Bestselling Authors Collection 2012(28)
She put a toe in the bath and sighed, slipping off her robe as she slid into the depths and adjusting the spa jets to a slow pulsing massage that sent tremors under her skin, tremors that triggered her senses and echoed another’s electric touch, a watery assault to her senses that had her almost imagining the touch of his fingers, the slide of his hands…
She snapped her eyes open, hit the button that turned the spa jets off, appalled at where her thoughts were taking her.
No! For he was the biological father of the child she was carrying, the husband of the biological mother who was dead. A man who detested her for who and what she was.
What the hell was wrong with her?
She dunked her head under the water to clear her wayward thoughts. No way would she fantasize about him!
An hour later, wrapped in the fluffy robe, Angie felt blissfully relaxed as she padded through the house, looking for the kitchen, every bone and muscle in her body purring after the scented soaking, so relaxed that not even the cup and saucer rattled in her hand. She’d imagined the kitchen wouldn’t be hard to find but then she’d forgotten the sheer scale of the place. On their way to the suite she’d only encountered passages and hallways and that amazing sweep of ballroom lining the front of the house. But surely the kitchen couldn’t be too far away?
She paused in a wide hallway she was suddenly sure she’d never passed before because of the wide staircase leading upwards to another floor, and turned full circle, wondering where she’d taken a wrong turn. How big was this place that she could get lost within its walls?
And then she glanced upstairs and saw it.
The portrait stretched along the landing wall—a painting of a woman reclining along an ivory chaise longue, her long hair dark and sleek and tumbling over satin-skinned shoulders, her face beautiful, dark exotic eyes enticing, carmine lips turned up in invitation, her body draped in a gown the colour of deepest amethyst.
The face and body of a seductress.
Angie climbed up a step. And then another.
She was beautiful.
And realisation came dressed in a sharp, short stab of envy. This was Carla. This was the real mother of her unborn child.
Was it any surprise Dominic had been so appalled when he’d met her? Was it any surprise he’d been angry? This glamorous creature was the woman supposed to be carrying their child, not some scarecrow from the wrong end of town.
She jumped as a door snicked shut somewhere close and then Dominic appeared on the landing, stopping when he saw her halfway up the stairs, his dark eyes fixing her. ‘Angelina?’
Angie couldn’t move, held captive by those damning eyes. Would he think she’d been snooping? Would he take her for a thief? He already thought the worst of her; it would only be a small jump to make. The cup rattled against the saucer in her hand. She put the other one out to steady it. ‘I’m sorry. I was actually looking for the kitchen to return my cup. I must have taken the wrong turn.’
His eyes flicked down to the cup in her hand and back to her face as if he was measuring her words and weighing them for truth. He started down the stairs towards her, his long legs carrying him down, step by decisive step. He’d changed from his business clothes into dark trousers and a slim-fitting T-shirt, the fabric so fine it seemed to skim over the wall of his chest and accentuate his perfect proportions. He stopped on the step alongside her and she saw the tiny beads of water clinging to his hair, smelt his recently showered masculine freshness. She tugged the edges of her robe together, suddenly conscious of the fabric against her nipples, feeling hopelessly unprepared for another meeting with this man. ‘The kitchen is not upstairs.’
She swallowed. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I saw the portrait. Is that… Is that your wife?’ She looked back at the portrait, feeling a bone-deep ache she didn’t care to analyse too much. The dark beauty was perfect for him. Polished and elegant and unerringly confident with it.
‘That’s Carla, yes.’
‘She was so beautiful.’
Dominic glanced back over his shoulder at the portrait. ‘She was.’ Then he took a deep breath and started down the rest of the steps. ‘Follow me. I’ll show you how to find the kitchen.’
He disappeared after he’d handed her into Rosa’s care in the massive kitchen, his car keys in his hand, telling Rosa he’d be back late. Angie wondered if he had a date as she watched him leave. She would be beautiful, of course. She’d have to be to attract a man like him, a man used to being surrounded by beautiful things…
‘Do you like tortellini?’
Angie blinked, Rosa’s question grounding her. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had it.’ And Rosa just smiled as she put the plate in front of her.