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There was nothing to do with that, except agree.
CHAPTER 6
“I CAN’T BELIEVE I DID this again,” Isobel wailed, as she scooped her shirt from the floor. It was ripped down the front. “I can’t wear this. Where are your shirts?”
Callum didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t even seem to register she was still there. He’d turned into a statue that blocked his front door. His open front door. Yeah, she’d had sex with a virtual stranger, in full view of the world. She was just oozing with class.
“Fine! I’ll find them myself.” She strode away from him, into the house. She also needed to find a bathroom and get cleaned up.
Because she’d had unprotected sex.
Again!
Had she learned from her teenage mistake, the way any other reasonable adult woman did? No. Because here she was at thirty-two, jumping the local bad boy without even sparing a thought for the consequences. She had no one to blame but herself. He’d stopped to make sure she wanted to carry on. And what had she said? Get in me now! Because she’d been thinking with her hoo-ha and not with her brain. If she’d been thinking with her brain, she might have remembered that she already had two kids and didn’t need a third.
She slammed open doors until she found the main bedroom. There was hardly any sign that Callum actually lived in the house. The furnishings were sparse and there were no personal knick-knacks anywhere. She yanked open drawers until she found a shirt. One of many identical grey Henleys. What the hell was that? Only a serial killer dressed in the same thing every damn day. She froze for a second. Had she had sex with a serial killer? Up against the wall. Without any protection.
She spun around and saw the perfectly made bed, which irritated her even more. Only someone with a deeply disturbed mind could be that neat. It was a bad sign. One of many she should have picked up before she jumped the man. Furious, Isobel bounced on the bed until it was a mess.
Better. She felt much better.
There was still no sign of Callum when Isobel strode into the bathroom. She turned the shower on to warm up as she surveyed the mess she’d made of herself. Her skirt was tucked in on itself and she’d been flashing her backside at Callum as she stormed through the house. Not that it mattered. Because really, was there any way she could add to her humiliation? She’d had sex with someone who was practically a stranger. In his hallway. In broad daylight. With the door open.
As steam filled the room, Isobel stripped and threw her trashed underwear in the bin. She stepped into the shower and let the heat take her away for a second, before her hand covered her abdomen. She did the math and figured out that it wasn’t the best time to fall pregnant. It was still possible, but it wasn’t probable. She clung to that hope with the smidgeon of sanity she had left.
“You aren’t on the pill.”
The rough voice startled Isobel, and she screamed.
“Are you insane?” She glared through the glass at Callum, who was standing, legs apart and arms folded, glaring back at her. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“You aren’t on the pill,” he said again. “And we didn’t use protection.”
She could have sworn he paled under his tan.
“No. We didn’t. But don’t worry. I-I’m sure I’m n-not pregnant.” Okay, so that was an outright lie, but still, what else was she supposed to say? If I am pregnant, there’s a good chance I’ll put my head in the oven and leave all three kids to you. Yeah, she didn’t think that’d go over well.
His eyes narrowed. “You stutter when you lie.”
It wasn’t a question, so she ignored him. Instead, she shut off the water, grabbed a perfectly folded towel from the rack and wrapped herself in it. Even his towels were equidistant from each other. Another thing that irritated her.
“Do you have OCD?” she asked.
His eyes went wide before they narrowed again. “No. But I’m beginning to think you might suffer from attention deficit disorder. Focus. We didn’t use protection.” For one second his calm demeanour cracked and he looked harried. “That’s never happened to me. I always use protection. Always.”
“Not this time, you didn’t. Guess I’m just special that way.”
His eyes hardened at her flippancy. “You could be pregnant.”
“No.” She shook her head. “No. I won’t allow it.” She couldn’t be pregnant. She just couldn’t.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop about forty degrees. Callum stepped right into the small bathroom, taking up all the space, and his hand wrapped around her bicep.
“Do you plan to abort my baby?” His tone was death.
She blinked up at him as the words sank in, and then she yanked her arm from his grip. “What? No! I plan to not be pregnant in the first place. I can’t be. It can’t happen. Not again.”
She pushed past him, holding what clothes she had left tight against her chest, and strode into his bedroom. Callum didn’t seem to have any problem watching her dress.
