Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon by Kate Hewitt Page B

hide.’
    â€˜Don’t you?’ Max remained motionless, but Zoe could still feel his heat, his anger. He stood still, seemingly relaxed, yet to Zoe he felt like a panther ready to pounce. On her. ‘Just Zoe?’ he jeered softly. ‘Who are you, really?’
    Zoe met his taunting gaze, her voice steady. ‘The woman who is going to have your child.’
    Max let out a sharp bark of disbelieving laughter. ‘You really are a piece of work.’
    â€˜What—’
    â€˜Have you even considered what having this baby means, Zoe? What it will do to that lovely little body of yours, to your lifestyle? No more parties, no more late nights. No more spending the night with your latest lover—’
    â€˜That’s not fair.’ Zoe felt the sting of tears under her lids and furiously blinked them away. ‘You don’t know me—’
    â€˜Exactly. I don’t know you.’ The words seemed to hang in the air, flat and final. ‘Do you even know what it means to have a child?’ Max demanded after a moment, his voice harsh. ‘Or are you just seeing this baby—this life—as another fashion accessory, something different because you’re bored?’
    Each word, Zoe thought numbly, was a judgement, a condemnation. Of course, there was very little reason forMax Monroe to think more of her; she hadn’t given him any reason to. She hadn’t given anyone any reason to. And standing there, her face drained of colour, her mouth dry, she wondered at the truth of his words.
    Was it selfish—stupid, even—to have a baby because you wanted a family of your own? Because at last you’d have someone to belong to?
    Perhaps it was.
    Yet even as these thoughts—fears—slipped slyly through her mind, Zoe knew she wanted this baby for more reasons than her own selfish desires. She wanted this baby because it was a child, her child, part of her own body, and he or she deserved to live.
    â€˜If I wanted a fashion accessory,’ she finally said, her voice thankfully dry, ‘I’d buy a bracelet.’
    Max inclined his head in acknowledgement, and Zoe thought she almost—almost—saw the glimmer of a smile in the curve of his mouth, the flicker in his eyes. Then he shrugged. ‘Naturally I’ll offer financial support, if that’s what you need.’
    â€˜Write a cheque and be done with it?’
    Max narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you angling for, Zoe? Because you can’t possibly expect—’ He stopped, swallowing, and turned away.
    â€˜Expect you to be involved in your child’s life? Funny, how men seem to think that idea is so absurd. So impossible.’
    Max swung around sharply. ‘Are you telling me you’ve been in this situation before?’
    Zoe hesitated. ‘In a manner of speaking. But no, I’ve never been pregnant before.’ She took a breath; it hitched slightly. ‘I’m not asking you to marry me, Max, or even attempt some kind of godforsaken relationship.’ She said the word with a little sneer, even though she didn’t feel likesneering. She didn’t want a relationship with Max; she was realistic enough to realise how ill-fated that would be. Yet it still hurt that he hadn’t even considered it for a moment. He’d dismissed her the morning after they’d made love, and he was dismissing her and her child now.
    Hadn’t she had enough of rejection? When was she going to wise up and stop insisting on these confrontations? A wave of dizziness passed over and she swayed on her feet, a tiny moan escaping her. Max inhaled sharply.
    â€˜Are you all right?’
    â€˜I’m just a little dizzy. I haven’t eaten in awhile.’ She sat down in the nearest chair with an inelegant thud, closing her eyes against the dizziness, the accompanying nausea and, worst of all, the reality of Max’s rejection.
    Her eyes still closed, she heard him