arms firmly over her chest.
She couldn’t help saying softly, ‘This is beautiful.’
‘Yes, it is.’
Rose looked at him. While she’d been looking around he’d changed out of the suit he’d worn on the plane and into faded denims and a long-sleeved polo top, with the sleeves pushed back to reveal muscular forearms.
Seeing him like this, against this backdrop, was almost too much to take in. She instantly felt crumpled and inelegant, in spite of the new clothes.
Zac was backing away now, saying, ‘Maria has prepared a light supper. We’ll eat on the terrace—this way.’
Rose was so momentarily distracted by his tight behind in the jeans that he was almost gone from sight before she moved.
When she rounded a corner of a small pathway edged with bright flowers, it led straight onto a terrace, where a table had been set out with white linen, a small vase of flowers and candles. A rotund woman with a smiling face caught her arm and led her to the table, babbling in broken English.
Rose had met her earlier. She was the housekeeper, Maria. The woman oozed friendly Italian maternal warmth and Rose had found herself feeling absurdly tearful, reminded of her mother. She’d been shocked to hear Zac conversing with her in what sounded like fluent Italian.
He was sitting at the table now and flicking out a napkin to spread on his lap, reaching for bread and drizzling olive oil on top. He looked remote, and as Rose sat down and helped herself to some bread she said, ‘Don’t feel you have to be polite and share dinner with me. I’d be perfectly happy to eat in the kitchen with Maria.’ Whom she was sure would provide more pleasant company and be infinitely less disturbing to her equilibrium.
Zac sent her a pointed look. ‘Don’t act the martyr. It doesn’t suit you. And I won’t have you putting Maria to work serving dinner in two places just so you’re more comfortable.’
Rose glared at Zac and said testily, ‘That is not fair. Of course I didn’t mean to put her out.’
She clamped her mouth shut, in case she might say something else, and Maria appeared again to put down a platter of antipasto, beaming at Zac like a fond mother.
Zac smiled back at Maria, and seeing his face so transformed knocked the breath from Rose’s chest. She’d almost forgotten what it was like to be under that all too seductive approving regard, and she felt ridiculously emotional for a moment.
But as soon as Maria left the smile faded and Zac busied himself with the food. He glanced at her empty plate. ‘You don’t like antipasto?’
Rose forced herself to take some dried meats and salad, knowing that she couldn’t let Zac ruin her appetite. It wasn’t good for her or the baby. And, once she’d started eating and tasted the delicious food, her appetite thankfully kicked in.
Despite the ever-constant levels of tension, Rose found that she was relaxing as the evening closed in around them, bringing the melodic calls of native birds. The sky looked like velvet strewn with pink ribbons, and the air was warm and fragrant.
It was…idyllic. A million miles from Manhattan and Zac’s supercharged life. Yet, looking at him now, she thought he might have been born to this. He looked like a true Italian, and for the first time Rose found herself wondering about the origin of the break between him and his family.
‘What kind of business are you involved in here in Italy?’
Zac put his coffee cup down. It should have looked ridiculous in his big hands, but of course it didn’t. It only reminded Rose of what those hands had felt like on her body. She flushed.
Sounding distinctly reluctant, he said after a few seconds, ‘It’s a mine nearby. It was defunct, but we did some exploration and discovered a new seam of iron.’
Rose frowned. ‘I didn’t know you were involved with the industry—I thought you dealt only in finance and the hotel and nightclub business.’
He raised a brow. ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Rose.’
She might have asked more about the business if she’d felt she could. But Zac was right—what on earth did she really know about him? It scared her to think how easily she’d trusted herself to him in the beginning. And he’d only had to kiss her yesterday before she’d started cleaving to him again like some kind of starved groupie.
Zac stood abruptly from the table, putting down his napkin, clearly done with their tense dinner. ‘If you’ll excuse me, I have some calls to make. You should get an early night—you look tired.’
If Rose had felt at a low ebb earlier next to Zac’s rude vitality, now she felt even more lacklustre. She didn’t doubt that not many women had the nerve to appear in Zac’s company looking anything less than stunning.
He was about to walk away when she called after him lightly, ‘I presume I’m to be seen and not heard for the next ten days?’
Zac turned back, the lines of his body suddenly tense. ‘Don’t worry, Rose, I won’t forget you’re here.’
He disappeared into the sprawling villa and Rose deflated like a balloon, all the tension leaving her body. She hated it that she was in such a constant state of awareness around him when he barely tolerated her.
Something dangerous tugged on her emotions now that she was mercifully unobserved. If only those two first times she’d met him hadn’t been so magical…if only she hadn’t been tempted to take what he was offering and convince herself that it would be okay…
Rose shook her head at herself. She had to stop thinking like that.
She had no regrets…
She put a hand over her small belly and took a deep breath, trying not to let a feeling of being all alone steal over her. She refused to give in to that vulnerability. She’d gotten herself into this situation—her and this baby—and it was up to her to make the best of it.
FOR THREE DAYS Rose had an almost pleasant time. A wave of exhaustion had seemed to hit her after that first night, and she’d spent most of her time sleeping, taking long siestas during the hottest part of the day. Then Maria had taken her into the local village when she’d gone shopping the previous day, and Rose had loved looking around the market and the small artisan shops.
Zac had come and gone from the villa, sometimes using a helicopter, and hadn’t offered to share a meal with Rose again. She’d gotten used to eating alone on the terrace and told herself she didn’t mind. How could she mind? She was in one of the world’s most amazing locations and she was being waited on hand and foot, like a princess.
She’d braved the pool earlier, and lay beside it now after a long, leisurely swim. She was trying to engage with a book she’d taken from one of the bookshelves in the comfortable den.
That was the other thing about this house…it didn’t resemble the ascetic decoration of Zac’s apartment in New York. This was more like a home. Rose could imagine a family here…children chasing each other through the pathways and gardens…
She put down the book and closed her eyes, losing herself for a moment in the daydream, an unconscious smile making her mouth curl up…
Zac stood at a standstill in the shadows of a tree near the pool. Rose was reclining on a sun lounger in a bikini. As a connoisseur of women’s clothing, Zac knew this bikini was perfectly respectable—demure, even—but his eyes devoured her slim limbs and high breasts as if he’d never seen a semi-naked woman before.
His body got hard in an instant, and he scowled at his reaction. She wasn’t