Rebecca Winters: The Count's Christmas Baby

His lips twisted unpleasantly before he moved closer. “You’ve been secretive long enough. I’d like to see your passport.” Sami had the strongest conviction he was curious about her, too. At this point she knew she’d heard his voice before. But where? When she’d come to Europe a year ago, she hadn’t visited Italy.

While she rummaged in her purse, her mind was searching to remember. He stood there waiting, larger than life with an air of authority much more commanding than any police chief’s. She handed the passport to him. After he read the information, he gave it back.

“I’ve never heard of you.” His eyes glittered with barely suppressed anger. “The Alberto Degenoli I believe you’re looking for is no longer alive, but I think you already knew that. How well did you know him?” he demanded.

Ah. Now she understood the police chief’s earlier remark about “business.” Both men assumed she’d been involved with the man she was looking for. Sami lifted her head. “I didn’t know him at all. In fact I never met him, but I’d h-hoped to,” she stammered. Sadness overwhelmed her to realize she’d come to Italy for nothing.

“What did this man mean to you?”

Wouldn’t he just love to know, but he’d be so wrong! She took a fortifying breath. “Since he’s dead … nothing.”

“How did you hear of him?”

Sami had heard of him through his son, but he was dead, too. If this man was the only living Degenoli in Genoa, then what the chief of police had said was probably true. She should fly to Geneva to start her search there before flying home.

“It no longer matters.” She tried to swallow, but the sudden swelling in her throat made it difficult. “Forgive me for bothering you.” She spun around and made a quick exit.

As she flew down the hall to the entrance of the police station, she suddenly realized what had been bothering her. The man she’d just left had the same kind of voice as her baby’s deceased father. That’s why it had sounded so familiar and disturbing … except for one thing.

This man didn’t have that tender, caring quality in his voice. His tone and manner had been borderline accusatory. Her body gave a shudder before she stepped into the first taxi in the line-up in front of the building.

Ric had caught only a glimpse of tear-filled green eyes before she dashed from Coretti’s office. Could there be two American women in existence who sounded that identical? He supposed the coincidence was possible, since he’d never seen this woman in his life.

For months he’d looked for the woman he’d been trapped in the snow with, hoping she would come looking for him, but by summer he’d decided she must have died in that avalanche.

He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the way this woman’s husky voice had trembled. Much as he hated to admit it, a part of him had felt her emotion was genuine. The classic features of her pale blond beauty, so different from his own countrywomen, already bothered him in ways he was reluctant to admit.

But great as her acting had been, Ric was convinced Signorina Argyle had lied to him, or at least hadn’t told him the whole truth. Whatever her secret, he was determined to find it out.

Running on pure adrenaline at this point, he buzzed Carlo, his head of security, and told him to follow the twenty-six-year-old blonde American woman leaving the police station. When she reached her destination, he wanted to know exactly where she went from there, so he could arrange a private meeting.

Now hadn’t been the time to stop her. The conversation he intended to have with her needed to be someplace where they could be strictly alone with no chance of anyone else walking in on them.

With his visit to the chief’s office accomplished, he went out to the limo. Within a few minutes he learned she was booked in at the Grand Savoia—one of the best, if not the best hotel in Genoa. It was expensive any time, but especially over the holidays. He told the driver to take him there. Carlo indicated Ric would find her on the third floor, to the right of the elevator, four doors down on the left.

Before long he alighted from the limo and entered the hotel. Deciding to take her by surprise, he dispensed with the idea of phoning her and took the stairs two at a time to her floor. When he reached her door, he knocked loudly enough for her to hear.

“Signorina Argyle? It’s Signor Degenoli. We need to talk.” He got no response, so he decided to try a different tactic. “Why were you trying to find Alberto? I would like to help you if you’d let me.”

Carlo had told him she’d gone into her room and hadn’t come out again, but she might be showering. He gave her another minute, then knocked again. “Signorina?”

A few seconds later the door opened as wide as the little chain would allow. He saw those green eyes lifted to him in consternation, but they were red-rimmed. By the look of it, she’d been crying. That much was genuine.

The champagne-gold of her collar-length hair gleamed in the hall light. She’d discarded her jacket. From the little he could see, a curvaceous figure was revealed beneath the silky white blouse she’d tucked in at the waist of her navy skirt. Every inch of her face and body appealed strongly to him.

“I didn’t realize the police chief had had me followed.” The natural shape of her mouth had a voluptuous flare he’d noticed back at the station. But right now it was drawn tight. She hugged the door, as if she didn’t trust him not to break in on her.

Ric lounged against the wall. “Don’t blame him. I asked one of my men to keep an eye on you until I could catch up with you.”

“Your men?”

“My bodyguards. If you’ll invite me inside, I’ll be happy to explain.”

A delicate frown marred her features. “I’m sorry, Mr. Degenoli, but as I said at the station, there’s nothing more to discuss and I have other plans.”

“As do I.” He was already late leaving for Cyprus. “But we have unfinished business,” he rapped out. To his disgust, he wondered what her exact plans were. Deep inside, his gut twisted to think that he could be this intensely attracted to a stranger. His interest in her made no sense, but the sound of her voice and the way she talked still played with his senses.

A sound of exasperation escaped her lips. “Please believe me when I tell you how badly I feel that you were called into the police station for nothing. If you’d like me to pay you for the inconvenience, I could give you fifty dollars to cover the gas money. It’s all I can spare.”

If that were true, then she’d chosen too expensive a hotel to stay in. “I don’t want your money. To be frank, I knew you were upset when you left the station.” He cocked his head. “I can tell you’ve been crying. Now that we don’t have Chief Coretti for an audience, you can speak freely with me.”

“I probably could, but there’d be no point.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands. “I’ve come to the end of my search. I have to say goodbye now.”

There was no question in his mind she was holding back something vital. He put his foot in the door so she couldn’t close it. “Not until I get more answers. For one thing—” He only got that far because he heard a baby fussing. The sounds came from the other side of the door. I knew it!

“Not so fast.” Ric put his weight against the door so she couldn’t shut it on him. “Whose baby is it?”

“Mine.”

“And Alberto’s?” With his mind firing, all Ric could think was that his father had made love to this woman and she’d come to present him with the fruit of that union, but it was too late.

“No—” she cried.

“Then prove it to me.”