‘They are,’ he murmured.
‘I like them.’ Strange how easily the words came. Almost as easily as that first night. The memory of her unguarded, downright outrageous behaviour drenched her in sudden heat and she pushed the bowl away.
‘You feel sick again?’ His voice came from near her ear as if he leaned closer. Alice wondered at the concern in his voice.
‘No. I’m okay.’ She took another sip of water and shut her eyes, willing herself to concentrate. It was difficult to whip up indignation against the man who’d just tended to her so carefully. She didn’t know where she was with him.
Finally she leaned forward and put her glass down on the coffee table with a decisive click. Then she swivelled to face him.
* * *
Troubled eyes met his. Adoni couldn’t see any hint of the woman he’d expected, the woman who’d set him up to bleed him dry. Yet looks deceived.
He felt a pang of regret. He was torn between that and ingrained caution. There was no doubt that physically Alice Trehearn was weak. Feeling the tremors running through her slim frame and seeing her distress at almost being sick evoked long-dormant instincts to protect. He’d gathered her to him and almostwantedto believe in her. Just as he’d been drawn to her the night of the wedding, charmed by what seemed a uniquely refreshing woman.
Yet there was nothing unique about a woman scamming a rich man.
‘You still don’t believe the baby is yours.’ Her voice was flat but her eyes pleaded for understanding. Did she really think his unwilling sympathy over her nausea would blind him to the bigger picture?
‘No, I don’t.’ He ignored the flare of apparent hurt in her eyes. He knew how well a woman on the make could pretend.
‘So where does that leave us?’
‘Simple.’ His voice was harsh. Yet to his amazement what should have been simple—getting to the bottom of Alice Trehearn’s allegation—was mired in unexpected emotion. ‘Have a paternity test. If the child is mine, then we’ll talk.’
Her eyes darkened and she looked away, but not before he read hurt there. Again, Adoni found himself torn. His silent applause at her dramatic skills warred with a sliver of guilt that perhaps he had this wrong and she was, against the odds, an innocent.
‘Of course.’ She seemed to gather herself. ‘I’ll be in contact when it’s arranged.’ Then she shifted to the edge of the seat and made to rise.
Adoni’s hand shot out, grasping her arm, holding her where she was.
‘What?’ Her dark gaze met his before sliding away.
‘Where are you going?’ Surely she wasn’t well enough to leave? She still looked parchment-white. Besides, she hadn’t yet broached the all-important issue of money.
‘Home. If I leave now I can be back in Devon in time for my evening shift.’
‘Evening shift?’ Even now she trembled beneath his hand and the fragility of her slim body struck him. Surely she wasn’t well enough for work?
‘I’m a waitress.’ She looked pointedly at his hand on her sleeve, as if waiting for him to remove it.
‘A waitress who can’t stand the smell of coffee?’
Her lips tugged into a crooked smile for just a second before she saw him watching and pursed that lovely mouth. ‘Ridiculous, isn’t it? But hopefully it won’t last long. Now, if you’ll let me go I’ll be on my way.’
With deliberate slowness Adoni released his hold and sat back, crossing his arms. The gesture masked his reluctance to release her. It had been like that the night they’d met—that urge to touch, to caress, to connect.
‘Surely not,’ he drawled, watching her like a hawk. ‘Didn’t you come here for money?’
Her head whipped round, hectic spots of pink colouring her cheeks. She drew herself high, perching on the very edge of the sofa, and surveyed him down the length of her not very impressive nose.
‘No. I came here because I felt you deserved to know you’re going to be a father.’
‘So getting rid of the child didn’t occur to you? You’re definitely having it?’
She nodded and Adoni felt the old distrust spike. Of course she’d have the child if she thought there was benefit in it.
‘Ah, but would you have made the same decision if I weren’t rich?’