making her feel like a fool. ‘Of course, if you’re hankering after one with me …’
‘Most definitely not!’
He laughed softly at the flush staining her cheeks, her staunch denial of wanting any intimate involvement with him. ‘How long has it been?’ he persisted.
She shrugged. ‘Who cares? I don’t. And I can’t say I’ve lost much sleep trying to keep a record.’
‘Has there been anyone since Ben’s father?’
She stiffened, but said casually, ‘Not really.’ What the heck did it matter if he knew she didn’t date? she thought broodingly, noticing the complacency in the firming of that far too sexy mouth. Why should it concern her if he derived some sort of warped satisfaction from knowing that?
‘Were you planning to marry him?’
‘No.’
‘And yet you had a child.’
She looked down at her plate to hide the tension that was suddenly gripping her.
‘Wasn’t that rather irresponsible?’ he remarked.
‘This is the twenty-first century, Damiano. Believe it or not, women actually choose whether they want to marry or not!’
‘So you chose not?’
‘There isn’t a law against it, is there?’ she snapped, wishing he would drop the subject.
‘I just wondered what you do when you have to go away.’
She had often worried about the same thing, but all she said was, ‘It hasn’t happened yet?’
‘But with your job it’s likely. Exhibitions. Further training courses. The possibility of working further afield. Supposing a client required you to shoot off to New York or Paris or …?’ Those long hands were turned outwards as he shook his head, searching for words. ‘Some other such place to assess a particular product he wanted?’
Riva’s heart did a double-flip. What was he suggesting? ‘Are you saying that would be a problem? That my having a child somehow adversely affects my capabilities and the possibility of who engages me or not?’ So Olivia had been right. He
did
frown on the fact that his design manager was a single mother.
He’s yours, you bastard!
She wanted to fling it at him, watch his scandalously attractive and arrogant face change when she hit him with it. She had to protect herself, though, from the shame and humiliation of his ever finding out. And Ben. Most of all she had to protect Ben.
Feigning an air of calm, she told him, ‘If I could take him with me, I would. If I couldn’t, then I simply wouldn’t go. If, however, it was absolutely imperative, and I could see no other way to avoid it, then Kate would look after him.’
‘Kate?’
‘She’s Ben’s childminder. She’s also my friend.’
That angular jaw hardened as he picked up his glass, swallowed the remains of his wine. ‘So you’d farm him out?’ He set his glass back on the table. ‘It doesn’t seem the most satisfactory way to bring up a child.’
‘I’m not
farming him out,
as you put it!’ Riva countered defensively, feeling the bars of two cages of guilt closing around her now. ‘Just because you were privileged, you think life’s just as hunky-dory for everybody else! Well, it isn’t, Damiano. Some of us have to struggle. The rest of us manage as best we can!’
Surprisingly, she was near to tears and, noticing that, Damiano felt a reluctant softening towards her.
It would be so easy to let this lovely young woman get under his skin, he accepted grimly. But that didn’t alter the fact that together she and her mother would have stitched up Marcello for every penny he had—he was still certain of that; probably stitched him up too if he had been foolish enough to let himself fall victim to this beautiful redhead’s charms. Because he could have done so—and easily—had she but known it.
‘I was merely trying to establish how you run your life, Riva,’ he expressed quietly, allowing that moment of weakness to pass.
Having put down her knife and fork, not hungry any more, absently she stroked the rim of her plate with her forefinger. ‘I didn’t know Mum
‘Most definitely not!’
He laughed softly at the flush staining her cheeks, her staunch denial of wanting any intimate involvement with him. ‘How long has it been?’ he persisted.
She shrugged. ‘Who cares? I don’t. And I can’t say I’ve lost much sleep trying to keep a record.’
‘Has there been anyone since Ben’s father?’
She stiffened, but said casually, ‘Not really.’ What the heck did it matter if he knew she didn’t date? she thought broodingly, noticing the complacency in the firming of that far too sexy mouth. Why should it concern her if he derived some sort of warped satisfaction from knowing that?
‘Were you planning to marry him?’
‘No.’
‘And yet you had a child.’
She looked down at her plate to hide the tension that was suddenly gripping her.
‘Wasn’t that rather irresponsible?’ he remarked.
‘This is the twenty-first century, Damiano. Believe it or not, women actually choose whether they want to marry or not!’
‘So you chose not?’
‘There isn’t a law against it, is there?’ she snapped, wishing he would drop the subject.
‘I just wondered what you do when you have to go away.’
She had often worried about the same thing, but all she said was, ‘It hasn’t happened yet?’
‘But with your job it’s likely. Exhibitions. Further training courses. The possibility of working further afield. Supposing a client required you to shoot off to New York or Paris or …?’ Those long hands were turned outwards as he shook his head, searching for words. ‘Some other such place to assess a particular product he wanted?’
Riva’s heart did a double-flip. What was he suggesting? ‘Are you saying that would be a problem? That my having a child somehow adversely affects my capabilities and the possibility of who engages me or not?’ So Olivia had been right. He
did
frown on the fact that his design manager was a single mother.
He’s yours, you bastard!
She wanted to fling it at him, watch his scandalously attractive and arrogant face change when she hit him with it. She had to protect herself, though, from the shame and humiliation of his ever finding out. And Ben. Most of all she had to protect Ben.
Feigning an air of calm, she told him, ‘If I could take him with me, I would. If I couldn’t, then I simply wouldn’t go. If, however, it was absolutely imperative, and I could see no other way to avoid it, then Kate would look after him.’
‘Kate?’
‘She’s Ben’s childminder. She’s also my friend.’
That angular jaw hardened as he picked up his glass, swallowed the remains of his wine. ‘So you’d farm him out?’ He set his glass back on the table. ‘It doesn’t seem the most satisfactory way to bring up a child.’
‘I’m not
farming him out,
as you put it!’ Riva countered defensively, feeling the bars of two cages of guilt closing around her now. ‘Just because you were privileged, you think life’s just as hunky-dory for everybody else! Well, it isn’t, Damiano. Some of us have to struggle. The rest of us manage as best we can!’
Surprisingly, she was near to tears and, noticing that, Damiano felt a reluctant softening towards her.
It would be so easy to let this lovely young woman get under his skin, he accepted grimly. But that didn’t alter the fact that together she and her mother would have stitched up Marcello for every penny he had—he was still certain of that; probably stitched him up too if he had been foolish enough to let himself fall victim to this beautiful redhead’s charms. Because he could have done so—and easily—had she but known it.
‘I was merely trying to establish how you run your life, Riva,’ he expressed quietly, allowing that moment of weakness to pass.
Having put down her knife and fork, not hungry any more, absently she stroked the rim of her plate with her forefinger. ‘I didn’t know Mum
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