“Until the little boy reaches home he’s our responsibility.” A restraining hand actually fell on her tense shoulder. “I’m perfectly capable of driving my own child home,” she muttered curtly, and turned deliberately away, seeking a fast escape from a confrontation in the center of Heathrow. “Mr Veranchetti prefers us to see his son safely to the door of your home, signora.”

With a rather valiant effort she lifted her chin. The chances of her complaining were negligible. They knew better than anybody that Alex wouldn’t even take a phone call from her. They could afford to be as rude and superior as they liked. The discarded ex-wife, who didn’t even enjoy a semicivilised post-divorce relationship with their employer. She was nobody of importance on their scale. She knew that she shouldn’t allow Alex’s security staff to browbeat her. Involuntarily, Kerry’s magnolia skin heated. There was a studied insolence to the roaming sexual appraisal of his dark eyes. We would have brought Nicky home as we usually do.” One of them stepped forward coolly to say, “It really wasn’t necessary for you to come to the airport, signora. As she slowly lowered her three-year-old son to the ground, she noticed the two dark-suited men lodged several feet away. Kerry had watched the calendar through every day of his absence, resenting the unusual silence echoing round the cottage and the emptiness of her weekends. He had been staying with his father for an entire month. “Missed you,” he confided, burying his dark head under her chin where unmanly tears could be decently concealed. NICKY CAME hurtling through the crowd ahead of his escort and threw himself into his mother’s arms like a miniature whirlwind.

The veranchetti marriage