lower and momentarily

lingered on the surprising fullness of the ro

unded swells pushing

against the hospital-issue gown as she sat forward, the prominence of

her taut nipples visible even through the barrier of starched cotton.

Nice breasts, he found himself thinking, and he was startled when he

felt himself hardening in urgent response, startled that even exhaustion

and stress could not stifle his most basic urges.

'I'm going to sort me and Timmie out...I r-really am,' Holly swore

earnestly in the charged silence, desperate to make him think better of

her. 'When can I get out of here?

'You need a couple of days of R & R,' Rio responded, recognising the

naivety of that question when she was free to walk out the door any time

she wished. But he was

relieved by it and did nothing to disabuse her of her notion that she

had to pay heed to some superior authority.