Riccardo's Secret Child by Cathy Williams

like to know?’ he asked, watching her flushed face and the way she had the quirky habit of shoving her hair behind her ears when she felt nervous.
    â€˜What have you been doing since…is there anyone in your life? I never even thought to ask when I came to see you.’
    â€˜Is there anyone in my life…?’ Riccardo drawled, sitting back and loosely linking his fingers on his lap. ‘Right now I can say with my hand on my heart, that the only female in my life is Nicola. And yourself, of course.’
    Yes, and for all the wrong reasons, Julia thought. She felt a puzzling sting of pain.
    â€˜You never thought about…getting married again?’
    â€˜You have obviously never been through a divorce. Believe me when I tell you that it is one of the most powerful reasons for doubting the institution of marriage. I learned to my cost that the state of wedded bliss can turn two people into strangers and from strangers into hostile opponents.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Not that I would want to put you off.’
    â€˜It can be bliss for some,’ Julia pointed out. ‘My parents were very happily married.’
    â€˜As were mine. I guess you just have to say that it’s a game of hit or miss, wouldn’t you agree? But then again, what relationship isn’t hit or miss?’ He toyed with his coffee-cup and then took a sip. She had talked to him about her childhood, about what it was like being a teacher, aboutsome of the plays she had seen, the restaurants she had been to, but she had said nothing about the men in her life, and Riccardo suddenly had a burning curiosity to find out about that private side of her. She was as contained as all his previous lovers had been obligingly informative. She retreated with the same speed as they had advanced.
    â€˜Shall we dance?’ he asked lazily, upturning his hand and waiting for her to accept the invitation.
    The dance floor was slightly less crowded than it had been, although the level of noise was higher, a muted but background surge of voices and laughter as the alcohol consumption increased and inhibitions diminished.
    The tune carried a more upbeat tempo, and Riccardo swung her towards him, his long legs carrying the tune, his hips grinding gently against her body, his arms circling her back giving her no room to establish any space between them.
    Julia felt heady and recklessly alive. It was warm in the room and a fine film of perspiration made her skin tingle.
    â€˜So tell me about your love life,’ he whispered. ‘Do teachers have love lives? I never used to think so at school until I was fourteen and had the pleasure of being in a class with a very voluptuous science teacher. I never realised how fascinating physics could be.’ He laughed softly at the memory and Julia’s lips curved into a smile.
    â€˜I can’t imagine you taking apples in for your teacher,’ she said.
    â€˜Perhaps not the apples but some highly charged fantasies. Until I discovered that she had a husband and a child, at which point I was cured of my adolescent infatuation and started concentrating my charged fantasies on slightly more attainable goals.’ His mouth brushed the vulnerable curve of her neck. Any ideas about seduction to even ascore had disappeared. He had wanted to taste that soft skin, had just not been able to resist.
    Julia’s breath caught in her throat. No, she most certainly had not imagined that. But she didn’t want to stop him. He was turning her on and she wanted him to carry on turning her on. Three glasses of wine had put paid to her reservations.
    â€˜So does this teacher arouse fantasies in schoolboys?’ he asked, his breath warm in her ear, tickling.
    â€˜Eight-and nine-year-old boys don’t have fantasies,’ she murmured, her face tilted so that her cheek pressed against the smooth cotton of his shirt. ‘Or, at least, not of the nature you describe. I think their