Alice swallowed, surprised to find herself reviving now the pungent aroma of coffee was gone.
‘Sip this.’
She opened her eyes, locking onto his serious greeny-blue stare. Something shuddered inside. Not fear or indignation but something vital that even nausea hadn’t dimmed.
She looked down to the glass of water he held to her mouth and took it from him, careful not to touch his hand. Obediently she took a tiny sip, then another, relief settling around her shoulders as her stomach didn’t revolt.
‘Thank you.’
He surveyed her, unblinking, from under hooded lids. Dully, Alice wondered what he saw, or thought he saw. She’d be distressed by his distrust when the nausea passed. Right now she didn’t have the strength to be anything other than grateful for this ceasefire in his antagonism.
‘Can you walk?’
She nodded, stifling the urge to ask whether he’d carry her if she couldn’t. It was crazy the way she craved his tenderness. His solicitude changed nothing. He thought her a liar.
Alice took a deep breath and looked towards the door to the office. It seemed a mile away. But she hated appearing weak, especially to someone with such a low opinion of her.
Setting her jaw, she took a careful step forward. The room pitched then settled. She took another step. Only a few score more to get out of here.
Except Adoni moved, swooping down to tuck an arm beneath her knees and wrap another around her back. He held her high against his chest, her head against his shoulder as he carried her into his office.
‘This is unnecessary,’ she whispered, her throat raspy. ‘My legs work fine. It’s just morning sickness.’
Adoni didn’t answer. Instead he settled on a long sofa with her on his lap. Water spilled from her glass onto her skirt with the movement but she said nothing. It felt so good to be held against his powerful body. That intense heat of solid muscle was soothing and he was surprisingly comfortable to a woman who felt as powerful as a blossom in a strong wind.
If she rested just a moment to regroup she’d be ready to go another round or three with him.
‘Try one of these.’ His voice rumbled up from somewhere below her ear as he leaned forward, reaching for the coffee table. The movement folded her closer into his body so she was enveloped by him, breathing in the elusive scent of cedar and spice that had entranced her that night in his bed. Her nose wrinkled. Strange how this scent didn’t seem to disrupt her upset stomach.
He cradled a small bowl of pistachios.
‘I don’t want to eat anything.’
‘It might help. When my stepmother had morning sickness she used to nibble salted wafers and nuts.’
Alice looked down at the broad, bronzed hand cupping a silver bowl. Surprise burrowed through her at the intimacy of that revelation. Tentatively she took a nut, its shell half open.
‘Bite gently on the shell and it will open completely.’
Alice complied, relishing the salty dusting on the outside and the soft nuttiness inside. She slipped the shell into her hand and swallowed the pistachio.
Hesitant, she waited, but her stomach didn’t heave.
‘Try another.’ Adoni proffered the bowl again.
‘Thanks, I will. But I’d rather sit alone.’
It was a lie. Alice had never felt more comfortable than slumped, half-boneless, against Adoni’s strong form. Which was unbelievable, given his earlier animosity.
After the shock and anxiety of this week his powerful masculinity propping her up felt ridiculously reassuring. Except that was a temporary illusion. He didn’t trust her. Worse, he despised her. And even if he didn’t she couldn’t afford to get accustomed to the idea of anyone else looking out for her. The news of her pregnancy had reinforced the fact that she had no one to rely on. It would be up to her to look after herself and her child.
He stiffened. Then, without a word, he lifted her and put her down on the seat beside him.
Fleetingly Alice thought about how much upper body strength it took to manage that. Till her brain kicked into gear, reminding her she had other things to concern her than Adoni Petrakis’s muscles.
‘Eat.’
She nodded and tried another pistachio, sucking the salt from the shell, then methodically chewing the nut. She’d never had pistachios before. ‘Are these Greek?’