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

“No. Thanks.” She caught his gaze. “I’m tired. It’s better for me to stay in. I’ll fix myself a little something to eat and probably go to bed.”

“You’re sure?”

The relief in his eyes rattled through her, confirming her worst suspicions, filling her with disappointment. He didn’t want her to tag along. They’d been fine in the car, chatty even. She’d admitted things she normally didn’t admit and he’d listened. But just as he didn’t want to give in to the urge to paint her, he didn’t want to like her, to get to know her. He’d made that clear after their kiss when he said there could be nothing between them.

And now here she was, like Cinderella, being told she couldn’t go to the ball. Even though she knew damned well she didn’t belong there, it still hurt.

So she smiled. “Sure. I’m fine.”

He took a few steps backward. “If you’re sure.”

“Antonio, stop being so polite and go.”

“Okay.” He turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

She leaned against the center island, disappointment flooding her. She didn’t know why she was upset. So what if he’d kissed her? The moment had been right. For all she knew she could have looked like a woman issuing an invitation. He’d taken it...but regretted it. And she was wise enough not to want a man who didn’t want her. She’d already had a guy like that and she was smarter than to want to get involved with another. Her current overload of emotions had to be hormonal, brought on by her pregnancy.

So why did being left behind feel like such a huge insult?

Because, deep down, she knew he liked her. Damn it.

That’s what had been simmering between them all along. Not her desperate need for a job or his unexpected desire to paint her. But attraction. Maybe even genuine affection.

She pulled away from the center island and straightened her shoulders. She had to stop thinking about this. She was hungry. She needed to rest. She also needed Antonio’s plane or his friend’s plane, or his help, at least, to get back to Italy. She couldn’t get upset because he refused to admit he liked her.

She made herself some eggs and toast and ate them on the balcony, listening to the soothing sounds of the ocean. Finished eating, she set her plate on the table beside her outdoor chair and let herself drift off to sleep.

The sound of Antonio calling for her woke her. “Laura Beth?”

She snapped up on her seat. Her heart leaped, and for a second she let herself consider that he might have changed his mind about her coming along. Lord knew she could eat a second dinner. And though she hadn’t liked Picasso, a gallery opening didn’t usually showcase only one artist. She’d probably see lots of paintings she’d like.

Filled with hope, she pushed off the patio chair and slid the glass door aside to enter the main living area, and there stood Antonio, so gorgeous in a black tux that her breathing actually stuttered.

“Look at you!”

His hair tied back off his face highlighted the sharp angles and planes of his chin and cheeks and made his large brown eyes appear even larger. His crisp white shirt and sleek tux weren’t just sexy. They made the statement of just how refined, how wealthy, he was. Even his shiny shoes spoke of pure elegance.

“It’s the first time I’ll be in a gallery in over two years. I figured I couldn’t look like a slouch.”

“Oh, trust me. You do not look like a slouch.”

He laughed, but extended his right arm toward her. “I can’t get this cuff link to close.”

She walked over. “Let me see.”

The cuff link in question was black onyx with a diamond stud.

“I can get it.”

She smiled up at him and he gazed down at her, his beautiful dark eyes shiny with anticipation. Her heart tugged. He really wanted to be back in his world. Back with his peers. His people.

And here she stood in threadbare jeans, an old top and flip-flops. Her longing for him to ask her to come to dinner and the opening with him morphed into shame. Humiliation. Even if he begged, she had nothing to wear.

But he wasn’t begging.

His phone rang and she quickly fastened his cuff link so he could grab it from the coffee table. “Olivia, what’s up?”

She heard the sounds of her friend’s voice, though she couldn’t make out the words. But Antonio laughed.

“That’s perfect. I love that restaurant.” He headed for the elevator. “I’ve got my dad’s limo. I can be at your hotel in twenty minutes.” He pressed the button and the door magically opened. Listening to Olivia, he turned and waved goodbye to Laura Beth as the door closed behind him.

And she stood in the glamorous main room, alone, listening to the sounds of silence.

Tears threatened but she stopped them. She wasn’t upset. She was angry. It didn’t matter that she didn’t have a dress to wear or shoes. Antonio hadn’t been glad to ditch her because she was penniless. He’d been glad to leave her behind because they’d connected that afternoon. They’d talked about Constanzo. He’d let her drive. He’d kissed her, for heaven’s sake. Then they came upstairs to the penthouse and he’d gotten—distant?

She glanced around.

Why would he suddenly become cold? The only thing that had happened was finding Constanzo’s note—

No. He’d become cold when they’d discovered they were alone.

And he didn’t want to be alone with her.

Part of her understood. She was a pregnant woman. What rich, eligible bachelor would want to be alone with a pregnant woman?

But he had no reason to fear her. She’d never made a pass at him. If anything, he’d made a pass at her. He’d kissed her—

She tossed her hands in the air in frustration. Why was she thinking about this!

To get her mind off it all, she took a shower and washed her hair. With nothing better to do, she heated the curling iron she found in a drawer and made huge, bouncy curls out of her long locks. Before she could comb them out and style her hair, her stomach growled.

With fat, uncombed curls and dressed in pajama pants and a huge T-shirt, she walked to the kitchen. Just as she opened the refrigerator, the building doorman rang up. Though she answered the phone, she winced when a bounty of Spanish bombarded her. With a grimace, not even sure she’d be understood, she said, “I don’t speak Spanish.”

He said something else, then disconnected the call.

Shaking her head, she headed back to the refrigerator to find a snack, but she heard the elevator doors open, and she walked to the main room.

There in the elevator was the doorman, package in hand, grinning at her.

She walked over. “Oh, a package. That’s what you were saying. We had a package.”

He nodded, handed it to her and left as quickly as he’d arrived, apparently deciding she was a poor candidate for a tip, and he was right, because she didn’t have any of the local currency.

She started for the coffee table to leave the big box somewhere Antonio would see it, assuming it was something for him, only to see her name on the label.

She frowned. Who would send her something here? Who even knew she was here?

Slowly walking back to her room, she examined the label one more time to make sure it really was for her. She closed her bedroom door behind her and opened the box to find a simple black dress and black spike heels.