Interview with a Playboy (19 page)

‘Maybe you should take some time off.’ He stroked a hand
absently down over her arm, and it made memories of France stir, made her heart start to race in a way she really wanted to control.

‘Well, it’s the weekend, so I will.’ Their eyes met, and she saw that gleam in his gaze. ‘Marco, we shouldn’t…’ The rest of her words were drowned out as his lips captured hers.

‘I know we shouldn’t…’ He pulled her closer. ‘And I told myself that we wouldn’t. But, hell, anything that feels so right can’t be wrong—can it?’

She tried very hard to be strong. ‘Not necessarily true…’

But they were the last coherent words she spoke.

Isobel woke in the early hours of the morning and cuddled closer to Marco’s warm body. She loved being with him like this. She pressed her lips against his shoulder and closed her eyes again. Dawn was breaking outside and rain was still pounding against the windows. It might be a good idea just to stay in bed today, she thought groggily. She felt a bit queasy again. In fact she felt
very
queasy. She tried to fight down the feeling, tried to think about something else, but it wouldn’t go away.

Hastily she got out of bed and hurried down to the bathroom. She just made it.

It was the first time she’d actually been sick, and she sat on the side of the bath afterwards trying to gather herself together again.

Was she pregnant?

She told herself that she should do the test now, but the thought of it scared her to death.

Just say she was.

Could she go through with it? Could she be a single mother and inflict an absentee father onto her child? And what if she was like her own mother and found it hard to cope?

The painful thoughts made it hard for her to breathe. She needed to do the test. She needed to do it
now
.

M
ARCO
rolled over in bed and glanced at the clock on the bedside table. It was six in the morning, and he told himself that he should make a move back to his own apartment. He was playing with fire with Izzy.

He’d been so careful since his divorce about the women he chose to get involved with. He didn’t want anyone serious in his life, and he’d made sure that his nights of pleasure had all been with sophisticated and experienced women who knew the score.

Then Izzy had come along, and she’d fitted nowhere into his scheme of things. There was a dangerous kind of magic about her…a magic that had made him forget the rules he’d laid down for himself since his divorce.

He should have called a halt to things when he’d found out that she was a virgin. He glared up at the ceiling. He should have walked away. But he just hadn’t been able to resist her.

Just as he hadn’t been able to resist coming back to her.

He swore under his breath and threw the bedcovers back. He had to get out of here.

He was almost fully dressed when he realised that Isobel had been gone from the bedroom for a long time. Leaving his shirt unbuttoned, he wandered out into the corridor to look for her.

He half expected to find her making a drink in the kitchen,
but she was standing at the window, staring out at the morning.

‘Izzy?’

She didn’t look around immediately—didn’t seem to have heard him.

She was wearing a bright blue dressing gown and she had nothing on her feet.

‘You’ll catch cold standing there,’ he said softly. ‘It’s not warm in here.’

Isobel wanted to say that catching cold was the least of her worries. She turned and looked at him then, quietly taking in the fact that he was dressed. ‘Are you leaving?’

He nodded, and started to button his shirt up as he walked closer to her. ‘How come you’re up so early?’

She looked about seventeen as she raised her eyes towards his—young and vulnerable, and far too beautiful for any man’s peace of mind.

‘I couldn’t sleep.’ She tried to smile. ‘What’s your excuse?’

‘I always wake at six. And I have things to be getting on with.’

‘Yes, me too.’ Pride came to her defence. She really needed him to go because suddenly she just wanted to cry.

‘Hey, you’re supposed to be having a lazy weekend.’ He put a finger under her chin and tipped her face upwards, so that he could scrutinise her properly.

Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, and her eyes seemed much too large for her face. ‘I think you’ve been working way too hard over these last few weeks.’

He sounded as if he cared. But of course he didn’t, she reminded herself forcefully. ‘Maybe I’m more like you than you think.’ She found it suddenly hard to keep her voice nonchalant. ‘My career tends to come first.’

Marco ran his fingers up along the side of her face, and as he caressed her he could feel her body trembling with reaction.
She wasn’t thinking about work now, he thought with satisfaction. And neither was he.

God, he wanted her.
Wanted to take her into his arms… take her back to bed.

She was the type of woman who could get under a man’s skin very easily, he thought broodingly. Which was exactly the reason why he needed to leave…but weakness was setting in.

Isobel pulled away from him. She couldn’t think straight… couldn’t function when he touched her and looked at her like that.

And yet this was all just a game to him, she told herself angrily. He could have her right here and now in this kitchen, then go back to his apartment or hotel, or wherever he was staying in London, and just forget about her.

The thought was a sobering shot of reality, and as she stared up at him she found herself trying to imagine his reaction if she told him right now that she was pregnant. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be horrified.

‘Anyway, Marco, you really need to go now.’ She forced herself to keep her head held high and to sound as if she really meant it. ‘I’m going to make myself a drink and turn on my laptop. I like to work early in the morning, when everything is quiet. I’m sure you are the same.’

He looked a bit surprised by her words, and she tried to take comfort from that as she moved past him and flicked on the kettle. It was good to take back a little bit of control. Marco was a man who had too much of his own way where women were concerned.

The last thing she wanted was tea or coffee—but at least it gave her an excuse to turn her back on him. Because if she looked at him she might weaken.

Marco leaned back against the windowsill and watched her for a few moments. He’d told himself he was leaving… but suddenly he was hesitating.

It was as if she’d woven some kind of spell in the air around her.

Well, if he had any sense he’d just get out of here now—because she spelt
danger
with a capital D.

‘You’re right—I do need to go.’ He watched as she took a china cup from the cupboard. She wasn’t even looking around at him.

‘Just close the door behind you on the way out,’ she said lightly.

The cool words made Marco glare at her ramrod straight back.

If he reached out and pulled her back against him she would change her mind—he knew that for a fact! She wanted him as much as he wanted her.

But would it be fair of him to do that when he knew he didn’t want a serious relationship with her—
with anyone
?

He only had to think back to that day when he’d got his divorce papers to remember how he felt about commitment.

And Isobel Keyes was different from the women he usually slept with—she would want much more than he could give.

He watched as she made a pretence of opening a packet of tea. ‘I do believe the rain has stopped now—if you hurry you won’t get wet.’

Marco had been about to walk to the door, but that was his breaking point—because now he found himself catching hold of her arm to turn her firmly around to face him. ‘So… no farewell kiss?’ He looked at her mockingly.

She seemed almost to flinch away from him. ‘Do you mean farewell or goodbye?’ she asked softly, and he realised as he looked into her clear green eyes that he should never have gone that far. ‘Don’t make this any harder, Marco.’ She whispered the words pleadingly as she looked up at him. ‘Let’s just leave things as they are, shall we? Before we irrevocably spoil everything. We both know this isn’t going anywhere.’

He frowned. He’d said something like that the last time he’d wanted to finish with someone.

This wasn’t right—he was the one who decided.

But he already
had
decided, he reminded himself firmly. As soon as he’d woken up this morning he’d known he should leave.

‘OK,
cara
…’ His voice held a husky tone. ‘If that’s how you want things.’

‘It is…’ She glared at him. ‘It really is.’

For a moment his gaze held hers. Then he let go of her arm and nodded.

The door closed behind him quietly.

Isobel could hear his footsteps through the flat, and then the door closing behind him with a resounding thud.

There—she should be glad he’d gone, she told herself angrily.

So why didn’t she feel glad?
Why did she feel as if the world was caving in on her?

She felt sick again, and suddenly she was rushing for the bathroom.

Marco had reached the front door out onto the street when he stopped. What the hell was he doing? he asked himself suddenly. Did he really want to end things this way?

He remembered how she’d told him that her career came first. But if that were the case she would have told the truth about his divorce, and she would have published those photos he’d let her take from his house.

He remembered how sweetly she had returned his kisses last night, how passionately she had responded to him.

Then he remembered that gleam of hurt in her eyes as she’d turned towards him just now and told him to go—told him that it was for the best.

Somehow he didn’t think it
was
for the best. In fact he was unexpectedly sure of it. He suddenly found himself turning around and making his way back upstairs.

Her door was unlocked, and he went back inside and headed through towards the kitchen. But she wasn’t there. She was in the bathroom. He could hear her being sick, then the sound of taps running, and then silence.

He paused outside the door. ‘Izzy—are you OK?’ His voice boomed out in the silence of the apartment.

A stunned kind of stillness greeted the question, and then she whispered gruffly, ‘I thought I told you to go away.’

‘Are you ill?’ He didn’t wait for her to reply, but pushed the bathroom door open and strode in. She was sitting on the edge of the bath and she had just rinsed her face, and was drying it with a white bath towel.

‘What the hell are you doing, Marco?’ She looked up, horrified by his intrusion.

But he didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to her; instead he strode over and crouched down beside her, so that he could see her properly.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you were feeling ill?’

The gentle concern in his voice and in the darkness of his gaze was almost her undoing.

‘Please, just go away, Marco!’

He reached to touch her, but she flinched from him. ‘I don’t want you here!’ She glared at him. ‘I told you to leave.’

‘I know what you told me!’ He frowned.

‘Well, then—go!’ She was starting to feel hysterical—especially as he glanced towards the sink and saw the empty box from the pregnancy testing kit.

‘Isobel, are you pregnant?’ He asked the question in a stunned kind of way, as if he couldn’t quite take in what was happening.

She wanted to laugh—except that it wasn’t funny. And she couldn’t find her voice to answer him—could hardly even look at him.

‘Isobel, I asked you a question!’ His voice was rigid with anger, and it made her gather herself together.

She raised her eyes to his then, and he could see the truth shimmering in them even before she answered. ‘Yes, Marco, I’m pregnant.’

He stared at her for a few minutes, as if not quite digesting the information. ‘I asked you last night if there were any… repercussions from our time together, and you said no—’

‘I didn’t know for sure last night. I’d only just bought the testing kit.’

‘So you waited until this morning—found out you were pregnant and then calmly asked me to leave without saying anything!’ His eyes seemed to lance through her like daggers they were so sharply furious.

And suddenly she snapped. How dared he be angry with her? How dared he rant and rave like this? ‘And what would you have said if I’d told you last night or this morning?’ Her eyes blazed into his. ‘Would you have said,
Oh, darling, how wonderful. Let’s get married and live happily ever after
?’ She held up a hand as he looked set to interrupt. ‘I was being ironic, by the way—I don’t want a proposal. I don’t want to marry you.’

‘Well, that’s OK, then—because I certainly have no intention of proposing.’

Their eyes held angrily for a moment before she hurriedly looked away. ‘Well, at least we understand each other.’

‘Do we?’ He shook his head. ‘I still don’t understand how you could let me walk out of here this morning without telling me the truth.’

‘For heaven’s sake, Marco—let’s face it: you could hardly wait to get out of here this morning!’ She raked a hand unsteadily through her hair. ‘And quite frankly I’m in shock. I don’t even know how I feel about this…so I’m certainly in no fit state to deal with how
you
feel.’

There was silence for a moment as Marco digested her words. ‘I guess we’re both in shock.’

‘Yes, I guess we are.’ She buried her head in her hands.
‘We had one moment of carelessness… It’s so unfair when people try for months and years sometimes to have a baby.’

The words trickled through him, their reality pulling him up, making him think.

There was silence between them for a long time as he went over and over the situation.

‘Maybe we should be looking at this in a different way.’

‘What kind of a different way?’ She stood up. ‘Do you mean like an inconvenience that can be got rid of?’ The words tore out of her breathlessly.

‘No, I don’t mean that.’ He caught hold of her arm before she could push past him. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of a child being a gift.’