gave a scornful snort, edged a little towards the window and glanced down seeing, not the shiny boy’s toy his comment had brought to mind, but a disreputable-looking four wheel drive parked down below.
You could tell a lot about a man by the car he drove, as her mother had always told her daughters—her theory was not in Miranda’s experience foolproof, but sometimes dead on. Oliver drove a solid estate, which suited him; safe, steady and dependable.
‘Gracious!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m not surprised he was sick in that thing! What possessed you to transport a child who suffers from travel sickness in something that’s one step up from a horse and cart?’
‘You know what they say, Miranda—beggars can’t be choosers,’ he drawled with a languid shrug. ‘And I’m obviouslynot the expert on all things relating to childcare that you are.’ Jaw clenched, he arched a sarcastic brow. ‘How many children do you have?’
‘That’s not Daddy’s car. Daddy has a big, big car!’ the child boasted as he made a thrumming sound in his throat and began to charge around the room in imitation of a car, proving if nothing else that he hadn’t been injured by the fall.
Miranda’s softly rounded jaw tightened with annoyance. ‘I don’t have children and I never claimed to be an expert.’
‘Just a woman.’
‘What have you got against women?’
His sensually sculpted upper lip curled into an exaggerated leer. ‘I have never been accused of not liking women.’
I just bet they like you right back
, she thought, dragging her gaze from his mouth, aware as she did so of the heavy ache low in her abdomen. This man really was sinfully attractive. She felt a spasm of sympathy for Liam’s mother, then as her eyes were drawn back to his mouth that vanished as it occurred to her the woman didn’t need sympathy—she had that mouth.
Rather shocked by her thought, she blinked, then lowered her gaze, balling her fists on the quilt as she resisted the sudden impulse to touch her own lips.
‘I’m sure that makes your wife deliriously happy.’
‘I’m not married.’
‘Oh, I thought …’ Her eyes moved in an unscheduled sweep from him to the playing child and back again. Not married did not mean they were not a couple.
He answered the question she was clearly gagging to ask. ‘No, we are not together.’
‘Oh!’ What was she meant to say to that? After an awkward pause she produced a lame. ‘I … sorry.’
His expression froze. ‘Do not be. Liam does not suffer in any way because his parents are not a couple.’ By the timehe was old enough to think about it, few of Liam’s friends would be the products of a conventional family unit.
But how many would have a mother who had declared herself unwilling and unable to adjust her lifestyle to accommodate the needs of a child?
As always Gianni pushed away the thought. It was a question for the future and he would deal with it at the appropriate time.
The same way he’d dealt with Sam’s initial bombshell when she’d told him she was pregnant; the same way he had dealt with her sympathetic but amused response when he had asked when she was going to give up front-line journalism—the days of speaking calmly to a camera while bullets whizzed by her were clearly to his mind over.
His only experience of mothers was his own and she had put her family first, and while he had never expected the mother of his children to turn into some sort of fifties stay-at-home housewife—he had no problem with her having a career, just not one that involved being held hostage by rebel bandits—it had not crossed his mind that she would not be the main carer.
Just as it had not crossed his mind that he would not be married to the mother of his child.
Startled that her reply had elicited such a defensive aggressive reaction, Miranda thought,
Wow, did I hit a nerve or what?
‘Liam is—’ Gianni stopped, the groove between his brows deepening as he realised that, for
You could tell a lot about a man by the car he drove, as her mother had always told her daughters—her theory was not in Miranda’s experience foolproof, but sometimes dead on. Oliver drove a solid estate, which suited him; safe, steady and dependable.
‘Gracious!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m not surprised he was sick in that thing! What possessed you to transport a child who suffers from travel sickness in something that’s one step up from a horse and cart?’
‘You know what they say, Miranda—beggars can’t be choosers,’ he drawled with a languid shrug. ‘And I’m obviouslynot the expert on all things relating to childcare that you are.’ Jaw clenched, he arched a sarcastic brow. ‘How many children do you have?’
‘That’s not Daddy’s car. Daddy has a big, big car!’ the child boasted as he made a thrumming sound in his throat and began to charge around the room in imitation of a car, proving if nothing else that he hadn’t been injured by the fall.
Miranda’s softly rounded jaw tightened with annoyance. ‘I don’t have children and I never claimed to be an expert.’
‘Just a woman.’
‘What have you got against women?’
His sensually sculpted upper lip curled into an exaggerated leer. ‘I have never been accused of not liking women.’
I just bet they like you right back
, she thought, dragging her gaze from his mouth, aware as she did so of the heavy ache low in her abdomen. This man really was sinfully attractive. She felt a spasm of sympathy for Liam’s mother, then as her eyes were drawn back to his mouth that vanished as it occurred to her the woman didn’t need sympathy—she had that mouth.
Rather shocked by her thought, she blinked, then lowered her gaze, balling her fists on the quilt as she resisted the sudden impulse to touch her own lips.
‘I’m sure that makes your wife deliriously happy.’
‘I’m not married.’
‘Oh, I thought …’ Her eyes moved in an unscheduled sweep from him to the playing child and back again. Not married did not mean they were not a couple.
He answered the question she was clearly gagging to ask. ‘No, we are not together.’
‘Oh!’ What was she meant to say to that? After an awkward pause she produced a lame. ‘I … sorry.’
His expression froze. ‘Do not be. Liam does not suffer in any way because his parents are not a couple.’ By the timehe was old enough to think about it, few of Liam’s friends would be the products of a conventional family unit.
But how many would have a mother who had declared herself unwilling and unable to adjust her lifestyle to accommodate the needs of a child?
As always Gianni pushed away the thought. It was a question for the future and he would deal with it at the appropriate time.
The same way he’d dealt with Sam’s initial bombshell when she’d told him she was pregnant; the same way he had dealt with her sympathetic but amused response when he had asked when she was going to give up front-line journalism—the days of speaking calmly to a camera while bullets whizzed by her were clearly to his mind over.
His only experience of mothers was his own and she had put her family first, and while he had never expected the mother of his children to turn into some sort of fifties stay-at-home housewife—he had no problem with her having a career, just not one that involved being held hostage by rebel bandits—it had not crossed his mind that she would not be the main carer.
Just as it had not crossed his mind that he would not be married to the mother of his child.
Startled that her reply had elicited such a defensive aggressive reaction, Miranda thought,
Wow, did I hit a nerve or what?
‘Liam is—’ Gianni stopped, the groove between his brows deepening as he realised that, for
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