Mills & Boon Christmas Set. Кейт Хьюит

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       CHAPTER EIGHT

      AFTER SETTLING AVA in her new crib for an afternoon nap, Emma went to her bedroom and began to unpack her few possessions. She could hear Larenzo moving around in his bedroom across the hall, and the closeness of the quarters made her feel...aware.

      She was still overwhelmingly attracted to Larenzo. It was a fact she had to acknowledge, and perhaps acknowledging it would help her to deal with it. Larenzo had made it abundantly clear that he had no interest in her that way any more, and she didn’t even want him to. At least, she shouldn’t want him to. Emma let out a rueful sigh as she acknowledged the truth—and strength—of her feelings. But she also knew their relationship, if they even had one, was way too complicated already.

      And yet the tenderness he’d shown with Ava, the consideration he’d shown her...they chipped away at her defences. Made her remember. Made her want things she had absolutely no business wanting.

      She might believe in Larenzo’s innocence, but that didn’t mean he was safe.

      Ava was still sleeping after she’d unpacked, and so Emma headed out to the living room. The room was spacious and luxuriously appointed, if a little bland. No personal photographs or mementoes, but then Larenzo had bought the place only a week ago. It had probably come furnished.

      She prowled around the room, glancing at the antique vases, the gilt mirrors, feeling restless and not quite knowing why.

      She gazed out of the window at the leafy enclave of Central Park and as she imagined taking Ava to one of the playgrounds there, exploring the city with her daughter, her spirits lifted a little. She could make this work. She had to make this work, at least for a little while.

      ‘Was your room adequate?’

      Emma spun around to see Larenzo standing in the doorway of the sitting room. He’d changed from his more casual clothes of this morning to a well-tailored suit in navy-blue silk, and he looked, as he always did, devastatingly attractive. Even from across the room Emma felt the force of his magnetism, and it nearly propelled her forward, towards him. She held onto the window sill for balance as she answered him.

      ‘Yes, thank you. More than adequate. This is a beautiful apartment, Larenzo.’

      ‘You must change anything you don’t like.’

      She thought of telling him she wouldn’t be staying long enough to warrant such changes, but somehow she couldn’t make herself say the words. She just nodded instead, and Larenzo turned towards the door.

      ‘I have to go out now, for some business meetings, but I should be back this evening.’

      ‘Okay.’ Emma wasn’t sure why this surprised her, but it did. What had she expected—she and Larenzo would spend the day together? Larenzo had made it clear they would be living separate lives, brought together only by Ava, which was how she wanted it. How she had to want it. ‘Do you—do you want me to make something for dinner?’ She saw surprise flash across Larenzo’s face and she wondered if she’d pushed some undiscussed boundary, crossed some invisible line. Maybe Larenzo had no intention of eating with her or Ava. She had no idea how this was meant to work, how it was going to work.

      ‘If it’s no trouble, that would be fine,’ he finally said.

      ‘It’s no trouble.’

      With a nod of farewell, Larenzo left the apartment and Emma stood there for a moment, feeling the emptiness all around her, not able to decide if she was relieved he had gone...or disappointed.

      She made her way to the kitchen, which was huge, a hymn to granite and stainless steel, with every possible kitchen gadget and appliance. There was, however, no food. She stared into the empty depths of the enormous sub-zero fridge and wondered what Larenzo had been eating for the last few days.

      When Ava woke a little while later Emma buckled her daughter into the top-of-the-line stroller that she found in the foyer.

      Outside on Central Park West, a brisk autumn breeze blowing and Ava thankfully distracted by all the sights and sounds around them, Emma headed towards Columbus Avenue and the local shops. She felt better with every step she took, the city’s vibrant life seeming to infuse her with energy and purpose.

      At a local grocery she bought all the ingredients for lasagne, a simple but warming meal on this cold autumn day. She paused in front of a wine shop and then recklessly bought a bottle of Chianti to go with it. She’d already pushed the boundaries of their arrangement by suggesting she cook for Larenzo. Why not own it?

      This was her life, at least for now, and she wanted to enjoy it. Ava started getting restless in the stroller, so Emma headed back. Once she was up in the apartment she brought the groceries into the kitchen and settled Ava onto the floor with a few wooden spoons and copper pans. While her daughter made as much noise as she possibly could, Emma bustled around, assembling the lasagne and tossing a salad.

      She started to relax as she worked; she’d always enjoyed cooking, and it actually felt good to be mistress of her own kitchen, instead of an interloper in Meghan’s. As much as her sister had made her feel welcome, Emma had been conscious of how much of an imposition she really was. Here, at least, she had a job to do, a potential role. Perhaps she could act as Larenzo’s housekeeper. It would be a way of earning her keep and making herself useful.

      She was just sliding the lasagne out of the oven when Larenzo appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. He’d taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie, and his jaw was darkened with five o’clock shadow, all of it making him look deliciously rumpled and sexy.

      He paused, taking in the sight of the kitchen, and Emma realised what a mess it was, with pots and spoons all over the floor for Ava’s entertainment, and the detritus from her cooking all over the counters.

      ‘Sorry, I’m not very good at cleaning up as I cook,’ she said.

      ‘No, it’s fine.’ Larenzo glanced around the room again, and Emma couldn’t tell anything from his expression. ‘I like it,’ he said at last. ‘Shall I set the table?’

      He was already getting the forks and knives from the drawer, and Emma watched him, a strange pressure building in her chest. This was all so...normal. So cosy.

      Ava had noticed her father and abandoned her pots and spoons to crawl over to him and pull herself up, clutching his legs. Larenzo glanced down at her, his whole face softening into a smile that made that pressure in Emma’s chest turn painful.

      ‘I’m afraid she’s dented a few of your pots and pans,’ she said stiltedly, turning her gaze to the salad she was needlessly tossing. ‘She doesn’t know her own strength.’

      ‘I don’t mind.’ Larenzo scooped Ava up with one hand, settling her on his hip as he took the cutlery to the table in the dining nook of the СКАЧАТЬ