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by the doctor’s words, Rebekah walked out of his surgery feeling that her heart would burst with happiness as she imagined being a mother. Of course the situation wasn’t ideal. She had always assumed she would be married before she started a family. Her heart jerked painfully against her ribs at the prospect of telling Dante her news. But he would have to be told that he was going to be a father, she decided. The baby developing inside her had been created by two people, and she and Dante both had a responsibility towards their child.

      Dante stared unenthusiastically at the cod in white sauce on his plate. A sample mouthful had revealed that it tasted as bland as it looked. But he could not put all the blame for his lack of appetite on his new cook, he acknowledged. Mrs Hall did her best and the meals she provided were edible, if unexciting.

      A memory came into his head of Rebekah’s fish pie—succulent pieces of cod, smoked salmon and prawns in a creamy parsley sauce, with a crunchy rosti and grated cheese topping. Her wonderful food was the first thing that had impressed him about her. It had taken him a little longer to appreciate all her other qualities, he mused. But she had kept her fabulous figure hidden beneath shapeless clothes until the night he had taken her to the theatre and she had blown his mind when she had worn a stunning evening gown that had shown off her voluptuous curves.

      He hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her that night, or all the nights during the month they had spent in Tuscany. An image of her slid into his mind and Dante felt a predictable stirring in his loins, followed by the dull ache of frustration that had been responsible for his foul mood over the past few months.

      He still found it hard to believe she had rejected him. She had given every impression of being happy with him when they had been in Tuscany. They had spent practically every moment together and had made love every night with a wild passion that he was convinced she had enjoyed as much as he had.

      But the stilted conversation they’d had when he had phoned her in Wales had put an end to his pleasurable anticipation of continuing their affair in London. He had felt a curious hollow sensation in his stomach when she had told him she would not be coming back to him. It had crossed his mind briefly to try and persuade her, but he’d dismissed the idea. She had made her choice and he certainly wasn’t going to let her know he was disappointed. He’d assured himself he did not care and that he could find a replacement mistress any time he liked. He had even dated a couple of women but, although they had both been beautiful, elegant blondes, he had realised halfway through dinner that they completely bored him and he had not asked either of them out a second time.

      Giving up on dinner, he carried his plate into the kitchen and tipped away the uneaten meal. It was fortunate that Mrs Hall did not live in the staff apartment. She had no idea that most of the dinners she cooked for him ended up in the recycling bin. He wandered listlessly into the sitting room and poured himself a straight Scotch, his second since he’d got home from work an hour ago. He snapped his teeth together impatiently. Not only had Rebekah unmanned him and caused his current worrying lack of libido, but he could also blame her for the damage he was doing to his liver!

      His frown deepened at the sound of the doorbell. He wasn’t expecting visitors and was half-inclined not to answer, but a second strident peal suggested that whoever was standing on his doorstep was not going to go away any time soon.

      Muttering an oath, he strode down the hall, flung open the door—and froze.

      ‘Hello, Dante.’

      Rebekah had to force the greeting past the sudden tightness in her throat and her voice sounded annoyingly husky rather than bright and brisk, as she had been aiming for. She hadn’t forgotten how good-looking Dante was, but seeing him in the flesh made her catch her breath. Dark trousers hugged his lean hips and his pale blue shirt was open at the throat so that she could see a few black chest hairs. Lifting her eyes to his face, she was struck by the masculine beauty of his features. His cheekbones looked more defined than she remembered and his olive skin was stretched taut over them. The firm line of his jaw was hard and uncompromising but his mouth evoked memories of him kissing her, and she wished with all her heart that he would sweep her into his arms and claim her lips with hungry passion.

      For a split second Dante wondered if his mind was playing tricks on him. It seemed an incredible coincidence that just as he had been thinking about Rebekah she appeared, like the fairy godmother in a children’s story book. But he would bet no fairy godmother ever looked as gorgeous as the woman who was hovering—somewhat nervously, he noted—in front of him. She looked achingly beautiful, with her long chocolate-brown hair falling around her shoulders and her incredible violet eyes staring at him from beneath the sweep of her long lashes.

      Dragging his gaze from her face, he saw that she was wearing a cherry-red wool coat that brightened the gloom of the misty October evening. She looked wholesome and sexy and he was unbearably tempted to pull her into his arms and crush her soft mouth beneath his until she returned his kiss with sensual passion, the memory of which kept him awake at nights. Pride stopped him from reaching for her, and that same damnable pride demanded that he should not make it too easy for her. Did she think she could simply walk back into his life?

      ‘Rebekah—this is a surprise,’ he said coolly. ‘I didn’t know you were in London. Have you moved down from Wales, or are you visiting?’

      ‘I …’ Rebekah was completely thrown by Dante’s nonchalant greeting. This was the man who had been a passionate lover and someone she had thought of as a friend when she had spent a month with him at his home in Tuscany. From his careless tone, anyone would think they had been no more than casual acquaintances. But that was probably how he regarded her, she thought bleakly. He had enjoyed a brief sexual fling with her but now she was just another ex-mistress and it was likely that her replacement was waiting for him in his bed.

      Feeling sick at the idea, she almost lost her nerve and half-turned to walk away from him.

      ‘So, how are you?’ He pulled the door open a little wider, and Rebekah glanced into the hall, half-expecting to see some gorgeous leggy blonde.

      ‘I …’ Running away wasn’t an option, she reminded herself. She needed to tell Dante he was the father of her child, but so far she hadn’t managed to string more than two words together. ‘I’m fine, but I need to talk to you—if you’re not … entertaining anyone tonight,’ she choked.

      He gave her a quizzical look. ‘No, I happen to be free tonight. You’d better come in.’

      The house was achingly familiar. Glancing round the elegant sitting room, she noticed that the potted ferns she had bought to give the room a more homely feel were thriving, as if someone had been taking care of them.

      It was warm inside. She unbuttoned her coat but kept it on when she realised he might notice her slightly rounded stomach—which was silly when she was about to tell him about the baby, she thought wryly. Her mouth felt uncomfortably dry and she licked her lips nervously. His reaction to the news she was about to give him couldn’t be worse than Gareth’s had been. She suddenly realised how much she wanted him to be pleased about the baby. Was she being a fool to hope he would want his child?

      ‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,’ she said in a rush.

      Dante shrugged. ‘Actually, I can guess your reason.’

      She was flummoxed. ‘You … you can?’

      ‘Sure.’ He put down the glass he was holding and strolled over to her but, although he moved with his usual easy grace, the predatory gleam in his eyes caused Rebekah’s heart to miss a beat. ‘You miss what we had in Tuscany and you’re hoping I’ll take you back. And you know what, cara?’ he murmured as he halted in front of her and dipped his head so that his mouth was tantalisingly close to hers. ‘You’re in luck. I still want you too.’

      In the flesh, Rebekah was even more gorgeous than his memory of her, Dante thought. He had missed her. He finally acknowledged the truth that he had tried to deny to himself for the past weeks. It was not just her gorgeous body and the passion they had shared that he had missed; it was her lovely smile and her beautiful eyes, the soft, lilting way she

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