Page 20 of Bound by Their Christmas Baby

‘Because that’s something I want to be consulted on. Who is this woman? What experience does she have with children? You’re asking me to hand my son over to a stranger! I should have been able to review her résumé. Besides, how good can she be if you were able to organise her within a day of finding out you have a son? Or do you just keep nannies waiting in the wings in case you discover you have a secret baby somewhere?’ Her brain kept firing and new possibilities detonated sharply. ‘Oh, God, do you have other children? Has this happened before?’ Abby felt light-headed, and not just because of her tirade but because her palms were resting against Gabe’s chest and her fingertips were tingling with the contact, sending little barbs of electricity through her veins, making her knees tremble.

She didn’t want to be aware of him physically! Not in this moment! Not when she should be simply enraged.

‘No,’ he responded, his own word filled with barely restrained anger. ‘Raf is a first for me.’

‘So?’ Abby wasn’t placated. ‘Where did you find this woman? What are her credentials? How dare you hire someone without taking the time to make sure it was safe or right?’ Her eyes shifted to the back of the plane, but thick grey curtains had been drawn, partitioning the staff from Abby and Gabe.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrists, removing her hands from his chest and holding her arms down by her side. ‘He is my son. I would never do anything that might put him in harm’s way.’

‘Like engaging a nanny you know nothing about?’ Abby retaliated, her gaze smarting.

‘Monique has worked for the Italian ambassador for six years. I have met her a number of times in that capacity and she comes with excellent references. Her security clearance is the highest imaginable. I trust her implicitly, or I wouldn’t have hired her.’

He released his grip on her wrists and stepped backwards, the distance and lack of physical contact immediately frustrating to Abby.

r /> His reasonable response was like a pin popping her anger and yet still she said, ‘You should have spoken to me about it. This kind of thing should be my decision too.’

‘And?’ he said, crossing his arms over his chest, drawing her attention to the breadth of his torso—a torso that had been naked above her, that made her ache to feel his body weight once more. She looked away, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Would you have wanted her, Abigail?’

‘I’m raising my son,’ she said wearily, taking a step back from him, finding a seat and easing herself into it. She curled her legs up beneath her and gnawed on her lower lip, the deluge of emotions that was flooding her quite unwelcome.

‘Yes.’ He took the seat opposite, his long legs spread between them. ‘And you are raising him still. It is not a crime to have professional help.’

Tears clogged her throat and she was afraid of speaking in case he heard the emotions in her voice.

‘If you decide, after a month or two, that you don’t want that help, I am open to re-evaluating the situation.’

It was a concession she hadn’t expected. Abby flicked her glance to him, but whatever she’d been about to say flew from her head. He was looking at her lips, focused intently on them, and her pulse began to drum hard and hot, filling her ears, her body, gushing through her in a way that made her insides clench together. Warmth flooded her and she held her breath.

His eyes lifted briefly to hers and heat seared her, and then his attention moved lower, as if drawn of its own accord. She was wearing a shapeless sweater and a pair of jeans, hardly the stuff of expert seduction, and yet, the way his eyes lingered on the soft curves of her breasts, she felt as though she were wearing the latest designer lingerie.

But when he returned his attention to her face, a face that was flushed courtesy of his slow, possessive scrutiny, there was nothing but determined resolve in his look. Nothing to indicate he’d been at all affected by his languid inspection. Whereas Abby felt as if she might need an ice-cold shower to get her wayward thoughts under control…

CHAPTER FIVE

GABE STARED AT the snow-covered fields on either side of the car and, beyond them, the twinkling night sky. His lips were set in a grim line of determination and his mind was focused on avoidance.

Avoiding the consequences of what he’d just manoeuvred.

Avoiding the realities of marriage to a woman like Abigail—a woman he’d sworn he never wanted to see again.

Avoiding the fact she was still fast asleep in the seat opposite, her pale blonde hair like gold across one shoulder, her body languid even in repose, so that he wanted to stare, but to stare only as a prelude to touching her.

‘Abigail.’ He spoke with a coldness that was completely at odds with the thoughts that had been simmering through his body, tightening him, hardening him, making him remember the softness of her breasts between his palms.

She stirred a little, but remained asleep.

‘Abigail.’ More loudly, more emphatic, as they passed the turn-off for Fiamatina, the small village at the foot of his land. She blinked her eyes open slowly at first, relaxed, unguarded, and for a few moments she frowned with apparent confusion. Then she looked at him and straightened instantly, her expression wary, her body on alert.

‘Where’s Raf?’

Her jumper had risen up a little, exposing an inch or so of flesh at her waist. He looked at it without even realising what he was doing until she reached down and straightened the fabric, clearing her throat. ‘Gabe?’

He couldn’t mistake the desire that was running rampant through his system. That he still wanted her physically was a complication he needed like a hole in the head. ‘In the car behind.’

‘The car behind?’

‘You were asleep,’ he said with a shrug. ‘I didn’t want him to wake you.’

---