Page 7 of Italian Baby Shock

He was looking down at her and there was something hot in his eyes now, a steady, hungry, blue flame and it mesmerised her. Her breath caught.

Men had never been a priority, not even as a teenager. Her mother had made her all too aware of how men could use you, trap you, hurt you if you weren’t careful, so she’d always been careful. Which was why her pregnancy had come as such a shock and why she’d been glad that the accident had taken her memory.

So, she hadn’t been expecting her own physical response to Cesare Donati, not the moment he’d walked into the room, and definitely not now. When she’d wanted to push him away and instead found her hands lingering on his chest, unable to tear her gaze from the hungry glitter in his eyes.

And when he said softly, ‘Perhaps you’ll remember this then,’ and put a finger underneath her chin, tipping her head back, she didn’t protest. And when he lowered his head and brushed his mouth over hers, she didn’t avoid it.

Time seemed to stop, her world narrowing to this moment.

His kiss was unexpectedly light, unexpectedly gentle, his lips much softer than she’d thought they’d be. The touch of them on hers was electric, a bolt of white-hot sensation arrowing straight through her. Her nipples hardened against the lace of her bra, a pressure gathering between her thighs.

Sometimes at night she’d wake up aching, her skin sensitised, her head full of dreams of being touched and caressed. Of warm fingers stroking her, of a mouth on hers, of deep physical pleasure. She’d never understood where those dreams had come from and had never connected them with that night she’d forgotten.

But now...it was almost as if the memory was there. As if she could reach out and grab it. As if she even wanted to...

If he’s Maya’s father, he’ll take her away from you and you know it.

The wave of cold fear swamped her, drowning the effects of the kiss and she pushed at him, hard.

He didn’t resist, going back a couple of steps, his broad chest rising and falling rapidly. His eyes glittered. ‘You do remember,’ he said, his accent much thicker. ‘You do.’

‘No.’ She tried to still the shaking in her hands. ‘I don’t. I don’t remember anything about you. Yes, I was in Rome and yes, I remember my handbag being stolen. But that’s all.’ She took an uneven breath. ‘I was in an accident. I was knocked over by a car in the street and the next thing I remember is waking up in hospital. My memory of that night is gone.’

His gaze narrowed. ‘An accident?’

‘I was concussed. They told me that my memory of that night would return, but it never did.’ She swallowed. ‘I’m telling you the truth, Mr Donati. I have no memory of that night. But one thing I do know is that Maya is not yours.’

She couldn’t be. She absolutely couldn’t. Maya was no one’s but hers.

He took no notice, the focused look in his eyes unchanging. ‘I’m afraid I must insist on a paternity test.’

‘No,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘I won’t allow it.’

His jaw tightened. ‘If you know for certain that your daughter isn’t mine, then a paternity test wouldn’t matter would it?’

Lark felt her face get hot, her anger mounting. ‘She’snotyours. And I won’t have my daughter’s privacy invaded.’

‘I see.’ He drew himself up to his full height, authority radiating from him. ‘If that’s how you want to play it then fine. But if you won’t allow a paternity test then I’m afraid I’ll be taking my priceless Renaissance antiques elsewhere.’

Her anger became outrage and she knew it was a mistake to give in to it. That she should be smiling and giving him what he wanted instead, because everything was always easier that way. There was never any point in being difficult.

But he’d casually upended her nice, safe little world, first with his claims of being Maya’s father and then with that kiss. Now there was a part of her that was afraid. Afraid that he was right, that she had in fact slept with him, and her daughter was his. And that he’d take Maya from her the way her father had tried to take her from her mother.

Men did that, didn’t they? They took what they viewed as theirs, including people. And if they didn’t take, then they threatened, which was exactly what he was doing now.

Mr Ravenswood would be very upset with her at losing the Donatis as clients, but her daughter was far more important than any antique. Her daughter was priceless and Lark would fight anyone who dared to take Maya from her. She’d fight them to the death if need be.

‘Fine,’ she snapped before she could think better of it. ‘Take them elsewhere. Because you will not be testing my daughter. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.’

Cesare was utterly furious, yet he found himself almost admiring the way Lark Edwards stood there, with her pointed chin lifted, determination in every line of her small, curvy figure.

No one had stood up to him like this in a very long time and he had to respect the courage it must have taken her to do so. He was, after all, one of the richest and most important men in Europe and everyone did what he told them to. They certainlydidn’t argue with him the way she was doing right now, and most especially not when he was angry.

And hewasangry. That little girl on her phonewashis, he knew it in his bones, though he’d had no idea how it had happened. He’d always been meticulous when it came to protection and that night had been no different. She’d told him she was on the pill too. Nothing had been left to chance.

So there shouldn’t have been a pregnancy at all and yet there was no denying the colour of the little one’s hair or the blue of her eyes. No denying the instinct that had gripped him, the knowledge that had settled inside him as hard and sure as the earth beneath his feet.

Maya was his daughter. And that meant he had some decisions to make.

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