From New York With Love. Кэрол Мортимер

out everything she’d been doing in the past two years.

      When she was ready… He’d be mad to put any pressure on her. She’d already run away from him once…he didn’t want to lose her again.

      At a thin cry from the baby in the capsule, Tessa pushed back her chair. “I think Gracie’s ready for a change of nappy…and maybe another feed. Would you mind if I called it a night? Tom, you stay and have coffee…”

      But Tom was already on his feet. “I’ll come with you. I’ve some notes to look at before tomorrow…”

      “Time I went, too,” Annabel said at once, rising swiftly to her feet as a rush of nervous tension gripped her. Despite all the questions she longed to ask Simon, particularly about his injured hand and his disrupted career, she wasn’t sure she could handle being alone with him just yet. Especially not late in the evening, in romantic, moonlit Venice…

      Tomorrow, perhaps…in more calming daylight…if he wanted to see more of her.

      She saw a dark eyebrow rise ever so slightly as Simon stood up, too, but other than that he showed no reaction, no trace of the disappointment she’d expected—or perhaps had hoped—to see. It threw her a bit, making her conscious of a contrary sense of pique. If he pressed her to stay, or even invited her to join him for an evening stroll along the Riva, she wasn’t sure she would have the willpower to resist.

      “Have you been back to the Basilica yet?” he asked her, and she paused, her heart picking up a beat. Was he remembering the vow they’d made four years ago?

      “I’ve only seen it from the outside. I was thinking of going there in the morning before the queue grows too long.” She spoke carelessly, glancing away to hide any hint of an invitation in her eyes. He’d hurt her badly in the last weeks of their marriage and she wasn’t going to easily fall back into his arms, if that was what he was hoping. Her heart couldn’t bear any more hurt.

      “I had the same idea,” he said in a similar offhand tone, with no sign of a suggestive glint in his eye as she flicked her gaze back to his. At one time, there would have been a distinct roguish twinkle evident. She wondered pensively if he’d lost it forever.

      “If you’ve no objection to some company,” he was quick to add. “I’ll get there well before the doors open at nine-thirty and hold a spot for you at the front of the queue. That’ll give you a chance to sleep in a bit and not rush your breakfast.”

      He’d always been considerate that way, she remembered with a bittersweet pang. At least, until the tragedy of Lily’s death had changed him, turning him into a closed, distant stranger.

      “Let’s just play it by ear,” she said, keeping her tone light. “Is your hotel far from here?” she asked, expecting him to head for the lobby, while she took the lift up to her room.

      The firm, well-shaped lips she’d always found so irresistible—and still did, she realized with a tremor— eased into the familiar curved smile she’d thought lost forever, at least to her. Seeing it again gave her spirits a lift. “Actually, I’m staying here,” he said. “Fourth floor. We can ride up in the lift together.”

      She almost missed her step. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear. Staying here? On the floor above hers? Maybe his room, his bed, were directly over hers. How would she ever be able to sleep, knowing he was so close to her, just a few floorboards separating them?

      “After you,” he said, his voice sounding dangerously seductive all of a sudden.

      As she stepped into the empty lift ahead of him, she realized that his room on the fourth floor was the least of her worries. The walls of the tiny lift seemed to close in on her as he followed her in, standing far too close, filling the small space with his tall, potent presence, surrounding her with his familiar male scent, the heady warmth of his breath.

      Inwardly, she felt herself gasping for air, clutching for normality and reason. They were only sharing a lift, for heaven’s sake.

      Maybe it was her heightened imagination, but it seemed to take an age to reach the first floor, another age to reach the second, and finally, with her heart thumping so loudly by then she was sure he must hear it, the lift doors swung open.

      “Good night, Simon!” Her voice was a ragged gasp as she lurched out without looking back.

      So much for acting cool! She’d failed dismally, and now he’d know she wasn’t indifferent to him. He’d been indifferent to her for so long, withholding the love and warmth he’d once shown for her, that she should be guarding her heart a whole lot better than this.