Happy Mother's Day!

‘Are you talking about me or the shirt?’ Her laugh only just stopped short of hysteria, but then trying to sound amused while she had a mental image of him slowly unpeeling the shirt to reveal her naked body had always been a non-starter.

One corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes; they held a restive glitter that was in stark contrast to his indolent posture.

‘I’ll start with the shirt.’ One hand tucked behind his head, he used the other to pat the bed that still bore the scent of her body. Erin wanted more than she could admit to respond to the invitation in his eyes. ‘Come back to bed.’

Conflicting emotions were tearing her in several directions at once. Just looking at him awoke a lustful ache low in her abdomen. And imagining never spending another night in his arms filled her with panic.

At the same time she knew they had no future—the bottom line was he only wanted her back because of the baby.

‘This shouldn’t have happened.’ Tears formed in her eyes because she didn’t have the faintest idea where to go from here. ‘Look, I’m not pretending it wasn’t very—nice …’

A look of blank incredulity stole across his lean face. ‘Nice?’ he echoed, pulling himself into a sitting position in one smooth motion that sent the quilt slithering to the floor exposing him totally.

She took refuge in flippancy. ‘Well, what do you wa

nt me to say … that it was a life-changing experience?’

His face darkened with displeasure. ‘Almost anything would be an improvement on “nice”.’ he snapped. ‘Remind me not to come to you for a recommendation.’

Oblivious to his naked state, he swept aside the hank of silky dark hair that fell into his eyes.

‘All right,’ she conceded, her eyes falling to avoid the sardonic glitter in his stare. ‘Relax, you were marvellous, though I had no idea that your ego required such delicate handling. Sex with you was always spectacular, but that’s all it is.’ It couldn’t be anything else.

‘You want more than I gave you?’ he challenged with the arrogant confidence of a man who had heard the words of extravagant, breathless praise that had spilled unchecked from her lips when she had lain sated in his arms.

‘I did. I don’t anymore.’ Who are you trying to convince?

Francesco studied her set face with a baffled expression. ‘Could you be slightly less cryptic?’

‘I loved you, I don’t anymore, the sex is still great, but I can walk away.’ I just hope my knees heard that, she thought, afraid that they were going to fold under her any minute. ‘And I’m going to. I’m not going to Italy with you.’

He rose from the tumbled bed naked and breathtakingly magnificent to tower over her. ‘You loved me, but you don’t anymore, which is why you slept with me?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘Do you expect me to believe you mean a word of that? Or actually imagine I’m going to let you walk away with my child without a fight?’

She would have walked barefoot over hot coals before she let him see how much the warning scared her. ‘I hope you’re a good loser, Francesco.’

‘I wouldn’t know—I’ve not had any practice.’

And she believed him. ‘You mean you’re a bully.’

He watched one tear escape and slide down her cheek. ‘If you think tears will work …’

‘I’m not crying,’ she denied huskily.

Another tear joined the first and, with a muffled curse, he turned away.

Erin wiped her cheek and watched uncertainly as he pulled a robe from the open wardrobe and belted it loosely around his waist.

When he turned back to her there was no trace of gloating male triumph remaining in his face, but there was something else, another emotion that eluded analysis.

He reached out and dabbed a tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. ‘This is going to happen, Erin. Why don’t you stop fighting it?’

Into the palpitating pause that followed his words there was a tap on the door followed by a female voice.

‘Francesco?’

‘My God!’ Erin snapped, ‘It’s Valentina. She can’t find me here like this!’ she exclaimed, appalled at the idea. ‘Why not?’

‘Don’t ask stupid questions,’ Erin begged. ‘I’d be mortified!’ ‘“Mortified?”’ he echoed, a dark scowl forming on his lean features.