Disproportionate disappointment contracted his gut as the marvellous fantasies he had woven dissipated into the perfectly controlled air of the corridor.
Adam hauled in breath and willed his body to stand down—preferably every bit of it. After all, he’d weathered a lot worse disillusionment than this in his life, and it could be that Olivia was doing him a favour. Had he really wanted to let himself be bagged by any woman, however beautiful?
Answer: yes, he had. But if it wasn’t going to happen then it wasn’t going to happen. Time to move on.
He dropped his hand from the door and shrugged. ‘Your call, Olivia. But for what it’s worth I think we’d have been pretty awesome together.’ They’d have been more than that; every instinct told him their bodies would be the perfect fit.
Her eyes skittered away from him, focused once more on the interior of his hallway. Though what was so damn fascinating about it, who knew?
‘Maybe... Maybe not,’ she said, placing a hand on the doorknob. ‘I’ll go down to Reception and get myself a room, but we need to sort out a time that we can talk. About Zeb.’
Zeb. Damn. He’d lost the plot, the dialogue and his brain. The import of her words slam-dunked and he thumped the palm of his hand right back against the door.
‘Excuse me?’ he said.
‘Remember?’ she said. ‘The baby.’
She had to be kidding. ‘The mythical baby? I thought you’d abandoned the whole “my mother is pregnant” bagging route. You can’t just pick it back up now you’ve decided not to spend the night in my bed.’
* * *
Olivia stared at him. For a moment sheer shock rendered her speechless and her jaw threatened to hit the floor. Adam still believed she was another of those awful gold-digging women.
Worse, she almost couldn’t blame him. She’d behaved exactly the way Candice had described her—cheap and easy. After a public display on the dance floor she’d kissed him in the lift, dropped her dress and allowed him a quick grope. If she hadn’t been stunned back to reality by the opulence of his penthouse suite she’d have dropped her knickers, as well.
‘I am not here to bag you.’ Her words were so hopelessly inadequate she cringed. ‘If I were I would have slept with you.’
‘Nope.’ A shake of his dark head accompanied a blaze of contempt. ‘I think you’ve got your eye on the greater prize, Olivia. You nearly let yourself get carried away, but one look round here and you remembered just in time that there’s more money to be had from a pregnancy scandal scam than a few hours in my bed.’
Oh, hell. She could see how it all made a certain hideous sense to Adam. How to explain to him that seeing this opulent bachelor pad had brought back to her the fact that Adam was a billionaire, a moneyed man who wanted her because she was beautiful—nothing more.
Just as all those rich men who’d peopled her childhood had coveted Jodie for her looks. At least her mum had put a price on her acquiescence; Olivia had been willing to give it away.
Taut silence enveloped them as Olivia gazed down at her sandals. Lime-green, with a tangerine flower carved from wood. Chosen to add pizzazz to the black dress. When it came to clothes, she knew what she was talking about. When it came to what had happened in the past hour...? Not so much.
All she knew was that she had to make this right. Because the baby was all that mattered. Guilt twanged in her chest that she had allowed her hormones to overrule that fact.
‘Everything I told you about the baby is true. I realise I’ve screwed up. I understand you’re suspicious. But please just give me half an hour. It doesn’t have to be in the morning. We could do it right now.’
Adam held her gaze for a long moment, his fingers drumming on one muscled thigh. Then he gave an exasperated grunt, ran a hand over his face and back up through his hair.
‘Fine. Let’s talk.’
Pivoting, he turned and led the way into the enormous lounge, buttoning up his shirt as he walked. Relief and determination whipped around her tummy, along with a frustration she didn’t even want to acknowledge. Just great. Her brain might have clocked the sheer awfulness of her actions but her body hadn’t even begun to come to terms with the deprivation of promised pleasure.
Well, tough.
Control. She would not let lust control her. Her body, her hormones, her control. Sex was power—she knew that. It was a glittering token that could be used for or against you, and the only way to make sure you were on the right side was to be the one in charge.
Olivia had not been in charge in that lift; she’d been a woman possessed.