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“You really think they will have results from the blood test tomorrow?” she asked, glancing from the golden sky to Brando.
“They said they might be able to rush something tonight, but we’d know for sure in the morning.”
Charlotte wasn’t worried he wasn’t the father. He was the only one she’d been with in years, but she didn’t expect him to take her word for it. After all, she’d slept with him on the first date. Why should he not think she did that all the time?
“Are you nervous?” he asked.
Her brow furrowed. “About the results? No. I think I’m more overwhelmed just seeing you again. It’s...surreal.”
“You had no plans to see me again, did you?”
She glanced up at him again, her gaze skimming his handsome profile. “No,” she answered honestly. “I didn’t. I don’t mix business and pleasure, and once I’d slept with you, I wasn’t going to be able to see you, or work with you, again.”
“Why did you sleep with me, then?”
She mustered a small, tight smile. “I think you know the answer to that.”
“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked.”
“I found you quite irresistible,” she said, her voice lightly mocking. “And I thought, why not, just once, live a little? I should have remembered there are always consequences—” She broke off, stumbling, her toe catching in one of the cobbled stones lining the street. She didn’t fall, though. Brando’s arm tightened around her, keeping her upright.
“I’ve got you,” he said.
He certainly did. His arm felt like a hot brand around her waist, his fingers sending forks of lightning through her middle. He was so very close and she felt completely overwhelmed by his nearness, creating an aching awareness she didn’t want or need. Brando was already her kryptonite. If she wasn’t very careful, she’d implode.
“Maybe,” she said carefully, as she stopped walking, “I would be steadier without you.”
“I don’t want you to trip.”
“I’m klutzy because you are close. I’d feel surer of myself if you didn’t touch me.” She tried to keep her tone light. “It must be a pregnancy thing where my center of balance is changing.”
He looked skeptical, his silver gaze penetrating. “I was barely touching you.”
Heat rushed through her, his words reminding her of the night where he did touch her, all over, giving her endless pleasure. She’d never felt anything like that, and doubted she’d ever feel anything like that again. He’d taken sex and elevated it to an art form. Making love with him had been transcendental...transformative.
“Nonetheless, I find it unsettling.” The words sounded harsh, and so she added, “Take that as a compliment if you can. I might be six months pregnant, but you’re still you, and apparently, I can’t help responding to you.”
Brando faced her on the street. “What we had was good, wasn’t it?”
“Too good. I didn’t trust it.” She realized they were blocking the sidewalk and people were having to walk around them, some glancing at Brando and nodding, recognizing him. “We should keep walking.”
Five minutes later they arrived at a building tucked off a hidden street not far from one of the famous squares. They took stairs down into the cellar. The walls were frescoed, the floor covered in thick tiles, the beams of the ceiling stenciled in shades of blue, red and gold. There were perhaps a dozen tables, almost all booths framed by rich burgundy velvet curtains. Italian glass chandeliers hung over each table, creating a mosaic of glittering light within each cozy booth.
They were seated at a table in the far corner away from the other guests. No one had paid them any attention when they arrived and Charlotte was happy to be off her feet, tucked into their booth, the cushion covered in rich, midnight-blue brocade with hints of gold thread, and yet her pulse raced and butterflies filled her. She couldn’t remember when she’d last felt so worried. She hadn’t been nervous when she’d arrived in Florence this morning, but ever since leaving Brando’s house, she’d struggled. “I didn’t think this would be easy,” she said bluntly, “but at the same time, I didn’t think it would be quite so difficult.”
“Have I been difficult?”
“No. You haven’t. But at the same time, I’m rattled.”
“What is troubling you?”
She didn’t know how to put her worries into words. She didn’t know how to explain her feelings. They weren’t making sense to her. How could they make sense to him?
She hadn’t come to Italy expecting a declaration of love from Brando. She hadn’t come imagining that he would even want to be part of her future. They’d had a one-night stand, and that was really all it was, and she’d had realistic expectations about what he’d say and do. And yet for some reason, seeing Louisa at the front door in that sheer negligee had maddened a small part of her brain, torturing her with a jealousy she couldn’t, shouldn’t, feel. There was no relationship between her and Brando, and certainly no commitment, or feelings of any kind, so why should remembering Louisa make her feel heartsick, and anxious, and angry?
And why should remembering Brando appearing in the salon, handsome and sophisticated and oh, so very calm, make Charlotte feel almost impotent with need, and pain?
That was the part that baffled her.
Why had she been so upset today?
Why did she feel cheated?
How could she possibly feel resentful, and played, when Brando wasn’t even hers?
“I can’t read your mind, cara. You’ll have to try to use words,” he said.
“It’s ridiculous. You’ll think I’m ridiculous—”
“I won’t.”
“No,” she corrected, “you will, because I find myself ridiculous right now.” She fiddled with the trio of stemware on the table, adjusting the glasses, forming them into a line. “I’m usually incredibly confident, and yet I’ve been rattled by your girlfriend Louisa.” Charlotte glanced at Brando and shrugged. “I’m sorry. It sounds petty—”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re pregnant and feeling quite alone—”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’m excited about the baby. But seeing Louisa at your door made me realize how weird this really is. I should have called you first. I shouldn’t have just shown up.”
“It’s fine.”
“Louisa must be upset.”
“She doesn’t know. I haven’t said anything to her.”
“That makes sense, especially as you need to wait for results from the DNA test.”
“I’m certain the results will show I’m the father.”
She nodded. “They will.” She hesitated. “And then you’ll tell her?”
“No one needs to know anything, not right now.”
She sighed with relief and felt some of her tension knotting her shoulders ease. “Thank you. I’m not ready for the world to know.”
“I agree.”
Charlotte then had another troubling thought. “But Brando, if you keep the information from her, it’s going to cause trouble, it has to.”
“Louisa and I are having f
un. It’s not a serious relationship.”
“Do you ever have serious relationships?”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really want to discuss my relationship history tonight?”
Charlotte grimaced. “No. I’m quite sure that’s more than I could handle.”
Brando laughed softly, the sound low and husky. “Before we put the subject of Louisa behind us, let me just reiterate that Louisa is lovely and fun, but we’re not serious, or exclusive.
“You and me being here, having dinner together, isn’t problematic, nor is it deceptive. We’re not going behind Louisa’s back. She knows I’m out with you tonight, just as I know she’s with others tonight. So, you don’t need to worry about her, or fear that you’re stepping on toes.”
“And yet she opened your front door almost naked.”
“She’s a bit of an exhibitionist. She enjoys the attention. Don’t let her overly upset you. You’ve come a long way to meet with me and address the issue of co-parenting—”
“Co-parenting? Is that what you’re thinking?”
“I’m the father.”
Charlotte’s chest squeezed. Her pulse began to race. Panic set in. “What if you’re not?”
He gave her a look that made her stomach somersault.
“You are,” she said lowly, “but I didn’t think...didn’t assume...” She couldn’t finish the thought. She felt sick. Her limbs felt cold. She struggled to find her center and breathe. Keep calm, keep calm, keep calm. “You’re a bachelor, living the bachelor lifestyle.”
“You’re single, as well.”
“But I’m not dating others, and not sleeping around—” She stared at him horrified, and yet unable to take the words back. “What I mean is, we live really far apart. It’s not as if we can fly a baby back and forth across the Atlantic.”
He said nothing, but she felt the weight of her words between them as well as the accusation.
He was still sleeping with others. She was upset that he was sleeping with others. She hadn’t even phrased it as nicely as that. She’d made him sound like a tomcat.
