Happy Mother’s Day!: Accidentally Pregnant, Conveniently Wed / Claiming His Pregnant Wife / Meant-To-Be Mother. Элли Блейк

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СКАЧАТЬ dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘You sound doubtful,’ he observed.

      ‘Well, it’s a bit of a departure for you. You usually deal in smaller, boutique hotels.’ She poured him a cup of coffee and pushed it across the desk in front of him. ‘Biscuit?’

      He shook his head.

      Aisling poured her own. ‘Won’t this affect the industry’s view of you? Isn’t it a slightly risky strategy?’

      Gianluca stared at her with something approaching admiration—at her icy blue eyes which gave away precisely nothing. Had he been expecting her to be cowed by his insistence on this meeting? Perhaps for her to display irritation towards the secretary who was so obviously flirting with him? Or maybe to gush just a little, recognising that a man who could afford to buy the Vinoly must be a very rich man indeed—and he knew only too well how most women responded to wealth.

      And hadn’t there been a tiny part of his mind which had wondered whether she might behave as other women in her position might have done? That, having known the pleasures of his body, she might lock the office door and slide off her panties and come over here and sit on his lap.

      But no—the expression she presented to him was completely professional and the objections she voiced were exactly as they should be. And the cool expression on her face was starting to make him wonder whether he’d actually dreamt the whole seduction.

      As a client he applauded it, while as a man, it irritated the hell out of him. There had been not one intimation—not a single hint—that they had shared a night of passion in his bed, and in truth he found that deeply insulting. Did she have no feelings?

      His mouth hardened. Perhaps she imagined that by remaining so composed in his presence she would make him want her even more.

      And she was right, damn her!

      He was the one who usually compartmentalised—and it was not a trait he particularly admired in the opposite sex. He liked his women warm and soft and available—ready to juggle their schedules to fit in with his busy life.

      He sipped the coffee, which was surprisingly good, finding himself in the curious position of having to force his mind back to work instead of the memory of her pale, curving body revealed by his removal of that rather plain underwear.

      ‘You are doubting my ability to expand into this particular market?’ he demanded.

      ‘No, of course I’m not. And I can find whoever you need to staff it. I assume you’ll want a new general manager—someone who will put your own particular stamp on the place?’

      ‘Sì. But I don’t want to change too much, too quickly.’ His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I want to be able to observe what works and what doesn’t, before I decide.’

      Aisling hesitated. ‘You’ll be careful not to change too much, won’t you, Gianluca? One of the place’s biggest selling points is its very Britishness—the tourists love all that.’

      She was unbelievable! ‘You think that I’ll serve only pizza in the restaurants from now on and start playing loud Italian opera?’ he queried sarcastically.

      ‘And plastic gondolas on sale in the foyer,’ she agreed, deadpan.

      His mouth twitched as he tried to hold back a smile. ‘Ah, Aisling,’ he sighed. ‘What is it that you object to in this deal?’

      He paid for her judgement and her perception, didn’t he? And for the truth, too.

      ‘It’s just that this a departure from the Palladio brand,’ she said softly. ‘That’s all.’

      ‘A brand?’ he echoed. ‘You think that Gianluca Palladio is a brand? What kind of a word is that? You are comparing me to a can of beans, perhaps?’

      ‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic, Gianluca—of course I’m not! I’m just telling you not to lose that special something for which you’re known.’

      ‘Ah!’ His eyes narrowed and a sudden sensation of friction became almost tangible in the air around them. His voice dipped. ‘And what special something would that be?’

      Feeling as if she’d walked straight into a trap of her own making, Aisling felt her skin grow warm—the tightening of her breasts reminding her all too clearly of Gianluca the lover. How he had suckled them, teased them with his teeth, licked them.

      She bit her lip. Oh, why remember something at a time like this? The colour in her cheeks intensified and she found she wanted to look away from him, but couldn’t. She swallowed. ‘Gianluca. Please, don’t.’

      ‘Don’t what, cara? Don’t desire you when it feels as natural to me as breathing? Don’t you know how lovely you look when you lose that frosty look of yours and smile? I saw you smile more times in my arms that night than I’ve done in almost two years of working with you.’

      ‘But that’s not why we’re here!’ she said quickly. ‘What happened that night was a moment of madness—a mistake.’

      He stared at her disbelievingly. ‘And that’s all?’

      ‘That’s all,’ she agreed. Because what alternative did she have? Admit she’d done nothing but think about him—with images of his mocking face and hard body consuming her memory like a fever? ‘And we’re supposed to be working,’ she reminded him. ‘I’m your head-hunter and you asked my opinion.’

      There was a pause but all he could think was how tantalising it was to be pushed away. ‘I know you are,’ he said softly. ‘And that’s why I want you to come to a cocktail party at the Vinoly this evening. This will be a good opportunity to observe how the hotel is being run with a degree of relative anonymity. Once the sale goes through it will be impossible for me to fade in the background.’

      Aisling swallowed. She felt he was playing with her. Pushing her around like a croupier sliding little plastic chips across a gaming table. ‘But if you take me with you, then won’t people guess?’

      ‘And what will they guess, cara?’ he taunted. ‘That we’re lovers, or that I’m buying the hotel?’

      ‘But we’re not lovers, Gianluca. Not any more.’

      He smiled, but the curve of his lips was cynical and it made a perfect partner for the mockery in his eyes. Aren’t we? they seemed to say. ‘It’s at six, in the Thames Room. I’ll send a car here for you.’

      She shook her head in frustration, feeling control begin to slip away, and it scared her. ‘I’m a London girl and I’m used to getting around the city on my own. There’s really no need to—’

      He cut across her protest with an arrogant wave of his hand.

      ‘I will send a car,’ he repeated obstinately.

      CHAPTER SIX

      AISLING remembered the first time she’d ever been to the Vinoly, with its sweeping mahogany staircase and famous rooftop restaurant. She’d been an impressionable twenty year old who hadn’t yet learnt that it was almost impossible to hold a drink as well as eat a canapé, СКАЧАТЬ