She wanted him. But how did she explain that she needed more than the physical when his solution to every problem was sex? He was a red-blooded, Mediterranean male with a high sex drive. She’d known that right from the first. Had loved the fact that he couldn’t get enough of her.
And the fact that he’d made it clear that his thoughts were only for the children caused her intense pain. The kiss hadn’t been about her, she thought miserably. It had been about the children. Alessandro was Spanish, through and through. He believed utterly in the sanctity of the family.
He would stay married to her for the sake of the children.
Could she do the same? Could she stay with him, knowing that he didn’t love her any more?
‘We can’t talk about this here, Alessandro,’ she croaked. ‘Not now.’
His eyes dropped to her mouth and the tension rose between them.
‘When, then?’
‘I don’t know.’ She felt so shaky and miserable that she didn’t feel up to another confrontation. Didn’t feel up to listening to more evidence that he was determined to save their marriage for the sake of the children.
‘Well, it has to be soon.’ He was standing close to her. So close that her heart rate increased alarmingly.
Was it normal? she wondered. Was it normal to be married to someone for twelve years and yet still want to rip their clothes off at every opportunity?
‘I need to go home and prepare dinner,’ she said huskily as she dragged off her gloves and washed her hands, seeking any excuse to turn away from him. ‘Mum’s dropping the children in an hour. Are you joining us?’
She expected him to tell her that he was staying at the hospital but as she risked a glance at him she collided with his hard, unyielding gaze.
‘Sí.’ His Spanish accent was more pronounced than usual. ‘I’m joining you, querida. I want to eat dinner with my children. Why wouldn’t I?’
The children.
It was all about the children, she thought dully as she washed her hands and walked out of the room.
As a couple, they didn’t exist any more.
Checking that her parents were still seated at the dining table, Katy grabbed her brother’s hand and dragged him upstairs and into the spare bedroom. ‘It’s time to interfere.’
‘What’s interfere?’ Ben started playing with his toy aeroplane and Katy snatched it away from him and held it out of reach.
‘Interfere is when you try and help someone do something they should be doing for themselves.’ She threw the aeroplane onto a chair and grabbed his hand. ‘Come on. We’re going to bounce on the bed.’
Ben tried to jerk his hand away from hers. ‘I was playing with my aeroplane.’
Katy rolled her eyes. ‘You can play with it again in a minute, but for now we’re going to bounce.’
Ben eyed the bed doubtfully. ‘We’re not supposed to jump on the beds.’
‘And when has that ever stopped you?’
‘I’ll get into trouble with Mum.’
‘And if you don’t do it, you’ll get into trouble with me,’ Katy informed him sweetly. ‘Take your pick.’
‘I do like bouncing.’ Ben looked at the wide bed with something close to yearning. ‘Come on, then. Just a quick one. How hard do you want me to bounce?’
‘Just hard enough to break it,’ Katy muttered under her breath, slipping off her shoes. ‘I’ll help you. Come on.’ And she leapt into the middle of the bed and started jumping, her dark ponytail flying around her shoulders as she leaped higher and higher.
Ben gave a delighted giggled and climbed up next to her.
‘Come on.’ She grabbed his hands and encouraged him to bounce, too.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Christy and Alessandro were finishing their meal in tense silence when there was an enormous crash above them, followed by a plaintive yell.
‘Oh, no.’ Driven by her maternal instincts, Christy was out of her seat and up the stairs in record time, Alessandro right behind her.
In the bedroom they found Ben sobbing noisily on the carpet and Katy with her arms around him. She looked up when her parents entered. ‘Poor Ben. He bounced on the bed and…’ she gave a baffled shrug, her expression both innocent and mystified ‘… it must have broken or something. Unbelievable, the rubbish they sell you these days.’
‘The bed broke?’ Christy looked at the collapsed bed in horror and disbelief. ‘Oh, my goodness. It looks as though the frame has snapped right through. How did you—?’ And then she saw the blood on Ben’s cheek and dropped to her knees. All the training in the world didn’t prepare you properly for coping when your own child was injured, she thought frantically. ‘You’re bleeding. Alessandro, he’s bleeding.’
‘I see it.’ Calm and steady, Alessandro scooped his son into his arms and swept the aeroplane and Christy’s clothes off the chair so that he could sit down. ‘What’s happened to you?’
‘Katy told me to bounce,’ Ben hiccoughed, his face blotched with crying, ‘so I bounced, but when the bed broke I fell off and banged myself. It hurts.’
‘Where did you bang yourself?’ Alessandro ran strong fingers over the little boy’s arms and legs, hunting for damage—trying to find the source of the bleeding. He found it on the boy’s palm. ‘It’s fine. Just a scratch. He must have run his hand over his cheek. That’s why he has blood on his face.’
Christy stood there, heart thumping, relieved that Alessandro was there. She’d always been a wreck inside when either of the children had been ill or injured. She suddenly realised how much she’d missed his strength.
Still cuddling Ben, Alessandro threw a frowning glance at the bed. ‘That’s well and truly broken. You won’t be sleeping there tonight.’
Christy gave a tiny frown and turned to Katy. ‘I’ll have Ben’s room. Your brother can share with you.’
‘No way!’ Katy shrank back, her face a picture of exaggerated sibling horror. ‘He snores, fidgets and talks in his sleep. No way am I sleeping with a monster baby like him.’
Ben clutched at the front of Alessandro’s shirt and scowled at his sister. ‘I’m not a baby!’
Christy sighed. ‘Katy, there’s no other option.’
‘Yes, there is. If there’s sharing to be done, you can jolly well share with Dad. At least you’re married. I’m not sharing with my brother! That’s totally gross.’ And she stomped out of the room, ponytail swishing like a statement.
Alessandro stared after her with an expression of blatant masculine incomprehension. ‘Is she hormonal?’
Christy rubbed her aching forehead. ‘Hardly. She’s eleven years old.’
‘She’s acting like a teenager.’
‘She’s going through a difficult phase. She’s…’ Her eyes met his and the words tailed off. They both knew that if Katy was going through a difficult stage, it was probably their fault. Christy’s hand fell to her side. ‘On top of everything else, I suppose it isn’t exactly fair for her to have to share with her brother. She is getting to an age where privacy is important,’ she murmured, and Alessandro nodded agreement.
‘You can use our bedroom. I’ll take the sofa downstairs.’
Christy felt the heavy punch of disappointment deep inside