Expecting His Love-Child. Carol Marinelli

      What had she heard?

      Levander’s hackles were raised, his mind, eternally vigilant, racing as he recalled not just his conversation with Annika, but the times Millie had been present.

      At first he’d barely noticed her—a waitress not meriting even a glance from him, especially with the tense subject matter that had been forcing his attention—and then she’d moved to clear his plate.

      Her heavenly scent had reached him, her tiny embarrassed smile as she’d caught his eyes, and from that second on he’d thanked her for the distraction—thanked this unknown woman who had allowed his mind to detour as Annika delivered the fatal news and shrilled the family’s demands.

      So much more pleasant to stare over Annika’s shoulder and watch the woman, the pink flush on her cheeks, her blonde curls tumbling further out of their hair tie with each swoosh through the kitchen door, her slight exasperation as she dealt with a rowdy table. He had felt surprising pleasure as he’d watched that full, pretty mouth nibble on the end of her pen between writing down orders. And later, when still Annika had persisted, when it had all been just too much to deal with—his battle to remain outwardly calm despite the emotions churning within—it had been a welcome relief when she’d returned to his table. Her soft fragrance had been such a contrast to the bitter musk of the Kolovsky perfume Annika had doused herself in—a delicate hint of vanilla and something he couldn’t define, like a breath of fresh air—and as she’d leant forward to clear his table he’d tried and failed not to notice the slight tug of her blouse as it strained over her breasts. He had actually had to look away when she’d stooped to retrieve a dropped napkin and he’d caught a glimpse of the creamy flesh of her cleavage.

      He wanted her.

      Handing the rider a sizeable wad of notes, he bought them a little more time—but somehow he knew it wasn’t enough. That if he made a move too soon—she’d run like a squirrel up a tree.

      And yet if it was sex he wanted there were easier ways. He could head back to the hotel, return any one of the endless messages that would undoubtedly be on his answering machine and lose himself tonight.

      How he wanted to lose himself.

      Like a judge summing up, he bitterly assessed the conversation that had taken place with Annika—the family demands that had been delivered by the sweetest, the most vulnerable of them all.

      His father was dying.

      Which, according to the family, meant there was now no question of Levander leaving—no question of him turning his back on the people who had apparently given him everything he possessed.

      Five more years of hell was what they were demanding.

      Levander had gritted his teeth at the prospect, but the sentencing hadn’t ended there—a wife and child had been added to the non-parole period.

      Well, they could all go to hell!

      He’d more than served his time—he had saved the House of Kolovsky from financial suicide almost the second he’d joined the firm. That they now had the audacity to think he actually owed them anything made Levander’s stomach churn with loathing.

      To think that that bastard, after all he had done—

      ‘Hey.’ Her sweet voice broke into his black thoughts, her smiling, trusting face such an engaging contrast with the hard-nosed women he was too used to dealing with. ‘Did you manage to persuade him?’

      ‘Of course,’ Levander answered calmly, though his mind was anything but. ‘I am a very good persuader.’ He watched her eyes widen a touch, registered the tiny nervous swallow in her throat at the slightly provocative statement, and so badly he wanted to kiss her—to push that soft body against a wall, to press his lips to hers, to feel her soft, fragrant skin beneath his hands, to take her up to his hotel and make love to her…

      To somehow take refuge from the savage sleet of his thoughts…But strangely, for Levander, it wasn’t all he wanted from her.

      For the first time Levander wanted more than the passion of a woman to fill his night.

      He wanted her company.