Free The Italian's Love-Child by Sharon Kendrick Page A

sinker, and she knew instinctively that she must be on her guard against losing her heart to him. She would play it slow and careful. He had told her that he would ring, and she would be very patient and wait.
    Well, no—that wasn’t quite true. She wasn’t going to wait —for what use was a life spent waiting as if that were the only thing which mattered? She would live her normal life, she reasoned. She would be happy and fulfilled, and look forward to his phone call when it came.
    Her state of euphoria lasted for precisely three days, by which time he hadn’t rung and Eve fell into the age-old trap of feeling insecure and stupid.
    Why had she launched straight into a love affair with him, when she had known nothing of his expectations of it, nor been given a chance to express her own? Though, how could she have done? Wouldn’t it have been the kiss of death to have quizzed him about what he wanted, or tell him what she wanted—especially when she didn’t know?
    Why couldn’t she take it for what it was, and simply enjoy it? And maybe she could have done. If only he would phone.
    It was nearly a week before she heard from him and when she picked up the receiver and heard hisdrawled and sexy Italian accent, her instinct was to slam it right down again or demand to know why he had taken so long, though she suppressed it.
    Instinct could be a very dangerous thing.
    And besides, hadn’t just the sound of his voice sent her heart racing into overdrive?
    ‘Eve?’
    ‘Hello, Luca.’
    So cool, he thought admiringly. She had been on his mind a lot. She knew his number, both at home and at the office and he had given her his mobile—but she had not contacted him, nor sent him a text message, which women invariably did.
    In a way it had been a kind of test to see if she needed him, and now that she had proved she did not, he wanted to see her.
    ‘How are you?’
    ‘Oh, you know. Busy. What about you?’
    ‘I’ve been to Amalfi.’
    ‘That’s on the coast, isn’t it?’
    ‘Indeed it is. It’s where I keep my boat.’
    ‘And is it very beautiful?’
    ‘What, the boat or the coast?’
    Eve laughed. Damn him! Laughter could be just so-o-o seductive! ‘Both.’
    ‘Both are indeed very beautiful, just like you.’ He paused. ‘I’ve missed you.’
    Not so much you couldn’t pick the phone up, she thought, but the remark pleased her. ‘Good,’ she answered evenly. ‘It’s always nice to be missed.’
    ‘And have you missed me, too?’
    ‘Stop fishing for compliments!’
    He laughed. ‘So when am I going to see you?’
    ‘That depends.’
    ‘On what?’
    ‘On whether we have corresponding free dates in our diaries.’
    Even cooler! ‘You mean you wouldn’t cancel something if it meant seeing your Italian lover?’ he murmured.
    Oh, the arrogance! ‘Certainly not,’ said Eve. ‘Would you?’
    Curiously enough, he thought about jettisoning his proposed trip to the States, but for no more than a moment.
    ‘Probably not,’ he agreed, and then paused. ‘So when?’
    ‘Suggest some dates and I’ll see if I’m free.’
    ‘I have to go to New York next weekend—how about the weekend after that?’
    ‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘Where? In London?’
    ‘Why don’t you fly out to Rome?’ he suggested casually.
    Eve had never been to Rome before, and a city was never more beautiful than when you saw it through the eyes of someone who actually lived there. Luca on his home territory.
    His penthouse apartment was on the Viale Trinita dei Monti, close to the Spanish Steps and it was to-die-for. Minimalist and modern—all stainless steel and frosted glass. The floors were mahogany and there was Carrara marble in the bathrooms. The rooms were almost all white, but the lights could be adjusted to create different colours and moods and the floor-to-ceiling windows showed the most amazing views over the city.
    Outside was a terrace with tall terracotta pots with lemon trees growing and smaller ones with