But Jemima had never been a passionate woman. Steven had told her that passion was for sluts and she had always been careful not to seem too keen in that line because that had seemed to be what he expected from her. When he had plunged into a wild fling with Julie she had been shattered at how quickly he had changed his attitude. Luciano, however, wanted that passion, thrived on it, she sensed in confusion, forcing herself to look at him, her face hot and flushed, her sated body still somehow feeling like a wanton stranger’s.
‘Let’s not...talk about it,’ she mumbled unsteadily.
‘Let’s not... I prefer to do rather than talk,’ Luciano murmured, wondering why she was still acting so oddly. Touching her had been a mistake. He wanted more. Given the smallest encouragement he would have dragged her off to bed and eased the burn of his libido. He didn’t want to wait. He wasn’t used to waiting but he was suddenly very conscious of who she was. His son’s mother. It would be most unwise to rock the boat before they reached the security of his Sicilian home, Castello del Drogo.
‘It shouldn’t have happened,’ Jemima breathed tightly, rising from her seat and snatching up her bag. ‘I don’t know how it did—’
Luciano was not amused. ‘It’s simple. I wanted you. You wanted me—’
‘I forgot where I was and who I was with for a moment,’ Jemima corrected stiffly, still carefully evading his eyes. ‘I was out of control.’
‘I liked it.’ Luciano could not understand why she was in retreat. With his knowledge of her, she should have been making the most of the situation and trying to please him. And he was very much in the mood to be pleased.
‘You were talking about Sicily and...er...settling bills,’ she reminded him stonily.
Ah, business first. He perfectly understood her change of focus. ‘I will take care of them. You will have to sign a confidentiality agreement first. You will not be free to talk to anyone, and that includes the media, about the surrogacy agreement or about me or my son,’ he informed her with forbidding cool.
‘That’s not a problem. I’ll go and see if Nicky is awake yet. It’ll be time for us to leave soon,’ she said with scarcely concealed eagerness as she checked her watch.
Luciano stood watching the door swing shut on her exit. A black winged brow quirked. Was it some sort of a game she played with men? Give a little and then back off? Some men would want her all the more after that type of will-she-won’t-she uncertainty. But Luciano was in no doubt that she would ultimately share his bed and her withdrawal irritated him. He hardened even more at the prospect of spreading those soft, rounded thighs and plunging between them until he had attained his pleasure. One night would probably be enough, he decided with a dark smile. He wanted her horizontal. For that single night he wanted her every which way up he could have her. That would work her back out of his system and possibly by that stage he would grasp what had attracted him in the first place.
At least there would be no complications with Jemima, he reflected as he phoned his housekeeper to make household arrangements. Never mind Jemima’s little ploys, she knew the score. He would reward her richly for sex, for sharing physical pleasure without emotion or strings, and she would be quite happy to walk away again.
* * *
‘I’m a close friend of Jemima’s and her family,’ Steven Warrington declared smugly as he walked into Luciano’s office. ‘And with respect, I’d like to know why you think it’s necessary for her to accompany you and your child to Sicily.’
Luciano surveyed the smaller blond man with shrewd, unimpressed eyes. ‘That’s my personal business, Mr Warrington. But I see no reason not to tell you that my son is attached to Jemima and I’d like to minimise his sorrow when she moves on.’
‘Taking Jemima to Sicily with you seems a strange way of letting her move on,’ Steven opined with another smile. ‘I’d prefer it if you simply removed your son now and left Jemima to get on with her life unencumbered.’
‘Happily your opinion doesn’t count,’ Luciano fielded.
‘It soon will. She’s the woman I intend to marry.’
Luciano almost rolled his eyes at the idea of Jemima, with her decided preference for the wilder side of life, anchored by a wedding ring to the highly conservative male in front of him, but his lean, dark features remained unrevealing. ‘Congratulations,’ he responded smoothly.
The information he had already requested on Steven Warrington was finally rolling up on Luciano’s computer screen as the younger man departed. Had Luciano the patience, he would have received that information before agreeing to see Warrington but curiosity had driven Luciano to depart from his habitual caution. So, Steven was an ex and there was a very, very long list of exes in Jemima’s chequered past. Did she leave them all longing for a raunchy repeat? Although not the ones whose wallets she had lifted, Luciano conceded, while wondering why that aspect of her nature didn’t bother him more. She was a thief. Why did he want to bed her? He had never knowingly wanted to bed a deceitful woman before. Having grown up in the shadows of a crime-fuelled household, he was not drawn to the dark side in any way. Unlike his late father he was temperate and controlled.
Maybe he had been too ascetic in his habits for too long, he reasoned in frustration, because he was still struggling to understand the key to Jemima Barber’s appeal. Even so, he wanted her and on those grounds he would have her simply because remarkably few things in life gave Luciano genuine pleasure. Steven Warrington’s self-righteousness amused him. Jemima had no plans to marry Steven. He was quite sure of that.
But somehow that didn’t eradicate an almost overwhelming temptation to smash a fist through Steven’s blindingly white teeth. Luciano didn’t comprehend the urge and he suppressed it, thoroughly off-balanced by that sudden lurch towards violence. He had felt it before, of course he had, with his very genes drenched in the violence and corruption of his forebears. But never ever had he had that experience where a woman was concerned and that awareness unsettled him. One night. He would have her in his bed for only one night, he assured himself grimly.
In any case, he reflected thoughtfully, it was not as though he could be at any real risk with Jemima, because Luciano didn’t do emotional connections with anyone. His son would be the sole exception to that rule. Loving and caring for a child was pure and it wouldn’t damage him or anybody else.
* * *
‘I think it’s the best solution for everybody,’ Ellie declared bravely while Jemima was trying to console her weeping mother and her deeply troubled father as the four of them sat round the kitchen table over mugs of tea.
Jemima was feeling sick with shame at having hidden so much from her adoptive parents and she still did not feel up to the challenge of telling them the truth. They would have been horrified if they knew that she was pretending to be her dead sister and faking being Nicky’s mother. No argument she could make would persuade them that such dishonesty was justified. In any case her parents were already dealing with quite enough. The older couple had returned from Devon only that morning to learn that their daughter and Nicky would be leaving the next day for a trip to Sicily, following which Jemima would be returning home alone. Unfortunately Julie’s son had become as dear to Jemima’s parents as any grandchild. They too had been part of Nicky’s life almost from birth.
‘Nicky is Luciano’s son and the poor guy’s been searching for him all these months,’ Ellie pointed out, trying hard to support her friend’s arguments in favour of the trip to Sicily and the inevitable surrendering of Nicky to his sole surviving parent.
‘I believe he’ll be a good father. He’s only asking me along because he knows Nicky’s attached to me and he doesn’t want him to be hurt by me suddenly disappearing from his life,’ Jemima explained afresh.
‘Mr Vitale is being responsible,’ her father conceded thoughtfully. ‘Although I could never condone the agreement he made with Julie. That was rash and she was the worst possible candidate he could’ve