The Italian's Secret Baby

‘What’s wrong with him?’ he asked Scarlet in a hushed undertone. ‘Is he ill?’

She shook her head. She was amused by his harassed question but, not being a fool, hid the fact. ‘Not even possessed by a demon,’ she told him cheerfully. ‘He’s tired, that’s all. A nap and he’ll be fine. He’s fighting sleep—he doesn’t want to give in,’ she explained knowledgeably.

‘He’s also fighting me. People are staring.’

Scarlet looked at his heartbreakingly perfect profile. ‘You ought to be used to that,’ she told him drily.

Despite his discomfort, Roman ironically didn’t show any sign of self-consciousness about being the cynosure of curious eyes when a few minutes later he leapt to his son’s defence.

She recalled the event with a wry smile. The passer-by who loudly offered the opinion that what that child needed was a firm hand and or good slap got more than he had bargained for when confronted by an icily irate father.

Roman said, in a voice that made Scarlet shiver, that anyone who hit a child in anger was a coward and a bully at the very least. And anyone who hit his child would find him or herself regretting the action for the rest of their natural life!

The man’s face was a picture.

Since the last visit, Roman had been meant to come around the previous day, but he had cancelled at the last minute. As she had explained to Sam that his daddy wouldn’t be coming after all she had wondered whether after the trip in the park he was having second thoughts about the joys of fatherhood.#p#????#e#

She didn’t turn around immediately even though she could feel his dark eyes drilling into her back. Waiting for her pulse rate to slow to a canter, she continued to dry the dishes stacked on the draining-board as though achieving a shiny finish on the crockery were something she had always wanted to dedicate her life to.

‘Had we arranged for you to come over this evening?’ she asked, holding a polished glass up to the light to check for smudges.

‘I must have lost my schedule,’ he returned with an equal amount of irony.

‘There’s no need to be facetious,’ she snapped. ‘You can’t just barge in here whenever it suits you. I have a life of my own.’

‘The jury is still out on that one.’

Scarlet bit back a retort to this jibe. ‘This is only going to work if you accept I have a right to my privacy…’

‘To dry dishes? Yes, I can see that it’s a uniquely private moment between a plate and a woman. I’m so sorry I intruded.’

Scarlet, the tea towel still clutched in her white-knuckled fingers, spun around, her eyes flashing green. ‘You can laugh, but I doubt if you’d like it if I dropped in at your office or home any time I felt like it.’

‘And do you feel like dropping in on me often?’

Scarlet refused to drop her eyes in face of the glittering challenge she saw in his. ‘All the time,’ she drawled sarcastically, ‘but so far I’m keeping my impulses under control.’

God knew how long that would last. He looked incredibly gorgeous tonight in a grey designer tee shirt and jeans.

His eyes dropped and lingered on the lush contours of her slightly parted lips. Scarlet felt the predictable debilitating weakness spread through her body. She had no doubt at all that his action was cynically deliberate and indicated nothing more than the fact he got some twisted enjoyment out of seeing her get confused, but she was unable not to react to it.

‘Not on my account—I’m all for following your natural instincts,’ Roman said. Scarlet felt the heat unfurl low in her belly and fought the insidious effects of his warm honeyed voice.

‘I’m not interested in your natural instincts except when they result in you letting Sam down.’ Anger at her own weakness made her voice harsh. ‘Rule number one,’ she outlined coldly, ‘is you don’t make promises to Sam you can’t keep. I won’t have him disappointed because you had a better offer!’ she flared contemptuously.

Roman’s chin went up to a haughty angle, his nostrils flared, but the signalled anger didn’t arrive. Instead his hard boned features relaxed into a speculative expression as he studied her face with a curiosity that rang alarm bells in her head.

‘Is this really about Sam’s disappointment?’

‘Of course.’

‘Or are you jealous that I spent the evening with someone else?’ he suggested silkily. ‘Did you miss me?’

Scarlet swallowed. ‘In your dreams!’

‘Yes, just lately you are, and the fact is I’d much prefer to have you in my bed,’ he acknowledged, his voice roughened with frustration. ‘And I’m damned sure you’d like to be there. The question is, why aren’t you?’