Happy Mother's Day! - By Sharon Kendrick Page 0,89

with the back of her hand.

‘You’re right. I was running away.’ She realised that Francesco had been right about a lot of things.

‘That is understandable under the circumstances,’ he observed.

Erin was inclined to view his sudden tolerance with suspicion. Her eyes lifted, and for a moment the sheer sensational beauty of Francesco’s face took her breath away. It wasn’t just the perfect symmetry he had been blessed with, but the intelligence, authority and sensuality stamped on his features that made him totally devastating.

His dark eyes dropped, his thick lashes casting dark shadows across his cheekbones as he placed a hand on her belly. She could feel the warmth of his strong fingers through the thin layers of clothing.

‘There is a growing life inside you, Erin.’

Her throat aching with the emotional tears locked there, she nodded.

‘A life we made. You will be a good mother.’

‘I hope so.’ One word of praise from him and I’m glowing … Oh, God, she thought despairingly, I’m hopeless.

‘You would give your life for our child.’ His fingers tightened fractionally across her abdomen.

‘Of course,’ she said, feeling ridiculously bereft when he lifted his hand.

‘But living with me is too great a sacrifice?’

‘I’d do anything that I think would be in the baby’s best interests, but I don’t think us staying married would be.’ She stopped and croaked in panic, ‘What are you doing?’

Francesco continued to unbutton his soiled shirt before shrugging it off.

Erin tried not to stare.

It wasn’t easy. There was a lot to stare at and all of it perfect.

There wasn’t an ounce of surplus flesh on his lean, sleek body. The golden skin of his bronzed torso gleamed under a layer of sweat that delineated each individual slab of perfectly formed muscle.

Desire like a tight fist clutched at the muscles low in her belly as her gaze slid helplessly down the long, lean length of his body and things dissolved inside her.

The corners of his mouth curled sardonically as he unzipped his trousers. ‘I would have thought that was fairly self-explanatory.’

Erin looked into his eyes and fought the breathless drowning sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. She closed her eyes as he stepped out of his shoes and ruined trousers.

‘You can’t do that. What if someone sees you?’

‘There is no one here but you and me. Our hosts have made sure that the house is empty.’ His dark eyes held an unmistakable message as they captured hers.

Erin’s nerve endings tingled as desire slammed through her body with a force that expelled the air from her lungs in a raw, fractured gasp. Her lashes came down in a concealing curtain, but not before he’d seen her pupils dilate.

‘You can’t leave those things there,’ she grunted, touching his discarded clothes with the toe of her shoe. She leapt like a startled deer as his hand came up to frame one side of her face.

After a few moments of standing there motionless, tension and his light touch the only thing keeping her upright, Erin gritted her teeth and closed her eyes.

With a muttered, ‘Idiot,’ she turned her face sharply to one side; his hand immediately fell away. Even though it was no longer there she could feel the imprint of his fingers like a brand on her skin. She bit down hard on her full lower lip as she fought an overwhelming compulsion to reach for his hand and place it back on her face.

She had to be strong.

For a long moment he studied her face, his expression enigmatic.

‘I did not cheat.’

The abrupt statement made her turn her head away. His comment about ‘self-fulfilling prophecy’ came back to her. The truth was she was half inclined to believe him even though she didn’t want to; the world was already shifting under her feet in a very uncomfortable way.

If she believed him, then by implication she accepted that he’d been right when he’d said she was the author of her own misery.

She shook her head in denial. ‘As one with some experience on the subject, I have to tell you that showing a little humility and coming clean generally has better results than a flat denial.’

‘I think your “experience on the subject” is what is distorting your view. And before you ask, no, I can’t prove it to you—I can’t prove I spent the night walking …’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘No, what I did and where I went is not the point. The point is that I shouldn’t have to prove it. Why should you