Did nothing touch her? he wondered furiously. He could be some business acquaintance she was meeting for the first time for all the reaction on her face. What was going on in her mind? In her heart?
For a moment he wished that he had arranged to meet her down by the water, where the foam-flecked grey waters would have drowned his angry words. But he must temper his anger. She carried his child, and although it would have made him feel better to have stormed his rage like the strongest tempest, he must not.
‘I saw you on television this morning,’ he said unexpectedly.
It was the last thing she had imagined he would say.
‘Oh?’ she questioned warily.
The waitress came up with her pad, but he waved her away with an impatient hand, then leaned across the table, so close that she could feel the warmth of his breath and see the darkened irises of his eyes which made him look like the devil incarnate.
‘You are, as they say, very…telegenic, cara,’ he drawled.
He made it sound like an insult.
‘The camera loves you, doesn’t it, Eve?’ he continued softly. ‘It throws intriguing shadows off those high cheekbones and makes your face look as though it is composed of nothing but those grey-green eyes, like an ocean that a man could drown in.’
The words were like poetry, but he delivered them like a man who didn’t want to believe them. ‘If that was supposed to be a compliment, then I’ll pass on any others,’ she said shakily and caught the waitress’s eye, gave her a beseeching smile and, thank heavens, she came over.
‘I’d like the sole with new potatoes and green beans,’ she said steadily. ‘And just water to drink. Luca? What would you like?’
If looks could kill, she thought, with a momentary satisfaction.
‘I’ll have the same,’ he said shortly, but inside he was fuming. He was used to a woman letting him do the ordering!
Had she done that to demonstrate superiority or equality? A pulse began to beat at his temple and for just one wild, crazy moment he wondered what she would do if he went round to her side of the table and hauled her to her feet and began to kiss her. Would she press her body so eagerly to his, and wind her arms around his neck with the passion she had displayed in such abundance?
‘Luca? Are you all right?’
The erotic, frustrating fantasy evaporated and hard on its heels came the sense of burning injustice.
‘No, Eve, I am not “all right”. In fact, I am angry, very, very angry—probably angrier than I have ever been in my life, but I am doing my best to control it.’
Was he trying to intimidate her? Because he would soon find that she would not be. ‘And managing very admirably,’ she said sweetly.
‘I will not be managing very admirably unless you wipe that smug little smile from your mouth and tell me exactly why you have taken on this new show.’ The word slid sarcastically from between his lips.
‘Eve in the Morning!?’ she questioned helpfully.
‘Eve,’ he said warningly. ‘I would like some kind of explanation.’
She decided to stop playing games. She was a free agent. He might have claims on the baby, but none on her and she was perfectly entitled to live her life as she saw fit.
‘I was too sick in the mornings to manage the other ones… Luca, what on earth is the matter?’
‘Sick?’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘You did not tell me you were sick!’
‘Of course I didn’t—it’s quite normal for a pregnant woman to be sick.’
‘And the baby?’
Eve softened, because for a moment his face looked so ravaged that she couldn’t help it. ‘The baby is just fine,’ she said gently. ‘Honestly. I’ve seen the doctor and she says that I am as strong as an ox and as fit as a flea and whatever else it is they say about pregnant women!’
And, to his horror, the overriding thought which dominated his mind was his gratitude that she had chosen a woman doctor! If he was not able to watch her naked, growing belly, then he did not want any other man—doctor or not—to be able to.
‘So they created this brand-new show, just for me,’ she continued.
‘So that the whole country is able to participate in your pregnancy! No one is excluded—except, of course, the father!’