LITMIR.BIZ

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the figurative knives were out, it was time to dispense with the niceties. ‘You don’t read the media news?’

      ‘The reconciliation announcement?’ A soft, humourless laugh escaped her lips. ‘A mere ploy to soothe Ramon’s rapidly ailing health.’

      ‘And this concerns you … because?’

      Something shifted in the woman’s eyes. ‘He’s a very—’ Estella paused, weighting the momentary silence with innuendo ‘—special man.’

      ‘Yes, he is.’ Shannay aimed for a secretive smile, and saw Estella’s mouth tighten a little.

      ‘If you’ll excuse us?’ Marcello’s voice held a silky quality Estella chose to heed.

      ‘Of course.’

      It could have been worse, Shannay accorded as the limousine eased its way clear of the hotel’s entrance and joined the flow of traffic.

      She let her eyelids drift down in an attempt to shut out the neon lights and the frequent stab of headlights as the headache moved towards migraine territory.

      ‘You don’t have your medication with you?’

      He knew? ‘If I did, I’d have taken some by now.’

      There was the faint whisper of sound, followed by another as he released both safety belts, then firm hands positioned her to rest against him. A male arm curved down her back and settled over her thigh, holding her there as she began to protest.

      ‘Just close your eyes and relax.’

      Relax? With her body curled into the contours of his, her head cradled against the curve of his shoulder? Her face mere inches from his own?

      He had to be joking!

      Warmth heated her veins, tantalising her senses as the perceived intimacy invaded pleasure places they had no right to be.

      It wasn’t what she wanted. And knew her mind to be at odds with the dictates of her body.

      How easy would it be to slip free a few buttons on his shirt and slide her hand to rest against the strong beat of his heart. To feel it kick into a quickened beat as she caressed a male nipple.

      Hear his husky murmur as she lowered her hand and traced the hardened outline of his arousal held in tight restraint within the confines of his evening trousers.

      To tease a little, then lift her mouth and savour the touch of his in a preliminary to what they’d soon share in the privacy of their bedroom.

      A slow, teasing discovery, or a quick shedding of clothes as desire and need meshed and became electrifying passion.

      A time when they’d been in perfect sync, two halves of a whole … and she’d innocently believed nothing and no one could touch them.

      How wrong had she been.

      It almost made her wish it were possible to turn back the clock, and possess the power to change actions and words.

      Except it was done, and the past couldn’t be altered.

      Did Marcello have any regrets?

      How could he?

      He hadn’t followed her to Perth.

      Hadn’t sought to make contact.

      As far as he was concerned, she could have vanished from the face of the earth.

      Until a chance encounter had brought her beneath his radar.

      Because of Nicki.

      Let’s not be fooled in thinking otherwise.

      So what in hell was she doing resting against him like this?

      Savouring a little self-indulgence?

      It would be simple to push against him and straighten into a sitting position … except his arms tightened and held her in place.

      ‘Stay there. We’re almost home.’

      All the more reason for her to move.

      This time he didn’t try to stop her.

      Nor did he attempt to touch her as they alighted from the limousine and moved indoors.

      He merely acknowledged her “goodnight” with a brief nod, and watched as she ascended the stairs.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      ‘IS RAMON GOING to die?’

      The plaintive query from so young a child was heartrending, and Shannay went down on one knee and gathered her daughter close.

      ‘He’s very sick,’ she said gently.

      ‘Like Fred.’

      Fred had been a pet white mouse who’d developed a tumour, and been replaced, after due ceremony, by a goldfish.

      ‘Like Fred,’ she agreed solemnly.

      ‘It’ll be sad,’ Nicki ventured, and Shannay inclined her head, then sought to offer a distraction by suggesting a swim in the pool.

      It was a warm day, with no breeze to riffle the tree-leaves, and together they donned swimsuits, lathered on sunscreen cream, then gathered up towels, alerted Carlo as to their whereabouts, and wandered down to the pool.

      Nicki was like a fish in water, diving, floating, and showing her swimming prowess with a credible crawl … for a young child.

      It was fun to play, to splash, laugh a little and temporarily relax her guard.

      ‘Daddy!’

      Shannay turned slowly in the direction Nicki indicated, and saw Marcello’s tall masculine figure walking the path through the grounds towards the few marble steps leading to the pool and its surrounds.

      Attired as he was in a short black towelling robe with a towel slung over one shoulder, his intention to join them was obvious, and she tried to ignore the unbidden convulsing sensation deep inside.

      She didn’t want to feel like this, and hated her body’s traitorous reaction. It wasn’t fair to be constantly reminded of the sensual heat that coursed through her veins in remembered passion.

      With every passing day it became more intense, the memories disruptive. The nights were worse when she lay alone in her bed, so aware of his presence as he slept in a suite not far from her own.

      Did he sleep easily, or did he lie awake as she did, caught up in emotional hunger?

      Enough, a silent voice taunted.

      Yet being here, in his home and his constant company, attacked her defences and seriously eroded them.

      There was a part of her that wished he absented himself in the city each day, instead of utilising the benefits of modern technology to keep in touch with the business world from home.

      Although she had to accept he had reason enough to rearrange his life in order to spend as much time as possible with his daughter.

      Now here he was, about to shrug off a robe and join them in the water.

      Wearing, Shannay noted with a quick glance, a very respectable pair of black boxer swim shorts.

      Her heart rate accelerated at the sight of his powerful frame with its fluid flex of muscle and sinew, and his eyes caught hers for a few timeless seconds before she deliberately shifted her attention to Nicki.

      ‘Daddy, watch me swim.’

      He did, slipping into the water and applauding his daughter’s efforts as Nicki went through her paces.

      Shannay was conscious of the brevity of her maillot, cut high at the hip and a halter-neck plunging to a deep V between

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