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r hair away from her eyes.
“I didn’t mean to sleep so late.”
“No, sweetheart, it isn’t late at all. The sun’s barely up. I just—I just couldn’t sleep anymore.”
“Jet lag,” she said, with a little smile.
“Si,” he said, because that was easier than explaining what had driven him from the bed.
And what had now brought him back to it.
“Go back to sleep, cara. You need your rest.”
“No. No, I’m—I’m—” She went white. “Oh. Oh…”
She shot from the bed so quickly that he had only risen to his feet by the time she slammed the bathroom door after her.
“Go away,” she gasped when he flung it open, and then she bent over the commode and retched.
Nicolo’s heart turned over. He cupped her shoulders, steadied her until the spasm passed. Then he turned her in his arms, despite her protests.
“I will take you back to bed,” he said firmly. “And you will stay there until the doctor arrives.”
“I’m not sick. This is just a thing that happens to some women when they’re pregnant.” She looked up with a shaky smile. “I’ll be fine once I wash up. You’ll see.”
She was right about the vomiting. He knew that much. He also knew that he’d been terrified, seeing her suffer.
“Nicolo. Please. Go away and let me clean up.”
Aimee watched him consider the situation and wondered if this was how he looked in his office, so dark, determined and brooding. Finally he nodded curtly, took a new toothbrush from a drawer in the vanity, showed her where the towels were, the comb, the hairbrush….
“Nicolo,” Aimee said gently. “I’ll find everything on my own. I promise.”
She had to swear she would call him if she felt ill, that she wouldn’t lock the door so he could reach her quickly if necessary.
Finally she was alone.
She showered. Washed her hair, brushed her teeth, wrapped herself in a huge towel….
And tried not to think about the man waiting in the next room.
Her husband.
She had slept in his arms all night. Close to him. Warmed by him. Comforted by his presence.
She’d also been awake when he’d awakened this morning.
She’d wanted to tell him that, but she’d been mortified to find herself draped half over him. Besides, what did you say to your husband when you didn’t know him?
Good morning didn’t seem to cut it.
Especially when what you really wanted to do—what you really wanted was not to say a word but to clasp his face, bring his mouth to yours, kiss him and tell him that you’d changed your mind, you didn’t want to be his wife in name only….
Aimee shut her eyes. Took a deep breath. Opened the door. With luck, Nicolo would have dressed and gone by now….
He hadn’t.
He was standing in the middle of the room, bare-chested, arms folded, eyes almost black as he looked at her.
