Anne Mather - The Baby Gambit

There was a delightful breeze blowing off the water, and her eyes were continually drawn to the busy quay, where fishing boats vied for space among sleek yachts and sailing dinghies. Enviably tanned men and women were standing about in groups, modelling the latest styles in designer gear, or sunning themselves on the decks of gleaming motor cruisers anchored in the bay.

At the end of a short pier, a ferry was boarding, taking passengers to other resorts along the coast, and Grace mused that the whole scene looked as if it had been lifted from the pages of a glossy holiday brochure. So why was it that when the waiter appeared to take her order she felt so alone suddenly? And why did she find herself wishing that there was still a man in her life, too?

‘I’ll have the risotto salad,’ she told the waiter, pointing out her choice just in case he didn’t understand what she meant

‘Ah, bene,’ he said, smiling approvingly. ‘You like the vino, sì?’

‘No, thank you.’ Grace covered her glass with her hand and smiled to soften her refusal. ‘Just the salad, if you don’t mind.’

‘Okay, signora.’

The man inclined his head resignedly, and Grace wondered if his use of the more formal salutation was a sign that she was looking old.

She grimaced. There was no doubt that the waiter was considerably younger than she was. Twelve years, at least, she decided drily, and then caught him watching her as he punched the code for her order into the till.

She turned her head away at once, anxious to avoid him thinking she was interested in him. But, as she stared at the view, she wondered when she’d stopped being flattered by a stranger’s attention; when she’d become so wary of a man’s motives that she froze out every male she met.

The suspicion that the waiter was still watching her caused her to glance around again, but the young man was nowhere to be seen. Evidently, he had gone to collect someone else’s order and she decided she must be getting paranoid, sensing eyes upon her when there weren’t any there.

Yet...

A shiver rippled down her spine as the uneasy feeling of being scrutinised persisted, and she almost jumped out of her skin when a low masculine voice spoke just above her head. ‘We meet again, Miss Horton.’ Matteo di Falco’s casual greeting was polite, but detached, and she supposed she couldn’t blame him after the way she’d treated him before.

‘Oh—’ She looked up at him awkwardly. ‘Um—hello.’ A swift glance up and down the promenade ascertained the fact that he was alone, too. She forced a smile. ‘I’m just trying to keep out of the sun.’

‘So I see.’ Long-fingered hands dipped into the pockets at the waistline of his trousers. ‘Bene, enjoy your meal.’

Grace took a deep breath. ‘Are—are you having lunch—um—signore?’ she asked, with rather more warmth than she’d shown thus far, and his thin lips parted to allow his tongue access to the corner of his mouth.

‘What is it you English say?’ he asked, dark humour evident in the depths of his lazy eyes. ‘As if you care, no?’ he suggested wryly. Then, as if regretting his own irony, he added, ‘But to answer your question, no. I was simply exchanging a few words with a colleague, when I saw you sitting here, alone.’

Grace’s lips tightened at the implied vote of sympathy, and before she could stop herself she said, ‘I enjoy my own company, as it happens.’

‘I am sure you do,’ he answered smoothly, but despite the courtesy of his words Grace felt a hot wave of colour envelop her cheeks. For God’s sake, she thought crossly, he would think she was a complete idiot. Not only shrewish, but gauche as well.

‘I didn’t mean that the way it sounded,’ she found herself protesting hurriedly, but she saw at once that her efforts to excuse herself had fallen on stony ground.

‘Oh, I’m sure you did, Miss Horton,’ he countered flatly. ‘Once again, please accept my good wishes.’ He glanced up at the awning. ‘You’ve chosen well. The food here is some of the best in town.’

CHAPTER TWO Table of Contents Cover About the Author Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author ANNE MATHER Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages. This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given. We are sure you will love them all! Title Page The Baby Gambit Anne Mather www.millsandboon.co.uk CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN EPILOGUE Copyright Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

GRACE was stir-frying a pan of vegetables when Julia arrived home.

After lunch at the quayside café, she’d spent some time looking round the little town that crowded the harbour, and she hadn’t been able to resist buying some of the fresh fruit and other produce she’d found displayed in the small shops. There had been so many varieties of peaches and plums and apricots, as well as the more familiar things such as beans and peas, sweet corn and peppers, which gave off such an appetising aroma as they simmered in the pan.

If she’d wondered whether she might run into Matteo di Falco again, that was something she preferred not to think about. But she couldn’t deny that her eyes had been drawn to every tall dark man she’d seen. Still, whatever he’d been doing before he’d spoken to her at the café, he was apparently no longer in Portofalco, and she’d decided she was lucky not to have to deal with him again.

But it was good to see Julia, and Grace removed the pan from the heat before going to meet her friend. They hugged and exchanged greetings, before Julia subsided somewhat gratefully onto one of the stools that flanked the breakfast bar. ‘I’m beat!’ she exclaimed, pulling a wry face. She nodded towards the stove. ‘But I’m glad to see you’re making yourself at home.’

Grace grimaced. ‘I hoped you wouldn’t mind. I didn’t know if you’d be coming home, or what time, but I thought if you did you wouldn’t want to go out for a meal. So I’ve made enough for two.’

‘Great,’ said Julia, putting her elbow on the bar and resting her head on her hand. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you arrived.’ She pulled a face. ‘I had my weekend all planned.’

‘But you had to cut it short,’ murmured Grace sympathetically, taking the bottle of wine she’d opened earlier from the fridge. She poured a glass and pushed it towards Julia. ‘Well, you can relax now. Supper’s almost ready.’

‘Thanks.’

Julia sipped the wine with evident enjoyment, and as she did so Grace took a moment to glance at her friend. Was it only the fact that she’d had to put in these extra hours that had made her look so weary? Or was there some other problem troubling her? If she waited long enough, she guessed Julia would tell her what it was.