Bedded for Passion, Purchased for Pregnancy

by Carol Marinelli

  ‘It’s mineral water,’ Lydia assured a bemused Emma as she arranged the jug with precision. ‘Should I put out a little snack for him?’ she worried. ‘Is there anything else you can think of?’

  ‘A box of tissues?’ Emma nudged her mother, making Lydia giggle again. ‘Legend has it he can’t go twelve hours!’

  But even if she could make her mother laugh and relax just a touch, as she stared out at the bay Emma felt her throat tighten when she heard a helicopter approach and knew it was him. As comfortably off as her parents and their friends might be, only the D’Amilos would arrive for a party in a helicopter. She watched it hover for a moment, could see the marquee flapping, the grass flattened by the whirring blades, and then…

  She knew she was holding her breath, because the window had stopped misting over, and she knew as one well-shod foot appeared, followed by an impossibly long leg, that it was him.

  The view only improved from that point.

  Zarios helped his father down, then, having ducked under the blades, they strolled across the lawn, too used to their mode of travel to give the helicopter even a backward glance as it lifted off into the sunset.

  He was wearing black dress pants and a fitted white shirt, and like a prize thoroughbred being paraded before the race he had a restless energy, a glossy, groomed appearance, that had Emma’s stomach fold in on itself as he tossed his head back and laughed at something his father said. For just a moment, an embarrassing twinge, Emma was sure he saw her. Those black eyes had glanced up as if he knew he was being watched, and Emma stepped quickly back, as if burnt.

  ‘Emma!’ She could hear her mother’s shrill summons and, taking a deep breath, she steadied herself. ‘They’re here! An hour early and they’re here!’

  ‘Questi sono i miei buoni amici.’ As they walked across the lawn, again his father reminded him how important these people were to him.

  ‘You believe too much of what you read!’ Zarios laughed. ‘I am capable of behaving occasionally. Anyway, I fear it will be slim pickings at a sixtieth birthday bash, Pa!’

  ‘Zarios…’ Rocco was serious. It had seemed like a good idea for him to bring Zarios. Fresh out of a relationship, Zarios had that gleam in his roving eye that spelt danger—and if Rocco could avert scandal at this precarious time, then he would. Ah, but had it been wise to bring him here? On the short flight over Rocco had remembered the wedding, the instant attraction that had flared between his son and Emma Hayes. He had warned Zarios off that night—and thankfully the warning had been heeded. But Zarios was six years older now, and way past taking his father’s advice. ‘You remember their daughter, Emma?’

  ‘The good-looking blonde?’ A smile flickered across his face in instant recall. Things were maybe looking up for tonight after all. ‘Actually, I do.’

  ‘She’s grown into a very attractive woman…’

  ‘Splendid!’

  ‘Attesa!’ Rocco called for his son to slow down, pulling out his handkerchief and mopping his brow.

  ‘Are you okay, Pa?’

  ‘A little chest pain…’ Rocco took a pill from a little silver box and placed it under his tongue. ‘Nothing I am not used to.’ He did have chest pain—perhaps not enough to merit taking a pill, but if the sympathy card would help Rocco was only too willing to play it. ‘You know I think the world of Lydia, but you know how she loves to spend—and, well, it would seem that Emma has the same tendency…’

  ‘It is fortunate I am rich then, no?’ Zarios joked, but his father wasn’t smiling.

  ‘Eric is worried…’ It was only a small lie, Rocco consoled himself. In fact he hadn’t lied, he told himself, just implied…Surely it was better to put Zarios off now, than face Eric after his son had broken his daughter’s heart?

  And he would, Rocco thought wearily, mopping his forehead again before folding his handkerchief and putting it back in his pocket. Zarios would break her heart.

  ‘Don’t get involved with her, Zarios.’ Rocco resumed his walking. ‘It would be far too messy.’

  ‘You’re early!’ Eric, as laid-back as his wife was neurotic, didn’t worry about things like guestrooms and final layers of lipgloss, instead he was simply delighted as Rocco came through the door, and hugged and embraced his lifelong friend in the effusive Italian way. Zarios stood slightly back.

  ‘We wanted some time with you before the other guests arrived.’ Rocco beamed, offering Eric a lavishly wrapped gift. ‘Hide that and open it tomorrow.’

  ‘The invitation said no gifts!’ Lydia scolded, but she was clearly delighted that he had. ‘Zarios—we’re thrilled that you came.’

  ‘It is good to be here.’

  His accent was still rich, his voice low and deep, and Emma could feel the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on end as she came down the stairs, attempting to maintain her distant and aloof look, watching as he kissed her mother on both cheeks and then did the same with her father. His black eyes met hers.

  ‘Emma. It’s been a long time.’ His smile was guarded, and in a split second his eyes took in the changes. The short cut she had once worn had long since grown out, and her hair now hung in a heavy blonde curtain over her shoulders. Her once skinny, overactive body had softened and filled out since then, too, and her feminine curves were enhanced by the soft drape of her dress—a dress that swished around her slender legs as she moved. Zarios was surprisingly grateful for his father’s warning, because without it the night might have taken a rather different direction.

  She had always been pretty, but she was stunning now!

  ‘It has been a long time.’ She walked down the last two steps and hovered on the bottom one, but still he had to bend his head to kiss her on the cheeks. As he did so, he smelt her—again. His body flared in surprised recognition as his lips dusted her cheeks. How nice it would be, Zarios thought wildly, to give her the kiss he had denied her so many years ago.

  Had denied himself.

  The others moved forward, leaving them alone for just a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

  ‘You are looking well.’ He frowned slightly. ‘How long has it been since we’ve seen each other?’

  ‘A few years?’ Emma shrugged, refusing to acknowledge she knew the exact length of time, down to the month! ‘Four—maybe five?’

  ‘It’s not that long…’ Zarios shook his head as they headed through to the lounge. ‘It was at your brother’s wedding.’

  ‘That was five years ago…’ Emma smiled. ‘Actually, it was six!’

  ‘Come through,’ Lydia scolded. ‘Emma, get our guests a drink.’

  At that moment one of the hired help arrived with a hastily filled tray of champagne. Emma grabbed one for herself before Lydia shooed her away.

  ‘A real drink!’ Lydia hissed to Emma out of the side of her mouth.

  ‘Whisky?’ Emma checked. That was what Rocco always had when he came over. ‘And a small dash of water?’

  ‘She has a good memory.’ Rocco beamed.

  ‘Zarios?’ Emma deliberately forced herself to look him in the eye. ‘What would you like?’ Black eyes held hers, and she could have sworn there was just a fraction of innuendo in the pause that went on for just a beat too long. The torch she had carried for him over the years flared brightly as his eyes held hers, no matter how she tried to douse it.

  ‘Whisky.’ He added no please or thank you to his order. ‘No water.’

  And as easily as if he’d flicked a switch she was lost.

  Pouring the golden liquid, she could see her hand was shaking. She hadn’t exaggerated the memory of him. He was as lethal and as potently sexy as he had been all those years ago—and as arrogant and rude, Emma reminded herself. Handing him his glass, trying and failing not to notice the brush of his fingers against hers, she crossed the room and sat on the sofa, as far away from him as possible.

  The cat soon found the mouse.

  He sat beside her, just a tiny bit too close for her liking. There was no contact, none at all,
but she could feel the heat from his body, feel the weight of him, the ancient springs in the leather couch tilting her just a fraction towards him.

  He invaded her space—but perhaps that was his trick. No one watching could testify to intrusion; you had to be beside him, or looking at him, to feel it. Taking a sip of her champagne, she wished she had chosen whisky, too—wished for something, anything, strong enough to douse the nerves that were leaping like salmon in her chest.

  ‘I take it Jake and his wife will be coming tonight?’

  ‘Just Jake.’ Emma gave a tight smile.

  ‘They have twins now, don’t they?’ Zarios checked, watching her closely, seeing the brittle smile on her face slip into a more relaxed one as she described her niece and nephew.

  ‘Harriet and Connor—they’ll be three in a few weeks’ time.’ On cue her brother arrived, bustling into the room.

  ‘Darling!’ Lydia practically fell on to her son’s neck, the lateness of his arrival immediately forgiven. ‘It’s so good to see you.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry…’ Jake beamed. ‘The traffic was an absolute nightmare.’

  ‘On a Saturday?’ Emma couldn’t help herself.

  ‘The football’s on!’ Lydia beamed. ‘The city’s hell around this time—it’s just wonderful you made it, darling. You did remember the pastries for tomorrow…?’

  There was a tiny, appalling pause as Jake’s fixed smile slipped just a fraction, his frantic eyes darting to his sister. Lydia’s mouth opened in horror mid-sentence. Emma was almost tempted not to intervene, to refuse to save the day yet again for her brother and let them see that the one thing, the one thing he had been asked to contribute, had proved too much for him. But, as Jake well knew, she couldn’t do that to her parents.

  ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you, Mum—the bakers rang to confirm Jake’s order. They’ll be here first thing.’

  ‘Oh, Emma!’ her mother snapped. ‘You could have let me know!’

  ‘Where is Beth?’ Rocco frowned, voicing the question Lydia had clearly hoped he wouldn’t. ‘And where are the twins? I was looking forward to seeing them again.’

  ‘Tonight’s for adults only’ Lydia beamed again, but there was a rigid set to her lips.

  ‘Why?’ Rocco had been single too long, and missed the warning signs flashing from Lydia’s eyes to simply drop it. ‘Children are part of the family…they should be here…’

  Surprisingly, it was Zarios who saved the day.

  ‘Oh, come on, Pa…’ Zarios gave a thin smile, and Emma was sure there was just a flash of contempt as he halted his father—could hear the slight drip of sarcasm in his expansive deep voice. ‘Surely you remember how hard it is settling little ones to bed at a family function—and all those things you have to remember to bring?’

  ‘Absolutely!’ Lydia nodded furiously. ‘We’ll see the twins next weekend—oh, and Beth, of course…’

  ‘Don’t worry.’ Zarios gave Emma a tight smile as the conversation drifted on. ‘My father is a master of the “don’t do as I do, do as I say” school of thought.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He took a slug of his whisky before concluding, ‘It does not matter.’

  Oh, but clearly it did!

  He dismissed her frown with a shrug. ‘It is strange seeing my father in this setting—looking forward to seeing little children and catching up with friends. Usually the only time I socialise with my father is at work events…’

  ‘And family—’

  ‘No.’ He cut her off, and she winced at her own insensitivity—her parents were Rocco’s family. ‘It is strange to see him amongst a family.’

  She had always known that once his mother had left Zarios had been raised at a boarding school; her mother had told her how hard poor Rocco had had to work, jetting between the two countries to keep up with the fees, and how devastated poor Rocco had been when sometimes he couldn’t get back to see Zarios.

  Only then did it dawn on Emma—really dawn on her—that, as difficult as it might have been for poor Rocco, how much harder it must have been on his son.

  CHAPTER TWO

  STILL, Zarios didn’t appear to be dwelling on it.

  If he was here under sufferance he didn’t show it—laughing at Eric’s jokes, and making Lydia blush at every turn with his smouldering smile.

  Suddenly the hour had arrived, and the small party moved into the marquee as the band started playing and the guest numbers began rapidly multiplying. Zarios was quickly cornered by Cindy, a good-looking blonde who was a good friend of her mother’s. Emma knew she had to be nudging fifty, but years of botox and bulimia were serving her well tonight. Well, good luck, Emma thought, actually glad of the reprieve.

  Zarios unsettled her.

  Unsettled each fibre of her being.

  Every flicker of his five-star reputation was merited. The question as to how any woman could dismiss such a heartbreak reputation had, for Emma, been well and truly answered—up close he was intoxicating.

  Emma suppressed a smile as Cindy laughed a little too loudly at something he said, her hand resting on his arm as she spoke intently—she was welcome to him.

  ‘Can I talk to you later, Emma?’ Jake came over, waving to a couple of geriatric aunts and smiling as if for cameras—just as he always did.

  ‘Sure!’

  ‘Away from everyone…’ he added, and Emma’s heart sank.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Don’t be like that.’ Jake sighed.

  ‘Are you going to pay me for the pastries?’ If she sounded petty, it was with good reason. If Jake paid her maybe there would be nothing to worry about—maybe she was being surly for no reason.

  She truly hoped that was the case.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Jake, it was the one thing Mum asked you to organise. What if I hadn’t ordered them?’

  ‘But you did!’ Emma could have sworn there was a belligerent tone to his voice, but he quickly checked it. ‘Here…’ He pulled out his wallet and thrust her some notes. ‘Thanks for organising them. I’ll catch up with you later.’

  ‘Can I ask what it’s about?’

  ‘Not here, okay?’

  Not here, where everyone might find out that you’re less than perfect, Emma thought savagely. But of course she didn’t say it, just gave him a nod and bit hard on her lip, close to tears all of a sudden as Jake walked off.

  ‘Jake.’ Zarios raised his eyebrows in greeting as Jake brushed past, he’d seen the exchange and Jake must know it. The polite thing to do would be to ignore it, but Zarios couldn’t be bothered with being polite. Shrugging off Cindy, he offered a friendly enquiry as Jake approached. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘All good!’ Jake grinned, but his cheeks were red, his eyes following Zarios’s gaze to his sister. ‘Just family stuff. You know…’

  ‘Not really,’ Zarios answered.

  ‘Just…’ Both men stood watching as Emma slipped the money into her purse. ‘Well, it’s difficult for Emma. You help out when you can, you know?’

  Yes, Zarios knew—and he knew now he should leave well alone. But his curiosity was well and truly piqued, and when a coo of delighted glee swept around the party as waiters and waitresses walked through with silver trays laden with finger food Zarios found himself making his way back to Emma.

  ‘You’re looking worried.’

  Emma forced a rapid smile. ‘I’ve no idea what my mother’s cooked up for tonight.’

  ‘Well, she’s surpassed herself.’

  Knowing how important keeping up appearances was for her mother, Emma was relieved to hear it. Glancing at the tray a waitress offered, she expected the usual variation on a theme. But a real smile formed on her full lips as she realised that for the first time, where the politics of entertaining were concerned, had listened to her own heart.

  ‘Oh!’ Emma blinked at the tray laden with tiny little sandwiches. The bread as thin and as light as butterfly wings, yet it was crammed with th
e strangest of filling choices for such an important function.

  Jam.

  Vegemite.

  Salami.

  Prosciutto.

  All beautifully presented, of course, but as she bit into them the familiar flavours brought a gurgle of laughter to Emma’s lips. She got the joke.

  ‘Your father and mine used to swap their school lunches.’ Zarios grinned, too. ‘I can remember my father telling me the first time he tasted your father’s sandwiches. He thought they were the most disgusting thing he had ever tasted—and your father thought the same of his. Within two weeks they were trading lunches.’

  ‘My dad insists he was the first Australian to really appreciate a sundried tomato—he was eating them daily long before they were popular.’

  ‘He was,’ Zarios agreed. ‘He was also a friend to my father when no one else was. He’s a good man.’

  ‘He is.’ Emma smiled. ‘Which is why you’ll have to excuse me. I ought to socialise…’

  ‘You are.’

  ‘I mean…’ Emma was flustered ‘…with aunts and things…’

  ‘I’m sure your father would rather you looked after a guest who doesn’t know anyone…’

  How dangerous was that smile, just curving on the edge of his full mouth?

  ‘It’s not fair to leave me on my own.’

  ‘I’m sure Cindy would be delighted to keep you company!’ Ouch! Emma could have kicked herself for letting him know that she’d noticed.

  ‘Cindy only wants me for my body!’ He leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. Cool and confident Emma was not. Her face burned at the near contact, her toes curling in her sandals at the feel of his breath on her ear. ‘And I will not let myself be used!’

  ‘As if.’ Emma laughed, jerking her head back, but the laugh came out too shrill. The effect of him so close was devastating.

  ‘Anyway, I am under strict instructions to behave tonight…’ Again he lowered his head—just as he had a moment ago, just as he had six years ago—and again her body demanded a kiss. ‘I think Cindy has an issue with her age…’ His Italian accent was thick, his words curious rather than mocking. ‘Which puts me off.’