Happy Mother’s Day!: Accidentally Pregnant, Conveniently Wed / Claiming His Pregnant Wife / Meant-To-Be Mother

But he also wanted her to lift her hand and unclip her hair and let it fall all around her shoulders and … and …

He stifled a groan. Ultimately, what did he really want?

Yet he knew the answer to this. It had been eating away at him for weeks—ever since he had realised that she had no intention of contacting him again. A woman he had bedded not begging for more!

At first, he hadn’t believed it—he had thought that she was playing a game of cat and mouse, as women tended to. But no. The expected, slightly awkward phone call had not come—nor the e-mail purporting to be about business, but with a tell-tale ending like: It was great to see your vineyard … and if ever you’re over in London …

Nothing! And like all men who had always had their every whim and hunger indulged—to be denied something was uniquely appealing. Did she know that? Was she playing some kind of elaborate game with him—knowing all the right buttons to press? Thinking that if she gave him just a taster and then retreated, he would be prowling round her like an alley-cat?

She was the best head-hunter he had ever employed, but this had nothing to do with her skill at that. He wanted to possess her one last time—enough to let her go without a backward glance—but he recognised that he was going about it the wrong way. The woman who sat behind the desk was now on her own territory and it wasn’t quite so easy to call the shots.

But she still worked for him, didn’t she?

For the first time since he’d walked into her office, he moved away from the door towards her, seeing her pupils dilate at the same time as her fingers flew up to her throat in an instinctive gesture of sexual awareness, and his mouth twisted into a hard smile.

Did she think he was just going to go over to her and take her in his arms? With a certainty which had never failed him, he knew that if he began to kiss her then he would soon have her parting her legs and pleading with him to take her there and then.

The heavy beat of desire throbbed deep in his groin and briefly he contemplated taking such an action, but decided against it. Such a victory would be meaningless. The submission of her body too easy. She would submit with her mind and she would submit willingly! She wanted him, no matter what she protested to the contrary—and wouldn’t the triumph of such a conquest quell his anger as well as his desire?

‘Actually I wanted to talk to you about work,’ he said softly.

The taut sexual tension in the air shattered like a bubble being pierced by a needle and Aisling’s mouth opened and then closed again, his words taking her completely by surprise. ‘Work?’ she echoed dully.

Black eyes seared around her office like a laser-gun. ‘Sì, cara,’ he drawled sarcastically. ‘Work—that well-known four-letter word.’ His black gaze lanced into her and taunted her. ‘Shame on you, Aisling—has all your ambition deserted you? Sapped by a night of sex? I mean, I know I’m good—but that good? You are still in business, I suppose? I take it you still have staff wages to pay?’

‘Well, yes—of course I do. It’s just that I didn’t …’ Her voice trailed off, in a way which wasn’t her usual style at all.

‘Didn’t what, Aisling?’ he probed softly, wondering what had made those ice-blue eyes suddenly grow darker—or could he guess?

She swallowed. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d still be wanting my services—’ She flinched. Of all the explanations she could have chosen, that must have been the worst—and, judging from his slow smile, he was enjoying every second of her discomfiture.

So pull yourself together. Stop letting him control the show.

For the first time since he’d walked into her office, she fixed him with a defiant look. ‘I wasn’t sure whether we would continue to be working together, in view of what happened.’

But even as she said the words Aisling realised how much the world must have turned upside down for her to even consider losing him.

If she lost Gianluca’s account, then she couldn’t afford to employ young Jason—and how would it make her feel to think that a promising young graduate could be thrown on the scrap heap simply because she’d allowed sexual hunger to sway her judgement?

Aisling’s business meant pretty much everything to her, and rightly so. It was her baby—and, the way things were panning out in her life, it was probably the only baby she was ever going to have. If she carried on the way she was doing, it would eventually provide her with the security she’d always yearned for. That was her target, anyway.

Was she really prepared to throw her most prestigious contract away, simply because she had allowed an ill-considered passion to take root? Especially if he seemed prepared to forget what had happened.

He was watching her closely—could see the indecision criss-crossing her pale face. ‘Oh, come on, Aisling. You said yourself, it’s nothing. And if it’s nothing, then it shouldn’t affect our professional relationship, should it?’

Aisling bit her lip. Could she go through with it—working with him again under this startling new set of circumstances? ‘You want to discuss the Miami project?’ she questioned.

‘No, cara. I do not. There is a hold-up with the planning application and so for the moment it’s not moving.’

So why was he here? ‘You mean there’s another job in the offing?’ she asked, her professional interest aroused in spite of the bizarre circumstances.

Gianluca gave a slow smile. So the lure had worked, just as he had known it would. The ice-queen would be unable to resist business, wouldn’t she? ‘Of course—and it’s an even bigger project. I’ve been in London all week on business. Why else did you think I was here?’ He glittered her a questioning look. ‘Surely you didn’t think I’d flown over especially to see you?’

‘No, of course not.’ Now she felt stupid. And hurt, too. Had she thought that? And he’d been in the same city for a whole week without contacting her. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it wasn’t easy. ‘What kind of project?’ she asked.

He had thought about taking her out to dinner and then to bed, but now thought better of it. Let her wait and let her wonder. Let her drive herself crazy all night long remembering how it had felt to have Gianluca Palladio make love to her—and let her body ache for him until he was ready to make his move once more!

Deliberately, he glanced at his watch. ‘It’s getting late, and I’m tired. We’ll talk about it tomorrow.’

Their eyes met in a clash of wills. ‘And if I refuse?’

His smile was as cold as marble. ‘Then I will take your professional reputation and I will destroy it,’ he said, in a soft voice. ‘Be very sure of that, cara.’

CHAPTER FIVE

‘SHALL I show Signor Palladio in now?’ questioned Ginger.

‘Just give me five minutes, will you, Ginger?’ Aisling gave a grim kind of smile as she flicked up the switch of the intercom. This time he could wait. This time she wouldn’t buckle beneath his domineering ways. If they really were to continue working together, then he was going to have to show her a little respect—no matter what had gone on that night in Italy. Il Tigre wouldn’t scare her.

She would finish her coffee and reapply her lipstick and generally psych herself up to greet him. As if that might somehow magically repair the damage of a largely sleepless night.

Aisling gazed into the mirror. There were dark shadows smudged beneath her eyes and her face was pale. But so what—she wasn’t trying to impress him, was she? Was she?

Smoothing her fingers down over the already smooth cap of her hair, she went back to her desk, took a deep breath and buzzed Ginger.

‘Would you send Signor Palladio in now?’

‘Sure thing!’

Was it Aisling’s imagination, or did her assistant sound a little giddy? But then the door opened and Ginger came in with an expression of such pleasure on her face that anyone would have thought she’d just won the national lottery. No, it hadn’t been Aisling’s imagination at all.

‘I’ll go and get you both some coffee,’ Ginger said, beaming up at Gianluca.

‘I don’t remember asking for any,’ said Aisling mildly.

Ginger wriggled her pale-green cashmere-clad shoulders and the titian hair which had provided her nickname shimmied all the way down her back. ‘No, but Gianluca looked so … tired… that I offered to make him some.’

Ginger was gushing, thought Aisling furiously. She was actually gushing! And just when had she been given permission to start calling him by his Christian name? ‘Thank you,’ she said crisply, and as the door closed behind her secretary Aisling dared look him in the eyes for the first time.

In a way it was easy to see why Ginger had been so uncharacteristically simpering towards him. He was dressed in a pale grey suit, which accentuated the golden glow of his skin and the jet-black gleam of his hair. The shadow around his jaw was fainter than usual and his black eyes were brilliant and gleaming.

He seemed so alive—exuding an air of vitality which set him apart from the usual men she met. Was it any wonder that she had acted the way she had?

‘Your assistant is very cute, cara,’ murmured Gianluca, who had watched the little exchange between the two women with amusement.

‘She’s very good at her job,’ said Aisling defensively, and to her horror she felt a violent stab of something like envy.

He assumed an expression of shock. ‘Did I say she wasn’t?’ he protested. ‘Just because a woman is warm and giving towards a man, doesn’t mean that she’s in any way inadequate.’