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His mouth twisted. ‘If you recall, you told me that you did “all right” with men.’ He remembered the casual way she’d said it, and his own corresponding stab of jealousy. The overpowering sense of darkness which had shadowed his soul at the thought of other men making love to her the way he’d done. ‘I got the distinct feeling that I wasn’t the only one who shared your favours—not least from the enthusiastic way you climbed on top of me and ground those hips of yours so expertly against mine. I certainly didn’t think that what happened between us on the night of the wedding was in any way unique.’
It was the cruellest thing he could have said, and Justina prayed that her face didn’t register the hurt which was curling up inside her. He thought she was a tramp. He’d just come out and said so. ‘Then why are you here if you believe that?’ she questioned. ‘Why this dramatic appearance—ambushing me in the lobby of my hotel as if you were in some kind of movie?’
‘I’m here because I want the truth.’
‘Why not just phone me up and ask me? Surely that would have been simpler for a man as busy as you?’
His gaze was steady. ‘Would you have taken my call?’
Beneath his intense scrutiny, Justina shrugged. She wanted to save face. She wanted to hurt him back, as he had just hurt her. And instinctively she wanted to do the one thing she suspected would appal him so much that he might even contemplate going away and leaving her alone. She wanted to deny him. To let him know that she didn’t need him. She wanted to offer him the freedom to walk away and leave her to face this on her own. ‘Probably not,’ she said eventually.
He nodded his head and turned to stare out of the window. Somehow it was easier to contemplate the courtyard gardens than continue to confront the fecund swell of her belly—though the white frangipani blossoms on the trees might as well have been lumps of snow for all the notice he took of them. But the brief respite was all he needed to regain his composure, and when he turned back he nodded.
‘So it is true,’ he said, his voice filled with silken venom. ‘I have often been accused of cynicism, but even I couldn’t believe that a woman could be quite so manipulative as you have been. It seems I was wrong.’ There was a pause as his gaze raked over her, and even as the words formed on his lips he could feel the betraying leap of desire. ‘You just wanted a stud, didn’t you, Justina?’
‘A stud?’ Justina stared into eyes which resembled flat, dark metal. ‘What...what are you talking about?’
His mouth twisted. ‘I’m talking about the interview you gave just before Roxy’s wedding. The one where you said how much you regretted not having had a baby and how much you’d like one.’
She heard the condemnatory tone which distorted his voice and for a moment felt vulnerable. Yes, she’d said that—but sometimes you said things which were only half-truths for all kinds of reasons. Especially when a journalist got you on the back foot. He knew that—and surely there was enough history between them for her to explain why she’d done it?
‘Because that’s what I felt I was supposed to say,’ she defended. ‘Because women who don’t want babies are seen as monsters.’
‘But I thought you didn’t want babies.’ His dark brows shot up. ‘How could you possibly want them when your damned career was always so important to you and took precedence over everything else? You told me that there wasn’t enough time in your life for children—and I can’t see that having changed.’
Frustratedly, she shook her head. Hadn’t he realised that at the time she’d said that it had been fear which had motivated her—as well as ambition? Her career had mattered to her because it had been a symbol of her own survival, as well as her success. She’d still been on the way up, and it had meant too much to her to simply let it slide just because that was what he wanted. But Dante had also wanted her pregnant as soon as they were married, and that had scared the hell out of her—and not just because she’d been so young. She had tried to explain that it was partly down to the awful experience she’d had with her own mother, which made her want to wait, but he had been immovable. Women married and then they became pregnant—it was as primitive as that to Dante.
‘You don’t understand, Dante.’
He shook his dark head and gave a cynical laugh. ‘Oh, but I do, Justina. I understand only too well. You had sex with me—what? Five years after we’d last seen one another? Most women would have slapped my face for even trying it on. But not you. Oh, no. You wanted me from the moment that you saw me in the cathedral—I could read it in your eyes as clearly as if you’d come straight out and propositioned me.’
‘I’m sorry if I don’t match up to the saintlike status of your other lovers!’
‘We didn’t even use any protection!’
‘I didn’t realise that was solely the woman’s responsibility.’
‘I assumed you were still on the pill,’ he snapped, knowing that he should have stopped to find out. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t cared about anything other than finding himself in the tight, molten slickness of her body again after so long. And hadn’t it felt good? Hadn’t it felt like heaven? He swallowed as he tried to force the erotic memory to the back of his mind—but he couldn’t. It had been haunting him ever since—so how could he expect it to disappear when the woman who had so lured him was standing right in front of him? ‘Why would you take such a risk with a man you were never likely to see again after that night?’
Justina stared into the cold condemnation on his face. Because she hadn’t been thinking straight, that was why. So blinded by passion that common sense hadn’t got a look-in. Oh, why did it have to be him who’d made her feel all these things? Why did he still make her feel them even now? If he walked across the room and started to kiss her, she honestly didn’t know how she’d respond.
‘You tell me,’ she said tonelessly.
‘Okay. I will.’ His eyes grew hard and his voice was calculating—like a detective who was poised on the brink of a breakthrough. ‘I’ll tell you exactly how I think it was. Maybe you wanted a baby. You’d reached a time in your life where you realised you’d better get a move on if you wanted to be a mother. Only maybe you wanted a baby without all the added trouble of an accompanying man. Isn’t that what every successful career woman craves these days, Justina? The designer baby to go with her designer life?’
Justina flinched. Did he really believe her capable of doing such a cold-blooded thing? ‘That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.’
‘And what better candidate for her baby’s father than me?’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken.
‘You?’
‘Yes, me.’ Automatically he pulled his powerful shoulders back as his proud words hissed into the air. ‘Strong and virile. The alpha of the pack. Women are programmed to want a man like me to father their child. That’s why they thrust themselves on me at every opportunity.’
For a moment she was tempted to point out that he had been the one doing the thrusting, but she recognised that this was no time to attempt humour. Not when he was essentially accusing her of having used him as some sort of unknowing sperm donor.
‘I’m not continui
ng with this ridiculous discussion any longer,’ she said. ‘Go and mull over your crazy conspiracy theories somewhere else. I’m tired and I need to pack. I have a plane to catch.’
