Milo while I did my doctorate and I was lucky enough to be taken onto the research programme soon afterwards. We get by. We have enough.’
Unmistakable pride straightened Sam’s spine. Rafaele could see it in the set of her shoulders and he had to hand it to her—grudgingly. She hadn’t come running to him looking for a hand-out as soon as she’d known her pregnancy was viable. He didn’t know any woman who wouldn’t have taken advantage of that fact. And yet Sam had been determined to go it alone.
‘Would you have come to me if you’d needed money?’
Rafaele could see her go pale at the prospect and something dark rushed to his gut. She would have preferred to struggle than to see him again. Since last Saturday’s cataclysmic revelation Rafaele had been avoiding looking at the fact that he’d felt so compelled to see Sam again he’d ignored his earlier warning to himself to stay away and had gone to her house with more than a sense of anticipation in his belly. It had been something bordering much closer to a need . He’d tried to ignore it, but he’d been incensed that she’d been so dismissive. Uninterested.
Rafaele stood up. ‘I fail to see what all this has to do with me getting what I want—which is my son.’
Sam stood up too, her cheeks flushing, making her eyes stand out like glittering pools of grey. Desire, dark and urgent, speared Rafaele.
‘That’s just it. You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about you or me. It’s about Milo and what’s best for him . He’s not a pawn, Rafaele, you can’t just move him around at will to get back at me. His needs must come first.’
Rafaele felt stung at her tirade. She had the right to maternal indignation because she’d experienced the bonding process. He hadn’t. But he knew that she was right. He couldn’t just waltz in and pluck his son out of his routine, much as he wanted to. But he hated her for this.
Tightly he asked, ‘So what is your suggestion, then?’
The relief that moved across her expressive fine features made him even angrier. Did she really think it would be this easy?
‘We leave Milo where he is, at home with me. And you can come and see him...we’ll work something out while you’re here in England...and then, once we see how it goes, we can work out a longer term arrangement. After all, you won’t be here for ever...’
He could see her spying her bag nearby and she moved to get it. His eyes were drawn against his will to her tall, slim form as she bent and then straightened, her breasts pushing against her shirt, reminding him of how badly he’d ached to touch them for the first time, and what it had felt like to cup their firm weight, made perfectly to fit his palms. The fact that the memory was so vivid was not welcome.
Sam was the only woman who’d ever had this ability to make him feel slightly out of his comfort zone. Coasting on the edge of extreme danger. And not the kind he liked, where he ultimately had control, say in a car.
Danger zone or no danger zone, something primal gripped Rafaele deep inside at seeing Sam preparing to leave, looking so relieved—as if she could just lay it all on the line like this and he’d agree.
She was backing away, tucking some loose hair behind her ear, and it was that one simple familiar gesture that pushed Rafaele over an edge. ‘Do you really think it’s that easy? That I’ll simply agree to your terms?’
She stopped. ‘You can’t do this, Rafaele—insist on having it your way. It’s not fair on Milo. If he’s going to get to know you then it should be in his own safe environment. He’s going to be confused as it is.’
Rafaele moved closer to Sam, almost against his will. ‘And whose fault is that?’ he reminded her, as an audacious plan formed in his brain. ‘What do you hope for, Sam? That after a couple of visits I’ll grow bored and you’ll be left in peace?’
She swallowed visibly and looked faintly guilty. ‘Of course not.’
But she
Unmistakable pride straightened Sam’s spine. Rafaele could see it in the set of her shoulders and he had to hand it to her—grudgingly. She hadn’t come running to him looking for a hand-out as soon as she’d known her pregnancy was viable. He didn’t know any woman who wouldn’t have taken advantage of that fact. And yet Sam had been determined to go it alone.
‘Would you have come to me if you’d needed money?’
Rafaele could see her go pale at the prospect and something dark rushed to his gut. She would have preferred to struggle than to see him again. Since last Saturday’s cataclysmic revelation Rafaele had been avoiding looking at the fact that he’d felt so compelled to see Sam again he’d ignored his earlier warning to himself to stay away and had gone to her house with more than a sense of anticipation in his belly. It had been something bordering much closer to a need . He’d tried to ignore it, but he’d been incensed that she’d been so dismissive. Uninterested.
Rafaele stood up. ‘I fail to see what all this has to do with me getting what I want—which is my son.’
Sam stood up too, her cheeks flushing, making her eyes stand out like glittering pools of grey. Desire, dark and urgent, speared Rafaele.
‘That’s just it. You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about you or me. It’s about Milo and what’s best for him . He’s not a pawn, Rafaele, you can’t just move him around at will to get back at me. His needs must come first.’
Rafaele felt stung at her tirade. She had the right to maternal indignation because she’d experienced the bonding process. He hadn’t. But he knew that she was right. He couldn’t just waltz in and pluck his son out of his routine, much as he wanted to. But he hated her for this.
Tightly he asked, ‘So what is your suggestion, then?’
The relief that moved across her expressive fine features made him even angrier. Did she really think it would be this easy?
‘We leave Milo where he is, at home with me. And you can come and see him...we’ll work something out while you’re here in England...and then, once we see how it goes, we can work out a longer term arrangement. After all, you won’t be here for ever...’
He could see her spying her bag nearby and she moved to get it. His eyes were drawn against his will to her tall, slim form as she bent and then straightened, her breasts pushing against her shirt, reminding him of how badly he’d ached to touch them for the first time, and what it had felt like to cup their firm weight, made perfectly to fit his palms. The fact that the memory was so vivid was not welcome.
Sam was the only woman who’d ever had this ability to make him feel slightly out of his comfort zone. Coasting on the edge of extreme danger. And not the kind he liked, where he ultimately had control, say in a car.
Danger zone or no danger zone, something primal gripped Rafaele deep inside at seeing Sam preparing to leave, looking so relieved—as if she could just lay it all on the line like this and he’d agree.
She was backing away, tucking some loose hair behind her ear, and it was that one simple familiar gesture that pushed Rafaele over an edge. ‘Do you really think it’s that easy? That I’ll simply agree to your terms?’
She stopped. ‘You can’t do this, Rafaele—insist on having it your way. It’s not fair on Milo. If he’s going to get to know you then it should be in his own safe environment. He’s going to be confused as it is.’
Rafaele moved closer to Sam, almost against his will. ‘And whose fault is that?’ he reminded her, as an audacious plan formed in his brain. ‘What do you hope for, Sam? That after a couple of visits I’ll grow bored and you’ll be left in peace?’
She swallowed visibly and looked faintly guilty. ‘Of course not.’
But she
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