‘Has she left it today?’
‘Only for her lunch and a late afternoon snack.’
‘Did she eat any breakfast?’
‘A croissant and an apple.’
He headed to his room, refusing to reflect on his need to monitor Cara’s eating habits. It was simple concern extended towards a pregnant woman, nothing more.
As he passed, Cara’s bedroom door opened. Her eyes widened to see him and she took a step back, would no doubt have shut the door in his face if he hadn’t stuck a foot in the doorway to prevent her.
‘Good evening, cucciola mia. How has your day been?’
‘Long and boring.’
‘Then it must be a source of comfort to know we are going out tonight.’
She pulled a face but opened the door properly and leaned against the door frame, hugging her arms around her chest. ‘It’s getting late. Do I have to go?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can’t I stay here with Monique?’
‘Monique goes home at weekends—aren’t you lucky? You can have me all to yourself.’
Her cheeks coloured and she scowled. ‘How thrilling. Can’t you get another babysitter for me?’
‘It’s too short notice. Besides, I don’t think I could afford to pay anyone else to put up with you.’
‘I’m no bother. I just stay in my room. It’s like babysitting a five-year-old.’
Anyone listening in on them would be amused at the dryness of their conversation. If they were to scratch a little under the surface it would be a whole different story. The second her door had opened, Pepe’s heart had begun to thunder, the weight in his gut twisting and clenching. The half-smile on his face could have been drawn on.
As for Cara...her beautiful lips were pulled in and tight, while her green eyes spat fire at him.
He wanted to touch her. He wanted to pick her up and carry her across the room, lay her on the bed and make love to every inch of her.
After the way she had reacted in the kitchen in the early hours, it would be a long day in hell before he touched her again. She would have to get down on her knees and beg before he would even consider making love to her.
All the same, he couldn’t resist reaching out a hand and tapping her cute little nose. ‘We leave in an hour, cucciola mia. Cocktail dress. Be ready or I’ll come in your room and help you.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Is that a challenge?’
‘No!’
‘In that case, be ready on time. I need to shower—see you in sixty minutes.’
* * *
Exactly one hour later, Pepe knocked on Cara’s bedroom door. He half hoped she wasn’t ready.
Forget the good talking-to he’d given himself earlier about not resuming their sexual relationship; just three minutes sparring outside her bedroom had laid waste to those good intentions.