Special Deliveries: Her Nine-Month Secret. Charlene Sands

pretty much anything—he could discuss theatre, opera and art, and he could make her laugh in a thousand ways. If there was ever anything on her mind, anything troubling her, he always knew how to sort it out.

      He was physical in ways she could never have imagined and saw nothing wrong in getting his hands dirty helping out at the sanctuary. He listened to everything she said, and she knew that she talked a lot. He probably knew more about her childhood and her background than the friends she had grown up with!

      But there were dark areas to him that were practically impenetrable and she had hit one. She knew that even as he turned away and headed out towards the garden where the warm bottle of wine and the crudités, dried at the edges, were waiting for them.

      ‘You’re right. It’s warm.’ He grinned at her and decided that he would put that brief, awkward conversation somewhere safely out of mind. ‘Let’s scrap the wine and the… eh… sticks of celery and carrot.’

      ‘Crudités,’ Holly reluctantly grinned back at him and he gave her a swift hug and dropped a kiss on the corner of her mouth.

      ‘Hmm. If you say so. I’ve bought you something; you can wear it to go out…’ He dipped into his trouser pocket and extracted a small box. The bracelet had cost him thousands. He had chosen it himself. Naturally, he would assure her that it was just a trinket. It was the only way he could give her things and he liked giving her things. Maybe because she never asked for anything. She was neither materialistic, nor was she grasping, but then why would she be when she was clueless as to his financial worth?

      ‘Wow.’ The bracelet was studded with what could easily have passed for real diamonds. ‘This is amazing, Luiz.’ She held it up to the light and watched the way the gemstones caught the rays of the sun. ‘You shouldn’t have.’

      ‘You say that every time I give you something.’

      ‘Yes, I know. And I keep telling you that there’s no need for you to bring me presents all the time. There must be loads of other stuff you need the money for. Living in London isn’t cheap…’ He had told her that he had a little place in a good enough location. She wasn’t entirely sure what ‘a good enough location’ was and how little his little place might be but, whatever it was and wherever it was located, it would still have cost a lot. Heaven only knew what his mortgage repayments were!

      ‘Let me worry about my finances,’ Luiz murmured, urging her back into the house. ‘And tell me where you would like to eat.’

      ‘There’s something in the oven,’ Holly told him breathlessly. Crudités were going to be followed by a casserole. She had followed a recipe. There would be candlelight and she would edge towards the questions she wanted to ask him in stages. She didn’t really know why she felt so timid about discussing their relationship. She just did. It was something he never discussed and his reticence on the subject was strangely infectious.

      ‘I thought we could eat here… talk a bit.’

      ‘Talk a bit?’ Luiz felt a stirring of unease. He had already diverted an awkward conversation about Clarissa. He hoped that there were no plans to return to the subject. Walking into the kitchen a step behind her, he noted that the table had been elaborately set. Usually, eating in was a casual exercise. Something quick was rustled up. There always seemed to be a lot of catching up to do even though he was accustomed to speaking to her during the week. Food was usually just a necessary interruption.

      ‘Talk about what?’ he demanded.

      Holly turned around and gazed at him equably. Underneath the calm exterior, however, she felt unaccountably nervous, and then for the first time ever a certain amount of resentment that she should be made to feel nervous about the prospect of having a perfectly natural conversation with the man she was in love with.

      ‘Oh, about us.’ She gave an unnaturally high laugh and turned away to pour them both a glass of cold wine from the fridge.

      ‘We talk about us all the time.’

      ‘No, we don’t. I mean, we talk about the things we’ve been doing during the week, but we don’t talk about us.’ She fought past the sinking feeling she was getting at the closed expression on his face. Her legs felt a little wobbly and she sat down on the kitchen chair, clutching the wine glass.

      ‘What is there to talk about?’ Luiz was deliberately obtuse. The width of the table between them felt like a chasm. He had become accustomed to her soft, yielding personality. Everything about her was sweetly, generously feminine. She thought of him in a million little ways and he liked that. It was why similarly, he put himself out for her like he had never done for any other woman before. Right now, though, he had the disconcerting sensation that she was pulling away from him.

      ‘I’ve never even seen your place,’ Holly told him wistfully.

      ‘You’ve never asked.’ And he had never encouraged. How could he?

      ‘You know everything about me and I know so little about you.’

      ‘You know everything that’s of any importance.’

      ‘But you never talk to me about your job—your hopes and dreams for the future.’

      ‘The second I mention the word “computer” you glaze over, Holly. You’ve been known to state that they’re more trouble than they’re worth. Why would we waste time discussing them?’

      ‘I’m not saying that we talk about computers. I’m saying that you never mention the people you work with. What are they like? Are they fun? I bet the girls in your department are all in love with you…’ She laughed but a part of her wondered whether that was really the case. He was so stunning, so charismatic; how could anyone not fall in love with him?

      ‘Are you fishing for compliments?’ The table between them wasn’t a good idea. He needed to be able to touch her. He stood up and pulled a chair towards her so that he could sift his fingers through her long hair. ‘You are the only woman on my mind. I wouldn’t be able to describe any of the women I see at work, in the street or anywhere else, for that matter.’ Nor had he been tempted, once, to stray. Fidelity had never had such a hold over him.

      ‘I think of you all the time.’ He gently removed the glass from her hand so that he could tug her towards him and kiss her very gently on her mouth, taking his time. She didn’t protest when he undid those wretched buttons, this time not caring whether they ripped or not. This, he thought, was more like it.

      Think of me in terms of what? Holly wondered. As the woman he enjoyed having sex with? Or as the woman he saw sharing his life with for ever? And, if he thought of sharing his life with her for ever, then how was it that the future had never been a subject for discussion?

      ‘There’s no need to feel insecure on that front,’ Luiz said huskily. He was getting more aroused by the second. How could she think, even for a minute, that he might look at other women when his responses to her were always so shamefully, glaringly obvious? He pushed her back into the chair and pulled down the top of the dress to look with unashamed, possessive satisfaction at breasts that were flushed from his caresses.

      ‘I don’t,’ Holly said abruptly. Where was this edgy dissatisfaction coming from? She stood up, roughly buttoned the dress back up and ignored the throbbing between her legs that begged for his fingers, his mouth, the steel-hard length of his erection. ‘I know you find me attractive…’

      ‘More than attractive!’ He narrowed his eyes on her back. She had turned away from him to begin the process of setting the food out. He wanted to know what she was thinking, although there was a part of him that was getting powerful vibes of discontent. That said, he was certain that he could smooth away all that discontent if only she would allow him. ‘You shouldn’t have gone to all this trouble.’ He stood up, walked towards her and noted her infinitesimal shift away from him. ‘Let me help.’

      ‘You can light the candles on the table.’ She thought of the crudités shrivelling on the patio outside and the conversation which had yet to get going. At least, get going