“Why would you do that?” Andrew asked.
“Because if I tell Lucy, she’ll tell me not to invite him.”
“Okaaaay,”
Andrew said, frowning. “Why do I feel like I’m missing a vital part of this conversation?”
“I think Dom likes Lucy.”
His eyebrows rose toward his hairline.
“She’s pregnant,” he said.
“So?”
He clanked a frypan onto the stove.
“You’re serious? You need me to explain?”
“It’s happened before in the history of the world.” Rosie was aware she sounded defensive. Was she the only one who saw the potential here? “Lucy is still gorgeous and fantastic. Would it be any different if she was a single mom and she met a guy?”
Andrew looked confused for a minute as he thought it over.
“Yes. And I don’t know why, it just is. Pregnant women are for protecting and admiring, not lusting after,” he said unequivocally.
She grunted.
“Hey, I can’t help the way the male mind works. This stuff is hardwired in, along with the ability to kill spiders and take out the garbage.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.
“I’m still going to invite him,” she said.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
She threw the tea towel at him.
“I almost forgot. I picked up that new George Clooney movie for you on the way home,” Andrew said as he measured olive oil into the frypan and added the onions.
“Have I told you lately that you’re the man of my dreams?” she said.
“Yeah? Prove it,” he said. He pulled her close for a kiss, and only the hiss of the olive oil forced them to call a halt.
“Phew. Someone’s looking for some action tonight,” she said, fanning herself with a hand.
“You know it, babe.”
She smiled at him, anticipating the night ahead. A couple of hours with George on the TV and her husband beside her on the couch—the perfect man sandwich. Then bed, with sleep not on the immediate agenda. Sounded pretty damn fine to her.
“You know, I’ve been thinking,” he said as she began to form the meatballs. “This whole thing with Lucy—the baby, the renovation fund.”
She tensed, forewarned by the odd stiffness to his speech. Almost as though he’d rehearsed what he wanted to say.
“I’m thinking we should start the office renovation now,” he said.
She let out a silent sigh of relief.
“Okay. Good. That sounds good,” she said.
“And that maybe we should start trying for a baby at the same time.”
She suddenly had trouble swallowing.
This is it, the moment of truth. Speak now or forever hold your peace.
“I thought we were going to wait until we had a junior partner on board,” she said slowly.
“Sure. But the odds are good we won’t get pregnant straight away. Even if we do, there’s a whole nine months to find someone and train them. I was talking to Lincoln Sturt during the week, and he thinks the renovation would only take a month or two to finish. He even suggested his draftsman for the design work.”
Rosie stared at him. Lincoln Sturt was one of their clients, a builder. That Andrew had consulted him without talking with her first was unsettling.
“You never mentioned this before,” she said.
Andrew shrugged, but he darted her a quick, assessing look. The rehearsed speech, his obvious tension, the homework he’d put in—this was important to him. But she’d always known that. And crunch time had to come sometime, right? This was what she’d signed up for when she married him.
He wanted to be a father. He wanted to have children with her.
She licked her lips. Took a deep breath.
“Okay. All right. Let’s do it,” she said.
For a long moment there was only the sound of the onions cooking. Andrew stared at her. Then a smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
“Really?” he asked. He looked slightly dazed and she realized he’d anticipated more resistance from her.
“Sure. Let’s go for it,” she said.
Andrew gave a whoop of joy then swept her into his arms. She found herself laughing along with him, her head whirling as he spun them both around.
“No more sleep-ins. No more weekends away. No more dinners for two,” Andrew said.
“Nope. Not for at least twenty years. And even then we’ll have to pry them out of the house with a crowbar.”
Andrew laughed and kissed her soundly. Then, to her surprise, he dropped her back on her feet and headed for the door.
“Hey! Where are you going?”
He merely waved a forefinger in the air to tell her she’d have to wait. He was back in seconds with something shiny in his hand.
It took her a moment to realize it was the blister pack for her contraceptive pills.
“I’ve been wanting to do this for ages,” he said, pulling a pair of scissors from a drawer.
Rosie lifted a hand in protest, but the scissors were already slicing through the shiny foil. The pack fell into the rubbish, slice by slice.
Andrew threw her a triumphant smile.
“There. Done,” he said.
“Yep,” she said dryly.
He looked so happy. Alive in a way that she hadn’t seen him in a long time.
“I love you,” she told him. “You know that, don’t you?”
He kissed her. “I love you, too, babe.”
Rosie closed her eyes and held him tight. She could do this. Thousands of women took the plunge into motherhood every day. She was smart, resourceful, kind. She would be a good mom. Of course she would.
“My goodness, Lucia!” her mother said, stopping in her tracks. “You are so big all of a sudden!”
Sophia’s eyes were glued to Lucy’s belly.
Lucy looked down at herself. “No, I’m not. The doctor said the baby is normal size, and that I’m normal size.”
Her mother tilted her head to one side and did a slow walk around Lucy as she stood in the center of the living area.
“It is this dress—it is too tight. I think maybe you should wear something different,” Sophia said. “Something less revealing. What about that long coat you have?”
Lucy felt her hard-won confidence seeping out the soles of her shoes.
“I think you look stunning,” Rosie said. “If I had boobs like that, I’d show them off, too.”
Lucy glanced down at her chest then. Great. Huge belly, enormous breasts. Probably there was something wrong with her hair and makeup, too.
“I think it’s too late to hide that I’m pregnant,” Lucy told her mother.
“What about a brooch? Do you have a thing for me to pin this shut with?” her mother asked, holding the two sides of Lucy’s bolero top shut over her cleavage.
Rosie laughed.
“It’s too late to preserve Lucy’s virtue now, Ma. She’s been got at, good and proper.”
“You’re hilarious,” Lucy told her sister.
Rosie blew her a kiss.
“Are we ready, ladies?” Andrew asked from the doorway. He was wearing a dark navy pinstripe suit and a white shirt with no tie. With his midbrown hair freshly cut, he was looking very sharp.
“Hey, you look great,” Lucy told him.
Andrew shrugged a shoulder.
“Thanks.”
He shot Rosie a long, warm look. Lucy watched as her sister blushed, then got busy picking a piece of lint off the hem of her dress as though nothing had happened.
That sealed it. Something was going on. Her sister and Andrew had been acting weird all week, but until now Lucy had been half-convinced she was imagining it.
Not the only time she’d imagined something lately, of course, so her track record wasn’t exactly spotless. She still squirmed with self-consciousness every time she remembered that panicked phone call to her sister from Dom’s bathroom. She had to have been temporarily insane. Not once since that afternoon had he been anything less than professional and friendly with her. Scrupulously so. No lingering looks, no checking out her breasts, nothing.
Andrew jingled his car keys.
“Let’s hit the road.”
Lucy turned back to check herself in the living-room mirror one last time. She could only see her top half but what she saw looked pretty good, her family’s comments aside.
For just a second, she wondered what Dom would think if he saw her like this. He’d only ever seen her bundled up for work in the mornings or dressed for comfort for their meetings. Or—worse still—in her pyjamas, ready for bed. Would he even notice the difference?
Lucy shook off the thought with a frown. It didn’t matter what Dom thought of how she looked, for Pete’s sake. It was irrelevant.
Her mother chattered all the way to the community center, discussing carpet colors and window furnishings for the office renovation. Lucy smiled to herself as she heard the rising frustration in her sister’s voice as Rosie tried to put forward her own opinions. For once, it was nice not to be the center of her mother’s attention.
The center had been professionally decorated for the fashion parade with lots of draped black fabric on the walls, small nightclub tables with candles and big, arty tangles of fairy lights. A T-shaped runway bisected the room, and a bar had been set up immediately to the left of the entrance.
Andrew slipped off to grab drinks for them all as Lucy craned her neck to see if she recognized anyone. She started when a warm hand landed on the small of her back and a deep voice sounded near her ear.
“I was wondering when you guys were going to show up.”
Lucy’s heart did a strange shimmy in her chest as she breathed in Dom’s spicy, woody scent. She turned to face him, not registering how close he was standing until her breasts brushed his arm. She took a hasty step backward, alarmed by the rush of heat that raced through her body.
“Dom. I didn’t know you were coming,” she said.
“Didn’t you? Rosie invited me,” Dom said.
He threw a curious look her sister’s way. Rosie just did her impersonation of the sphinx. Clearly she had done this on purpose.
“You look great,” Dom said, drawing Lucy’s attention back to him. He did a slow scan of her body, taking in every curl on her head and every curve on her body. “Beautiful.”
For some reason she was having trouble finding her voice. She told herself it was because he’d surprised her, but she suspected it had more to do with how good he looked in a finely cut leather coat, crisp charcoal shirt and charcoal trousers with a fine red pinstripe. He looked like he should be up on the runway, not down here with the plebs.
“Um, thanks. You look nice, too.”
Immediately she felt like a dork. Dom smiled, the corners of his eyes creasing attractively.
“I even ironed, so it must be a special occasion,” he said.
Lucy felt a pronounced dip in the region of her stomach as he held her gaze.
Okay, there’s that look again. And this time I am definitely not imagining it.
His gaze dropped below her chin and into her cleavage. She forgot to breathe. She could feel his attention like a touch, skimming across her skin.
That
is definitely an eye-drop. Dear lord. Is it hot in here or is it just me?
“Good to see you, Dom,” Rosie said pointedly from somewhere behind them.
Dom grinned as he transferred his attention to her sister.
“Rosie,” he said. “You look lovely, too.”
“Sure I do,” Rosie said dryly. “You remember our mother, Sophia Basso? Ma, this is Tony Bianco’s son, Dominic.”
Lucy started for the second time that night. She’d been so busy staring at Dom, being mesmerized by his intense regard, she’d completely forgotten her mother was with them.
“Dominic. Yes, I remember you from church,” Sophia said slowly. “I hear you and Lucia are in business together now.”
Dom leaned forward to shake her hand.
“Yes, that’s right. It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Basso.”
Lucy darted a look at her mother. Sure enough, her mother was watching her like a hawk, waiting to swoop in and demand what was going on between her daughter and Tony Bianco’s son. Lucy groaned mentally. Now she was in for it.
“I reserved us a table,” Dom said.
He led them across the room to a table with a good view of the runway. Andrew joined them with a carafe of wine and a cluster of wineglasses.
“There’s juice for you, Lucy, but I only had two hands,” Andrew said as he set his load down.
“I’ll get it,” Dom said.
He headed for the bar. Lucy found herself following his progress compulsively, unable to take her eyes off his broad shoulders and dark head.
“I thought he was your business partner,” her mother said sharply.
Lucy dragged her attention back to the table.
“He is.”
“I am not an idiot, Lucia.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
“That is not the way a man looks at a woman when they are in business together. Not the kind of business I am used to, anyway.”
Lucy straightened the skirt of her dress. “You’re as bad as Rosie.”
“Hey, I didn’t say a word. I told you I wouldn’t and I haven’t,” Rosie said, holding both hands in the air as if to proclaim her innocence.
Lucy glanced toward the bar and saw Dom was already on his way back to them.
“Nothing’s going on,” she said firmly. “Can we just drop it, please?”
The thought of Dom overhearing the women of her family discussing his purported attraction to her made her want to cut a hole in the floor and jump through.
Sophia sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest, her posture announcing more clearly than any words that this discussion was far from over.
Dom placed the carafe of orange juice on the table and took the empty seat next to Lucy. She looked at him, searching for confirmation of what she’d seen. But, once again, she could find nothing in his face or demeanor that even hinted at the desire she’d read in him moments before. One minute it was there, the next it was gone.
He caught her staring and smiled slightly, cocking an eyebrow.
“Everything okay?”
You tell me.
“Of course,” she said.
She looked away, a frown on her face.
“So, Mrs. Basso, Lucy tells me you’re retired now,” Dom said politely.
For the next twenty minutes, conversation ebbed and flowed around Lucy as she sipped her orange juice, her mind racing. To quote her sister, Dominic Bianco had looked at her as though he wanted to lick her all over. Slowly. She had not imagined it—even though he was sitting next to her now looking as though butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. As shocking and impossible and scary at it seemed, he saw her as a woman and not just a business partner or a life-support system for a baby. And he wanted her the way a man wanted a woman.
The thought alone was enough to make her heart slam against her rib cage. She shifted in her chair, recrossing her legs.
She felt fifteen again, unable to look a boy in the eye. He was her business partner and, she hoped, her friend. She didn’t need this added complication to their relationship.
For a moment she felt a rush of frustrated anger toward him. Why did he have to make things harder? Having him on board was supposed to make things easier, not more difficult. Now he’d messed everything up by noticing she was a woman.
You hypocrite,
a voice whispered in her ear.
Like you never noticed he was a man.
Again she shifted, crossing her legs the other way. No matter what she wanted to tell herself, there was no denying the thump of awareness she’d felt when his hand landed on the small of her back, or the heat she’d experienced when his arm brushed against her breasts when she’d turned.
She wasn’t immune to Dominic Bianco.
There, she’d admitted it, if only to herself. Despite what she’d told her sister, she was powerfully aware of Dom.
For example, right now, without looking at him, she knew how he was sitting, who he was talking to, whether he was smiling or not. She could feel the warmth coming off him although he was surely too far away for her to really register his body heat.
I don’t need this.
The thought stood out among the chaos in her mind. It was too much. She had been swimming against the tide since Marcus left and she’d found out she was pregnant. She didn’t need or want this added complication in her life. Nausea swirled in her stomach, and she put her hand to her mouth.
“Are you okay?” It was Dom—of course—leaning solicitously toward her as the lights lowered and the music came up for the start of the fashion show.
“I need the bathroom,” she said.
He nodded and stood, helping her to her feet. Rosie and her mother glanced across but Dom leaned toward them, murmuring something. Then he was leading her to the restrooms at the back of the hall.
Her stomach had settled by the time she was alone in a cubicle. She sat on the closed lid and reflected that she’d spent more time hiding in bathrooms since she’d become Dom’s business partner than she had in her entire life previously. Closing her eyes, she took a handful of deep breaths. Slowly her heart rate calmed. She exited the cubicle and ran cold water over her wrists.
Dom was waiting for her when she emerged from the ladies’ room.
“Better?” he asked. She could read concern in every line of his body, and she was terrified by how much she wanted to drop her head onto his shoulder and let him comfort her.
“I think I should go home,” she said.
Behind them, the first of the models were strutting down the runway. The music was loud and spotlights roamed and flashed. It was all too hectic when she was feeling so confused and confronted.
“Let me tell the others where we’re going and I’ll take you,” he said.
“No! I’ll get a taxi. I don’t want to ruin it for everyone. I think I just need an early night.”
“No one is going to let you get a taxi home on your own, Lucy.”
His expression dared her to argue, and she knew he was right—one of the many crosses a pregnant woman had to bear was communal concern about her welfare. Rosie and her mother would be all over her if they thought she was unwell.
“Okay. But I’ll come with you to tell them. They’ll freak otherwise.”
It took her five minutes to assure her mother and Rosie and Andrew that she really was fine, merely tired and a bit overwhelmed by all the noise. She insisted that they stay and enjoy the show—Dom was going to drop her home and come right back again. Finally they let her go.