Baby By Accident(42)

The man she hated was making all her dreams come true in the middle of a nightmare.

“Bacio! Bacio!” His younger brother gave Vico a wide grin and jumped out of his chair with his champagne glass in hand.

All the Italians laughed and clapped and whispered to the English guests who appeared a bit puzzled.

Exactly like Lise was.

“Bacio! Bacio!” The cry came again, this time from some of his younger cousins.

Everyone beamed at the two of them, laughing, a few of the women crying. Tears of joy, apparently.

“What does it mean?” She had a sudden premonition. A sudden fright.

“They want us to kiss.” He stood, took her hand, pulling her to stand beside him before she could even make an objection.

She gave him a glare even as she gritted a smile. “I don’t think so.”

His mouth echoed her own. But his eyes glared right back. “Then don’t think.”

Strong, hard arms came around her waist in a firm, determined grip. In a second, she was plastered along his hot, hard body. She opened her mouth to object, yet the man was too fast. Too slick.

This kiss was nothing like the sweet, soft one at the altar.

This was all male and all confidence. All overwhelming.

He used her open lips as an invitation. His tongue slid inside before she could clamp her teeth shut. For a single second, she contemplated biting it off, but then…then…

Too late.

He was in and around and by her. He sucked her mind from her head and swallowed her hostility. The crowd’s crows and laughter and clapping swept out of her awareness. The only thing she saw was his long lashes on his cheeks. The only thing she felt was the heat of his body. The only thing she tasted was the sweet wine on his tongue and the winsome call to her soul.

Then, suddenly, it was over.

Over too quickly. Over before she could grasp that something she so desperately wanted. That something she’d found in his bed in a moment of amazing, astonishing connection. A connection she dreamed about in her lonely nights. Again and again.

That something.

He drew back, opened his eyes. Stared at her with an arrested look. Which changed in a flash to a wicked, teasing glint.

He hummed low in his throat. “Would you like another one?”





Chapter 10





His wife calmly walked into his Paris flat.

The lights of the Eiffel Tower brightened the night sky, the structure perfectly framed in the large bank of windows lining one whole wall of the main room. He’d bought the apartment when he’d fallen in love with the view. This was the simplest of his homes. The place he took refuge in when he needed time for himself. It had taken him two years and endless hours of decisions before the renovation he’d decided on had been completed to his satisfaction.

This was the first time he’d ever brought a woman to this particular home of his.

The walls were painted a warm shade of sand. The modern sofas and chairs circling the fireplace echoed the theme of light and air with cream leather and caramel bolsters. He’d picked the paintings carefully. The Picasso splashed blues and aqua on one wall while the Paul Klee competed with colors of rose and amber on another. The layout was open, free. The kitchen looked out over the living room and he’d chosen gold fixtures and white cabinets to highlight the warm tones of the marble he’d found in Italy for the countertops.

Lise Helton Mattare entered it as she entered every room. As a queen. She held her head high, even though he knew, after today’s wedding events, she must be exhausted. Her expression was serene, despite the fact she’d lost every fight they’d ever had in their short acquaintance. Her body was elegant and classy, shoulders back, long legs fluid as she moved.

Long legs smoothing over his back, wrapping around—

Vico sucked in a breath as a blast of lust shot through his blood. He punched his hands in his pockets and kicked the front door shut behind him.

Not now. Not yet.

She’d changed into a blue linen suit for the flight across the channel. The flight in which they hadn’t exchanged a word. But it wasn’t her usual power outfit, declaring her warrior status. No, it was surprisingly soft and feminine. The fabric clung to her legs as she walked, delicately draping over the curve of her hip and thigh. Only the suit jacket buttoned primly across her chest and stomach kept her pregnancy from being apparent.

Lust, the continual lust he always experienced around her, mingled with the usual irritation he always felt when he was around her, too.

His wife. Hiding her pregnancy. Trying to hide any connection with him.

The insight ate at him. Despite the fact he’d told himself a thousand times during the last month it didn’t matter. Yet, it did. Her secrecy about their baby in the office. Her determination to keep their wedding small to the point of nonexistent. Her continued cold aloofness from the reality of their new life.