Gianni's Pride (8 page)

She stood for a moment listening to the soft rumble. There was no denying Gianni did have a particularly attractive voice, deep accented and smoky. She wondered if he’d ever thought of getting voice-over work. With his ability to make the most innocent of comments sound like an indecent proposal he’d never be short of work …
Or is that me hearing what I want to?

The additional thought sent a sliver of shocked alarm through Miranda as she shook her head in a firm negative motion. The thought that she’d want a man like him to proposition her was laughable!

Because he’s got nothing going for him beside a beautiful face, a perfect body and bucketloads of sex appeal
.

She gave a tiny sigh of defeat … All right, she was not totally immune to his charms, when he chose to be charming, but he didn’t always choose to be so. In fact he could be totally obnoxious!

An image of the bold bronzed features lingering stubbornly in her head, she tiptoed over to the wardrobe, her furtive technique more instinct than necessity. She could have blown a bugle and nobody would have heard her above the battle royal going on in the next room.

Flinging open the wardrobe door, she grabbed the first thing that came to hand. It happened to be the only skirt she had packed. Scrunching it carelessly into a ball, she dashed over to the big scrubbed pine chest. She slid open one of the big heavy drawers, wincing as it made a loud squeaking sound, and snatched up the folded blouse that lay on top.

Objective achieved, she made a breathless dash to the bathroom where behind the locked door she performed a lightning change. Peeling off her coffee-soaked jeans and tee shirt, she stuffed them with a grimace of distaste into the
linen hamper. Resisting the lure of the shower, she fought her way into the clean clothes and glanced at herself in the mirror.

Amazingly the things she had grabbed didn’t clash. The pale apple-green of the silky sleeveless top with the loose cowl neck actually picked out a contrasting darker green in the swirly pattern of the long skirt that swished against her bare legs as she moved.

Back in the bedroom Miranda worked quickly, first sweeping all her cosmetics off the dressing table into her open case before lugging it to the bed and cramming everything from the drawers inside. Aware that things had gone very quiet next door, she emptied the wardrobe, not bothering to remove anything from the hangers as, casting frequent worried glances towards the connecting door, she piled them on top, responding to the blind instinct that was telling her she had to get out.

Miranda had no idea why logically the need to vacate the room before Gianni reappeared had taken on the form of something approaching compulsion, but it had and she didn’t question it.

The way her luck was running today it was no real surprise that Gianni appeared in the doorway just as she was cramming the last of her possessions in her suitcase.

She could feel his eyes on her back but pretended not to be aware of his presence. She was though. Her skin prickled with it; the air in the room seemed charged with the sexual aura that he exuded. She had never met a man who was this overtly masculine.

Gianni, his thoughts on the brandy that Lucy kept in the dresser for emergencies—today definitely qualified—paused in the doorway when he saw Miranda.

As he pulled the door quietly to behind him she tucked a swag of vibrant hair behind her ears. Gianni’s chest lifted in
a silent sigh of appreciation as his heavy-lidded eyes moved to the swanlike curve of her pale neck; he was fascinated by the almost opalescent sheen of her satiny skin. He studied her profile, considering the extreme delicacy of her fine-boned, almost elfin features. Her jaw was rather firm, the pointed chin suggesting an obstinate nature.

Shifting his position slightly so that he could have a decent view of her full, soft mouth—a man who had just been through what he had deserved the odd treat—he leaned back against the door jamb, pressing a hand to the back of his neck when the muscles there cramped.

It struck him as ironic that a small child had been able to do what being put in the driving seat of a publishing empire had not. People frequently remarked on his stamina and ability to stay cool when those around him were in meltdown … If they could only see him now!

He could work thirty-six hours at a stretch in what most people would have considered a high-powered and stressful environment, but when he walked away he had never felt quite as exhausted as he did now, after spending sixty minutes trying to get a tired and extremely cranky four-year-old to sleep.

He glanced down at his watch. No, it had only been thirty minutes; it felt like a lot longer!

It had come as a nasty surprise, and didn’t gel with his mental image of himself as a pretty clued-up, hands-on dad. He still couldn’t figure out why his previously angelic son was acting out. On the previous occasions when he read his son his bedtime story—Gianni tried to make it home before his son went to bed at least three times a week—the little boy, already bathed and in his pyjamas, cuddled up and was invariably asleep before the third page.

Gianni felt his mood take an upward swing as he noticed the gauzy skirt she had changed into and the way it clung
to the slight but feminine curves of her bottom and thighs. She knew he was there but she was stubbornly ignoring him. Amusement moved at the backs of his dark eyes, mingling with the predatory gleam.

‘A
RE
you sulking?’

Miranda’s head turned sharply at the accusation, causing her hair to flick across her face. As he watched her push it away with an impatient hand Gianni remembered how it had looked spread out on the white pillow that morning.

Miranda’s response to the charge was icily indignant. ‘I do not sulk.’ As their eyes connected she felt her indignation slip away.

He looked tired, she thought, noting the lines bracketing his sensually sculpted mouth. The gleam in his dark watchful eyes as they captured hers was not tired; it was hungry; it was … combustible … Miranda felt a stab of undiluted breath-robbing lust.

Bemused and deeply alarmed by the strength of her reaction, she turned her head sharply, allowing her hair to fall in a bright fiery shield around her flushed face as she tried to slow her rapid breathy inhalations.

‘I’m busy.’ She flashed him a dismissive look, taking care not to meet his eyes, and turned back to her task.

Gianni, long accustomed to women making the running, was astounded. It was one thing to decide regretfully to keep her at arm’s length; it was another to be rebuffed.

‘I suppose you heard that?’ he drawled, tipping his head in the direction of the room he had just left.

‘Hard not to,’ Miranda said, trying to cram the lid on the case while studiedly ignoring the tingling feeling on the nape of her neck and the aching sensitivity of her breasts.

‘I can’t understand it. He usually goes out like a light …’ he mused, his voice trailing away as his interest was captured by the seductive sway of her hips.

Nobody would have described her as voluptuous, but she was in her sleek way one of the most naturally feminine women he had ever met.

Miranda reached the limit of her tongue-biting and straightened up with a snap, the ringlets of her fiery hair settling with an energetic bounce around her shoulders.

‘Is part of his bedtime routine normally a rough-and-tumble game that has him wound up tighter than a spring?’

His brow furrowed. ‘Bedtime routine?’

Miranda was torn between amusement and disbelief at his bemused expression. ‘A quiet time to help him wind down; milky drink, warm bath …’ She arched a questioning brow and tilted back her head to look him in the face.

The furrow between his dark brows smoothed before it appeared again, only deeper, as now he was struck by the possibility that his model father status had more to do with the expert help he received than his own natural talent for parenting.

Not only did he have the services of a full-time nanny and a housekeeper who was always willing to lend a hand, but his mother took Liam most weekends. This practice began when Liam was a baby and had only ever been intended to be short term, but it had become something of a routine.

‘Clare has normally done that stuff by the time I get in—’

‘So Clare is your girlfriend? Sorry—it’s none of my business.’

‘That has never stopped any woman I know sticking her
nose in. Clare is Liam’s nanny. She’s been with us since he was born.’ His brow furrowed. ‘I think he’s missing her.’

And now he’d had to let the nanny go, along with his car and, for all she knew, his home. ‘You’ve got the essentials right.’ If parenting was, as she believed, about caring, Gianni Fitzgerald could not be faulted. ‘The other things you can learn. I suppose this is all pretty new to you.’

He reacted with visible suspicion to her unthinking comment. ‘Why would you suppose that?’

‘Look, there’s no need to pretend.’

On the receiving end of a look of warm, sympathetic understanding, not familiar ground for him, Gianni shook his head and struggled to stop his eyes straying to the plump swell of her small but perfectly formed breasts underneath the silky green top.

He put down his uncharacteristic lack of control to the long and trying day.

It had begun well, though. A reminiscent smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the memory of waking up next to her naked warm body took hold. He looked at her pink lips and thought about their tongues tangling, the heat and moisture, the taste … A stab of lust sent a lick of hungry heat through his body.

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Miranda read the tension in his taut, edgy expression. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything,’ she admitted remorsefully.

Gianni hardly heard. ‘You look nice,’ the man famed for his charm and smooth lines with the opposite sex heard himself say.

Nice …? Had he been taken over by an alien life form? ‘Very …’ his eyes made a sweep of her supple curves before he swallowed and added with a nod in the direction of her skirt ‘… feminine.’

Miranda saw through this supposed interest in her outfit. ‘You don’t have to change the subject.’

‘I didn’t know I was.’ Making a fool of himself was another matter; on that score, he thought irritably, he had no doubts at all.

His jaw tightened as he considered his behaviour. He had not struggled to think above waist level since he was a teenager, but for some reason he was unable to look at this woman without thinking of her minus clothes. This was a long way from the harmless appreciation of an attractive woman’s shape. Given he was a mature, moderately intelligent male able to control his appetites, he could only assume that his continuing fixation was connected with their extremely unconventional meeting.

It wasn’t a mystery: he’d seen her naked and he wanted to again.

‘I understand. I really do.’ She lowered her gaze and looked up at him through the mesh of her lashes. ‘My dad lost his job two years ago.’

His dark eyes narrowed fractionally at this seemingly disconnected piece of information and he allowed himself a cautious, ‘Sorry.’ He tipped his dark head and wondered where this was going. It crossed his mind that she might see him as some sort of potential employer for her father … but realised almost immediately that didn’t work unless she knew who he was …

‘He was so ashamed that he didn’t tell a soul.’ A shadow crossed her face. It was still hard to speak about a time that had been really hard for the family. ‘It was as if his self-esteem was wrapped in what he did. When he lost his job I think he kind of lost his identity …’

Not quite sure how to respond to this additional information, and wondering about the entire hidden-message thing she had going on, Gianni gave a non-committal grunt.

‘We didn’t have a clue. He got up every morning and put on his suit, kissed my mum goodbye and went, or so we all thought, to work as normal.’

Gianni felt a stab of sympathy for the man he had never met. ‘What did he do?’

‘He actually went to the library. Of course, it wasn’t quite the same for him. He was nearly pensionable age. It was not so much about loss of income as he felt he’d been put on the scrap heap. I suppose if something like that happens when you’re younger,’ she said, fixing him with a steady look, ‘and used to having … nice things, it must be hard to … readjust. But there’s no shame in being unemployed. You just have to remember it’s only temporary and children don’t care what car you drive—they care about the love and attention they receive.’

It took a few seconds for Gianni to realise that this earnest little morality tale was aimed at him. She actually thought she was talking about him. His incredulity gave way to annoyance that almost immediately tipped over into amusement.

The question of why she had suddenly thought it was a good idea for him to stay was solved—he was a charity case.

‘And you’re bound to make a few mistakes at first but look at all the things you’re doing right.’

‘There are things I am doing right?’ Coming clean was the right thing to do, but not the most convenient thing to do.

‘Well, you didn’t lose your temper when he was playing up. A lot of people would.’

‘What are you doing?’ he asked, watching as she pressed her knee into the bulging case on the bed.

Perhaps, Gianni reflected, it was a question best directed to himself.

What was he doing?

He had a healthy libido, but he also had the ability to compartmentalise
his life. The fact was he could not remember the last time he’d had such a strong physical reaction to a woman, though even had the circumstances been different he doubted he would have acted on the attraction. While he was not looking for a soul mate—if such a thing existed—in his bed, neither was he looking for the sort of challenge Miranda would provide.

Gianni saved his energy for boardroom fights; in bed he preferred something involving less effort emotionally. But anyway it was all academic. She knew Liam; that put her off limits romantically speaking. After the Laura incident he made damn sure that his lovers and his son had no contact. It was the one unbreakable rule … The question was, would it be so bad to bend it a little … temporarily?