Page 63 of His Housekeeper's Twin Baby Confession
Around her heart.
In her heart.
She froze inside.No. She wasn’t ready to allow that thought in.
She pulled down Massimo’s hand and stepped back. ‘I’m really not.’
Stubble was lining Massimo’s jaw. His hair was damp and dishevelled from the snow. Carrie ached for his touch again. To touch him. Wanting him and needing to keep her distance was making her dizzy.
She took another step back and babbled, ‘There’s the makings of a stew in the pantry and fridge... I’ve found a nice recipe... I can make that later.’
‘Keep resisting, Carrie, for as long as you can. I’m not going anywhere.’
Massimo sauntered back out of the kitchen and Carrie called after him. ‘You planned this, didn’t you?’
He came back to the doorway and opened his hands out wide. ‘I can do a lot of things, Carrie, but even I can’t influence the weather.’
He disappeared again and Carrie cursed him.
To take her mind off Massimo and their situation, she put on an apron and started preparing dinner. It was best to keep herself busy.
Carrie looked up at one point and realised that the fire was dying down and it was growing dark outside. She threw some more logs on the fire and put the stew in the oven.
Wondering where Massimo was, but also reluctant to find him, she wandered upstairs. Massive portraits of the people who must be Massimo’s ancestors glared down at her.
She shouldn’t be here.
She shouldn’t be carrying his child.
Worse, his children.
On an impulse Carrie stuck her tongue out at one particularly glowering dour-looking man.
‘I used to do that too.’
Carrie jumped about three feet in the air, her hand over her heart. Massimo was standing in a doorway nearby.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.’
Carrie looked back at the picture and admitted, ‘I can’t help but feel they’re judging me.’
‘You’re not the only one. Remember, we were the children of an Italian woman who might have been a countess but was still considered not exactly the best choice of society wife at the time.’
Carrie looked at him. He’d obviously inherited his looks from his mother’s side. ‘You really did stick out your tongue at them?’
‘Yes, just like this.’
And he stuck out his tongue—which immediately made Carrie think of how it had felt on her mouth, in her mouth, on her skin...between her legs.
She blurted out, ‘I just came to tell you that the stew should be ready in an hour or so.’
‘Lovely, thank you. I’ll come down shortly.’
Carrie fled back to the kitchen.
‘This is delicious,’ Massimo declared when he’d swallowed some of the stew.
‘I can’t really take any credit. Sheila had the ingredients ready to go—all I did was throw them together.’
