Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon by Kate Hewitt

so did he, at least for this moment, for even though he couldn’t see her, he could sense her. Zoe was here, waiting for him. He stilled, and it came to him, the faint scent of rose water. Or was he imagining it? Surely he was, for there was no way he could smell so faint a scent with dozens of people between them.
    Where was she?
    He walked forward slowly, avoiding the blurredshapes of people rushing past, letting instinct—and need—guide him.
    And then he felt her in front of him, saw for a moment the soft fall of golden hair, the glint of a green eye, the lovely, lovely sound of her voice.
    â€˜Max.’
    â€˜You’re stubborn, aren’t you?’ He meant to sound cutting but he couldn’t quite keep the hint of a smile from his voice.
    â€˜I prefer the word determined .’
    â€˜As you like.’ He took a breath, forcing back the words he felt almost desperate to say. You came back. You smell like spring. Touch me. ‘We have nothing to say to each other, Zoe.’ He began to move past her; he could see the dark shape of the waiting limo, his driver at the ready.
    â€˜Actually, we do.’ She moved quickly—too quickly—in front of him, and he nearly stumbled. Irritation bit at him, making him sound colder than ever.
    â€˜Then perhaps I should amend that— I have nothing to say to you .’
    She gave a harsh bark of laughter, a sound like nothing he’d heard before. It was full of bitterness and cynicism, and the realization stabbed him with sorrow. ‘Perhaps you will, when you hear what I have to say—’
    â€˜I don’t—’
    â€˜I’m pregnant.’
    The two words caused Max to go completely still. They reverberated through his body, his empty soul.
    Pregnant. A child. His child.
    Or not.
    His voice was cold and dismissive as he moved past her. ‘As I said before, I have nothing to say to you.’
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    Zoe watched Max walk away from her in shocked disbelief. Then the fury came, rushing through her in a scalding river, disbelief giving way to determination.
    â€˜You’re just going to walk away? You’re not even going to discuss it?’
    He swivelled slowly, stiffly, to address her. ‘If you could do simple maths, Zoe, you’d realise not enough time has passed for your pregnancy claim to be credible.’ He inclined his head in what she supposed was a gesture of dismissal and started to walk away again.
    â€˜I never was very good at maths,’ she called to his broad, indifferent back, ‘but it’s been a few weeks. These days you can take a pregnancy test after just ten days. Plenty of time, Max.’
    He stilled again, his back to her. At least thirty seconds ticked by in taut silence. ‘Get in the car.’
    Zoe saw the limo waiting at the curb, and without a word to Max she stalked to it and threw herself inside.
    Max followed, moving with a careful precision that Zoe decided meant he was either very angry or in great pain. Perhaps both.
    When the driver had closed the door and began moving through the city’s traffic, he spoke.
    â€˜You wouldn’t have any symptoms yet, and I wore a condom. What on earth made you think to take a pregnancy test?’ He turned to her, his grey eyes gleaming in the dim interior of the limo. ‘You did take one, I presume?’
    â€˜Yes. I overheard some women talking, and I realised I was late, so I—I put two and two together—’
    â€˜And came up with an unsavoury three.’
    Zoe pressed her hand to her middle. So. The idea of a pregnancy—a child—was unsavoury to him. An inconvenience, an irritation. Bitterness spiked her words. ‘You’ve made your feelings clear.’
    â€˜Am I supposed to want this baby?’ he asked in disbelief, and she shook her head.
    â€˜No, I suppose that would be too much to ask.’ She stared blindly out the window, wondering just why she had come. When