Ким Лоренс – The Italian's Baby of Passion: The Italian's Secret Baby / One-Night Baby / The Italian's Secret Child (страница 14)

Fame was not something she craved.

Roman O’Hagan’s touch, however, was; you had to face your weaknesses if you were going to overcome them.

‘Him who?’ she enquired, still without the faintest idea what he was getting at.

He swallowed, the action causing the muscles in his brown throat to visibly ripple, and gave her a look of simmering hostility.

Scarlet heard a door in the hallway outside open and heard the distant murmur of voices.

‘Whoever you are so busy with,’ he elaborated, totally ignoring the warning hand she raised to her lips.

Scarlet, who didn’t want the world to know her business, closed the door. ‘Whoever?’

He shot her an impatient look and strode purposefully towards the bedroom door. Before Scarlet had any clue of his intention or could cry out in protest he yanked it open with such force it thudded loudly against the wall.

‘You can’t go in there!’

Ignoring her outraged yell, he stepped inside her bedroom. Breathless with anger, she brushed past him. ‘What the—?’ she began, planting her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

Roman O’Hagan is in my bedroom…talk about a reality-fantasy clash!

When Roman discovered no lover on the bed, but a neat pile of freshly laundered clothes on the bottom of a narrow single bed waiting to be put away, his sneering expression relaxed into bafflement.

‘Where is he?’

The fantasy version had not involved him growling at her contemptuously. She pulled back in alarm as her thoughts shifted in the dangerous direction of what he had done. It wasn’t soon enough to prevent a wave of warm, sexual lethargy working its way through her body.

‘Where’s who…?’ She gave her head a little shake to focus her thoughts.

‘The innocent act is quite unnecessary,’ he assured her in a cold, clipped voice. ‘It’s nothing to me who you choose to sleep with.’ Even as he said it it struck Roman rather forcibly that his behaviour suggested the exact opposite.

A disinterested observer who didn’t know any better might actually have concluded he was the wronged lover. Making a conscious effort, he forced his hands to unclench.

Belatedly Scarlet caught his meaning; her eyes widened. ‘You thought…’ The low laugh began softly and increased to a full-blooded husky chuckle as the humour of the situation struck her.

She didn’t know which was funnier: Roman O’Hagan, the man who had probably slept with more women than she had had hot dinners, having the nerve to get all sniffy because she was entertaining a man, or the idea that she was indulging in an evening of lust!

In these pyjamas too. She looked down at her casual but not sexy attire and released another low gurgle of mirth.

Roman inhaled, his nostrils flaring. ‘You think this is funny?’

Scarlet stared at him incredulously. ‘Not funny—hilarious—!’ she corrected, cracking up again.

Bringing up Sam and holding down a full-time job did not exactly leave her with much time or energy for romantic adventures. Dating when you were a single mum was not a simple business and Scarlet had decided it simply wasn’t worth the hassle.

As her laughter faded away she weighed the odds; he didn’t seem drunk, but in view of a dearth of any other possible explanation for his presence, or his bizarre behaviour, she voiced her suspicions out loud.

‘Have you been drinking?’

‘I have not been drinking.’ The denial was issued between clenched teeth.

‘Do you mind? Entry to my bedroom is on an invitation-only basis.’ She tossed her head and centred her scornful gaze on his devastatingly handsome dark face. ‘And you’re not invited.’

‘I’m devastated.’ The derisive look he gave her brought an angry glitter to Scarlet’s eyes.

‘You would be if you knew what you were missing!’ she heard herself jeer.

‘If that was an invitation, I’ll pass,’ he replied, continuing his suspicious visual examination of the room.

‘It wasn’t.’ If he was going to insult her, the least he could do was look at her while he did it.

‘You’re alone?’

‘And this would be your business because?’

He drew an exasperated breath. ‘Are you totally incapable of answering a simple question?’

Scarlet shook her head in disbelief. ‘I’m not answering any of your questions. Why on earth should I?’

He contemplated her belligerent face for a moment before saying in a placatory manner, ‘We can take this into the other room if you prefer.’

Scarlet vented a brittle laugh as she followed him into the living room. ‘Wow, you’re all consideration,’ she drawled with mock admiration. ‘You really have got the most incredible cheek. You barge in here uninvited. You let me think something has happened to Sam and then turn it around and interrogate me!’ She gave a weary sigh. ‘Will you just go?’

‘It’s seven-thirty.’ His glance rested pointedly on her pyjamas. ‘Why are you dressed for bed?’

‘Oh, I always wear these when I plan an evening of seduction.’

Her sarcasm brought a dark line of colour to the slashing angle of his incredible cheekbones.

‘Then you’re alone?’

‘I was,’ she retorted drily.

He looked around the room, registering the blurred frozen image on the TV screen, the box of chocolates and the untouched glass of wine. His glance reached the box of toys tucked into a corner and he frowned.

‘Is…?’ He swallowed. ‘Where is Sam?’

‘Sam is sleeping over at a friend’s, the Bradleys, which is probably just as well in the circumstances.’

‘The circumstances being?’

‘Three-year-olds don’t react well to being woken up.’

‘Ah.’ His facial muscles clenched, exaggerating the sharp contours and angles of his face. He really did have bone structure to die for, she thought, despising the weakness that made her incapable of not staring. ‘I didn’t think.’

‘About anything other than what you want? I’d already worked that one out. No doubt it’s acting on impulse that makes you such a financial success?’

‘I know you’re not Sam’s mother.’

She waited, her expression attentive but confused, until it occurred to her he was expecting some sort of response. ‘Not his birth mother, no,’ she agreed. The adoption had made her his legal guardian.

She was cool, he had to give her that. ‘You didn’t ask me how I knew you weren’t his mother?’

She shrugged her shoulders and still betrayed none of the guilt he had expected her to when confronted. ‘I suppose I assumed someone mentioned it in passing. David, maybe?’

‘David?’

‘The vice-chancellor.’

‘You call the vice-chancellor David?’ His voice was heavy with suspicion.

‘He went to school with my uncle, I’ve known him since I was a little girl so, yes, I do call him David.’

‘And he knows Sam isn’t your son?’

Scarlet shook her head in total bewilderment. ‘It’s not like it’s a secret. Everyone knows, I suppose.’

He looked at her, his dark brows drawn into a straight line.

‘Why? What did you think?’

His eyes were hidden beneath the lustrous sweep of his lashes as he looked across at her, but his attitude suggested he was wary. ‘Then who is Sam’s birth mother?’

‘My sister Abby was Sam’s mother.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

COMPREHENSION struck Roman with the force of a tidal wave. Of the scenarios he had imagined—and he had imagined plenty—this one had never occurred to him.