Since there was no way she could wrap up her confession in pretty words, she blurted it out. ‘I’m pregnant, Santo.’

      The silence that followed was unending, and deafening. Penny avoided looking at him. She didn’t want to see the horror, the disbelief, the shock, the denial.

      When he did finally speak there was recrimination in his voice. ‘It’s impossible. You are mistaken.’ His accent was deep and there was nothing but harsh shadow across his face.

      ‘No, I’m not,’ she declared, trying to keep her voice level. ‘I’m carrying your baby.’

      ‘But I’ve always taken precautions.’ Dark eyes were still disbelieving.

      ‘Except once,’ she reminded him. ‘Naturally I won’t deny you access to the baby, but—’

      ‘The hell you won’t!’ Santo’s roar rent the air and seemed to echo around them.

      Penny’s eyes flared a vivid blue. ‘Do you really think I’d let a man who spends more time at work than he does at home bring up my child? Not in your wildest dreams.’

      Her heart beat so fiercely that it hurt and, fearing that she had gone too far, Penny stood up with the intention of fleeing again, but Santo unceremoniously pushed her back down.

      ‘We haven’t finished.’

      ‘I don’t think there’s anything left to say.’

      ‘Marry me.’

      Margaret Mayo was reading Mills & Boon® romances long before she began to write them. In fact she never had any plans to become a writer. After an idea for a short story popped into her head she was thrilled when it turned into a full-scale novel. Now, over twenty-five years later, she is still happily writing and says she has no intention of stopping.

      She lives with her husband Ken in a rural part of Staffordshire, England. She has two children: Adrian, who now lives in America, and Tina. Margaret’s hobbies are reading, photography, and more recently watercolour painting, which she says has honed her observational skills and is a definite advantage when it comes to writing.

       Recent titles by the same author:

      THE BILLIONAIRE’S BLACKMAIL BARGAIN

       BEDDED AT HIS CONVENIENCE THE RICH MAN’S RELUCTANT MISTRESS

      THE ITALIAN’S RUTHLESS BABY BARGAIN

      BY

      MARGARET MAYO

      CHAPTER ONE

      FROM the first moment Penny looked into Santo De Luca’s eyes she knew she was in trouble. They were the deepest, darkest brown she had ever seen, framed by long, silky lashes, set beneath a pair of equally silky black brows. And they appeared to be looking into her soul, trying to find out what sort of a person she was before she had even spoken.

      It was impossible to ignore the rivers of sensation that flooded her veins, the way her blood ran hot, and the instant thought that she could be in danger. There was nothing to confirm this, just an impression, a feeling. The man was seriously sexy. ‘Miss Keeling?’

      Oh, hell, even his voice was sexy, coming from deep, deep down in his throat. Was there nothing about him that didn’t set off alarm bells, that didn’t stir her deepest emotions; emotions that she’d kept rigidly in check for a long, long time?

      Penny nodded, feeling sure that if she dared to speak her voice would give her away. Never in her life had she felt such strong emotions at a first meeting, not when she didn’t even know the man. Not when she was about to work for him. It was insane.

      ‘You do have a tongue?’ The voice had sharpened, still a low rumble in his throat but with an added edge, and his beautifully sculpted brows drew together over his eyes.

      Such gorgeous eyes! Nevertheless his question had the desired effect. She snapped herself back into business mode. ‘Yes, I’m Miss Keeling.’ And she straightened her shoulders, standing that little bit taller. But even at five feet eight she still stood several inches below him.

      ‘Do you look at all of your employers as though they’re from a different planet?’

      Penny wasn’t sure whether he was joking or being serious. But just in case she kept her voice grave. ‘Not as a rule, Mr De Luca.’

      ‘So I’m the exception. Is there a reason for that?’

      Not only did he look gorgeous but he also had a most attractive Italian accent. It raised goose bumps on her skin. And she wondered for a brief moment whether it would be advisable to work for a man who could do this much damage before she’d even got to know him. Perhaps she ought to turn and run?

      ‘I… You’re not what I expected.’

      ‘I see,’ he said. ‘I’m not the normal run-of-the-mill father, is that it?’

      Penny sucked in a deep breath. ‘Normally it’s the child’s mother who organises a nanny, generally because she needs to go back to work—or whatever else it is she wants to do,’ she couldn’t help adding. She had worked for very rich women who preferred having a social life to bringing up their children.

      ‘The agency didn’t tell you that there wasn’t a Mrs De Luca?’

      ‘No.’ She heard the surprise in her voice. Normally she would have been given the background of the family and they would have wanted to see her prior to engaging her, making sure she was suitable. But on this occasion a nanny had been needed urgently.

      ‘You come highly recommended.’ He raised a brow as he said it, and Penny realised that she was hardly being professional. In fact she was acting completely out of character.

      All because he was a strikingly handsome man.

      ‘Though I’m beginning to have my doubts about whether you’re up to the job,’ he added crisply. ‘Nevertheless I have a very important business meeting that I’m already late for. Come through to the kitchen and I’ll introduce you to my housekeeper. We’ll have a serious talk tonight.’

      Up to the job! Penny took umbrage. ‘Mr De Luca,’ she declared, standing at her full height, staring him full in the face, ‘I can assure you that I am more than up to the job, as you put it.’ She thrust an envelope into his face. ‘Here are my references, you’ll see that—’

      ‘Those aren’t necessary!’ he declared imperiously. ‘I prefer to make my own judgement.’

      And at the moment she was sadly lacking, thought Penny. She could hardly blame him; she had stood there like an idiot instead of ignoring his sexuality and being the truly experienced nanny that she was.

      She had approached his house this morning with an air of excitement. The agency she worked for had stressed how important this job was. Mr De Luca was the head of the De Luca advertising agency—a global company—and if she pleased him it could work very well for them.

      He lived on the outskirts of London in a huge mansion set in an amazing estate—it couldn’t be called anything less, she’d decided, because after the electronically controlled gates had opened she’d driven through acres of woodland and gardens. To say she was impressed would have been an understatement.

      And when she’d reached the house, well, she was truly stunned. Three storeys high, eight windows across. How many rooms was that?

      ‘I understand your last nanny left you rather unexpectedly?’ she questioned as she hurried at his heels through miles of corridors. Anyone would think they were in a race. His long legs were in danger of taking him away from her.

      He wore a dark grey suit and white shirt, both Savile Row if she wasn’t mistaken, but