‘Are you all right?’ she asked, concerned though she did not want to be. She had never seen him look anything other than vibrant and totally in control until now. At her query he raised his eyes, and she saw uncertainty and pain mingled in the black depths as they met hers.
‘No, not really, Sally,’ he admitted surprisingly. ‘I have been sitting here thinking of our past relationship and the mess I made of it while you were in the kitchen.’
‘Your coffee,’ she said swiftly, and handed him the china mug. She didn’t want to talk about their brief affair; it hurt too much…
‘Thank you.’ His long fingers brushed hers as he took the mug, setting off an unwanted frisson of awareness through her body, and swiftly she stepped back.
‘Instant, I’m afraid,’ she told him, and sat on the sofa opposite. ‘I ran out of the real stuff some time ago, and as I don’t drink coffee any more…’ she trailed off.
‘It will do.’ She watched as he lifted the mug to his lips and took a swallow. ‘Maybe not.’ He grimaced, replacing the mug on the table. Glancing across at her, he added, ‘Have you anything stronger? Whisky? Wine, perhaps?’
‘No. I don’t drink because of the baby.’
‘Ah, yes…our baby,’ he remarked softly.
Sally recognised his anger had abated, but she had a snea
king suspicion a low-voiced Zac was a lot more dangerous.
‘You must really hate me, Sally, if you are prepared to fight me in court for our child. I would never have done it, but my temper got the better of me. The perceived wisdom is that two parents are the ideal, but, being brought up in an orphanage, I would have thanked my lucky stars to have even one loving parent.’
Zac could say that now, and perhaps he meant it, but she didn’t trust him and she didn’t bother responding. Instead she picked up her cup of tea to take a drink. Actually, she had no intention of fighting him over the baby; she just needed breathing space to think of an acceptable alternative—preferably another five months…But she saw no reason to tell Zac. Let him suffer…After all, she had suffered enough at his hands…Liar, a tiny devil in her head whispered. You loved his hands all over you.
Abruptly she replaced the cup on the saucer and smoothed the fabric of her skirt down her thighs in a nervous gesture. As the silence stretched between them the room suddenly seemed very small, the air heavy with tension. Sally was still shocked Zac had actually turned up here, and then she realised he had never answered her question as to how he knew where she lived.
‘How did you find me? You never said,’ she prompted.
‘I was in London and I called at your apartment, thinking to offer you my condolences on the death of your mother. Belatedly, I know, but Raffe had only just informed me of the fact. I know more than most how much you did for your mother,’ he said with a self-deprecating grimace. ‘I know how much you loved her, and I am truly sorry for your loss.’
‘Thank you,’ Sally responded. ‘But you still have not answered my question. How did you get my address?’
‘When I called at your apartment building I was surprised to discover you had sold the place, and your father had no idea where you had gone. I called at the museum to see if your boss knew, and your friend Jemma accosted me as I left, and told me she was worried about you. Apparently, on your return from Peru you had stayed with her just long enough to buy a new car and take off on your travels around Britain. You had said you would call her every week, but apart from a couple of calls, the last from a hotel near here, she had heard nothing more and she had been unable to contact you for over a month.’
‘I lost my phone—or it was stolen. I only replaced it today,’ Sally interjected.
He glanced at the box on the table. ‘So it would seem. Anyway, I told Jemma I would help her find you. A call to a detective agency with the name of the hotel you stayed at and I had your address within twenty-four hours.’
‘Oh.’
‘Oh? Is that all you have to say?’ he asked quietly, his dark eyes holding hers. ‘Aren’t you in the least curious as to why I came instead of Jemma?’
‘I never really gave you much thought.’
‘I can’t say I blame you.’ He shook his dark head. ‘I never gave you any consideration when I forced you into an affair, and for that I am truly sorry.’
Zac? Apologizing? What was wrong with the man? ‘Forget it. I have,’ she lied. This soft-spoken, caring Zac was doing strange things to her heart-rate.
‘Damn it, Sally.’ He got to his feet. ‘I can’t forget.’ And he paced the length of the room, which for him was about six steps, looking strangely agitated. Then he dropped down beside her. She tried to get up, but he looped an arm around her waist and urged her back down. His contrite attitude hadn’t lasted long, Sally thought, squirming to break free.
‘Please, Sally, sit still and listen,’ he demanded. ‘I deserve that much, surely?’
She stopped struggling. He didn’t deserve anything in her book, but he was too big to fight, and to be honest she was curious.
‘I missed you like hell when we parted, Sally, and I realised I did not want to forget you—could not forget you.’ His dark, serious eyes sought hers. ‘Not then, not now, not ever.’
She looked away. ‘If this is a trick to sweet-talk me into marrying you for the baby, forget it. My mum is dead. I owe you nothing,’ she said bluntly. But with his hand curving around her waist, his long fingers resting on the side of her now rounded stomach and the warmth of his body against hers, he was arousing a host of old, familiar emotions.
‘It is no trick, I swear. I had made up my mind to go to London and ask you to forgive me for being such an arrogant, overbearing idiot even before Raffe told me your mother had died. I used her death as an excuse when you asked me because I am no good at revealing my emotions. Not that I had many until I met you,’ he said dryly. ‘The moment I saw you enter Westwold that day, I wanted you with a passion I had never felt before. I smiled at you, and you didn’t notice me.’ He gave her a droll look. ‘And I am quite large to overlook…’