This really was incredible.
Unbelievable.
And, Luccy realised belatedly, completely inevitable the moment Sin had known that she was pregnant with his baby…
‘I know we have some tea bags somewhere,’ Sin muttered with his head in one of the kitchen cupboards.
The meticulously clean and tidy kitchen cupboards. In fact, the whole house was so neat and tidy that Luccy felt she should have taken her shoes off before she entered.
She had been more than a little surprised when, instead of driving to some luxurious penthouse apartment in Manhattan, Sin had driven his foreign sports car out of New York completely and into the suburbs to this rambling single-storey ranch-style house surrounded by its own acres of forest and parkland set behind a high wall and huge iron security gates.
The inside of the house was even more surprising, the hallway alone big enough to be one of the rooms in her own London flat.
There were pale cream marble floors and comfortable brocade furniture throughout the whole of the house as Luccy followed Sin through to the kitchen. The paintings on the walls were obviously originals—even the Monet—and the huge kitchen itself was like something out of a glossy magazine, with its green and cream tiled floor, cream units, an array of copper pans suspended along one wall, and a huge picture window at one end that looked out over the forest and rolling parkland.
Luccy stood hesitantly in the doorway. ‘Do you live here alone?’ It was a very large house for one man.
Ideal for a family, of course, and an ideal setting in which to bring up a child…
Sin straightened to look at her knowingly. ‘There’s no other woman in residence, if that’s what you’re asking,’ he drawled. ‘Nor has there ever been,’ he added as she didn’t look convinced.
‘Is it always this neat and tidy?’ Luccy grimaced as she stepped tentatively onto the cream and green tiled floor.
Sin took the tea bags from the cupboard then looked about the kitchen. He rarely came in here as it happened, but he could see now that the copper pots shone along one wall, with not a single item left out on the green marble work surfaces to spoil its neat symmetry, the cream wood units gleaming spotlessly.
He turned back to her with a frown. ‘You don’t like neat and tidy?’
‘Well…yes, of course I like neat and tidy,’ she protested. ‘It’s just that I’m notoriously the opposite.’
Ah, she was looking for reasons as to why the two of them would never be able to live together…
‘No problem.’ Sin shrugged as he took a cereal packet from one of the cupboards and scattered its contents over one of the worktops before taking a carton of milk from the fridge and tipping that on top of the cereal. ‘I can drop an egg or two on the floor too if that would make you feel more comfortable?’ He quirked dark brows.
‘I said I was untidy, not a slob!’ Luccy gave him an exasperated glare even as she moved to pick up a cloth and clean up the mess he had made.
Sin leant back against one of the units as he watched her. ‘Would you like to see the study where I work when I’m at home?’ he offered once she had cleaned up to her satisfaction.
She eyed him warily. ‘Is that some sort of obscure sexual invitation? Like another man asking me if I would like to see his etchings or even the family jewels?’
Having Luccy as a possible constant in his life was already turning out to be a lot more enjoyable than Sin had expected. He had already accepted that he was deeply sexually attracted to her, as he knew she was to him, and he had certainly never been bored in her company to date, but somehow he hadn’t expected to have fun with her, too…
‘And if it were a sexual invitation…?’
‘I would tell you I’ve already seen them!’
Sin found himself grinning at her waspish tone. ‘No doubt you will see them again, too.’
She eyed him challengingly. ‘You think so?’
‘I live in hopes of that being the case, yes,’ he said wryly. ‘But my invitation to come and look at my study was exactly that,’ he continued briskly as he saw a light of rebellion creeping back into those incredible blue eyes.
He had done very well by succeeding in getting her to the house in the first place without too much resistance on her part—he certainly didn’t want to push his luck.
Luccy frowned her puzzlement. ‘And why would I want to see your study?’
‘Just come and look, Luccy, hmm?’ He didn’t wait for her to prevaricate further, but took hold of her by the arm, striding out of the kitchen and through to the back of the house before throwing open another door.
If the kitchen was so neat and pristine it looked almost unused, then this room was in chaos! The huge oak desk was overflowing with papers and files and several cups of half-drunk coffee; the bin beside the desk was completely full too, and several drawers had been left open in the filing cabinets along one wall.
Luccy turned to look at Sin as he leant against the wall of the hallway outside, arms crossed over the broadness of his chest as he waited for her reaction. ‘This is a mess,’ she exclaimed, remembering belatedly that when she had visited him in his hotel suite that evening two months ago it hadn’t been particularly tidy, either.
He smiled. ‘I’m glad you approve. Wallace is under strict instructions never to enter or touch anything in this room unless he finds himself with a masochistic desire to be parted from a certain part of his anatomy!’
Luccy gave a rueful smile at the unmistakable reference. ‘And who is Wallace?’
‘Wallace is my—ah, here’s the man himself.’ He turned as a door opened further down the hallway to admit an elderly gentleman dressed in black trousers and a black waistcoat worn over a snowy white shirt, a grey tie tied meticulously at his throat.
‘You have been in the kitchen again, Master Sin,’ the elderly man—as English as Luccy was, surprisingly—tutted reprovingly.
A rebuke Sin seemed completely unconcerned by. ‘Wallace, come and say hello to Luccy Harper-O’Neill,’ he invited warmly.
‘Luccy, this is Wallace,’ he introduced once the older man had joined them.
‘Mr Wallace.’ She shook his hand, instinctively liking the kind blue eyes in the elderly man’s lined face.
‘He insists on just Wallace,’ Sin told her ruefully. ‘Apparently it isn’t the done thing in an English household to call a butler by the title of Mr,’ he confided with a gently mocking glance at the older man.