An Inconvenient Desire (4 page)

A sleepover. How ... tempting.

• • •

Olivia woke and stared at the ceiling, trying to figure out where she was. Judging by the temperature, it might be hell, but she figured hell didn’t have such comfortable beds. She untangled her legs from the thick cotton sheet and stretched. The rolling hills and a distant village outside the window brought no clue. She was still perplexed when a clatter of pans downstairs brought a flood of memories back.

She was at Jonathan’s, in his guest room. They’d arrived there around 3
a.m.
, having stopped to leave a note under the front door at Sophia’s in case Vittore and Maria, Sophia’s staff, worried. Jonathan had also promised to call them first thing in the morning. Olivia glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was almost eleven.

Twenty minutes later, she made her way downstairs, refreshed by a quick shower, although she’d had to put yesterday’s clothes back on. The enticing aroma of coffee and fresh muffins lured her into the kitchen. It was cooler down here. With the door to the terrace open, a light breeze fluttered the pages of the newspaper abandoned on the table.

Jonathan stood at the sink, washing up a pan, wearing only a pair of shorts, his t-shirt flung on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. She hesitated in the doorway. This wasn’t fair. She hadn’t even had a coffee yet. How could she be expected to make any sort of intelligent conversation when faced with his amazing body before her brain had even had its kick-start?

“Morning,” she mumbled.

He turned and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. There was a dusting of flour on his nose and a streak of something across his forehead. Forget the coffee. Every cell in her body had just come to life.

“Sorry about the heat. I haven’t had the air conditioner connected yet. Who knew it would be this hot in June?” His eyes finally met hers after doing a leisurely perusal of her body.

“I like the heat.”

He swallowed again. “Do you want coffee? How did you sleep?” Still he stared, as drips of soap and water from his wet hands splashed onto the floor.

“Yes to the coffee. Good to the sleep,” she replied with a laugh. It was comforting to know she wasn’t the only one having a hard time concentrating.

Her laugh seemed to restart his brain and with a sheepish grin he wiped his hands dry before pouring her a cup of coffee. “Sugar’s on the table, milk’s in the fridge,” he said as he handed her the mug. “The muffins should be cool enough to eat now as well.”

“A man who bakes—you’re full of hidden talents.”

“It was a packet mix, no talent required. What about you?”

“Me?”

“What hidden talents do you possess?”

“Nothing. What you see is what you get with me. There’s nothing else,” she replied.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

Her gaze shot to his and admiration replaced the lust she normally saw in a man’s eyes.

She forced herself to look away. “Sorry I slept so late. I didn’t mean to take up so much of your Sunday. If you just give me directions, I’m sure I can walk back to Sophia’s after breakfast.” Because being alone with him in his house was too tempting.

“I’ll drive you back when you’re ready. There’s no rush, though. I have no plans for today. Although I guess you’re anxious to get out of those clothes.”

“Uh, yeah.” She gave her head a slight shake to halt the image of him lifting her shirt over her head.

Coffee. Now.

She took a big gulp of the hot drink, letting the bitter taste remind her of all the men who had treated her as just a body in the past. She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to get involved with another man unless she knew it had a future. And judging by the way Jonathan had spoken of his ex-wife yesterday, he wasn’t ready to jump into another relationship any time soon.

“Let’s have breakfast on the terrace—it’s cooler there,” he suggested. He picked up his coffee cup and a plate of muffins and gestured for her to go first.

Olivia nodded and stepped over the threshold. A snake that had been basking in the sun slithered in front of her before disappearing into the garden. She screamed, jumped back, and knocked into Jonathan, who was right behind her, dowsing both her front and back in coffee. Dropping her now empty cup on the nearby table, she quickly peeled off her sodden shirt and trousers to get the hot liquid off her skin.

“Are you okay?” Jonathan’s voice sounded oddly strangled. “Did the coffee burn you?”

She looked down at her white lace bra and matching underpants and burst out laughing. Well, she
had
wanted to get out of yesterday’s clothes. “No. I’m fine. The snake startled me. Sorry, did I get you?” There were a few splashes of liquid on his washboard abs, but the rest of him remained dry.

“I’m good.” He shook his head. “God, I’m sorry. Let me get you something to wear.” He stepped back into the kitchen and grabbed his abandoned t-shirt to toss to her. “You can put this on while I find something more ... ” His voice trailed off as she pulled the shirt over her head.

She’d worn plenty of dresses that were just as short, stopping mid-thigh. Yet because the shirt was Jonathan’s and still smelled faintly of his soap and aftershave, it felt entirely wicked. He took a step toward her and her hand automatically rested on his bare chest, over his heart. His head descended in slow motion toward hers, giving her plenty of time to stop him. She didn’t. Instead, she sucked in a deep breath and slid her other hand into his hair.

His mouth brushed hers and she parted her lips, hoping he’d deepen the embrace. He ran his tongue over the inside of her lips as his arms tightened around her, plastering her body to his. Her curves molded to his rippling muscles. And the desire that had been smoldering in her belly since they’d met swamped her with need. Damn the consequences, she wanted Jonathan. Now.

Somewhere at the back of her mind a banging noise penetrated the haze his kiss caused. For a second she thought it was her heart against her rib cage.

A strangled moaning sound came from Jonathan’s throat as the hammering continued from the front of the house.

“I’d better get that.”

He released her. After a light brush of his thumb over her sensitized lower lip, he spun on his heel and headed back into the house through the kitchen.

Olivia released the breath she’d been holding. Disappointment and relief battled over the interruption. Disappointment won.

She tried to marshal her defenses for when he returned. Except she didn’t seem to have any.
Resistance is futile
, her body chanted. Damn.

Jonathan rushed to the front of the house, trying to restart his brain. The sight of Olivia in his t-shirt had blown all rational thought out of his mind. He still felt a tingling where her hands had rested on his chest as he’d held her in his arms. It had nothing on the throbbing in his groin. If he got rid of whoever was at the door soon, they could restart ... No, he wasn’t supposed to be making out with her. She was a friend of a friend. And a model. No way was he going back to that lifestyle. Ever.

The pounding hadn’t let up and he wrenched the door open, only to want to slam it shut again. What the hell was she doing here?

The unwelcome visitor pushed past him and stood in the center of the room. Her greedy eyes assessed his new home. “It’s about time you answered. I came by several times yesterday and evidently you weren’t home, although that excuse for a truck was out front. You can’t avoid me forever, Jonathan.”

He was sorely tempted to walk out of the room and rejoin Olivia on the terrace. Celeste had nothing to say that he wanted to hear. Turning toward the kitchen, he caught sight of Olivia hovering in the doorway. He held out his hand and she joined him in an instant. He pulled her against his side and her arm went around his waist. Thankfully, she didn’t stiffen or stand awkwardly next to him. He didn’t want Celeste to think there was any chance they would get back together. “If I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t have been home today either,” he said.

There was no point performing introductions. It was obvious by the way Olivia was holding him that she’d worked out the intruder’s identity. And Celeste didn’t need to know anything about his new life. His hand, of its own volition, gently caressed Olivia’s side, running from just under her full breast to the top of her thigh.

“Sorry about your wasted journey yesterday,” Olivia added, her voice full of seductive overtones. “We were out all day and didn’t get back until the early hours of the morning.”

He was sure that faint noise was Celeste’s claws emerging from her manicured nails. Her eyes narrowed even more, and a sneer curled her puffed up lips. It was clearly killing her to think he’d moved on. It was a pleasant turn of the tables, seeing as he’d been the one to walk in on her with someone else the last time they’d been in a house together.

Predictably, Celeste was not amused. She’d lost her sense of humor shortly after saying “I do.” She turned her back on them and moved to glance out the rear window to the pool and view beyond. “Nice place you have here. I don’t remember this being part of the asset disclosure when we divorced.”

“I bought it after the divorce, so don’t get any ideas. Why are you here, Celeste? There’s no more money. The settlement is final.”

“Jonathan, darling, I didn’t come for your money,” she drawled, her voice like overly sweet candy that left you sick rather than satisfied.

“If it’s not money you want, why are you here?” His hand stilled on the top of Olivia’s hip and she squeezed him lightly. A chill swept through him. He hadn’t seen his ex-wife once since the divorce was finalized. She wouldn’t come by just to say “hi.”

“I came to bring you something. Something of yours I no longer want.”

“Five wasted years of my life?” he shot back. Jonathan clenched his free hand into a fist. Olivia shifted beside him so more of her was touching him. Glancing down, he saw the concern in her eyes and he relaxed his hand. Celeste was the past. He wouldn’t allow her to hurt him anymore.

Celeste ignored his question and sauntered back to the door. She opened it and gestured to someone waiting outside. After a moment, a shy girl in her late teens appeared holding a small child’s hand. A man in a chauffeur’s uniform put a small suitcase and large cloth bag on the floor by the door before retreating.

“No, Jonathan, darling—your daughter,” Celeste calmly announced. A smile lit her face as if she was enjoying a good joke.

“My daughter? We never had a child.” His gaze was glued to the little girl. Olivia’s hand shifted from his waist to rub up and down his back.

“I found out I was pregnant two weeks after we split. And yes, she’s yours. I did a paternity test. Here are the papers.” She pulled a large manila envelope out of her bag and threw it on the coffee table. “The birth certificate, her passport, the DNA test results, and a legal document giving you full custody. You just have to sign it and register it with the court.”

Celeste turned to walk out of the room, not even glancing at the child. Jonathan grabbed her arm as she passed him, nearly choking on her cloying perfume.

“Celeste, you can’t be serious! How can you do this to your own child?”

“She’s too much for me to handle right now.” Celeste shrugged.

He searched her face, sure she was playing some sick joke. How could he have ever loved this woman? “How could you keep this from me? Keep her from me?” Again his eyes returned to the little girl who continued to stare at the floor, ignoring all the adults in the room.

“You didn’t want me anymore. Why would you want our child? I wasn’t going to keep it. But my mother found out and said if I aborted her grandchild, she would never see me again and give my inheritance to a single mothers’ charity. So I went through with the pregnancy. Then I had to figure out whose she was. Imagine my surprise to find out my own husband was the sperm donor.”

Her shrill laugh grated his nerves. There was nothing funny in keeping his child secret from him. But then Celeste had always been selfish, never considering how her actions affected others.

“You did a good job of avoiding me and any of our friends after our divorce, so no one told you. They were probably as sure as I was that it was someone else’s. Anyway, my mother has mostly been looking after her, with countless nannies I’ve hired. But I’ve had enough. So she’s yours now. Goodbye, Jonathan. Come, Irina.”

Celeste pulled away from him and grabbed the arm of the young woman who still held the child’s hand. “Her daddy will look after her now.”

The door slammed behind the departing pair and a moment later a car could be heard leaving the driveway. The little girl stood where she’d been left by her nanny, staring at the floor.

Olivia ran over to the small child and crouched down to her eye level. “Hello, sweetheart, my name is Olivia. Can I be your friend?” She held her hand out to the toddler.
My daughter
. He still couldn’t believe it.

The petite blond head rose a fraction and glanced at Olivia’s face, but the little girl kept her hands at her side. He knelt beside them and stared at his daughter. Her eyes were the same color as his, and filled with sadness. The soft ringlets that fell to her shoulders were a shade lighter than his. But there was no mistaking it. She was his child. And at the moment, he didn’t know which of them was more terrified. He struggled to draw a breath past the tightness in his chest; his stomach had taken up residence somewhere around his knees.

He had a child. He was a father.

Not willing to trust the evidence in front of his eyes, he reached around and grabbed the envelope off the coffee table. All the while Olivia was trying to make conversation with the girl.

His hands shook as he pulled the documents from the envelope. “Her name is Hannah,” he whispered. He blinked a couple of times before he could read the rest of the information on the forms. “She’s eighteen months old.”

He dropped the papers and flopped onto the floor. “My God, I have a daughter.”

• • •

Olivia shoved back down the emotions threatening to choke her from the drama she’d just witnessed and concentrated on the little girl. “The butterflies on your dress are beautiful, Hannah. Do you like the pink ones or the blue ones best?” She pointed to an example of each as she talked. Did eighteen-month-olds know their colors yet? Did they know what butterflies were? Did Hannah have any idea she’d just been dumped by her mother? Thank God she wasn’t crying. Because if the little girl started, Olivia wouldn’t be able to keep the tears at bay.