One Passionate Night: Her Brooding Italian Boss / The Heiress's Secret Baby / Best Friend to Wife and Mother?

He broke the kiss. But he couldn’t pull away. He stared into eyes that asked a million questions he couldn’t answer.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked. “Sorry you kissed me?”

He stroked her hair as the truth tumbled out. “No.”

Her voice a mere whisper, she said, “Then...what are you sorry for?”

“Sorry that this can’t go any further. There can’t be anything between us.”

“Oh. Okay.”

But she didn’t move away and neither did he. Confusion buffeted him. If he knew it was a bad idea to get involved with her, why couldn’t he move away from her?

“We should go.”

“Yeah.”

Grateful that she wasn’t bombarding him with questions about why there couldn’t be anything between them, he opened his door and got out, and she did the same. She rounded the trunk. He walked in front of the car to get to the driver’s side. He slid behind the wheel, started the car, made a series of turns and headed toward Constanzo’s penthouse.

Still rattled by their kiss, he wanted to speed up and get them the hell home so he could have a few minutes alone. But he slowed the car and let her admire the architecture, the town square, the street vendors and shops.

When they returned to the penthouse, she took one last look at the Jag before shoving open her door and stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Joining her, he tossed the keys to the doorman and led her to the elevator. Neither said a word. A strange kind of sadness had enveloped him. For the first time since he’d met Gisella, he found a woman attractive, stimulating. But he was so wounded by his marriage he knew it was wrong to pursue her.

He walked through the entry to the main room of Constanzo’s penthouse, and saw a huge white sheet of paper propped up on a vase on the coffee table.

He ambled over, picked up the note written in Constanzo’s wide-looped script and cursed.

“What?”

“My dad has gone.”

Her brow wrinkled. “Gone?”

“He took the jet and went home.” Realizing this ruined Laura Beth’s trip, Antonio faced her. “I’m sorry.”

She bit her lower lip. “I think that little tiff with your dad this morning was bigger than you thought.”

“Seriously? Do you really believe he was angry that I said I was happy to have someone else entertain him every once in a while?” He tossed his hands in disgust. “I tell him that four times a week.”

She shrugged. “That might be true, but he seemed a little more sensitive than usual this morning.” When Antonio groaned, she added, “Why else would he leave?”

He crumpled the paper, annoyance skittering through him. What did his dad expect him to do? Race after him? Apologize, again? He’d apologized already and Constanzo had blown him off, told him he was tired. He’d given him more reason to believe he wasn’t angry than to believe he was.

“Don’t worry about it.” He certainly refused to. If Constanzo wanted something, expected something, then maybe he needed to be forthright and not sulk like a sour old woman. “It’s not a big deal. It just means you’ll have to—” Go to the gallery opening with me. He almost said the words, but snapped his mouth shut as the truth finally hit him.

That meddling old man!

That’s why he’d left him and Laura Beth alone that morning. He wasn’t mad. He must have seen something pass between them, and he’d left so they’d be forced to interact.

No. They wouldn’t just be forced to interact. They’d have fun, as they’d had driving that afternoon. And they’d connected. He kissed her.

Oh, Constanzo was devious.

Antonio shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the sofa, his blood boiling. As if making him feel guilty wasn’t bad enough, matchmaking was the ultimate insult.

Still, just because Constanzo had played a few tricks, that didn’t mean he had to roll over and be a victim.

His voice crisp, casual, he said, “The real bottom line to this is that he took the plane. But even that’s not a big deal. If he doesn’t send it back for us, I have a friend I can call.”

She bit her lip again, took a few steps back. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

He sighed. When he saw Constanzo again he intended to let him have it with both barrels, if only for scaring Laura Beth. He’d left a shy, broke, single woman in a city where she didn’t even speak the language.

“You’re not a burden.” But he also wasn’t going to let Constanzo set them up this way. As much as he would like to take her to the gallery, to have her on his arm, to laugh with her he couldn’t do it. It had been wrong for him to kiss her. Equally wrong for him to be interested in her. She deserved so much more than the broken man he was. He wouldn’t be a bad host, but Constanzo’s plan ground to a halt right here. They’d eat something, then he would retire to his room until it was time to dress for dinner and the gallery opening—for which he had plans with Olivia. Because this was business, he didn’t even have to make an excuse for not inviting Laura Beth along. His plans were already set.

He glanced around. “So, lunch?”

“We’re past lunch and jogging toward dinner.”

“Oh, you want to wait for dinner?”

“Are you kidding? I’m pregnant and I haven’t eaten since breakfast. I’m starving. I need something now.”

“That’s fine. We’ll have Cook make whatever you want.”

Antonio led her to the kitchen, but as soon as he opened the door, he knew Cook was also gone. The place wasn’t just empty. It appeared to have been buttoned down, as if Cook had stowed everything away until Constanzo’s next visit.

The prickle of anger with his dad heated his blood again. Now the old coot wanted him to take Laura Beth to dinner? Well, he had another thought coming, because Antonio had plans.

Strolling toward the pantry, Laura Beth said, “I can make something for us to eat. It’ll be fun.”

He winced. “I can’t eat now. I have dinner plans with Olivia.”

She stopped and faced him. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry. We haven’t had a real meeting in weeks, and she likes to give me pep talks...check in with me.” He shrugged. “It’s a working dinner.”

She waved her hand in dismissal. “No. No. I get it. This is a business trip for you.”

Feeling like a first-class heel, and not able to completely ditch her, even though he knew getting involved with her would only hurt hert, he halfheartedly said, “You can come—”

* * *

But Laura Beth knew she couldn’t. It would be one thing to go to dinner and the gallery with Constanzo. People would look at her and assume she was his assistant. It wouldn’t matter what she wore, how much she ate, if she laughed at all the wrong places. But with Antonio and Olivia and Tucker? They would look like a foursome. Olivia would be dressed to kill, and Laura Beth would be in an old sundress, looking foolish.