Did Pepe think she wanted to throw herself at his financial mercy?
He shook his head in a chiding fashion and stretched his arms out. ‘My conditions are non-negotiable. If you want me to support you during the rest of the pregnancy then I will. But I will not give you cash. All you have to do is move in with me, travel where I travel, and I will feed and clothe you, and buy anything else you may need. If paternity is established after the birth, then I will buy you a house in your name, anywhere you choose, and give you an allowance so large you will be set up for life.’
He made it sound so reasonable. He made it sound as if it were such a no-brainer she wouldn’t even need to think about it.
And there she’d been, worrying for months against telling him because she’d convinced herself he would demand an abortion.
‘You see, cucciola mia, I am not the baby-aborting monster you thought I would be,’ he said chidingly, reading her mind.
A sharp rap on the main door to the wing provided a moment’s relief for her poor, addled brain.
At Pepe’s invitation, a maid entered the room carrying a tray with a pot of coffee, a pot of tea covered by a tea cosy and two cups.
‘It’s decaf,’ he explained when it had been placed on the glass table and the maid left.
‘I told you I didn’t want anything.’
‘You need to keep your fluid levels up.’
‘Oh, so you’re a doctor now? Or have you an army of illegitimates scattered around the world that’s made you a pregnancy expert?’
He quelled her with a glance.
She refused to bow to its latent warning. ‘Sorry. Am I supposed to believe this is the first time you’ve had a paternity suit thrown at you?’
His eyes were unreadable. ‘I always use protection.’
‘And you’re expecting me to take you at your word for that?’
His features darkened before his lips gave a slight twitch and he bowed his head. ‘A fair comeback.’
He really was ridiculously handsome.
She castigated herself. As far as she was concerned, Pepe’s looks and masculinity were void. She would not let her hormones create any more havoc.
It was unfair that she was the one standing yet it still felt as if he, all chilled and relaxed on the sofa, had all the advantage.
A whorl of black hair poked through the top of his shirt. She remembered how that same hair covered his chest, thickening across his tightly defined pecs and down the middle towards his navel, and further down... She’d always assumed chest hair would be bristly, had been thrilled to find it as soft as silk. It was the only thing soft about him; everything else was hard...
She swallowed and pressed the tops of her thighs together to try to quash the heat bubbling within her.
Her throat had gone dry.
Damn him, she needed a drink.
Lips clamped together, she moved away from the wall and poured herself a cup of the steaming tea before carrying it to the sofa opposite him. She only intended to perch there but it was so soft and squidgy it almost swallowed her whole. She sank straight into it, her legs shooting out, the motion causing her to spill the tea all over her lap.