by Lynne Graham
Retrieving her phone from the bag, Lottie registered the seven missed calls. ‘I was driving, remember? Surely you know you shouldn’t use your phone when you are driving?’
She raised her eyebrows at him, all too aware, but not caring in the least, that she was seriously winding him up.
‘So, where is this shopping?’ Not that it mattered. But, needing the distraction, Rafael looked around and could see no evidence of it.
‘Here.’
Their eyes met over the chemist’s bag that Lottie slowly withdrew from her handbag and the world around them suddenly skidded to a halt.
‘Ah. I see.’
Silence hung heavily between them.
‘You are going to do it now?’ His voice seemed to come from a long way away, his eyes remaining fixed on the unremarkable bag.
Lottie nodded. ‘I guess so.’ She gave a throwaway laugh. ‘Now’s as good a time as any.’
There was another brief silence.
‘Buono.’
Brisk now, businesslike, Rafael took a step towards her and attempted to put an arm around her shoulder. But Lottie refused to respond and it ended up more like a manly pat on the back. Awkwardness pushed them apart again.
‘Come on, then.’ Clearing his throat, he tried again. ‘Let’s do this.’
* * *
Rafael was standing by the window, his back to her, when Lottie emerged from the bathroom. She was delicately holding the tester stick in front of her, as if it was made of plutonium, or something capable of destroying their lives.
‘How long?’ Turning, Rafael looked at her, then at it, the catch in his voice betraying his tension along with his shoulders, which were hitched unnaturally high.
‘It says up to three minutes.’
Lottie could barely speak. Sinking down on the bed, she tried to regulate her breathing—to breathe at all, in fact. She felt dizzy, her hands shaky and clammy as they gripped the plastic time bomb.
Crossing over to the bed, Rafael gently took the tester stick from her and placed it face-down on the table. He squatted beside her, taking her hands between his own, his warm strength pumping into her.
‘I want to say something to you, Lottie.’
Lottie didn’t want to hear it—not now, not ever, actually. She couldn’t face any more emotional trauma. This waiting was threatening to kill her, literally. She realised she couldn’t breathe any more and the room was starting to spin.
‘Lottie.’ Giving her hands a shake, Rafael halted her panic attack enough to make her suck in a breath and look at him. ‘I want to say thank you for doing this.’
‘There’s no need...’
‘Yes—yes, there is. Whatever the outcome, I truly appreciate that you were prepared to at least try to give me my last chance of being a father.’
Why was he talking like this? As if he already knew the result was going to be negative? He who had always been so convinced that this time it would work. Did he know something she didn’t?
Lottie looked at him with fear in her eyes.
‘I know this is the last thing you expected when I asked you to come to Palazzo Monterrato. That you actually thought you had come to sign divorce papers.’ A tightness pulled at the corners of his mouth as he spoke. ‘And if there is no baby you will, of course, have your wish. I will put divorce proceedings into place straight away and you will have your freedom. But either way I want you to know you have my heartfelt thanks.’
Well, thanks to that little speech Lottie now felt a whole lot worse. As she looked into the shadowed depths of his eyes she wondered yet again how everything between them had managed to go so horribly wrong. How something that had started with such love and passion and hope and excitement had ended up with her sitting here, on the edge of a bed, waiting to find out if she was pregnant by a man who didn’t love her, in the hope of having a child that they would never be able to parent together. Not in the true sense of the word, anyway.
The last thing she wanted was his heartfelt thanks or, worse still, her freedom. Suddenly she knew what she wanted him to say more than anything in the world. She wanted him to say that everything would be all right—that no matter whether she was pregnant or not he loved her and that was enough. That they could build a future together, be a couple, have a happy life, grow old together.
She forced out a slow, deliberate breath. The thought that that thing, just inches away from her, held not only her fate but also her heart in its little plastic window was almost more than she could bear.
Speech done, Rafael released her hands and stood up. Then, looking at his watch, he raised his eyebrows at her.
‘No.’ Lottie’s hands were trembling so badly she couldn’t have picked it up if she’d tried. Her stomach was heaving as if she was going to be sick. ‘I can’t do it.’
‘You want me to?’
Lottie nodded, watching in horrified slow motion as his arm stretched across to pick up the tester stick, registering the rolled-up sleeve, the tanned forearm, the strong, purposeful hand raising it, turning it over. Then she screwed her eyes shut.
For a second there was nothing but blind silence.
‘Well?’ She heard her unrecognisable voice squeak the question.
Still nothing.
She opened her eyes. There was Rafael, still in front of her, still holding the tester stick in his hand. His expression was—what? Blank? Stunned? With a sickening plummet of dread, Lottie suddenly realised that his eyes were shining with the gleam of tears.
Oh, God. Oh, no.
‘It’s positive, Lottie.’ His gaze swept from the stick in his hand to her incredulous face, his own face a picture of wonder and awe. ‘We are going to have a baby.’
* * *
The restaurant was full, couples at every table, with candles and roses and love in the air. As they were shown to their table by a deferential waiter Lottie realised what day it was: San Valentino—Valentine’s Day. And just for tonight Lottie was going to let herself join in, soak up the atmosphere, be part of it. She was with the most handsome man in the restaurant, probably on the planet, as several female glances following their entrance confirmed, she was in the most euphoric bubble of happiness, and she was pregnant.
Yes, sirree, definitely pregnant. Both the tester kits she had bought had proved positive, and one of them was still nestling unhygienically in her handbag—as if throwing it away might suddenly make her unpregnant again.
She had never seen Rafael looking like this before. An inner happiness was shining through him, radiating from him. At first glance a stranger might not have noticed the difference, just seen the same stunningly handsome man as before—it wasn’t as if he was grinning from ear to ear or slapping people on the back and buying them drinks. But Lottie could see it, and that made it all the more special.
She hugged the realisation to her chest that she was responsible for this, she was the one who had brought about this change in him. She could have gazed at him all night—he looked so totally, utterly beautiful. But obviously she wouldn’t do that because that would be weird. And besides she was hungry—starving, in fact.
A bottle of pink champagne appeared at their table, and after pouring them both a glass Rafael raised his, waiting for Lottie to do the same.
‘Buon San Valentino.’
‘Thank you. And Happy Valentine’s Day to you too.’ They clinked glasses and Lottie looked into the happy bubbles. ‘But perhaps I had better
not.’
‘I’m sure half a glass won’t hurt. Besides, you have to drink pink champagne on Valentine’s Day. It’s the law.’
‘Is that right?’ Taking a couple of delicate sips, Lottie let the dry fizz slip down her throat.
This was what happiness was—this little capsule that they were in now...her, Rafael and the impending baby. Even though she knew that things were going to be difficult, that she and Rafael faced all sorts of challenges with the baby and with their relationship, she refused to think about that now. This evening she was going to allow herself to be unquestioningly, unreservedly happy.
Raising her head, she realised that Rafael was studying her, his head tilted to one side, the champagne glass still in his hand. She looked down again, for some reason feeling shy, worried that he might be able to read her mind, but he reached across the table for her hand, covering it with his own.
‘What were you thinking?’
Phew. Obviously he was lacking that particular super-power.
‘Nothing.’ Nothing she was going to tell him. He was big-headed enough as it was.
‘Happy?’
‘Yes.’ She looked at him solemnly. ‘You?’
‘More than you could ever believe. Thank you, Lottie.’
‘That’s okay. I didn’t exactly get pregnant all on my own, you know.’
‘True. I suppose I should be a bit proud of myself too.’
‘I was talking about Dr Oveisi.’ Her eyes flashed mischievously.
‘That is cruel, young lady, and you know it.’ He shot her a heart-melting glance. ‘Now, start being nice to me or I will call that violinist over and make him play for you all night.’
‘Don’t you dare.’ Rafael knew all too well that she found those things toe-curlingly embarrassing. ‘From now on I promise to be sweetness and light.’
They ate artichokes and roasted sea bass, shared forks full of food and light-hearted chatter, and all the time the sensual sexual chemistry fizzed between them just as it always did whenever they were together. Only this time it went unchecked, insidiously binding them with its invisible threads, pulling them closer and closer together.
They smiled at each other, teased and flirted, pulled faces over the sharp coldness of the lemon gelato, drank tiny cups of bitter coffee, then finally left arm in arm to stroll back to the wounded speedboat for the short journey back to the villa.
‘Warm enough?’ As the boat hummed quietly through the water Rafael looked across at Lottie.
‘Yes, fine.’ The night air was prickly with cold but she was wearing Rafael’s thick woollen coat, cosily tucked in, loving the scent of him that was coming off it. ‘Look at all those stars.’
Throwing back her head, she watched as they passed overhead—thousands and thousands of them. They made her feel brave, somehow, as if what they were doing was right, part of the future, part of a wider scheme of things.
Returning her gaze to the front, she realised Rafael was looking at her.
‘Oi—keep your eyes on the water, you.’
‘I hardly think you are in a position to tell me how to drive this boat.’ Grinning, Rafael faced forward again. ‘The poor thing is still bearing the scars of your little outing. Very expensive scars too, I might add.’
‘Yeah, sorry about that. I suppose I was going a bit fast.’
‘Totally out of control, more like it. Allow me to show you how it should be done.’ He pulled down the throttle to no more than a gentle hum and the boat slowed down immediately. Rafael guided it perfectly alongside the mooring pole.
‘Show-off.’
Rafael shrugged his shoulders immodestly. Leaping out of the boat, he secured it to the mooring pole and then held out a hand to Lottie.
This evening had been so perfect she realised she didn’t want it to end. As they climbed the steps, walked along the terrace pathway and into the villa, she felt as if she were in a fragile fairytale—one that might turn into pumpkins and rats at any moment if she wasn’t careful.
Once inside, Rafe removed his coat from her shoulders. ‘Drink?’
‘A cup of tea would be nice.’
‘It shall be yours.’
Lottie sat on the window seat, gazing out over the lake. Pregnant. She could hardly believe it. And although she knew she shouldn’t jinx it, something inside her—some inner sense—told her that this time everything was going to be all right.
A rattling tray announced Rafael’s return, and after carefully placing a cup of tea in front of Lottie he removed his own tumbler of whisky and came and sat beside her on the sofa. Lottie realised he had something in his other hand.
‘I bought you this.’ His voice was low, almost gruff, as he opened his hand to reveal the ‘something’. It was a small blue velvet box.
Lottie looked from the box to Rafael, her eyes questioning.
‘Thank you.’ Surprised, she wasn’t sure what to say. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you.’
Rafael frowned at her, puzzled. ‘Why would you?’
‘Well, I’m assuming this is a Valentine’s Day gift?’
‘Hardly!’ He all but snorted. ‘I just happened to see them and thought you might like them.’ Handing her the closed box, he pulled back. ‘Think of them as a token of my gratitude, if you like.’
‘Right...’ That had told her. Gratitude was as good as it was going to get.
Opening the box revealed a pair of gold and enamel earrings shaped like little violets, their perfect petals shaded to a deep purple in the centre, where a small, gold nugget nestled.
‘They are beautiful!’ With one in each hand Lottie held them before her.
‘I’m glad you like them. I thought the colour was pretty, that they would go with your eyes...’ His voice trailed off.
‘I love them. Thank you.’
‘Are you going to try them on?’
‘Yes, of course.’ But he was too close, watching her too intently, and in spite of fiddling with her earlobes Lottie couldn’t get them to go in. ‘I need a mirror, really.’
‘Here—let me.’ Squatting before her, Rafael took the earrings out of her hand and proceeded very delicately to fix first one, then the other to her ears. Feeling his breath blowing sweetly against her cheeks, Lottie found herself painfully holding in her own.
‘There.’ Job done, he sat back on his heels.
Touching her earlobes, Lottie looked into his face. ‘Thank you.’
She leant forward, intending to give him a polite kiss on the cheek, but he intercepted her, catching her face in his hands. Their eyes clashed. Her heart thudded wildly.
For a second neither moved, each trying to gauge the other’s reaction. Then Lottie, realising that she had no idea how to read the mind of the man who crouched before her, gave up.
To hell with it. This was her night to do what she wanted. And what she wanted more than anything else was Rafael. As she gazed into his beautiful face she had never felt more sure of anything in her whole life. The joy of knowing she was pregnant with his baby was almost overwhelming her body with happiness and pride. But there was one more thing that could make this day absolutely perfect. And it was right in front of her now.
Linking her hands behind Rafael’s neck, she pulled him the few inches closer she needed to bring his lips to hers. Rafael let go of her face, but instead of mirroring her action his arms fell by his sides. Undeterred, Lottie pressed her mouth against his, her lips already pouting and s
wollen, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer to increase the pressure.
Still Rafael resisted, but when she opened her mouth, slid her tongue between his lips, gently plundered inside, she could feel his stubbornness evaporate as he started to return the kiss in the way only he could—with fire and deep passion. It sent a shudder of pure craving through her body.
Coming off his haunches, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her up with him as they wobbled to stand, each clinging unsteadily to the other, desperate to find each other’s lips again. Pressed so tightly to him, Lottie revelled in the heat coming off his body, in the feel of his muscular arms imprisoning her against his granite chest, the thrilling evidence of his arousal, hard and insistent against her pelvis.
And tonight of all nights there was no way this could be resisted.
As if both were under the same crazy spell they started to tug at each other’s clothes.
Lottie pulled roughly at the buttons of his shirt sliding her hands inside, across the muscular planes of his chest, the hair coarse beneath her fingertips, his nipples tightening under her touch. Slipping the shirt over his shoulders, she started on his suit trousers, pulling down the zipper and easing them over his hips. They pooled on the floor around his ankles, revealing the straining boxer shorts. Oh, yes! She ran her hand over the huge swell of his member, which was trying to force its way free, and felt him clench beneath her touch.
Rafael moved away fractionally, standing on one leg and then the other to rip off his socks and kick the pile of discarded clothes to one side. Then he turned his attention to Lottie, gripping her shoulders and spinning her around. With trembling hands he lowered the zipper of her dress, peeling it open to expose the satin-smooth sweep of her back, the neat curve of her waistline, the pert roundness of her bottom beneath skimpy white panties. He let the dress slither to the floor and turned Lottie to face him again.
She looked so damned hot, standing there, her chin raised in some sort of defiance, wearing nothing but a bra and panties, with a violet flash in her eyes that said not so much Take me as I challenge you not to take me—a challenge that Rafael already knew he had lost.
