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‘Drink this.’
Unwillingly, Caroline dragged herself up against the pillows, not meeting his eyes. She couldn’t bear to see that raw contempt, that stinging impatience.
‘You fainted,’ he said tonelessly as she clutched the glass in both hands and lifted it shakily to her mouth. ‘Women in the early stages of pregnancy often do, so I believe.’
A savage spurt of temper got her kick-started. Colour flooding her ashen face, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, putting the glass on the floor before she gave into the temptation
to throw it at him.
Out of a sense of duty he’d come here with the sole purpose of finding out if she was pregnant.
That was chastening.
But he had also come to find out—if her answer was in the affirmative—whether he or Michael was the father.
And that was disgusting, infuriating!
How could he think that of her? Oh, how could he?
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ His question was laced with a good dose of aggravation as he caught hold of her ankles.
And before she could answer, Getting ready to strangle you before I throw you out, he swung her legs back onto the bed and told her, ‘You need to rest. You look dreadful.’
Thanks a bunch, Caroline fulminated silently. While he, of course, looked immaculate, remote as the moon, forbidding and utterly, utterly, heart-stoppingly gorgeous. And deserving of some hefty punishment for marking her down as a slut!
‘So what will you do if I confirm my pregnancy?’ she asked out of sheer wickedness, watching for his reaction beneath lowered lashes.
‘Marry you, if it’s mine—make sure my child’s properly cared for.’ Not a flicker of emotion, nothing, just a bland statement of intent.
‘And if it’s Michael’s?’ Caroline turned the screw, increased the punishment in an anger-fuelled and completely ignoble attempt to pay him back for his lower-than-low opinion of her.
She saw his jaw clench, a white line of anger appear around his compressed lips, as he ground out between his teeth, ‘That would be entirely up to him. Apparently, the poor sucker already thinks he’s going to lead you up the aisle. He hasn’t yet worked out that you’re unable to commit to a long-term relationship.’
The contempt in his eyes deepened. ‘When push comes to shove, you back off in a panic, write a Dear John letter or pick one hell of a fight. As I should know. And I somehow doubt if he’s got the strength of character to make you toe the line.’
And Ben had?
Of course he had. Commitment to him would never have been a problem; it had been her inability to trust him that had turned everything sour. Her fatal mistake.
Her dark head drooped, her tear-filled eyes fastening on her hands which appeared to be trying to rip the hemline of her paint-spattered T-shirt to shreds.
This had gone far enough.
‘I’m definitely not pregnant,’ she told him in a voice that was flat and cold and thin. And she closed her heavy eyes and waited to hear the bedroom door shut behind him as he left. He now had the information he must have been desperately hoping to get. There would be nothing to keep him here for one more moment.
She heard nothing, just the silence, until his voice sliced at her, ‘Then what the hell was that all about? The “what if it’s yours, or what if it’s his” spiel?’
Caroline risked a glance beneath the thick sweep of her lashes, her mouth dropping open in astonishment because she’d been so sure he’d stalk straight out the moment he had the reassurance he’d come for.
He still looked coldly, furiously angry. She looked away, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, and she lay back, turning her face into the pillows.
She couldn’t stand much more of this. ‘I wanted to pay you back for thinking I’d do something like that,’ she muttered wearily, her voice scarcely above a whisper. The anger had gone, leaving a sense of loss that utterly overwhelmed her. ‘Make love with you while supposedly in a serious relationship with Michael Weinberg.’
‘And that made you angry, did it?’ The query was laced with something approaching sarcasm. Then Ben’s voice thickened, ‘Then, you know what it feels like, don’t you? Not to be trusted. To have someone you loved think you’re capable of every slimey trick in the book.’
‘Loved.’ Past tense. So final. The door labelled Hope that had remained stubbornly ajar closed with a definitive bang in her mind.
Caroline hauled herself into a sitting position and swung her feet to the floor. Somehow she had to put an end to this nightmare. And she could cope. Right?
