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Whatever she felt for him, she couldn’t be with a man who didn’t trust her. And Jago hadn’t trusted her.
Having reminded herself firmly of that fact, she tried to match his attitude of cool indifference. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Finishing our conversation.’ His eyes rested on her mouth with blatant fascination and then slid down her body, his intense scrutiny making her relieved that she was wearing a very modest silk dress. At least he couldn’t see what she was feeling.
Or could he?
‘The conversation was finished, Jago.’
‘I don’t think so. We’d just reached the part where you were telling me about the baby.’
She was shaken into silence by his smooth declaration and panic clawed at her stomach. ‘I didn’t say—’
‘It was more what you left unsaid,’ he finished softly, stepping closer to her. ‘Finish the story, Katy.’
She turned and fled towards her bedroom but he was right behind her, closing the door and isolating them together in the confines of the cosy room. Instantly she realised her mistake.
The large, elegant hallway was impersonal whereas everything about her bedroom was soft and intimate. Personal.
The last place in the world she’d have chosen to be alone with Jago.
In the hallway of her apartment she hadn’t found him particularly intimidating, but in her bedroom she couldn’t help but be aware of his superior height and strength. He dominated the room, overwhelmingly male and unshakably confident. And he was looking for answers.
‘When did you find out that you were pregnant?’
‘After you left.’ What was the point in denying what he clearly knew? She walked over the far end of her bedroom, wondering how a room that she normally regarded as a sanctuary could suddenly seem so claustrophobic.
He frowned. ‘You didn’t find out until after I left?’
She swallowed. ‘I suspected…’
‘But you didn’t say anything?’
‘I panicked.’
‘I can imagine.’ He ran a hand over his jaw, visibly tense. ‘Katy, you told me you were protected.’
His voice was surprisingly gentle and her heart missed several beats. If she was vulnerable to his macho, dominating male side, she was even more vulnerable to his gentle side. She wished he’d kept it hidden.
She felt the colour touch her cheeks. ‘There really isn’t any reason to talk about this.’
‘Your sister clearly blames me for making you pregnant,’ he pointed out, and she sat down on the edge of the bed because standing suddenly seemed too much like hard work.
‘That’s not true. I told Libby it was my fault.’
He inhaled sharply. ‘I was older than you and more experienced. It was my responsibility but you definitely told me you were protected.’ He stepped forward and hunkered down next to her, his dark gaze fixed on her pale face, his eyes tormented. ‘Have you any idea what it does to me to know that I left you pregnant? You lied to me, querida. Why?’
‘Because I was eighteen and stupid,’ she muttered, her cheeks hot with embarrassment. ‘And desperate.’
He frowned with an unusual lack of comprehension. ‘Desperate?’
‘To go to bed with you.’
She looked away from him, instantly regretting her honesty, but strong fingers caught her chin and forced her to look at him.
Connecting with those stunning dark eyes, she suddenly understood with appalling clarity how she could have made such a serious error of judgement at eighteen. Jago was so staggeringly sexy that exercising common sense would have been as unlikely as a snowstorm in summer.
He said something under his breath in Spanish and then switched to English. ‘I can’t believe I let that happen,’ he muttered, and her eyes slid away from his.
