Читать книгу The Rodrigues Pregnancy - Anne Mather, Anne Mather - Страница 8

IT IS.

Olivia’s lips parted in dismay. She’d suspected what was coming, of course, but she still wasn’t prepared for the shock she got when he voiced the words. He expected her to look after Luis. To go on being the mother she had been for the past fifteen years. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t. She couldn’t come back to live in Bal Harbour. Not with Christian just a few miles away, able to come and go as often as he pleased.

And what about Luis himself? She’d hoped to have had the baby before she saw him again. It had been a faint hope, she knew, but since he’d gone to college Luis had become much less dependent on her. As she’d assumed no one knew where she was, it hadn’t seemed such a stretch.

‘I—can’t,’ she said now, before sympathy for her stepson and her own thwarted maternal instincts kicked in. She put her coffee cup down before she dropped it. ‘I’d like to help Luis, but—well, coming back to Florida isn’t on my agenda.’

Christian’s dark face showed his angry reaction. Although he was not a handsome man, his strong features did possess a sensual appeal. A sexual appeal, she admitted, trying to avoid that conclusion and failing miserably. But at this moment any sensuality—or sexuality—was absent.

‘What is on your agenda?’ he demanded, and although she was tempted to tell him to mind his own business, she guarded her tongue.

‘I have plans,’ she said vaguely. Plans that did not include spending the next few months evading Christian’s suspicions.

‘What plans?’ he asked at once, as she’d known he would, and she wondered if he realised how arrogant his question was.

Probably, she decided, giving his dark intense features a covert appraisal. Christian always knew exactly what he was doing. From the moment Tony had brought his cousin’s orphaned son into the business, Christian had known precisely where he was going. He’d always intended to be Tony’s successor, and now he was. But he had no right to push family obligations into her face.

A faint twinge of guilt rippled over her. Who was she to talk about family obligations when she had no intention of telling him she was expecting his child? She knew what he’d do if he ever found out about the baby and that was what scared her. He’d expect to play a prominent role in its life.

But the last thing she wanted was another marriage like the one she’d had with Tony. Okay, maybe she’d been naïve in thinking Tony had married her because he loved her, but she had expected some loyalty from him. Instead of which within weeks of her wedding she’d discovered he was still seeing the woman he’d been having an affair with before he’d asked Olivia to marry him. Tony had had no intention of changing his way of life. He’d enjoyed the excitement of the chase too much.

And Christian was like his cousin. He’d no doubt expect his wife to be as pure as the driven snow while he slept with whomever he chose. Olivia had already lost count of the number of girlfriends he’d had since he came to work for Tony. He seemed to have as little respect for her sex as Tony had himself.

Of course, she was flattering herself by thinking that Christian might ask her to marry him. Heavens, she was at least six years older than he was and that was a lot. Just because she was having his baby she should not think he’d consider giving up his freedom for her. Yet, like his cousin, he cared about family. He might be willing to sacrifice his freedom to give his child a name.

Oh, God, if only it had been anyone other than Christian who had brought her the news about Tony. Even now, she found it hard to believe that she’d behaved as she had. She’d been a reckless fool and now she had to deal with it. Which meant, if she wanted to maintain her independence, keeping him from finding out she was having his child.

Realising he was waiting for her answer, she decided to tell him part of the truth and risk his derision. ‘I—I want to write and illustrate children’s books,’ she said quickly, resenting the need to bare her soul to him. ‘It’s what I’ve always wanted to do, but—well, I’ve never had the time before.’

‘No?’ Christian’s dark brows arched quizzically and he gave her a disbelieving look.

‘No.’ She disliked his attitude. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘I see.’ His lips twisted into a mocking smirk. ‘And you’ve been busy doing—what, exactly?’

‘I don’t think that’s any of your business,’ she retorted, refusing to try and explain her reasons to him.

‘Anyway, those are my plans.’

‘And all these years you’ve been married to Tony, you’ve never found the time to put pen to paper before?’

Olivia’s mouth tightened. ‘Not seriously, no.’

Christian picked up his cup again and took another mouthful of the cooling coffee. But his eyes continued to survey her across the rim of his cup. She felt her pulse quicken, her palms grow damp with apprehension. He was no fool, she thought uneasily, and he must be wondering where she should have suddenly acquired this desire to write.

Nevertheless, while Tony was alive such an activity would have been unthinkable. Despite his own shortcomings, Tony had never allowed her to forget that she was his wife, his possession. He’d given her total freedom with his son, but in all other respects she’d been expected to comply with his wishes. And, for Luis’s sake, she’d stifled her own ambitions, contenting herself with making up stories for the boy and illustrating them in his drawing books.

Christian put down his cup with a measured deliberation and Olivia stiffened instinctively. What now? she wondered, watching as he smoothed long brown fingers over the fine woollen cloth that lovingly encased his thigh. He was wearing one of the Italian-designed suits he generally favoured, its charcoal fabric complementing and enhancing his virile appeal.

His dark features were potently male, too, and she was not unaware of it. Nor was she unaware that the hands that were presently employed in such an apparently innocent activity had once caressed her skin. She remembered how it had felt when he’d peeled her nightgown from her, how hotly sensual his skin had felt against her bare flesh…

‘Lo que sea,’ he said, with a shrug, but she knew it was a measure of his frustration that he’d spoken in his own language. He’d spoken Spanish when he was making love to her, she remembered, the unwilling memory of his hands pushing into her hair, of his mouth playing with hers, of the awareness that had started deep within her abdomen and spread to every tingling nerve in her body, causing her to press her hot palms against her suddenly burning cheeks.

But Christian hadn’t made love to her, she corrected herself fiercely. What they’d shared had been hot and carnal, but love had had nothing to do with it. They’d had sex, pure and simple. Good sex, perhaps; great sex, she admitted honestly. Not that she was any expert. Tony had been the first and only man she’d slept with.

Until Christian…

Why had he done such a thing? she asked herself again, as she’d asked so many times before. Christian didn’t take risks. He was far too astute for that. In all his dealings with the women he had dated, there had never been a paternity suit raised against him. Yet he’d made love to her without taking any precautions. Hadn’t he ever considered that there might be a price to pay for his neglect?

The only solution was that he had been in as much of a state of shock as she was, when a desire to celebrate life had followed the reality of Tony’s death. Or had he needed comfort, too? Someone to cling to? She doubted she would ever know.

She removed her hands from her cheeks and made a play of repositioning her coffee-cup. He’d evidently assumed she was taking some form of birth-control pill. After all, she and Tony hadn’t had any children of their own. He couldn’t know that she and Tony hadn’t slept together for years. Or that she’d discovered Tony had had a vasectomy soon after Luis was born.

Her shoulders moved now in an involuntary gesture. It had been quite a blow when she’d found out. Despite Tony’s unfaithfulness, she had wanted a baby of her own. Some compensation, perhaps, for the hollowness of her existence.

But that was all a long time ago now. She’d got over it and there was no denying that Luis loved her more than the mother who had died at his birth. Yet she also knew it was the reason Tony had gone looking for Christian after his parents were killed in Venezuela. It had reminded him of his own mortality and of how arbitrary death could be.

‘So—will you tell Luis or do you wish me to do it?’ Christian asked abruptly, startling her out of her reverie. ‘He’ll be disappointed, no? But if you have no objections to him staying at the house in Bal Harbour, I will arrange for full-time nursing staff to look after him.’

Olivia stared at him now. Bastard, she thought resentfully. He must know how she’d feel about leaving her stepson to the mercies of people he neither knew nor cared about. But what could she do? She couldn’t come back to Florida. There had to be a way to satisfy his demands without losing her self-respect.

‘Olivia?’

His dark eyes were watching her closely and she very much wanted to avert her own from his penetrating gaze. But to do so would simply reinforce his smug belief that he had the upper hand. And she was damned if she was going to give in without a fight.

‘Let me think about it,’ she said at last, and, although his lashes swept down to hide his expression, she glimpsed the triumph in his face. ‘I’m not promising anything,’ she added, stung into a retort, and he inclined his head.

‘I am sure inspiration would strike you just as successfully in Bal Harbour as in San Gimeno,’ he remarked smoothly, and once again she flinched at his condescending tone.

‘You’re sure of that, are you?’ she countered, arching her brows in imitation of his. ‘Well, that’s some compensation anyway. I’m glad I have your support.’

Christian’s mouth tightened. ‘I do not wish to quarrel with you, Olivia,’ he said. ‘You seem to have the mistaken impression that I am enjoying this. Let me assure you, I am not. But Luis is my cousin’s only child. Naturally, I am concerned that he has the best attention possible.’

‘Why don’t you look after him, then?’

Olivia knew her response was childish but she couldn’t help it. He expected her to sacrifice any plans she’d made for the future. Would he be as willing to do the same? It would certainly put a crimp in his social calendar, she thought, her soft mouth tightening. And, in truth, Christian’s connection to Luis was far closer than hers could ever be.

There was silence for a few moments and then he expelled a long sigh. ‘I assume you are suggesting that I move into the Bal Harbour house, too?’ he queried. ‘You would have no problem with that arrangement?’

Olivia did have a problem with it, but she could hardly say that now. ‘Why should I?’ she asked, deciding to call his bluff, and Christian frowned before going on.

‘So you would be happy to visit him there?’ he persisted and she shrugged.

‘Why not?’

‘Indeed.’ He was thoughtful. ‘So the reason you’ve abandoned your home and taken refuge on some primitive island has nothing to do with what happened between us?’

Olivia was taken aback. ‘I—of course not.’

‘No?’ Christian regarded her between narrowed lids. ‘You are sure about that?’

Olivia struggled to remain calm. He knew nothing, she reminded herself. This was just another attempt to bait her, that was all. ‘San Gimeno is not a primitive island,’ she declared obliquely, avoiding his question. ‘It’s not commercialised, I admit, but that doesn’t mean it lacks the necessary amenities.’

‘I get the feeling you find our situation hard to handle,’ he said softly, just as if she hadn’t spoken.

‘That’s why you turned down my offer of the helicopter, is it not? It is also why you persuaded Mike Delano not to let me know what you were doing. Come on, Olivia, that’s the truth, no?’ He made a derisive sound. ‘Dios, what did you expect me to do? Jump your bones?’

Olivia had heard enough. She stood up. Ignoring him, she turned purposefully towards the door, but before she could reach it Christian’s hand caught her arm.

‘Wait!’

‘Why should I?’

Yet Olivia knew better than to try and get away from him. His fingers were long and narrow, it was true, but they were also immensely strong. No amount of useless struggle on her part would free her until he was ready to let her go.

All the same, it was hard to remain still under his searching appraisal. She was acutely aware that he was breathing heavily now and she guessed her sudden dash for the door had caught him unawares. She doubted he appreciated having to reason with her, either, and his expression mirrored the ambivalence he felt.

Even so, when he spoke it was an apology. ‘I shouldn’t have said that,’ he said, his nostrils flaring with the effort to control the anger that was riding him. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Are you?’

Her answer was hardly original, but in the circumstances it was impossible to think of anything unique. Her treacherous senses were registering other things, like his heat and his nearness, and the predatory magnetism that exuded from his pores.