Roccanti's Marriage Revenge by Lynne Graham

Author:Lynne Graham [Graham, Lynne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4089-7374-5
Publisher: HarlequinUKLtd
Published: 2012-08-20T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

FLUFFY was watching television on the leather sofa when Vitale returned to his apartment that evening. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes: the wretched bunny was watching music videos while basking in the comfort of a well-upholstered seat! But no sooner did Zara’s pet hear the noise of the front door closing than it raced like a furry streak for the safety of its home in the corner. And there, in spite of the food Vitale brought it, the rabbit stayed firmly out of sight.

But Fluffy had not spent an entirely lazy day, Vitale noted grimly, because the rug had been chewed and the wooden foot of a coffee table had been gnawed. It was a destructive bunny rabbit, utterly unsuited to civilised life in a luxury apartment. On the other hand, Zara had agreed to come to dinner, most probably because she wanted to see how her pet was doing.

The plan for the villa tucked below one arm, Zara arrived sporting an ice-blue dress teamed with incredibly high heels. The pale shade accentuated her eyes and her hair shimmered round her shoulders. For the first time ever Vitale admired a woman’s legs and then, quite unnervingly for him, thought of her safety instead. What if she stumbled and fell and got hurt?

‘Those shoes are like stilts,’ he remarked before he could think better of the comment, only to watch in amazement as Fluffy bounded out into the hall to greet her mistress and gambol round her feet in a welcoming display.

Zara petted Fluffy and talked to her. Anything was better than focusing on Vitale, breathtakingly handsome even casually clad in jeans and an open-necked black shirt. She decided that she was horrendously overdressed and felt as though she had lost face in some secret contest of who could act the most laid-back. Her heart was doing that bang-bang-bang thing again but that was just the natural effect of Vitale’s manifold attractions hitting her defences with all the subtlety of a ten-ton truck.

He served the meal immediately in the spacious dining annexe off the lounge. He had made steak and salad, nothing fancy, but she was impressed all the same, her one and only attempt to cook steak having resulted in a lump of tough and rubbery meat that nobody could eat. The silence stretching between them seemed to shout in her ears, reminding her with a painful pang of regret how easily they had once talked in Italy. That, of course, she recalled, had only been part and parcel of his deception.

‘How do you feel?’ Vitale asked her levelly.

‘Like I’m stuck inside a soap bubble. The baby doesn’t really feel real yet, probably because it’s such an unexpected development,’ she admitted.

‘I intend to give you all the support that I can.’

At that austere unemotional promise, a tight little smile formed on Zara’s lips. ‘Then give me space.’

Space was the very last thing Vitale could imagine offering her at that moment.

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