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And what was even more disconcerting was the ease with which he’d slipped into something that felt extremely domestic. Coming home to Lola each night, checking on her. Listening to Gypsy get up to soothe her if she woke during the night. Feeling the bed dip as she got back in and aching to just pull her close to him and make love to her until he could satisfy himself that what had happened between them had been a figment of his imagination.

He had a sinking feeling, as he watched her now and felt the familiar throb of desire, that it would prove to be anything but. He’d told her arrogantly that he’d wait for her to come to him, confident that she’d be mindless with desire for him, but he’d been the one to lose control that morning. Vulnerability clawed upwards again. He’d control this desire, wait until he knew more about the mother of his child. Make her want him as badly as he wanted her. Space. That was what he would have to impose—even if it killed him.

Lola squealed happily as Rico threw her in the air again, only to catch her in safe hands just before she touched the glittering azure water of the pool, which was half-indoors, half-outdoors. Rico had explained that this was the winter pool and was heated. Gypsy had seen another idyllic outdoor pool from the terrace where they’d had breakfast that morning.

‘Again!’ Lola screeched ecstatically, her favourite new word, which she’d picked up from Beatriz. Gypsy stifled a wry smile to see that Rico was fast discovering the perils of an indefatigable toddler who’d just discovered an exciting game and the power of language.

Her heart clenched to see Lola so happy in this environment—especially when she thought of their less than salubrious home in London and felt the familiar guilt. There, Lola had been lucky to get a go on the one nonmangled swing in the bleak park. Here…Gypsy sighed as she looked around from the seat she sat on. Here was paradise.

They’d landed in Athens late last night and transferred straight onto a smaller plane, which had borne them across southern Greece to the island of Zakynthos. In the surprisingly cool night air Rico had ushered them into a Jeep and had driven them himself to his villa, which was near the private airfield.

Gypsy had been too exhausted to take much notice of their surroundings last night, and had been barely aware of the friendly housekeeper Rico had introduced as Agneta. But she had been disturbingly aware of a new coolness from Rico. Gone were the hot and intent looks, but she was determined not to let it bother her. Rico was undoubtedly trying to unsettle her again.

This morning, when she’d carried Lola down to breakfast, she’d been in awe at the beauty of the simple yet expansive villa unfolding around her. Everything was bright and airy, with huge glass windows showcasing the fabulous views of the Mediterranean.

Agneta had met them with a wide smile and led them to where Rico was reading a paper and eating breakfast on a shaded terrace. Gypsy had been surprised, once again, that he was there and hadn’t already left to go to work. She’d also been more than bemused to see a state-of-the-art highchair waiting for Lola, and she’d noticed the discreet child-proofing that had been done throughout the villa.

Rico had stood when they’d arrived, and enquired, ‘I trust you slept well?’

Gypsy had just nodded and garbled, ‘Yes, thank you. Our rooms are most comfortable.’ Which was a huge understatement. She didn’t want to admit that she’d actually missed Rico’s presence in the room last night—in the bed. Even though she’d told herself staunchly that she’d been relieved to be shown to a suite of rooms of her own.

There was a dressing room, bathroom and sitting room. Not to mention the huge bedroom, with a fourposter bed complete with diaphanous muslin curtains drawn back. And Agneta had shown her into an equally generous ante-room which had been set up as a nursery for Lola. Gypsy had had to swallow an emotional lump, and had put it down to tiredness.

But that same lump was threatening again now, as she watched Rico and Lola frolic in the water, both sets of identical grey eyes smiling. So she knew it had nothing to do with tiredness. With each day that passed Lola was getting more and more attached to Rico. She went into his arms with no hesitation, and was already using him as someone to go to when she didn’t want to do something Gypsy wanted her to do.

With that revelation making her feel uncomfortable and crabby, not to mention the far too provocative sight of a half-naked Rico, she approached the side of the pool with a towel, indicating that Lola should get out.

‘She’ll be impossible to put down

for a nap after lunch if she gets too excited now.’

Those two sets of grey eyes turned to her, and Gypsy felt inordinately petty. But even though Rico’s eyes flashed he waded to the edge of the pool and handed Lola over. Predictably, she began to protest at having her game cut short.

He drew himself out in one fluid motion which made Gypsy’s breath hitch. She avoided looking at where the water sluiced off his body. She could only be thankful that he wore board shorts and not something more insubstantial.

‘I should go into Athens for a few hours to tend to business. Go ahead and have dinner without me. I’ll probably be late.’

Gypsy barely looked up, too afraid of what she might see. She had an awful prickling feeling that she’d hurt him.

As Rico sat in his car in the bumper-to-bumper traffic in central Athens his suit chafed, and he longed to rip off his tie and open his shirt. He cursed himself. He’d always loved coming back to Athens, and the anticipation of work, of seeing his mistress or the prospect of taking a new one. But that didn’t appeal any more. All he could think about was the reproach in Gypsy’s eyes as she’d taken Lola from him at the pool and the feeling that he’d done something wrong. And also how much he’d prefer to be there, and not here.

He cursed himself again for his weakness. The child was making him soft, and frustrated desire was clouding his brain—that was all. He cursed his vow to exercise restraint and let a new sense of anticipation fire through him as he thought of grilling his employees to see what else they’d found out about Gypsy.

By the end of their first week living at the villa Gypsy knew her nerves were wrought tight. Rico was there every morning, to greet them and have breakfast. He’d play with Lola for a while, and then disappear in a helicopter to go to Athens and work. Most evenings he’d make it back for dinner and they’d have stilted conversation—stilted because every time Rico tried to navigate into more personal waters Gypsy clammed up.

She’d heard the helicopter some time ago, and now waited with her heart thumping unevenly for Rico to appear for dinner.

When he did, striding into the room as silently as a panther, he took her breath away—as always. He’d obviously just showered and changed. His hair was still damp, slicked back from his high forehead. The dark shirt and faded jeans made her think of that night she’d seen him in the club for the first time.

She gulped and looked away, thankful for Agneta’s presence as she came in with the first course. Rico asked after Lola, and Gypsy told him that they’d taken a drive to a nearby beach and had a picnic. On their first day he’d given her the keys to a Jeep, telling her it was hers to use.

He finished his starter before her and sat back, appraising her with those unreadable silver eyes.

Gypsy felt more and more hot, wishing she’d put on something lighter than a cotton jumper and a pair of jeans. ‘What is it?’ she finally asked. ‘Have I got something on my face?’

Rico shook his head, and then smiled, causing Gypsy to feel momentarily winded. He reached out a long arm and his fingers took a strand of her hair, letting it slip between them. His eyes met hers. ‘Who made you believe you should straighten your hair?’

His touch was affecting her far too much. Gypsy pulled her head away and Rico finally let go. She pushed her unfinished starter away, her appetite gone.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
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