Happy Mother’s Day!: Accidentally Pregnant, Conveniently Wed / Claiming His Pregnant Wife / Meant-To-Be Mother. Элли Блейк
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body next to his was just too much to resist and Gianluca fell asleep—a naked thigh spread carelessly against the curve of her hip, one hand lying lightly just above her waist, a few stray tendrils of hair like silk bonds against his skin.
Aisling must have slept too, because when she awoke she felt both disorientated and yet utterly contented. Her limbs felt heavy and her body warm and replete—its sticky heat and the tingling sensation of her skin reminding her of … of …
Her eyes flew open and she experienced a momentary feeling of sheer, blind panic as she realised just where she was.
And with whom!
She swallowed. It couldn’t be. She must have dreamt it. Please may this be a dream.
But then she heard the sound of a small sigh and the stirring of a body beside her and she knew that it was no dream.
Scarcely daring to breathe, she carefully turned her head to look at the figure on the bed next to her, as if seeking visual reassurance that she had really just slept with her client.
In sleep, Gianluca’s face was much softer. The ruffled hair and dark sweep of his lashes made him seem a million miles away from the high-powered executive with the restless nature and rather cruel smile. For one mad moment she almost gave into the overwhelming desire to lower her head and to whisper her lips along the olive silk of his bare shoulder and to move her body over his, until a wave of reason washed over her like a cold shower, bringing her to her senses.
In the air was the sense of utter silence which told Aisling that it must now be the middle of the night—and, apart from the dawning realisation of what she had done, something else jarred at her conscience.
Jason!
Aisling froze. She had brought her young assistant to a party in the middle of nowhere and she had disappeared halfway through without a word, in order to sleep with their host!
A tiny moan escaped from her lips before she could stop it and the figure beside her stirred again. Aisling hastily clamped her lips shut. She needed to think. To decide on a plan of action—or rather a damage-limitation plan.
Ruthlessly, she quelled the aching in her heart and the wistful little voice in her head which kept telling her how wonderful it had been. Maybe it had, but it should never have happened—and whether she blamed the wine or the moonlight or her longstanding infatuation with him, none of that mattered. It had happened—that was the only thing which counted, and now she had to get out of here. She ran through the options in her mind.
If she waited until morning, then not only would she have the embarrassment of facing Gianluca, but also of facing however many staff he had working here. How the hell would that look? She bit her lip as she remembered him introducing her to his old nanny last night and that nice local lawyer. It would look exactly what it was—that she had behaved like a tramp! And then she remembered Gianluca looking at his watch after they’d made love and saying that they really ought to get back to the party.
Now that didn’t sound like the behaviour of a man who wanted to eke out every last moment or lie around stroking her face and telling her that it had been wonderful, did it? No, it sounded exactly what it was—that she had presented him with an opportunity for seduction and he had seized it like the red-blooded man he was.
But what did she do now? And where the hell was Jason? Had he taken the chauffeur-driven car back to Rome or was he asleep in one of the bedrooms of this large house?
With all the stealth of a cat-burglar, Aisling wriggled slowly from beneath the muscular body of Gianluca—but he was so deeply asleep that she was able to extricate herself and her clothes and handbag and slip from the room without him waking. She found a bathroom down the corridor and as silently as possible scrambled into her underwear and jeans and tugged on her top. Then she pulled her mobile from her back pocket and found two text messages there from Jason.
‘Where are you?’ read the first. ‘Gone back 2 Rome. C U on flight 2moro?’ said the second.
Aisling breathed a sigh of relief. At least Jason wasn’t stranded out here as well—which meant that she didn’t have to worry about finding him.
The question was how she intended getting back to Rome in order to guarantee catching her early morning flight and putting as much distance between her and Gianluca as possible. Surely that was the best possible scenario—allowing them both the dignity of pretending it had never happened.
If only she weren’t stranded.
But then Aisling remembered Gianluca’s entrance in the gleaming sports car and an idea began to slowly grow in her mind. A plan so unlike what the usual cool and careful Aisling would have devised that it made her realise just how much her senses were spinning. But not enough to stop her thinking it through.
What was to stop her borrowing his car to get back to Rome? He was bound to have a satellite-navigation system to guide her to the city—and the roads would be empty at this time. He’d easily be able to find another form of transport.
She bit her lip. True, he wouldn’t be best pleased that she’d taken his car without asking—but it wouldn’t be the first rule of etiquette she’d broken. Sleeping with the boss without him ever having taken her on a date was right up there with the major social no-nos.
It might be completely out of character, but so what? Things couldn’t really get much worse. Her contract with Palladio’s would inevitably be over after this—so what did she have to lose? And what the hell would Suzy, her partner, have to say about that?
Her cheeks burning with remorse, Aisling crept back into Gianluca’s bedroom, breathing a sigh of relief as she located his car keys in the back pocket of his discarded jeans and carefully extracted them—and still he slept on.
She stole towards the front door and her heart pounded with guilt and she quietly took from her bag a pen and a postcard of the Trevi fountain, which she’d never got around to posting. Silently, she wrote: ‘I’ve borrowed your car—will leave it at your office.’
And then she hesitated. How should she end it? Love Aisling?
No.
Just her name, then?
No. Just stick to facts and fade away into the dawn. Propping the note onto a small table, she gave a wry smile. Why, he might even thank her for it. They would both be spared the embarrassment of the morning after. The long, shared journey back to the city, heavy with awkward silences. Not that she’d ever had a one-night stand—but from everything she’d read, she knew it wasn’t the best way to earn his respect or admiration.
But it wasn’t until she was out on the open road, being guided by the rather spooky robotic female voice of the satnav system and heading towards Rome that she dared to put her foot down, her heart sinking with the horror of what she’d done as the sun began to rise high over the Umbrian hills.
CHAPTER FOUR
AISLING’S head pounded.
Unsteadily, she rose from her chair to close the blinds in her office, and the unanswerable question spun round and round in her head like dirty water whirling down the plug-hole.
Oh, what had she done?
Nearly a month had elapsed since she had woken up in Gianluca’s bed—or rather on Gianluca’s bed, she corrected herself, and flinched. There was no point in giving the incident an air of respectability which it certainly didn’t merit. Saying that they had been in bed might have implied that there’d been a little forethought about that wild bout of sex, instead of the stark and unpalatable truth.
That she’d had a one-night stand with a client!
Aisling’s palms felt clammy as she sat down at her desk once more.
What kind of a woman did that? Risking everything she’d worked so hard for. Especially a woman who had known real poverty when she