‘You’re very quiet,’ he said softly.
‘That was a bit of a bombshell. Actually, quite a big bombshell.’
There was a pause as his eyes seared into her. ‘And?’
For a moment, she didn’t answer. Nobody could say he hadn’t been honest with her—but was honesty enough? Would she be settling for a situation which would ultimately break her heart—and wouldn’t a sensible person end it now, before she got in any deeper?
But as her eyes drank in the angles and shadows of his sculpted features, Zara knew that she had neither the strength nor the inclination to end it. What had started out as fierce physical attraction between them had grown into something she’d neither wanted nor expected. And tonight he had peeled away some of the layers which made him such an indomitable force. She had seen through to the core of the man who lay beneath. A man with his own vulnerabilities and heartache.
And somewhere along the way, she realised, she’d fallen in love with that man.
She realised something else, too. That deep down she wanted to be cherished—just as she one day wanted to be a mother. She just hadn’t known until that precise moment how much she wanted it. And Nikolai had just told her that he could never give it to her.
So what was it that made her pin a bright smile to her lips and to utter words which were fundamentally flawed? Was her love for him stronger than her desire for security, and a family? It seemed that maybe it was.
‘I don’t care about marriage or children, Nikolai,’ she said. ‘I’m happy just being with you.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘YOU haven’t forgotten that we’re going out to dinner tonight, milaya moya?’
Zara zipped up her black uniform skirt and turned round to look at Nikolai, aware that he’d been watching her get dressed, which seemed to be one of his favourite occupations. A striptease in reverse, he called it—and said it turned him on almost as much as the traditional variety. But then, pretty much everything turned Nikolai on …
‘No, I haven’t forgotten,’ she said as she slipped a foot into the rubber-soled black soles which all Gourmet International staff had to wear. ‘It’s someone you know from when you lived in America, right?’
‘That’s right. We worked in construction together.’ He gave a ghost of a smile. ‘He’s a senator now.’ He frowned as she fiddled with the waistband of her skirt. ‘I wish you weren’t going to work today. I don’t have meetings until later this morning, and …’
‘And?’ she questioned as his words tailed off and his eyes sent out a speculative message.
‘We could have spent the morning in bed.’
‘We can spend the morning in bed tomorrow—it’s Saturday and I’ve got the whole weekend off, remember?’
‘That wasn’t what I meant and you know it,’ he growled. ‘I meant that I don’t like you going out to work.’
‘I have to.’
He felt a flicker of irritation. ‘Not really, Zara. I can easily support you.’
Zara smiled. Of course he could. He could probably support the entire staff of Gourmet International on a fraction of his income if he wanted to, but that wasn’t the point. He’d told her that there was no permanence in this arrangement of theirs and Zara knew that she had to keep something of her independence. Because if she allowed Nikolai to take over her life completely, then what on earth would happen when the relationship finally fizzled out?
True, she would always be able to find a waitressing job—because waitressing jobs were fairly easy to come by—but lately she had begun to realise that maybe she wanted something more than just serving other people. And hadn’t the impermanence of her relationship with Nikolai made her look at the bigger picture of her life and start wondering about her future? Perhaps she should look into the possibility of going back to agricultural college—or at least go and talk to somebody about it.
‘We’ve had that discussion lots of times,’ she said smoothly. ‘And I’ve given you my views on it. I need to work—not just for the money, but for me. For my self-respect.’
‘How stubborn you can be,’ he mocked.
Zara smiled. ‘You just don’t like it because you’re used to getting your own way!’
‘Perhaps.’ He let his gaze flicker over her feet. Funny how she could even look sexy in those horrible shoes she wore for work. ‘But the dinner tonight will be grand,’ he said carefully.
The unmistakable inference didn’t escape her. ‘Meaning that there’s nothing in my wardrobe which is really suitable?’
‘I’d hate you to feel awkward. Especially when it’s so easy to fix.’ There was a pause and he glittered her a look. ‘So are you going to let me buy you something pretty to wear?’
He would have tempted a saint, but Zara shook her head. She’d never thought she’d end up being the mistress of a wealthy man and she was determined to escape the stereotype. That scarlet bikini he’d bought her in France had been the only thing he had bought her. She’d sketched out certain boundaries for herself, and she didn’t want to feel like a kept woman. And wasn’t she aware that part of him would despise her if she just soaked up his generosity with little thought to the consequences? He was bitter enough about his own mother falling prey to the lure of wealth, and she suspected that he longed to tar all women by the same brush. ‘No, thanks. I’ll ask Emma if I can wear one of her creations.’
‘Ah, yes—your friend, the designer. Has she been in touch with my New York store yet? ‘