obviously enjoying playing the field.’ And, my, did he show dedication. She tried to make up for her lack of judgement in speaking her mind with a brittle, blindingly insincere smile.
‘But I expect one day you’ll get bored with it, and when you meet someone…’ Someone beautiful and talented to give him those golden babies.
‘You don’t sound very convinced.’
‘You’re right, I’ve always had my doubts about reformed rakes,’ she confided. Her glance skimmed the strong, arrogant lines in his hard-boned features. And if anyone could accurately be described as a rake, it was him.
‘Rakes?’
Scarlet, who was warming to one of her favourite themes, nodded, barely registering the stunned expression on his handsome face.
‘I know a lot of women think that with the love of a good woman, the good woman being them,’ she qualified drily, ‘even the most committed playboy will metamorphose overnight into a faithful husband.’ She shook her head and gave an incredulous laugh at the ability of her own sex to fool themselves.
‘But you don’t share this view?’
‘Look at me! Do I look like a hopeless romantic?’ she demanded.
He took her reckless offer and there was an extremely uncomfortable interval while he considered the question and her face. The defiant angle of Scarlet’s chin increased in direct proportion to the rapid thud of her racing heart.
Finally he delivered his judgement.
‘I don’t have one hell of a lot of hands-on experience with hopeless romantics but, yes, I’d say you do.’
His dry comment drew Scarlet’s eyes involuntarily to the hands he referred to. His long, tapering fingers curled lightly over the arms of the chair; they were square-tipped, suggesting sensitivity and strength. Something low in her belly tightened as she looked at them and imagined them moving over softer, paler flesh.
Colour significantly heightened, she dragged her eyes clear. ‘Well, I’m not, and,’ she informed him with feeling, ‘I’m glad. I don’t see how falling in love can fundamentally change a person’s character. Call me a cynic, but, the way I see it, once a faithless love rat always a—’ She broke off, her eyes widening. ‘Not that I’m calling you a faithless…’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘No? If you say so.’ His mobile lips formed a cynical smile as he shrugged.
It was pretty damned hard to refute her observations when you had fathered a child on a one-night stand and didn’t discover it until almost four years later.
In most people’s book that qualified as love-rattish behaviour. The fact it had been an accident did not make him any the less an irresponsible bastard.
‘Marriage means different things to different people. Some people are more…flexible…’ she finished awkwardly.
‘I take it “flexible” is a euphemism for sleeping around.’
Scarlet gave an uncomfortable shrug and wondered how on earth she had got onto this subject. ‘I guess so.’
His nostrils flared as he looked at her. The expression of chilling hauteur on his dark patrician features sent a ripple down her spine.
‘I don’t think I’d be at all flexible at the idea of my wife sleeping with anyone else. I happen to consider fidelity an essential component of marriage.’
‘Well, it just goes to show you never can judge by appearances,’ she responded cheerily. ‘Look at me—’ she suggested.
When he did her lashes swept down in a protective gesture. ‘I used to be the most important thing in my life. I had it all, the job, the flat, the car—’
‘And you don’t regret giving it up?’
‘Not for one second. I earn peanuts by comparison now,’ she admitted. ‘Not that I ever earned the serious money Abby did, but on the plus side nobody treats me like I’m a piece of meat, and I don’t have to live on lettuce leaves and cigarettes to stay stick-thin! Mostly people appreciate what I’m doing.’ Present company excluded.
‘So your sister left you well provided for?’ At least she hadn’t spent the last four years leading a hand-to-mouth existence in order to give his son a decent life.
His relief turned out to be premature.
‘Abby earned, but she liked to spend too. But, yes, she had put some money aside for Sam. It will pay for his education and there’ll be a little bit left over for a nest egg for him.’
‘So you have lived off what?’
‘I live within my means, and I don’t worry if I’m not wearing this year’s designs. I mean, money isn’t everything, is it?’ A sudden bubble of laughter sprang to her lips. ‘Actually, I suppose it is to you.’
‘Sure, I sold my soul for a good return on my investments years ago,’ he drawled.
‘I wasn’t being offensive…well, not intentionally, anyhow,’ she added with a crooked smile. His rigid expression didn’t thaw. ‘It was a joke.’
His dark eyes swept across her face. ‘Was it?’
‘Yes!’ she responded, exasperated that he seemed intent on over-dramatising a simple comment. ‘You’re rich, I’m not, so what I’ve never had I’m not going to miss, am I?’ she pointed out simply.
‘Do you plan to go back to your old job?’
‘Who knows what the future holds? But it would be good in the immediate future if you revealed a reason for you being here.’
‘I’m getting there.’
The ironic twist of his lips troubled her. If she was going to be honest, Roman worried her full stop.
‘Where does Sam’s father come into all this?’ he said casually.
‘There isn’t one.’
He raised an ironic brow.
‘Well, there is, but he isn’t in the picture. And not just that one,’ she added as he picked up a framed photograph taken of Sam on his first birthday.
This was the point when people who possessed the basics of social skills dropped the subject.
‘Have you ever tried to contact him?’
Scarlet shook her head. ‘I couldn’t if I wanted to.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘I don’t know who he is.’
‘Surely your sister told you. I’m assuming she knew the seriousness of her condition.’
‘Oh, yes, she knew,’ Scarlet confirmed bleakly. ‘I did ask Abby, I was concerned—’ She broke off with a self-conscious grimace. ‘She
