Page 17 of The Housekeeper's One-Night Baby
Suddenly Lizzie felt shy about accepting this particular accolade, as if the only thing she’d been good at was going to come over as pretty feeble in his high-octane world. ‘Only a very amateur one,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve never been to art school. But I enjoy dabbling.’
‘What do you paint?’
‘Portraits, mostly. Dog portraits,’ she elaborated, in response to the sudden elevation of his brows.
‘Dog portraits?’ he elucidated slowly.
‘There’s no need to look like that. It’s a growing trend for people to want a picture of their beloved pooch to keep for posterity. I like to meet the dog to get a sense of them but mostly work from photos. A bundle of fur curled up in a basket, or bounding across a field, chasing a ball.’
‘Fascinating,’ he said faintly, lifting a hand to stem her flow, as his interest in the painting of animals had now been exhausted. ‘But we really ought to concentrate on what you’re going to do in the evenings, while you’re here.’
‘I’m quite happy to read or watch telly.’
‘I’m sure you are.’ His cell phone started to ring but he switched it to silent. ‘I have a busy diary, especially at this time of year. I receive lots of invitations and I see no reason why you shouldn’t come along with me. Much better than staying home alone all the time, don’t you think?’
Lizzie chewed on her lip, wondering if she could cope with accompanying him to glitzy events. But he did have a point. Wouldn’t she drive herself mad if she was left staring at the walls, like a thrift-store princess in a gilded tower? ‘Okay,’ she said casually. ‘I can probably cope with being your plus one.’
‘Please don’t feel you have to overdose on gratitude.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t.’
His gaze raked over her. ‘You’ll need some new clothes—’
‘Nice, but not necessary,’ she said tightly. ‘I’ve got enough to see me through. Honestly. You’ve already been more than generous.’
‘Poor but proud is an undeniably attractive combination in a woman, Lizzie,’ he mused, his lips curving as he leaned towards her, as if to emphasise the point. ‘Particularly when the sentiment appears genuine.’
Lizzie held her breath and her heart pounded. He was soclose. So ridiculously and deliciously close.
His black eyes gleamed as he readjusted his position. ‘But in this case, I’m afraid it will work against you. This is a wealthy city and the people I mix with are wealthier than most. If you don’t look as if you fit in, you will feel even more of an outsider than you probably already do.’
‘Wow.’ She tried to lash out with sarcasm, aware that she reallyhadwanted him to kiss her. ‘You reallyareselling New York to me.’
‘There’s something else, too.’ His eyes narrowed as he studied her. ‘You’re pregnant and you’re living in my hotel suite.’ There was a pause. ‘And since I’m a man who is notoriously averse to sharing his space...people are bound to speculate.’
‘And you’re worried they’re going to work it out for themselves?’
‘I don’t think you’d need to be a genius to make the obvious connection, do you? Which is why I think we should pre-empt the inevitable gossip and put it out there that it is...’ there was a pause ‘...my child.’
Lizzie told herself that the possessive-sounding phrase didn’t actuallymeananything, but that wasn’t true because it meant something to her, and she prayed her face didn’t give anything away as she attempted to quash the sudden fierce aching in her heart. Just as she tried to block out the unhelpful image which his words had produced. Of a tiny black-haired baby, nestling against the bare chest of his daddy, just like in those fantasies she used to have about him before she’d taught herself they were too dangerous. She wondered what sort of father he might make, and wasn’t there part of her which longed to find out? But he had never wanted a baby, she reminded herself.
He spelled that out for you in cruel, but helpfully candid words—he doesn’t want to play happy families.
With an effort, she dragged her thoughts back to what he was saying. ‘And then what?’ she persisted, continuing on her mission to stick to the facts—no matter how painful. ‘How are you planning to cope with the inevitable questions which will arise?’
‘Why should there be any questions? We’ll have told them everything they need to know.’
At this, she actually laughed. ‘I think that’s a bit naïve, Niccolò.’
Ebony eyes bored into her. ‘Youare accusingmeof naivety?’
She shrugged. ‘People—especially women—will be desperate to hear the details about how we met and why you’re about to become a father after all this time—especially since you’re a self-confessed commitment-phobe. So, do we tell them it was a hook-up which started in the broom cupboard, or pretend our liaison lasted longer than a single night?’
His eyes narrowed into obsidian shards. ‘Neither,’ he answered silkily. ‘If pressed, we say it was a short-lived affair which was over almost before it began and we are handling the outcome like two mature adults.’ His lips pressed together in a cynical smile. ‘A story is easy to kill with the truth.’
And the truth could kill, too, Lizzie thought, her heart clenching. It could destroy her foolish little hopes with a single, well-aimed blow.It was over almost before it began.His words, not hers. And they hurt. Why did they hurt so much?
‘Fine,’ she said flatly.
