Free Gianni's Pride by Kim Lawrence

her cosmetics off the dressing table into her open case before lugging it to the bed and cramming everything from the drawers inside. Aware that things had gone very quiet next door, she emptied the wardrobe, not bothering to remove anything from the hangers as, casting frequent worried glances towards the connecting door, she piled them on top, responding to the blind instinct that was telling her she had to get out.
    Miranda had no idea why logically the need to vacate the room before Gianni reappeared had taken on the form of something approaching compulsion, but it had and she didn’t question it.
    The way her luck was running today it was no real surprise that Gianni appeared in the doorway just as she was cramming the last of her possessions in her suitcase.
    She could feel his eyes on her back but pretended not to be aware of his presence. She was though. Her skin prickled with it; the air in the room seemed charged with the sexual aura that he exuded. She had never met a man who was this overtly masculine.
    Gianni, his thoughts on the brandy that Lucy kept in the dresser for emergencies—today definitely qualified—paused in the doorway when he saw Miranda.
    As he pulled the door quietly to behind him she tucked a swag of vibrant hair behind her ears. Gianni’s chest lifted ina silent sigh of appreciation as his heavy-lidded eyes moved to the swanlike curve of her pale neck; he was fascinated by the almost opalescent sheen of her satiny skin. He studied her profile, considering the extreme delicacy of her fine-boned, almost elfin features. Her jaw was rather firm, the pointed chin suggesting an obstinate nature.
    Shifting his position slightly so that he could have a decent view of her full, soft mouth—a man who had just been through what he had deserved the odd treat—he leaned back against the door jamb, pressing a hand to the back of his neck when the muscles there cramped.
    It struck him as ironic that a small child had been able to do what being put in the driving seat of a publishing empire had not. People frequently remarked on his stamina and ability to stay cool when those around him were in meltdown … If they could only see him now!
    He could work thirty-six hours at a stretch in what most people would have considered a high-powered and stressful environment, but when he walked away he had never felt quite as exhausted as he did now, after spending sixty minutes trying to get a tired and extremely cranky four-year-old to sleep.
    He glanced down at his watch. No, it had only been thirty minutes; it felt like a lot longer!
    It had come as a nasty surprise, and didn’t gel with his mental image of himself as a pretty clued-up, hands-on dad. He still couldn’t figure out why his previously angelic son was acting out. On the previous occasions when he read his son his bedtime story—Gianni tried to make it home before his son went to bed at least three times a week—the little boy, already bathed and in his pyjamas, cuddled up and was invariably asleep before the third page.
    Gianni felt his mood take an upward swing as he noticed the gauzy skirt she had changed into and the way it clungto the slight but feminine curves of her bottom and thighs. She knew he was there but she was stubbornly ignoring him. Amusement moved at the backs of his dark eyes, mingling with the predatory gleam.

CHAPTER SIX
    ‘A RE you sulking?’
    Miranda’s head turned sharply at the accusation, causing her hair to flick across her face. As he watched her push it away with an impatient hand Gianni remembered how it had looked spread out on the white pillow that morning.
    Miranda’s response to the charge was icily indignant. ‘I do not sulk.’ As their eyes connected she felt her indignation slip away.
    He looked tired, she thought, noting the lines bracketing his sensually sculpted mouth. The gleam in his dark watchful eyes as they captured hers was not tired; it was hungry; it was … combustible … Miranda felt a stab