The Italian's Baby of Passion: The Italian's Secret Baby / One-Night Baby / The Italian's Secret Child

‘And you number how many multimillionaires amongst your circle?’

‘I don’t, but Abby knew a few.’ At least Abby’s circle of friends had aspired to the millionaire lifestyle, though, as her sister had explained, not all had had the means to support it.

She saw the flicker of sympathy her bitter remark brought to David’s face and added quickly, ‘The problem is we’re so short-staffed with this flu epidemic. I could do without gestures, kind or otherwise.’

‘The longer you spend arguing with me…God, Scarlet, what are you wearing?’

David had been her honorary uncle since she was tiny. Scarlet was always scrupulous about not trading on the family friend thing, but unfortunately David didn’t feel similarly inhibited when it came to passing the sort of personal comments he wouldn’t get away with with other staff members.

‘Borrowed. A baby threw up all over me.’

‘Goes with the territory, I would imagine,’ came the bracing observation. ‘And you were the one who insisted on leaving an indecently well-paid job in the City to work with children,’ he reminded her.

‘Days like this make me wonder why.’

‘No, you don’t, you love every minute of it. I don’t know why, but you do.’

Scarlet conceded his point with a grin. ‘I suppose asking him to come back another day is out of the question?’ David looked at her over his metal-rimmed half moon spectacles as though she’d lost her mind.

‘Come back another day?’

Scarlet shrugged. ‘I thought I’d ask.’ She caught sight of her reflection in the full-length window. ‘God,’ she cried, wincing, ‘I can’t see him looking like a bag lady.’

‘I’ve seen you looking better, but he’s not here to ask you for a date, Scarlet, so I really don’t see the problem here.’

‘I’m representing the university,’ she said weakly.

‘If you’d been a member of the academic staff I could see your point,’ David responded, treating her suggestion seriously.

‘How lucky that I’m only a nursery nurse,’ she said deadpan.

‘Exactly, and look on the bright side, he’s not going to think you made any special efforts for him which should suit your egalitarian principles down to the ground.’

‘Very funny,’ Scarlet muttered.

‘Now, the sooner you go get your shoulder patted, the sooner you get back to help the troops out.’

With a shrug she admitted defeat.

‘Mr O’Hagan is in my office.’ David turned in the opposite direction.

‘Aren’t you coming too?’ Scarlet protested with a frown.

‘I have an important meeting. Has it occurred to you you might actually like the man?’

‘No.’

‘Then pretend.’ It was not a request.

‘Mr O’Hagan, can I have your autograph,’ she mocked, assuming an expression of brainless adoration.

‘See, you can do it when you try,’ David approved, banging her on the shoulder. ‘Now off you go and remember he’s a very important friend to this university, Scarlet.’

Scarlet nodded meekly. ‘I’ll be very nice to him.’

It didn’t seem a too extravagant promise to make, considering it shouldn’t take Roman O’Hagan long to go through the motions of thanking her—at least she hoped not!

CHAPTER FOUR

ROMAN glanced at his watch, his eyes slightly narrowed. If he could get the Scarlet Smith thing sorted before lunch he could fly back out to Dublin and join Alice, who was already there.

That was the best scenario, but if things did run over he didn’t begrudge the time, not if the end result made his mother happy. Not as happy as being a grandmother would, but his sense of filial duty had limits.

It did not cross his mind for one second that his mother was correct. There was no possibility he had fathered a child. He had been many things in his life, but careless was not one of them.

Not a man given to moody introspection he turned his mind to the pivotal meeting in Dublin later that evening.

Scarlet tapped on the door half hoping that nobody would reply to her timid knock. Nobody did, but the door, already half ajar, swung open. The man revealed standing there, running a long brown finger down the spine of a leather-bound book, seemed oblivious to her presence.

She cleared her throat and his head turned. Dark lashes lifted to reveal eyes that were one shade short of pitch-black and flecked with tiny golden lights. Scarlet’s eyes slid away from the most piercing regard she had ever encountered.

She gulped as her heart made a concerted effort to escape the confines of her chest.

In profile he was perfect; an overused term but more than justified on this occasion. Face on, only a purist would have claimed the fine scar that ran from one razor-sharp cheekbone to just below his eye marred the effect.

Scarlet wasn’t that purist!

Roman’s immediate thought as he stared at the diminutive brown-haired figure hovering uncertainly in the doorway was, there must be some mistake. Realistically, he hadn’t actually been expecting some blonde goddess with endless legs, but this?

The indentation between his eyebrows deepened, the woman he had spoken to on the phone had come across as gutsy and unafraid to speak her mind, not to mention bloody-minded, but this woman looked scared of her own shadow! She couldn’t even meet his eyes!

He experienced an unexpected pang of disappointment.

‘Mr O’Hagan…?’ Scarlet repeated when he didn’t respond.

Great, I’ve struck him dumb, but not with my ravishing beauty!

‘Mr O’Hagan, I understand you wanted to speak to me?’

The voice emerging from the slight frame was right, unexpectedly deep and husky with a sexy little rasp, but everything else was wrong, including the scared way she was not quite looking him in the eye and the tongue-tied routine.

Nice voice, shame about everything else.

‘Miss Smith?’

Scarlet nodded, and resisted the aggravating impulse to apologise for her appearance.

‘Why don’t you come in and sit down?’