His mouth tightened. And then she’d fallen pregnant and once again he had been cast into the role which had haunted him all his life.
Responsible adult.
Ask Rocco.
See how Rocco does it.
Well, not any more.
He was free now and that was the way he liked it.
‘Maybe I was trying to get you to despise me,’ he admitted eventually.
Confusion fired in the leafy depths of her eyes. ‘But why would you do that?’
He saw the colour which had risen to her cheeks and somehow he knew he couldn’t duck out of this. ‘Because I knew I was the type of man who could hurt you,’ he said, in as candid an admission as he’d ever made. ‘And I didn’t want to do that. Not when I discovered just how sweet and innocent you really were.’
‘Could you...elaborate, please?’
Rocco scowled, wondering why she was being so persistent when this was only going to hurt her. ‘I thought that if I tried to objectify you, it would drive a wedge between us.’
‘And it did,’ she said dully.
‘It did,’ he agreed.
Her teeth were biting into the cushioned pinkness of her bottom lip but she said nothing more. She didn’t have to. Her face gave it all away. That he’d ended up hurting her anyway. Because that was what he did. She’d tried to get close and he’d pushed her away. He didn’t know any other way. He didn’t want it any other way.
His gaze swept over her. ‘So, have you changed your mind about sightseeing?’
She hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. ‘Actually, I’m looking forward to it.’
He looked at her curiously. ‘Despite the things I’ve just said?’
‘Maybe because of the things you’ve just said,’ she agreed then gave a shaky laugh. ‘I’ve found this discussion very...useful.’
‘I thought you didn’t like that word.’
‘That depends on the context.’ She shrugged and wound a curl around her finger. ‘Understanding what makes someone tick is always useful, Rocco. It helps me make some kind of sense out of what happened.’
And then she smiled and inexplicably Rocco felt his heart pound and for a moment he found himself wishing he’d kept his mouth shut and that they could just have spent the day in bed. ‘Let’s go,’ he said abruptly.
THEY SAT BENEATH a canopy of tangled green leaves as the Mediterranean sea glittered in a blue haze in front of them. The waiter had just brushed away the remains of the seafood platter but Nicole could see a shiny pink piece of prawn shell he must have missed, which sat on the tablecloth like a picked-off piece of nail varnish. She leaned back in her chair, knowing she couldn’t keep staring at the table or distracting herself with the amazing view for much longer. Wishing there were somewhere else to look than at Rocco’s ruggedly handsome face.
Yet there was nowhere else she would rather look. She could have feasted her eyes on him all day—on those fiercely intelligent eyes and lips which smiled so rarely, but, when they did, it was like the sun coming out from behind dark cloud. She wondered what he was trying to do to her. To beguile her with a glimpse of how life could have been as his wife, if he’d loved her rather than being programmed to hurt her?
Today they had played tourist in his adopted city where he’d shown her the Monaco which was hidden behind the façade of glitzy shops, exploring narrow streets which felt as if they were full of secrets. They walked through the beautiful Saint Martin gardens and the Byzantine cathedral and the Place du Palais, where they joined all the other sightseers watching the daily changing of the guard. Side by side they stood, their bodies close but never quite touching while Nicole’s skin tingled with unwilling frustration.
And they’d ended up in this beautiful restaurant where the waiter had just placed two leather menus in front of them and Rocco was still studying her with those mesmerising eyes, which spoke of his distant Greek ancestry.
‘Would you like dessert?’
She shook her head. ‘Not really. How about you?’
His gaze became speculative. ‘What I want isn’t on the menu.’
‘You want them to make you something special?’
‘Like what?’
She opened her eyes very wide because suddenly she realised they were flirting. ‘Oh, I don’t know—a soufflé maybe, or some crepes suzette?’
He leaned forward and lowered his voice, even though nobody could possibly overhear them. ‘After what we were doing last night, I’m amazed you can ask those questions with such an innocent look on your face,’ he said. ‘Which makes me wonder whether it’s real or whether it’s feigned. Or whether it’s an invitation for me to acknowledge the heat which has been building between us all morning and won’t seem to go away. Is that what you’d really like me to do, Nicole?’
She met his gaze before turning her head away, afraid of what he might be able to read in her eyes, when she didn’t even want to admit it herself. ‘I don’t know what I want,’ she confessed.
‘Then perhaps I will make the decision for us. I think we ought to discuss this matter further, only in private.’ His words filtered over her skin. ‘So why don’t we leave the table and do just that?’
The sudden tightness in Nicole’s chest was making it very difficult to breathe. ‘You mean...you want to go back to the house?’ she croaked.
He shook his head. ‘No. That’s not what I mean. Who wants to waste time trailing back through the city?’
‘Well, what, then?’
‘We could get a room.’
‘Where?’
‘Right here. This restaurant serves some of the best food in the city, but it also has rooms.’ He paused as he looked at her. ‘But you might not want that.’
Nicole shifted uncomfortably beneath his searching expression. Of course she wanted to. She’d wanted nothing else since they’d left his house that morning when the world had seemed to blur so that Rocco had become her only real focus, no matter how detached she had been when studying the architecture of the city or how many paintings she’d looked at. When just having him that near had been like electricity firing over her skin—making her long for them to get properly close. She’d told herself sex wasn’t going to happen again. That she’d emerged from that passionate bout last night with her heart just about intact and she wasn’t sure she’d be so lucky if there was a next time.
But her body was hungry and her desire was strong—and maybe Rocco had picked up on that. She licked her lips, trying not to be affected by his raven-dark glint of his hair in the sunshine, or the pure muscular power of his body. If she was being sensible she would say no. She would suggest he call for the bill and take her back to the house while she whiled away a few blameless hours by the pool, before getting ready for cocktails on his yacht. She would play at being his wife in public and for the rest of the time she would do her best to avoid him, just as she’d originally planned.
But being sensible wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. When was the last time she’d been reckless? When she’d thought about what she really wanted rather than what she needed? Next week she would be back