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and waiting for her mother to break the awkward silence.
‘That’s how it is these days,’ said Louise Sadler eventually, and sighed. ‘Nothing’s perfect, my darling. As long as you feel able to cope as a single mother, then that’s the main thing.’
‘You mean it, Mum?’
‘I most certainly do. I…we…are very proud of you and the way you’re handling this unexpected situation. You’ve been plucky and strong. You’re a little soldier.’
‘I am?’
‘Of course you are,’ her mother asserted briskly. ‘You’ve put your heart and soul into doing what you wanted to do, you haven’t accepted any help from either me or your father, and you’re soldiering on…working…making sure you maintain your independence. I’ll wager you’re not accepting anything from Sergio without a fight.’
Susie laughed, feeling on a high. ‘I make noises,’ she confessed. ‘You know it sticks in my throat having to accept his help. But if Sergio decides to do something it’s impossible trying to stop him. Honestly, he’s the human equivalent of a steamroller!’
‘Quite…’ her mother said after a pause. ‘I expect it’s what you need to be if you’re to reach the giddy heights that he has…’
Buoyed by her conversation with her mother, Susie had a good night’s sleep and awoke the following morning to the insistent ring of her doorbell.
She didn’t bother to check the time. Instead she dragged herself out of bed and padded to the door, flinging on a dressing gown over the nightie that clung to her newly rounded body.
She pulled open the front door and there he was, in all his drop-dead gorgeous, magnificent glory, finger poised to ring the bell one more time.
She yawned. ‘What time is it?’
Still drowsy, Susie swept her hand through her tangled hair and stared at Sergio, who looked unfairly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed while she felt as though she still needed a few more hours’ sleep in order to face the day.
‘Gone nine-thirty. Have you forgotten that you’re moving in to the house today?’
His voice sounded normal, but Sergio was feeling far from normal. He had seen the change in her body only through layers of baggy clothes. Now she was standing in front of him, flimsy bathrobe hanging open, and an even flimsier nightdress revealing everything he had not been able to see properly before.
Lust hit him hard, knocking him for six. Her belly was rounded, her breasts fuller, and through the thin fabric he could easily glimpse the outline of her nipples, bigger and darker, poking against the cotton.
He discovered that his breathing was laboured. He wanted to shut the door behind him and propel her to her bed and…take her. It was a primitive caveman instinct that was unlike anything he had ever felt in his life before. The desire for possession roared through him and he raked his fingers through his hair and shifted restlessly on his feet.
He had to look away.
‘I hope this isn’t the way you answer the door to whoever happens to ring your doorbell,’ he muttered hoarsely. ‘You need to cover yourself up.’
Or he’d have to excuse himself to use her bathroom, so that he could relieve himself of his massive, throbbing erection.
That was like a bucket of cold water being poured over her and Susie woke up fully, recognising her state of undress and yanking her dressing gown tightly around her.
She hadn’t thought! She’d been so sleepy that it hadn’t occurred to her that she was on show—in all her new body glory! And judging from his reaction he couldn’t have been less turned on by the sight.
Mortified, she stepped back to let him pass and excused herself hurriedly so that she could change.
She flung on anything—baggy jogging bottoms and a loose sweater with a vest underneath, warm socks and her trainers—and reappeared to find him staring through the window.
‘I’m sorry.’ She was tense as he slowly turned round to look at her. ‘I overslept. I planned on setting the alarm but I must have forgotten… I seem to spend half my life forgetting things these days!’
She could feel the tension in the air between them and wanted to tell him that he could relax, that she wasn’t about to jump on him.
Sergio was having difficulty getting words out. ‘No problem.’
‘I did manage to pack some stuff,’ she continued into the awkward thick silence. ‘Not that there’s that much to pack… I have a suitcase filled with clothes, but I think I might just leave my bits and pieces of crockery here. No point taking them, is there?’
Silence.
‘Are you…all right? You look a bit pale.’
‘We should go—get you in. You can have the day then…to settle in. I…I’ve made sure that there’s food…some basics…’ He had become a stuttering idiot. He rubbed the back of his neck.
‘You—you shouldn’t have,’ Susie stammered.
‘It’s no big deal.’
Sergio recovered his composure slowly. The good news was that breathing was now possible.
‘You need to rest. You can’t be hopping into a car every two seconds to go down to the shops.’
He grabbed the case on the floor and gave a cursory glance round the room, which looked even more dilapidated now, if that was possible.
‘I’m thinking you should paint until you feel tired, then rest.’
‘I’ll be the size of a beached whale if I do that. A pregnant woman needs a little exercise or else the pounds pile on.’
He didn’t say anything, but from where he was standing the piling on of the pounds seemed to be increasing her sexiness—not diminishing it.
Now that she knew where they were heading Susie took the time to appreciate the joy of getting out of the packed streets and never-ending noise.
For once, Stanley wasn’t driving.
‘A week’s holiday doing a baking course in Devon,’ Sergio explained. ‘The man never fails to amaze me. He’s moved effortlessly from a life of breaking into cars to a life of breaking into recipe books.’
Because he had you as his mentor, was the thought that sprang instantly into her head.
The house was as delightful second time round as it had been the first time. More so, if anything. The garden seemed bigger, more abundantly landscaped, and as she stepped into the house the furnishings that she had skimmed over in her confusion at being there were more homely, warmer, more welcoming than she remembered.
He hadn’t been lying when he had said that some shopping had been done. The cupboards were full—as was the fridge.
‘I’ll send my man back to your house to get the rest of your things.’
‘There’s nothing, really. Like I said, I’ve packed my clothes and my art stuff…and the few knick-knacks my parents gave me to make the place a little less… What’s left are just some stupid posters and bric-a-brac I bought to make the place less…less…’
‘Vile? Disgusting?’
The corners of her mouth twitched and unconsciously she placed her hand on her stomach. ‘Maybe…’
He knew those knick-knacks. They were the anomalies in her flat that had first made him suspect her of not being who she said she was—the expensive little things that had seemed to prove her a liar, the lingering question mark that had finally driven him to that wedding.
‘Why don’t you stay…have something to eat…some lunch…? I mean, you’ve