She cursed the flush that she felt run up under her skin but tried not to react to it. Being flippant was probably his way of coping; the man had almost lost his life and had seen his brother die, so having a fake wife revealed was the least of his problems but one she had no doubt he could do without.
She took a deep breath and decided that even though he was injured there was no point skirting delicately around the elephant in the room, and she could at least reassure him on some points. ‘I just want you to know that I’ve no intention of...there is no question of me making any claims, if we really are married.’ She paused, shaking her head slowly in an attitude of disbelief—she still couldn’t quite believe they actually were. ‘I’m assuming that under the circumstances an annulment will be straightforward. I can see what you’re thinking.’
* * *
Well, that, Zain thought, made one of them!
‘But you don’t need to worry, I’ll fully co-operate. I’ll sign whatever you need me to sign,’ she added earnestly. ‘Including a confidentiality clause.’ She pressed a finger to the small furrow between her brows as if mentally ticking things off a list. ‘I don’t think I’ve missed anything out.’
‘Is your lawyer here with you?’ Her expression was confirmation that she wasn’t here to negotiate. She didn’t, incredibly, seem to be aware that she had the advantage; she wasn’t thinking about what she could get...she just wanted out.
‘Do I need a lawyer?’
Everyone has an angle.
Zain had probably learnt this fact of life before he had had the ability to communicate it and now he had met someone who, it seemed, hadn’t.
‘And what sort of settlement did you have in mind for delivering these guarantees?’ As he appealed to her avarice part of him wanted to see her fail the test, and silence the soft whisper of his freshly awoken optimism, but to his frustration Abigail Foster didn’t even seem to recognise his gentle prompt; instead she reacted as though he’d just offered her an insult.
‘Settlement...?’ Her puzzled frown faded as the angry heat climbed into her cheeks. ‘Money, you mean? I don’t want anything from you!’
‘Because such things are above you? You expect me to believe money means nothing to you?’ he cut back. Nobody was that wholesome and sweet.
Her chin lifted but she didn’t react to his challenge.
‘I admire your principles’ he said, a scornful curl turning his smile mocking. ‘But are you really in the enviable position to refuse money?’
‘You make it sound as though everything...everyone...is a commodity or has a price.’
‘Oh, in my experience they do, cara, they do.’
‘Then I pity you. I never want to be that cynical.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m impressed, especially when you consider that you are supporting your grandparents.’
She went rigid, her delicate jaw quivering as her suspicious gaze narrowed on his face. ‘Who told you that? What do you know about my grandparents?’
He produced an enigmatic smile that he saw made her teeth clench and intensified the uneasy look on her face.
‘There should be no secrets between husband and wife.’
‘I don’t have any secrets.’
‘True,’ he drawled. ‘The stories of your love life are pretty well-documented. And I’m assuming there has to be a built-in life expectancy to your kind of work.’
She’d gone on the huffy offensive to the suggestion she deserved to profit from the situation but the idea of losing her looks drew a laugh from her.
And he thought he knew women! This one seemed determined to challenge all his preconceptions.
‘Before everything goes south, you mean,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Oh, I don’t intend to stay in the job long enough for that to happen, just long enough to...’ She broke off, giving a self-conscious shrug as her eyes slid from his. ‘It’s not my life’s dream, I sort of fell into modelling. I was spotted at a shopping mall. I actually thought it was a set-up when the photographer approached me. I looked around for hidden cameras and told him the name on the card he gave me meant nothing to me.’
‘I would have thought it was an obvious avenue for someone with your looks,’ Zain observed, expelling a frustrated hiss from between clenched teeth as he gave up trying to fasten the button on his shirt. Apparently it took losing your healthy body to make a man appreciate having everything work. At least his debilitation was temporary, he thought, sending up a silent prayer of thanks for that.
‘You mean the height,’ she held a hand flat on top of her head, ‘and the face?’ She gave a gurgle of laughter.
The attractive sound brought his attention zeroing in on that face, and this time he felt not only his libido stir, which it had done the moment he laid eyes on the supple curves of her luscious body, but also his curiosity. He was forced to accept the seemingly impossible—that there was nothing feigned about her lack of vanity and yet she worked in an industry where looks were everything.
His eyes drifted down the long lines of her superb body. ‘You don’t seem to take your looks very seriously.’