Her New Year Baby Secret. Jessica Gilmore

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      ‘You did. Sophie, I am also not looking for anything serious and, like you, I’m not in the habit of picking up strangers in the snow. So if neither of us is interested in a relationship and neither of us indulges in one-night stands, then why not get to know each other better? Retrospectively. Unless you’re here with someone else?’ His hands curled into loose fists at the thought, the thrill of possession taking him by surprise. It was only because they had barely scratched the surface of their attraction, he reminded himself. Only because spending the evening with Sophie would be safe and yet satisfying. No expectations beyond fun and flirtation, although if the evening did end the same way as their past encounter, he wouldn’t complain. His gaze travelled down the sixties-inspired minidress to the acres of shapely leg, lingering on the slight swell of her hips. No, he wouldn’t be complaining at all.

      ‘No. I’m here with my friends and their husbands and fiancés. They are all lovely and doing their best to include me, but they’re all so madly, sickeningly in love that I can’t help feeling like a spare part.’

      She was wavering. Time to press his advantage. ‘Then this is fate,’ he said promptly. ‘Every time you feel like a spare part, dance with me. We can have a code.’

      Her eyebrows raised. ‘A code?’

      ‘Sì, you rub your nose or tug your ear and I will know you need rescuing from the tedium of romance.’

      ‘They don’t mean to be tedious.’ But the wariness had disappeared from her face and she was smiling. ‘What if you’re not watching, when I signal?’

      ‘Oh, I’ll be watching,’ he assured her. ‘But just in case you forget to signal, let’s make an appointment now to see the new year in together. I’ll meet you...’ He paused, trying to think of a landmark in the ballroom.

      ‘Outside this closet?’

      ‘Perfect. Yes, I’ll meet you outside here at eleven.’

      ‘But that’s a whole hour before midnight.’

      ‘You owe me half an hour of dancing for running out on me and half an hour for escaping into a closet. I’m Italian, the hurt to my machismo could have been catastrophic.’

      A dimple flashed in her cheek. ‘Okay, eleven it is. Unless I need rescuing, in which case I’ll...I’ll twizzle my hair. Deal?’

      ‘Deal.’ Marco opened the door and held it, standing to one side while Sophie passed through it, brushing past him as she did so, his body exploding into awareness at each point she touched. He took her hand as he stepped out of the small room and raised it to his lips. ‘Until eleven, signorina. I look forward to further making your acquaintance.’

      Marco leaned against the door as he watched Sophie disappear back into the ballroom. Yes, she would do very nicely as a distraction, very nicely indeed. Suddenly he was looking forward to the rest of the Snowflake Ball after all.

CHAPTER THREE

      ‘WHO IS THAT HOTTIE? What?’ Emma looked round at her friends, indignation flashing in her eyes at their splutters. ‘I’m married, blissfully and happily married, but I still have eyes—and, Sophie...that man is sizzling. Tell us all.’

      Sophie slid into her seat uncomfortably aware that her cheeks were probably bright red under her friends’ scrutiny. ‘There’s nothing to tell,’ she said, picking up her white linen napkin, dislodging a drift of small glittery paper snowflakes as she did so. ‘I didn’t miss the starter, did I? I’m starving.’

      ‘Tell me my eyes are deceiving me and I didn’t just see you emerge from a closet with him.’ Ashleigh leaned in to stare intently at her and Sophie’s cheeks got even hotter if that was possible—she was almost combusting as it was. ‘Ha! You did. Nice work, Soph. Quick work though. We’ve only been here for twenty minutes.’

      ‘I didn’t go into the closet with him.’ Sophie reached for her glass of champagne and took a much-needed sip, wincing at the unexpectedly dry taste. She pushed it aside and grabbed some water instead. ‘He followed me in there.’

      ‘He did what? I take it back. He’s not hot. He’s creepy. Well, kind of both. Do you want me to set Jack on him?’

      ‘I’m sure Lukas would be only too glad to have a word,’ Ashleigh chimed in with a dark look over at the corner Marco had disappeared into.

      ‘Finlay can be very intimidating,’ Grace said, smiling dreamily at her very new and very large pink diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand.

      ‘No, thanks for the offer, but I don’t need defending.’ Sophie lowered her voice. ‘I know him. He’s the guy...’

      Three faces stared at her blankly.

      She sighed. It wasn’t as if there had been many—or indeed any—guys since she’d moved to London. ‘The guy. From a few weeks ago. The export party guy. You know, in the snow... Italian, we went to a bar...’

      ‘Oh, the one-night-stand guy?’ Ashleigh exclaimed.

      ‘Just a little louder, Ash, I don’t think he heard you over on the other side of the room, but just one more decibel should do it.’

      ‘What’s he doing here? It must be fate.’

      ‘No, Grace, it’s not fate. It’s embarrassing, that’s what it is. I didn’t expect to see him again, that’s the whole point of a one-night stand.’

      ‘Ah, but the real question is are you going to see him again? Now that he’s the one-night stand and the quickie-in-the-closet guy?’ Emma’s eyes were twinkling.

      ‘We did not have a quickie in the closet. Your mind! Call yourself a Countess?’

      ‘It’s My Lady to you.’ But Emma’s smile was rueful. Her friends hadn’t got tired of teasing her about her newly acquired title. Sophie wasn’t sure they ever would.

      ‘You didn’t answer the question, Sophie. Are you going to see him again?’

      ‘Look, just because the three of you are all besotted doesn’t mean that I’m looking to settle down. I’ve been there and done that and it very much didn’t agree with me. I have agreed to dance with him later. But that’s all I want. Honestly.’

      But the scepticism on all three faces showed that none of them believed her. And she didn’t blame them because she wasn’t entirely sure she believed herself. Oh, she didn’t want or need what her friends had, she wasn’t hankering after a diamond ring the size of Ashleigh’s or Emma’s, nor, beautiful as it was, did she want to wear Grace’s huge pink diamond. She was quite happy with a ring-free third finger, thank you very much. In fact Sophie’s ambitions were as far from domestic bliss as it was possible to get. She wanted to make something of herself. Prove to her family—prove to herself—that she hadn’t thrown her life, her chances away when she’d moved in with Harry. She didn’t have the time or the inclination for romance.

      But shocking as it had been to see Marco, it hadn’t been unpleasant. After all, Emma was right: he was smoking hot. Smoking hot and charming. Smoking hot, charming and very, very good in bed. Not that she was planning to sleep with him again. Once was an excusable СКАЧАТЬ