Heir To His Legacy. Katherine Garbera
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bath. I expect you want to get back to the hotel.’
‘I’m not in any rush.’ Sergio’s jaw tightened at her unsubtle attempt to dismiss him. ‘We need to talk.’
Had four words ever sounded so ominous? Kristen watched Sergio glance disparagingly around the room. It was on the tip of her tongue to point out that, unlike him, she could not afford to buy a luxury mansion in Mayfair, which the newspaper had reported he was currently purchasing, but she thought better of it and led Nico up the stairs.
Left alone in the dismal sitting room, Sergio recalled the empty wine bottles in the kitchen and almost gave in to the urge to chase after his son, snatch him into his arms and take him to Sicily immediately. The house was in dire need of renovation, and it was apparent that Kristen had had a party recently—unless she had drunk several bottles of wine herself.
He grimaced. His mother had preferred gin and, even though it was years since his childhood, he couldn’t bear the smell of it. Patti’s temperament had been unpredictable at the best of times and alcohol had made her either maudlin or cruel. Unfortunately there had been no way of telling what mood she would be in and, as a small boy not much older than Nico, Sergio had felt constantly on edge, fearful of angering his mother and provoking her violent temper.
A loud scream dragged him from his thoughts. The sound of a child’s hysterical sobs chilled Sergio’s blood and he took the stairs two at a time and burst into the bathroom to find Nico—not being beaten, as he had wildly imagined—but in the throes of a full-blown tantrum while Kristen endeavoured to wash his hair.
She was drenched, and one part of Sergio’s mind registered that her white tunic top was virtually see-through and he could clearly make out the firm swell of her breasts beneath her uniform.
‘He hates having his hair washed,’ she explained somewhat unnecessarily as Nico wriggled out of her grasp and covered his head with his hands.
‘No, Mummy,’ the little boy yelled furiously.
Sergio struggled to prevent his lips from twitching when he recognised that his son had inherited his hot temper. ‘Does he always react like this?’ he murmured.
‘Every bath-time,’ Kristen told him wearily. She was unaware that Sergio had frowned because he had glimpsed the shimmer of tears in her eyes. Her shoulders slumped as she waited for him to criticize her once again. He clearly thought she was a useless mother, and maybe he was right, she thought miserably. Nico was adorable, but he was also a strong-willed little boy and she was worried that if she didn’t learn how to deal with his tantrums he would become wilful. If only her mum was still here, she thought, swallowing the lump in her throat. Kathleen had been brilliant with Nico and Kristen missed her advice and guidance.
She stiffened when Sergio knelt down beside her in front of the bath. He seemed unconcerned that the floor was wet and, to her surprise, he rolled up his shirtsleeves. But his next comment surprised her even more.
‘It must be tough working full-time as well as bringing up Nico on your own without any help,’ he said quietly.
Kristen almost believed that he understood how tired and overwhelmed she felt sometimes, but then she remembered his threat to seek custody of Nico. No doubt he would seize on an admission that she found being a single mother challenging.
‘I manage okay,’ she told him shortly. ‘I don’t need anyone’s help.’
Studying Nico’s mutinous expression, Sergio was inclined to disagree with her, but he sensed she was on edge and refrained from pointing out that once he had gained custody of his son she would be free to concentrate on her career.
He smiled at Nico. ‘I’ll make a deal with you. If I let you wash my hair, will you let me wash yours?’
Intrigued, the little boy nodded. Sergio bent his head over the bath and, with a squeal of laughter, Nico filled a plastic jug with water and tipped it over his father’s hair. Within seconds Sergio’s shirt was soaked through, but Kristen could not help but be impressed with his patience with Nico and, to her astonishment, the little boy didn’t make a fuss when it was his turn to have his hair washed.
‘He’s really taken to you,’ she said gruffly as she lifted Nico out of the bath and wrapped a towel around him.
‘Why are you surprised? He is my son and as much a part of me as he is of you.’ Sergio watched Nico scamper along the hallway to his bedroom and felt an almost painful surge of love for his child. He had missed so much. The precious first days, weeks and months of his son’s life were gone for ever and he wanted to weep for what he had lost. But there was no point in looking backwards. The future was what mattered, and he was determined that he would not be denied another day of Nico’s life.
To Kristen’s consternation, Sergio unbuttoned his wet shirt and slipped it off, revealing his tanned torso and the hard ridges of his abdominal muscles.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have a tumble dryer,’ she mumbled, knowing she should look away, but her eyes were locked on the mouth-watering view of his gorgeous half-naked body.
‘No matter, I always keep spare clothes in the car.’ He picked up a towel and blotted the moisture from the whorls of dark hairs covering his chest. Kristen drew a sharp breath when she saw several red scratch marks on his shoulders.
Following her gaze, Sergio’s mouth curved into an amused smile. ‘You were a wild-cat the other night, cara.’
‘That wasn’t me...’ She came to an abrupt halt, colour scalding her cheeks as a memory of clinging to his sweat-slicked shoulders and raking her nails over his skin when he had brought her to a mind-blowing orgasm flooded her mind. Dear heaven, she had behaved like a wanton creature in his arms.
The sultry gleam in his eyes warned her that he had a total recall of making love to her three nights ago. Her pulse leapt and involuntarily she swayed towards him. Her senses were swamped by his maleness—a mixture of aftershave and the indefinable scent of pheromones. Sexual awareness crackled in the tiny bathroom. She watched his eyes darken and held her breath as he dipped his head towards her.
‘Mummy...’
Kristen assured herself that she was relieved by Nico’s timely interruption. ‘I’d better go and see to him,’ she said jerkily and shot out of the bathroom, followed by Sergio’s mocking laughter.
WHEN KRISTEN WENT downstairs after she had tucked Nico into bed there was no sign of Sergio and she assumed he had gone back to his hotel. She couldn’t understand why she felt deflated. A reprieve from his threatened talk could only be a good thing. But as she filled the sink with water to begin the washing-up he strolled into the kitchen, still bare-chested, and carrying a holdall that she guessed he had collected from his car. Heaven knew what her neighbours must think! She tried to ignore the urgent thud of her heart as he opened the bag and took out a T-shirt, which he pulled over his head.
Unfortunately he looked no less sexy in the tight-fitting black shirt that emphasised his muscular physique. He would look good wearing a bin bag, Kristen thought ruefully. He unsettled her and she wished he would go away and give her some space.
‘I realise we have things to discuss, but I’m tired tonight. It’s been a difficult day,’ she muttered, not sure whether to laugh or cry at the understatement. ‘Do you want to come over tomorrow evening instead?’
Sergio gave her a piercing glance and noted that the shadows beneath her eyes had darkened to purple bruises. Her delicate features were drawn and she looked fragile and barely any older than she had done four years ago. The first time he had seen her, she had been dancing on the beach, he remembered. Actually, she had been practising her gymnastics floor routine, she had explained, blushing with embarrassment when she had realised she’d had an audience. Sergio had been entranced by her slender, graceful body and her fey beauty. She had touched his soul in a way no other woman had ever done.