Keeping Her Close. Эбби Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ has not died. If I were to seduce you right here and now I could have your legs around my waist and take you right against this window.’

      The carnality of his words made Gypsy blush brick-red, even as the image in her mind strangled any denial she might make. She just shook her head again—pathetically.

      Rico brought a finger to her cheek and trailed it slowly and sensuously down over her jaw, and lower, to the V of her T-shirt which rested just above her cleavage. His eyes met hers. ‘You won’t be going anywhere, Gypsy. Not until I say so.’ A chill entered his voice. ‘And if you do, I’ll find you. So you see, no matter where you go, I’ll simply bring you back. You and Lola are mine now, and I always claim what’s mine.’

      At that moment the monitor sprang to life again, and Gypsy jumped. A plaintive wail sounded. ‘Mama…’

      ‘I hate you, Rico.’

      He smiled, and it didn’t reach his eyes. ‘I hate you too, Gypsy. But conveniently enough our desire seems to exist in spite of our mutual antipathy.’

      Gypsy finally managed to bring her hands up to knock Rico’s down, and on extremely wobbly legs, feeling perilously close to tears, she left the room to tend to Lola.

      Chapter Seven

      RICO sat heavily on the couch once Gypsy had left. In truth his legs felt profoundly unsteady. His heart was racing and, despite the coolness he’d just projected, the taste of Gypsy, the feel of her, the scent of her, had all acted like the most powerful aphrodisiac. If they’d not been interrupted by Lola just now, he wouldn’t have been far from freeing himself from his confining clothes, pulling off her jeans and surging up and into her moist heat against the window he’d just taunted her with. He burned with a need he’d only felt once before—the night he’d met her.

      He reeled at realising how quickly passion had blazed—literally within minutes of arriving in the door from work. But something about the way she’d told him that she intended to leave had unleashed a wave of possessiveness and desire inside him so strong that it still astounded him.

      Through the baby monitor he heard Lola’s cries abate, and Gypsy saying in a voice that sounded suspiciously husky, ‘What is it, sweetie? You woke up?’

      Even at that Rico tensed all over again, and cursed volubly. And then the monitor went suddenly silent, as if Gypsy had realised he might hear them and had turned it off, and he had to restrain himself from going down to the room and demanding irrationally that she put it back on.

      That Friday morning Gypsy got the call which meant the inevitable end of life and freedom as she and Lola had known it. In a curt voice Rico wasted no time in informing her that he had the paternity test results and they were positive.

      You could have saved your precious money, Gypsy wanted to hurl at him but didn’t. She merely listened to him tell her that he’d be home soon to talk to her, and put down the phone.

      While Mrs Wakefield gave Lola some lunch, Gypsy paced the floor of the living room. Every nerve in her body was coiled tight, and had been ever since that kiss three nights ago. Since then she’d done everything possible to avoid being alone with Rico—much to his evident and mocking amusement. His steel-grey eyes followed her with heavy-lidded intent whenever they were together—which hadn’t been that often, as he’d been working till late most days, confirming for her that he would fall into a predictable pattern of work. Even that hadn’t induced feelings of recrimination, only something suspiciously like disappointment.

      Her motivation had changed from an intense desire to get away from Rico and his autocracy to the treacherous desire for her own self-protection. She was already so vulnerable to him, and now she was even more vulnerable. Because clearly her mind had absolutely no control over her body. And her body wanted Rico so badly that she dreamt of it when she slept and craved it when she was awake.

      She hated that she could be so weak, that even knowing Rico was intent on controlling them she could still desire him so badly.

      Just then she heard the unmistakable sound of his return, and went to see him standing at the door of the kitchen, taking in the sight of Lola happily chirruping away with Mrs Wakefield, causing a circle of destruction around her highchair. He had a look on his face that made Gypsy’s heart twist, and then he said, sounding suspiciously gruff, ‘Mrs Wakefield, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter—Lola.’

      Mrs Wakefield smiled affectionately. ‘Well, I could have told you that the minute I saw her. She’s the image of you.’

      As if just becoming aware of Gypsy’s presence Rico turned his head, and all that warmth was gone in a flash. She shivered. He hated her. He really hated her now that he had incontrovertible proof that he was Lola’s father.

      He turned back to Mrs Wakefield and asked, ‘Would you mind taking Lola for a walk when you’ve finished here? I have some things to discuss with Gypsy.’

      The older woman said yes easily, and Rico looked back to Gypsy and said curtly, ‘My study—now.’

      Feeling like rebelliously stamping her foot and saying no, Gypsy took a deep quivery breath and followed his tall, broad figure down the hall and into the study. It was dark and book-lined, with all sorts of modern technology humming silently.

      Rico turned and watched Gypsy enter the room, shutting the door behind her. Feeling acutely aware of her effect on him, and not liking it one bit, he sat on the edge of his desk and crossed his arms.

      She looked at him with that familiar wary defiance, and a part of him felt the need to soothe, to protect and comfort. She looked incredibly young and innocent—her face clear of make-up, her hair pulled up high into a ponytail of crazy corkscrew curls that he wanted to loosen over her shoulders. But he quickly quashed the impulse.

      This was what desire did to you. It clouded the ability to think straight. To see what was real. And what was real was this: Gypsy was not innocent. She might not be mercenary in a monetary sense, although the jury was still out on that, but she was mercenary in a far worse way as far as Rico was concerned. She would have quite happily kept Lola from him—perhaps for ever. And it was clear that she was not going to give him any straight answers. She trusted him about as much as he trusted her—that much he suspected they would agree on.

      Bitter, futile anger rose again in acknowledgement of what he’d missed out on, but Rico pushed it down. He had to be cool, controlled. Stake his claim and leave Gypsy in no doubt as to who held the power between them.

      He saw her hitch her chin up imperceptibly. ‘You wanted to talk?’

      He inclined his head slightly. ‘As I told you earlier, I now have proof that I’m Lola’s father.’

      Gypsy crossed her arms across her chest, inadvertently pushing her breasts forward. Rico kept his gaze lifted with an effort, and shifted irritably on the desk.

      ‘And…?’ Gypsy asked, with all the hauteur of a queen.

      Rico bit back a reluctant smile. He had to hand it to her for bravado. No one stood up to him the way she did. And he admired that, even if he didn’t like admitting it.

      ‘And that means that I am now going to exercise my rights as her father to care for her, provide for her and protect her—as befitting my heir.’

      Gypsy’s generous mouth tightened. СКАЧАТЬ