She was wearing a fine blue sweater that clung lovingly to her full breasts, and a hip-hugging, gently flaring skirt that stopped just below her knees, showing a tempting glimpse of her fabulous legs. Her bare feet with pink-tipped toes were almost his undoing, and he had to battle to control his surging flesh. Sally was the most overtly feminine woman he had ever known. He had never seen her wear a pair of jeans or trousers, like the majority of women her age. A part from the pink velvet lounging suit…No. He didn’t dare go there. The memory of her removing it and what had followed was too vivid, and he would not be able to stop himself reaching for her.
‘Zac—what are you doing here?’
Her voice was just the same: slightly husky, with a low timbre, her pronunciation precise—probably a result of losing her stutter, he realised. And it was corny, but true; it was music to his ears.
‘A concerned friend of yours, Jemma, asked me to look you up.’
‘Jemma?’ Sally had phoned Jemma twice since she had left London, the last time just after she had booked into a hotel outside Littlehampton, but not since—mainly because she had only replaced her lost phone today.
‘But she can’t have known my new address, so how did you find me?’ Wondering what evil trick of fate had brought him here, she was trying valiantly to remain calm while her heart was still pounding like a drum in her chest.
‘It is cold out here. Ask me in—I need a drink,’ Zac commanded, ignoring her question. Surprisingly, he was more afraid than he had ever been in his life. He could hardly blurt out that he had tracked her down because he loved her and wanted her back—not after the way he had treated her before…She would never believe him. He had made enough mistakes with Sally, and this time he was determined to do it right. Romance her, date her, grovel if he had to. And sex could wait until she came to him of her own free will.
Sally swallowed hard. Slowly recovering from the shock of seeing Zac, and her own instant reaction to him, she began to note the change in him. His face was thinner, the grooves from nose to mouth more deeply etched, and the lines of strain around his eyes were plainly discernible. The cashmere overcoat he wore appeared to hang loosely on his broad frame. Realising she was staring, she stepped nervously back and indicated with her hand that he should enter, taking care that he did not touch her as he moved into the hall.
‘The kitchen is this way…’ she began, but she was too late. He had already walked into the living room.
Swiftly she followed him as she realised what he might see. She reached for the baby clothes she had left on the table, but again she was too late. He had picked up the tiny yellow jacket…
‘Give that to me.’ She held out her hand, her face burning. ‘I’ll put this stuff away and make you a cup of coffee. You said you were cold. October can be chilly…’ She was babbling, she knew, but she didn’t seem able to stop.
‘Enough, Sally,’ he snapped, catching her hand. ‘Baby clothes? Who for? You?’ he queried, his eyes narrowed on her scarlet face.
‘So what if they are?’ she snapped back. She would not lie and deny her baby. Pulling her hand free, she gathered the garments up and shoved them back in the bag. ‘It is none of your business.’
Her reply ignited a furious anger in Zac as it hit him that she must be pregnant—and the child could not be his; he had always used protection. No wonder he had thought she looked glowing. While he had spent months aching for her, Sally must have gone straight from his bed into the arms of another man.
The thought of Sally with another man cut him to the bone. She had responded to him in spite of the disgust she felt at his tactics, in spite of her declared hatred of him. In his arrogant conceit he had thought her responsive body was enough for him, and too late he had realised differently.
He had taken her innocence, made her aware of the pleasures of the flesh and left. In fact, he scathingly reminded himself, he had let guilt get the better of him and decided it was the right thing to do—for her sake. What an idiot…He should have taken his fill of her and to hell with his conscience…
He let his gaze sweep contemptuously over her and noted the subtle changes to her body. Her waist was not so clearly defined, and her high, firm breasts appeared fuller. His attention returned to her face. She was watching him with wide, wary eyes, and she had a right to be afraid at this moment. He felt like wringing her slender neck.
‘So who is the father?’ he sneered. ‘Or don’t you know? As I recall you were a very eager pupil, but I thought I had taught you better. You should have remembered protection. I always did—even when you were gagging for it.’
Sally saw red. Her hand flew out and connected with his face, knocking his head sideways. ‘You sanctimonious bastard! Mister bloody perfect,’ she swore—something she never did. ‘Well, you are not that clever. My baby was conceived on the nineteenth of June, so work it out for yourself and get out.’
His cheek stinging, Zac raised his hand to catch hers—and dropped it as the import of her words sank into his head. That was the date of the first night he had made love to her. He knew because it was burnt like a brand into his mind for all time. Recalling that night now, he remembered that the second time he had made love to her had initially been in an anger-driven passion because of that word.
‘Fine…’ he murmured, and all the colour drained from his face. She was right—he had forgotten to use protection. Sally was pregnant with his child. He was going to be a father and it was one hell of a shock. But Zac, being the man he was, although reeling from the knowledge, did not stop considering all the options, and swiftly he realised Sally’s pregnancy solved all his problems. He could not have planned it better if he had tried.
He wanted Sally any way he could get her, and this would cut out any need to grovel—not something he had ever done before. Now he would not have to. In fact, she would probably be delighted and grateful when he told her he was prepared to marry her, and the idea of having a baby was growing on him by the minute…A son and heir…
‘Good. I’m glad we agree. So go.’ She was walking back into the hall, but he reached out and caught her shoulder, spinning her around to face him.
‘You misunderstood, Sally. I am not going anywhere, cara.’ He smiled. ‘Obviously you and I need to talk. Discovering you are pregnant with my baby has come as quite a shock. My first reaction was less than gallant, I admit, but the thought of you with another man did nothing for my temper. I want you to know I accept totally the child you are carrying is mine, and naturally I will marry you as quickly as it can be arranged.’
If Zac had expected her grateful acceptance, that was not what he got.
Stunned, Sally looked at him. He was smiling. Zac was actually smiling, and confidently expecting her to accept his magnanimous offer. With a terrific effo
rt of self-control she resisted the temptation to slap the grin off his face.
‘I think I may have told you this once before,’ she said, with no trace of the anger and the turmoil he had caused visible in the cool blue eyes she lifted to his. ‘But I’ll say it again so there can be no doubt in your mind. I wouldn’t marry you in a million years,’ she drawled sarcastically.
Zac had gone pale when she’d said the baby was his, but now his face flushed dark with anger. True to form, then…They always ended up fighting, and she didn’t need the hassle in her present state. Shrugging his hands from her shoulders, she took a few steps back.
‘If I had not turned up today were you ever going to tell me you were pregnant?’ he demanded harshly.