The Italian's Secret Baby

‘You take an interest in business? I got my MBA from Harvard; where did you get yours?’

‘The London School of Economics,’ she responded automatically.

Her reply might not have wiped the supercilious smirk off his face, but at least she had the pleasure of seeing him look mildly taken aback.

‘You’re trying to tell me that you’ve got a Masters in Business Administration?’

He had one of those perfectly straight patrician noses that had been specifically designed to sneer down at lesser mortals. Scarlet would dearly have liked to punch it. Physical violence not being an option, she had to fall back on giving as good as she got in the sarcasm stakes.#p#????#e#

‘Actually I have, but it’s not the sort of thing I’d normally drop into the conversation, because it might sound a bit pretentious.’ She widened her eyes and adopted an expression of kittenish innocence. ‘Don’t you think?’ she appealed to him. ‘And,’ she added thoughtfully, ‘that sort of showing off might lead people to think I had a self-esteem issue.’

The stunned look in his eyes gave her a moment’s intense, gleeful satisfaction.

‘I doubt anyone is going to think you have a self-esteem issue,’ Roman mused after a moment of startled, static silence. Whatever the hunched-shoulder stuff had been about, it had not been a confidence issue; her present manner made that obvious.

She inclined her head and smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said, even though she was well aware his comment hadn’t been meant as a compliment.

‘Perhaps I didn’t get this right. I thought you worked in the nursery?’

‘I’m a nursery nurse,’ she agreed with pride.

‘Aren’t you a little overqualified for the job?’

He stopped short of calling her a liar, but she could hear the amused scepticism in his voice. It was only by exerting superhuman restraint that Scarlet stopped herself supplying the names of referees who could confirm her qualifications and tell him how good she had been at her job.

‘Actually I was under-qualified,’ she explained calmly. ‘I retrained. I was looking for job satisfaction.’

‘Good for you!’ he applauded with teeth-clenching insincerity. ‘I’ve always said there’s no shame in admitting you can’t hack it.’

Scarlet’s cheek muscles ached from maintaining a fixed smile. ‘You have no idea how much I value your opinion.’

‘I’m beginning to get a pretty good idea,’ he returned drily. ‘I believe you were very kind to my mother.’

‘She’s easy to be nice to; she’s nice…’ Scarlet literally bit her tongue to stop the flow of insults.

One perfectly symmetrical brow dark against his even-toned golden skin lifted to a politely interrogative angle.

‘A very nice woman indeed,’ Scarlet mumbled indistinctly.

She’d promised David—gosh, that seemed a lifetime ago now, not a few minutes—that she’d be on her best behaviour. Cutting the wretched man down to size was a self-indulgence she simply couldn’t afford. It was also something she might not be capable of, she conceded.

Scarlet paused for a moment to consider her reckless behaviour objectively. The exercise gave rise to deep concern as she identified a worrying development, the adrenaline rush, the toe curling excitement she got from trading insults with him had a bizarrely addictive quality.

‘She was full of praise for you.’

‘She’s kind; I hardly did anything,’ she replied with suitable modesty, and for the second time that morning she had no argument. ‘Not even call for an ambulance.’ You just couldn’t leave well alone, could you, Scarlet?

‘Well, the best of us panic in a situation like that.’

‘That’s extremely understanding of you, but—’

‘Yes, it is nice of me, isn’t it? My assistant is worried I’ll make you cry.’

‘But,’ she added, sending him a glare of simmering dislike, ‘I didn’t panic!’ Scarlet announced, her chin lifting. ‘Cry…?’ she added as his last comment sank in. ‘I’m not going to cry!’ she said, sounding insulted by the suggestion.

‘I’m extremely relieved to hear it.’ His dark head tilted a little to one side as he examined her flushed, indignant face. ‘So you think you made the right call, then, and you’re prepared to defend your action, or rather lack of it?’#p#????#e#

‘Of course I didn’t make the right call,’ she surprised him by conceding with a grimace.

‘But,’ she added quickly, ‘that wasn’t because I panicked, it was because I took notice of—’ She stopped abruptly, not wanting him to run away with the idea she was trying to pass the blame to someone else. ‘Is this an official complaint? Because if it is I don’t think you should be talking to me.’