The Italian's Ruthless Baby Bargain. Margaret Mayo

      ‘It’s not to your liking?’ he asked immediately. ‘We can go somewhere else if—’

      ‘It’s not that,’ Penny cut in. ‘I expected something a little less formal. I wouldn’t actually call this a bistro.’

      ‘To me it’s a bistro,’ he said easily. ‘It’s very relaxed here. And the food, it is squisito.’ He circled his thumb and finger. ‘You will like it, I promise you.’

      Why are you doing this? she wanted to ask. Are you trying to impress me? She hoped he wasn’t after something else. Fancying him was one thing but she would never allow herself to be compromised.

      But she was worrying for nothing. Santo was a gentleman. He discussed the menu with her, passionately, and their food was perfect in every way. By the end of the meal she was totally relaxed.

      They had talked about anything and everything except themselves. She did enquire which part of Italy he came from, which she discovered was Rome, but he had noticeably clammed up at that point. She didn’t dare ask whether he had parents still alive, brothers or sisters, and she’d posed no further questions. Though she couldn’t help but be intrigued.

      On the other hand he had found out that her favourite colour was brown. ‘Brown?’ he’d asked incredulously. ‘It cannot be your favourite. I can see you in something sky-blue or aquamarine, something to bring out the fantastic colour of your eyes. Have you ever tried those colours?’

      Fantastic colour of her eyes! What else had he noticed about her? It was a scary thought. She didn’t like the idea of her employer observing something so personal.

      ‘Most of my wardrobe is in autumn colours,’ she admitted, ‘and this—’ she spread her hands, looking down at the skirt she wore, and her cream blouse with its tiny brown flowers ‘—is one of my favourite outfits.’

      The moment the words were out Penny regretted them. Her blouse had a drawstring neckline and sat quite low on her shoulders, and she had drawn Santo’s attention to it. She could feel his eyes on her breasts, which to her dismay hardened and tingled, and she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel to have his fingers stroke them. The very thought set her senses sizzling and pulses pounding and it was with an effort that she dashed it away.

      Surely it was time they went. She couldn’t sit here thinking these thoughts any longer. She glanced at her watch. ‘I mustn’t be late picking up Chloe.’

      ‘And I must get back to work. I’ve enjoyed your company, Penny. I feel I know you much better now. It will be a pleasure allowing you to look after my daughter.’

      ‘You could always pick her up from school yourself,’ suggested Penny cautiously. ‘She’d like that.’

      But Santo shook his head. ‘I have another meeting at three. Edward will drive you home. I can walk from here.’

      ‘And will you be home before Chloe goes to bed?’ enquired Penny.

      ‘I’m not sure. Probably not. Say goodnight to her for me.’

      ‘Chloe hardly sees you,’ she told him. ‘It’s really not fair on her, the hours you work. It would be nice if you tried to make more of an effort to see her.’ Then she clapped a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s none of my business.’

      ‘You’re damn right it’s none of your business,’ he responded fiercely, his brown eyes losing the softness that had lingered during their meal. ‘I wouldn’t be where I am today and Chloe wouldn’t have the life she does if I didn’t work the hours I do.’

      But you no longer need to, thought Penny, though she wisely kept the words to herself.

      Amazingly, though, he wasn’t late home. Chloe was in bed admittedly, but it was only a little after eight and Penny was sitting outside with a book on her lap. It was a warm balmy evening and through the trees in the distance she could see the evening sun glinting on the lake and she couldn’t stop counting her blessings that she had been given this job.

      Many of her friends would have found the solitude boring. They liked people and music and parties, but she was not missing them. Not yet at any rate. Or was it perhaps something else that attracted her—perhaps it was the man of the house himself?

      She was sworn off men, so why she felt this pull towards Santo she had no idea. She’d met plenty of good-looking men in the course of her work and had felt nothing for them. Only Santo had made her senses run wild.

      For a few seconds she closed her eyes and pictured his face. She could see him as he’d sat across from her at the restaurant. Those amazing dark eyes that could fill a woman with excitement without a word being said.

      Even thinking about him sent a burning sensation through her lower body, made her head fall back and the tip of her tongue moisten suddenly dry lips. Oh, hell, she thought, was this really happening?

      ‘Penny.’

      The voice was soft—and close! She was imagining it!

      Then a hand touched her shoulder.

      It was real!

      ‘Penny, are you all right?’

      ‘Santo!’ Her eyes snapped open and without even realising it she used his name for the first time. ‘You startled me. I—I didn’t hear you come in.’

      ‘Evidently,’ he said, his rich, deep voice throbbing through her veins.

      It was the sexiest voice she had ever heard. And she couldn’t help wondering what it would be like if he were whispering words of love. She felt sure that it could quite easily make her climax without him even touching her.

      What a crazy situation.

      ‘What were you thinking?’

      ‘Nothing,’ she answered quickly. ‘You’re home early.’

      His mouth twisted wryly. ‘I took your advice. I thought I’d see Chloe before she went to bed, but it looks as though I’m too late.’

      ‘You’ve only missed her by about half an hour,’ Penny informed him, struggling for composure. At least talking about his daughter gave her time to rationalise her breathing.

      To her dismay he pulled a chair close to hers and sat down. ‘Then it’s just you and me.’ He looked relaxed for a change, younger, less severe, and because of the way she’d been thinking earlier it made her want to—to what?

      Touch her fingers to his cheek, explore the contours? See what it felt like to be kissed by a real man. Lord, this hadn’t happened to her since Max. She’d deliberately built a defensive wall and now it was crumbling fast.

      She couldn’t do this, she mustn’t allow herself to once more fall for the wrong man. Santo wouldn’t be interested in her long-term. All he saw was a babysitter for his daughter, someone to take the weight off his shoulders. And if he could enjoy the pleasures of her body in the meantime—why not?

      Now, where had those thoughts come from? He hadn’t shown the slightest inclination to want to kiss her. But men were men. She knew that. Men took advantage of situations.

      And her instincts proved correct when he leaned towards her, when his mouth was inches away from hers. She could see the pores in his skin, faintly smell cedar wood, and the whites of his eyes were so clear that—that she had to get away before she was lost in them.

      Heavens! This wasn’t really happening. It couldn’t be. She’d only been here two days. He wouldn’t pounce on her like that, surely? Risk the fact that he might send her running.

      And she was right. He gave a satisfied smile and then sat back in his seat.

      But she’d given herself away. She’d given him a hold over her. He knew that he could take her any time he wanted to.

      ‘Excuse me, I think I’d better go and check on Chloe,’ she said, jumping to