how sexy a woman was or how much he was interested in bedding her, there was always a part of him that knew he could, in the end, take it or leave it.
He’d never rushed work for any woman before. He hadn’t even rushed work for Alicia. In fact, had it not been for the pregnancy, Alicia would have been as temporary as all the women he had dated since his divorce.
But he’d found that he couldn’t wait to drive back to the house and surprising her in the swimming pool...
He felt the stirrings of an erection as he recalled the softness of her body against his, the teasing temptation of those stiffened nipples...
Deep in thought, he was hardly aware of Flora until she said, standing in the doorway, ‘Sunny’s here.’
Stefano smiled, turning. ‘You look very pretty, Flora.’
Flora frowned and he wondered whether the fragile truce was over now that Sunny was no longer on the scene as a third party and unwitting mediator.
‘No, I don’t,’ she said bluntly. ‘I’m too dark-skinned.’
Stefano looked at her narrowly. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
Flora shrugged and it reminded him of those evasive, dismissive shrugs that Sunny often produced when she had no intention of prolonging a conversation she wasn’t interested in having.
Had his daughter picked that up from Sunny? But no...he had noticed that trait before. Were there barely discernible similarities just below the surface, similarities that connected them, explained the way they had just clicked? And how could a child who had had it all be similar to a woman who had had nothing as a child?
‘Who told you that?’ he pressed and was met with another shrug.
‘Mum mentioned it now and again.’
‘Your mother...’ He inhaled deeply and held onto his daughter’s serious gaze. ‘You’re beautiful, Flora, and I’m not just saying that because I’m your...dad...’ He had to clear his throat. His voice sounded strangely gruff and he felt a curious lump in his throat when she rolled her eyes but half smiled before leaving the room and heading for the front door.
Dear Alicia, he thought, the corrosive taste of bitterness filling his mouth. She had ensured that their divorce was as acrimonious as possible and, having flown across the ocean with Flora, had made doubly sure that his visiting rights were thwarted at every turn. He had always suspected that she had filled his daughter’s head with all sorts of lies and half-truths, even though he had given her every single thing she had requested at the time of the divorce.
But had her machinations gone even further?
Had she taken out her rage and bitterness on their child? Because Flora reminded her of him? Had she made the sort of wilful remarks that had left an impact on Flora? Alicia had been very blonde. He could imagine the ugly twist of her mouth if she’d made a point of criticising Flora’s much darker colouring.
If his ex-wife had been standing in front of him right at that very moment, Stefano felt that he would not have been responsible for what he did to her. He could have cheerfully throttled the witch.
Any wonder he’d had his fill of women as long-term investments?
He laughed sourly to himself, heading in his daughter’s wake for the front door.
He saw Sunny before she actually saw him because, as he hit the hall, she was turning away, saying something to Eric, laughing.
Stefano stopped dead in his tracks and, eyes narrowed, felt a stab of something like jealousy rip through him.
Gone were the jeans. He’d told her to wear something dressy. He’d expected a variation on her working-clothes theme. Sensible skirt skimming her knees...neat top...camouflage outfit... The sort of nondescript garb designed to make her blend into the background and not draw attention to her stupendous looks.
He knew he’d been guilty of assuming that she was a girl who made it her business to avoid fun, especially after she had told him about her background, especially when he’d connected the pieces and worked out that security was way more important to her than fun, and financial security was really the one thing for which she was quite happy to sacrifice the business of going out.
She didn’t want to draw attention to herself. He guessed that she’d had a parent who had done that. What she wanted was to fly under the radar, hence her unassuming work clothes and nondescript casual clothes.
She was fiercely independent and to have been frothy and flirty would have gone against the grain.
He’d made all those sweeping assumptions about her.
She had no boyfriend. Another sweeping assumption was that she wasn’t interested in looking for one either. That sort of thing could come later and, when it did, it would be in the form of a serious-minded guy with a stable job, who, like her, wasn’t interested in the business of having fun.
It was inexplicable why he was so drawn to her, why she had taken root in his head and why she refused to go.
He liked his women to be fun. The last thing he was interested in was a serious woman because it was a short step between the woman who was serious and the woman who wanted a ring on her finger.
Avoid the serious woman and you avoided the whole ring-on-finger killer conversation.
His mother had always mistakenly imagined that he needed a nice, serious young woman to step into the role of wife and mother. She disapproved of the flighty things who came and went like ships in the night.
He liked the flighty ships in the night, though.
Which was why he’d been frankly bewildered at his reaction to Sunny.
Except...
It seemed some of his assumptions had been wildly off target.
Her long, long hair flowed over her shoulders and down her narrow spine in a tide of unruly but utterly sexy curls, and the outfit...
He broke out in a fine film of perspiration. What happened to the girl who dressed to hide? Where the hell had she gone? Stefano was almost outraged at the appearance of this sex siren to whom his body was responding with rampant enthusiasm.
He scowled at Eric, who caught his eye, reddened and stepped back just as Sunny turned towards him, all long, long legs and long, long hair, and flashing green eyes.
She should have looked tacky in such a short skirt but the casual denim jacket brought the whole temperature of the outfit down, as did the functional backpack carelessly slung over her shoulder.
Flora was staring at her, mouth open, as though an alien had suddenly leaped out of the woodwork. Stefano was on her page.
‘Did you forget to finish getting dressed?’ he heard himself say, moving forward.
It was hardly the sort of compliment she had been expecting and she stiffened, annoyed with herself for having expected any sort of compliment at all.
She belatedly wondered whether he was looking at the skimpy outfit and wondering what sort of example was being
