Pregnancy of Revenge(27)

'Yes.' Jake placed a brief, somewhat distracted kiss on her cheek. 'I'm sorry I have to leave so quickly, but my presence is required in Italy.'

'I know. But it's a shame we are going to lose our last day together.' She couldn't prevent the slight tremble of her lips.

Jake placed a finger over her mouth. 'There will be other days, Charlotte. I'll call you tonight. Stay here and enjoy your last day.'

Her pleasure at his promise to call her was dented by his suggestion she stay on at the hotel. To be here alone held no appeal. 'No, I wouldn't feel comfortable staying here without you. I'll go home.'

'Whatever you want,' he said gruffly. Suddenly a conscience that had never troubled Jake before where women were concerned reared its head. He was the 'love them and leave them' type, the women suitably rewarded of course, but Charlotte was different. Sure, he had lusted after her, but his original intention had been less than honourable and he prided himself on being an honourable man.

He couldn't just walk away from her. So he did something he never did: he wrote a number on the back of a business card. 'This is my home number in Genoa. If you need me, call me. And now I really must go—the jet is waiting.'

Charlie watched him snap shut his briefcase, blinking back the tears.

'Already?' The tremble in her voice gave her away.

'Afraid so.' The bellboy arrived to take the suitcases and Jake brushed a brief kiss against her trembling lips and left.



Dr Jones had been Charlie's GP all her life. He dined at the hotel restaurant regularly, and quite often Charlie joined him: he was more friend than doctor. But looking at him now, she was horrified.

'You're sure?' she asked for the third time.

'Yes, Charlie dear. From the date you have given me, you are almost seven weeks pregnant.'

'But we used protection,' she murmured, shaking her head in disbelief.

'Obviously not enough,' Dr Jones said dryly. 'But it isn't the end of the world. You're pregnant, not ill; you're a very fit young woman, Charlie, and I know you will have a beautiful, healthy baby. So I'm sure you have nothing to worry about. Go home and tell the lucky man.'

Easier said than done. Charlie thought, staring blindly at the pile of invoices on the desk in front of her three days later.

It’s no good sitting daydreaming, Charlie.'

At the sound of her manager Jeffs voice, her head lifted. 'I am not dreaming,' she snapped. 'I'm trying to work.'

If you say so.' Jeff stopped by the desk and looked down at her, compassion in his grey eyes. 'You should tell the father. He has a right to know. It's not like you to shirk your responsibilities.'

Jeff had known Charlie since she was twelve, when he had been hired by her grandfather to manage the hotel. She had been a bright, lively child, a joy to all who knew her, and he hated to see her so miserable.

'This baby is my responsibility, and what I would like to know is, how the hell did all the staff find out I was pregnant the same day it was confirmed?' Charlie demanded, running a hand distractedly through her blonde hair.

'Maybe because you came back from your holiday, glowing like a woman in love, you mentioned Jake d'Amato just once or twice and bought a ' 'Teach Yourself Italian' ' book. So when you started dashing off to be sick every day, it was a bit of a give-away. Plus everyone knew you had a doctor's appointment,' Jeff said with a chuckle. 'They all care about you, and most of them guessed you were pregnant long before you realised what was up.'

'Thanks! Thanks very much! So not only does everyone in the hotel know I'm pregnant, they think I'm a pregnant idiot for not recognising the signs.' Charlie groaned. 'What am I going to do?'

'I've told you. Ring the man, and do it now. I have to go and fill in on the desk. Amy was supposed to be on Reception but she has an optician's appointment. I'll catch you later. Do it,' Jeff reiterated, walking out the door.

The trouble was, Charlie thought forlornly, she already had called Jake's home near Genoa three times since the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy, hoping to get a message to him, but she had only managed to speak to some woman called Marta, whose English was as bad as Charlie's Italian.

In the five weeks since she had last seen Jake, her tentative belief that he might love her as she loved him had taken a severe jolt. He'd rung to make sure she'd arrived back home safely, and then nothing for a week. Then he'd called to tell her he was going to America and would get in touch when he got back. She had heard nothing since, but had lived on hope and consoled herself with the fact she knew he was in America.

But yesterday, leafing through a magazine one of the departing guests had left behind, she had seen a double-page spread of a prestigious charity dinner in New York, and staring out from one picture was Jake d'Amato with a stunning brunette at his side. According to the item accompanying the picture, Jake's companion was Melissa, a model and long-time 'friend' of Jake, better known for her string of wealthy lovers than her modelling career.