The Helen Bianchin And The Regency Scoundrels And Scandals Collections. Louise Allen
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we could share a picnic lunch.’
Nicki clapped her hands together in delight. ‘I love picnics.’
If looks could kill, Marcello mused, he’d be dead. Although he had to concede Shannay covered it well. As to his daughter—his, without a shred of doubt—he was hard-pressed not to scoop her into his arms.
He’d expected to feel a connection, even a degree of affection. But this deep encompassing bond surprised him completely.
Marcello copied Shannay’s actions and rose to his feet. His gaze skimmed her averted features and settled on bright, innocent brown eyes. ‘We have a date.’
‘A date,’ Nicki repeated as she reached for her mother’s hand, unaware of the tension simmering between the two adults.
OK, so you’re in the minority here, Shannay conceded silently, and wanted to cry foul. It wasn’t fair of Marcello to manipulate a child.
But then Marcello was ruthless when in pursuit of what he wanted … and he wanted Nicki.
They exited the restaurant and crossed to the adjoining car park.
‘Thank you for lunch.’ She could do polite, as an essential example in good manners. She caught the faint gleam apparent in his eyes, and determinedly ignored it.
He extracted a slim envelope from his suit-jacket pocket and handed it to her. ‘The permission form. Sign and return it to me tomorrow.’
The DNA paternity test.
She could stall him.
How long? A few days … a week?
If she refused and he was forced to travel the legal route …
‘Don’t,’ Marcello cautioned quietly.
How was it possible for one small word to hold such a wealth of meaning?
Supremely conscious of Nicki’s interested attention, she slid the envelope into her bag, proffered a superficial smile and led Nicki to the car, aware of his presence as she settled her daughter safely in the rear seat.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Nicki bade as Marcello opened the door to allow Shannay to slide in behind the wheel.
His mouth parted in a warm smile that skimmed lightly over Nicki’s trusting features and settled briefly on her own.
For a few interminable seconds she was caught in the thrall of remembered chemistry. Jolted by the sensuality that coursed through her veins, unbidden, electric … and definitely unwanted.
It had been there, simmering beneath the surface from the moment she’d heard his voice. Seeing him, sharing his company only made it worse.
For she was forced to recall memories, evocative, spellbinding in their intensity.
Even now, her body seemed to recognise his, and she attempted to control the curl of sensual emotion stirring deep within.
She didn’t want to remember the all-consuming passion, the feel of his hands, his mouth … how she’d lost herself so completely in him.
Go, a silent voice urged.
Ignite the engine and leave.
Now.
Somehow she managed to get through the remainder of the day, and she bore Nicki’s excited chatter about “Mummy’s friend” and the proposed picnic as she bathed and fed Nicki, then readied herself for work.
‘I have lots to tell Anna.’
Shannay leant down and kissed her daughter’s cheek as the doorbell rang. ‘Be good, hmm?’
‘Always,’ Nicki responded solemnly.
A light chuckle emerged from her throat. ‘Imp.’
‘A nice imp.’
Shannay gathered her in for a hug, then smoothed a hand over dark curls. ‘Extra-specially nice,’ she agreed, and crossed to let Anna into the apartment.
MARCELLO’S IMAGE haunted Shannay’s subconscious and provided scattered dreams which seemed to reach nightmarish proportion throughout the night.
Consequently she woke to the insistent sound of the alarm clock feeling as if she hadn’t slept at all.
Not good.
She had a responsible job, she worked nights, and right now she’d give anything to bury her head in the pillow, snatch an hour’s dreamless sleep, and face an untroubled day.
Not possible.
‘Are you awake, Mummy?’
Bright eyes, tousled hair, a smile to die for … the light of her life.
Shannay reached for her daughter, gathered her close and pressed a light kiss to Nicki’s forehead.
‘Morning, sweetheart.’
‘We’re going to the park for a picnic today.’
‘Uh-huh.’ She playfully tickled Nicki’s ribs and the action brought forth a series of giggles. ‘Time to rise and shine, dress, have breakfast and—’
‘Be on the road by nine,’ Nicki completed a familiar mantra as she slid from the bed.
The picnic, the ducks, Marcello.
Not necessarily in that order, although combined they were the sole topic of Nicki’s conversation that morning.
Shannay gritted her teeth as she headed home after delivering her daughter to kindergarten.
If she heard his name mentioned again, she’d … do or say something regrettable!
One hour in his company, and he held Nicki in his thrall.
It was so not fair. And so typical of the man’s effect on the female species.
Traffic lights up ahead changed and she eased the car to a halt.
Figuratively speaking she was between a rock and a hard place. Signing or not signing the DNA paternity form only presented a relatively minor issue compared to the big picture.
The demons of the night returned tenfold, and the sudden strident sound of a car horn thrust her back into the present.
The insistent burr of her cellphone within minutes of clearing the intersection resulted in a juggling action as she changed lanes and pulled over to take the call.
‘Shannay.’
The familiar faintly accented male voice upped her nervous tension by several notches, and it took effort to summon a cool acknowledgement.
‘What do you want?’
‘We need to talk. There’s a café not far from your apartment. Meet me there in ten minutes.’
‘I have things to do, Marcello.’
‘This morning,’ Marcello elaborated, ‘in Nicki’s presence, or during your evening work hours, we will talk.’
‘You can’t—’ The words spilled, only to stop midsentence. He had no scruples whatsoever when it came to achieving his objective.
‘Choose.’
She could feel the anger surging through her body, and at that moment she truly hated him. ‘There is no choice.’
‘I’ll order a latte for you.’
Damn him to hell. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him exactly what he could do with the latte, except in some instances silence was golden, and she simply cut the connection.
Shannay