She couldn't move or speak, and she really wondered— for the merest of moments—whether the big dark figure in front of her was a product of her fevered imagination. She had thought about him, dreamt about him, tasted, sensed, felt him every single minute of the endless days and nights they had been apart, but the flesh-and-blood man was so much more powerful than her bitter-sweet memories. Devastatingly, frighteningly powerful.
'Can I come in?' He inclined his head towards the sweltering, dusty street behind him. 'It's hot enough to fry eggs out here.'
But still she couldn't respond, and then, as she watched his mouth begin to say something that her ears didn't seem to be able to hear, Victoria knew she was going to pass out Her last sight of him, as the rushing in her ears became a dark tunnel drawing her down, would have been amusing in any other circumstances. The cool, imperturbable countenance changed, as though someone had flicked a switch, and there was sheer amazement and alarm on his face as he leapt forward to catch her in his arms.
When she came round she was lying on the flamboyantly embroidered sofa in the sitting room, and she opened her eyes to see Zac's angry handsome face just inches from her own as he crouched at her side, his narrowed gaze tight on her.
'You haven't been eating properly.' He was straight into the attack. 'You must have lost a stone in weight.'
It was altogether too much, and Victoria didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Instead she weakly expostulated, 'What do you expect? I'm a normal human being, Zac; I have annoying things called feelings. I can't turn my emotions on and off at will.' She forced the tears back with superhuman effort.
'Meaning I can?' he asked grimly, his lips setting in a hard straight line and his frown ferocious as he eyed her angrily.
But she wasn't going to be intimidated. Not now, not ever, Victoria told herself shakily as she struggled into a sitting position on the sofa and Zac rose to his feet. 'That's exactly what I mean,' she agreed bitterly. And then, as the fall horror of the situation dawned on her, she added through trembling lips as her chin rose defiantly, 'And what are you doing here anyway?'
'I was just passing by so I thought I'd call in,' he said, with the cruel, cutting sarcasm he did so well. 'What else?'
'You weren't supposed to know…' Her voice trailed away as the midnight-black eyes blazed at her.
'Where you were hiding?' he finished caustically. 'Oh, I'm fully aware of that, Victoria. No one knows that better than I. I've spent a small fortune trying to find—' He stopped abruptly, taking a long hard pull of air before he said, his formidable composure fully restored and his voice cool, 'Are you feeling better?' He thrust his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers.
'Better?' For a split second she thought he was referring to the baby before she realised how ridiculous she was being. 'Yes, yes, I'm fine now. It's…the heat,' she said quickly.
'Is it?' He glared at her, his dark eyes flashing over her slender shape and pale, drawn face in a razor-sharp scrutiny that did nothing for her fragile equilibrium, before he added insult to injury by stating flatly, 'You look as though a breath of wind would blow you away.' It wasn't meant as a compliment.
'Do I?' She wouldn't have imagined just a few minutes before that she could spring up from the sofa with such suddenness, but the white-hot fury that had her in its grip banished even the faintest remnant of weakness. 'Well, now you've come spreading happiness and cheer, perhaps you'd like to leave? I don't remember inviting you in in the first place,' she added caustically.
'You'd rather I'd left you sprawled in the doorway?' he drawled derisively, his temper apparently quite restored.
'Yes!' And then, as the black eyebrows rose, she amended, 'No. Oh, you know what I mean,' she floundered angrily. 'I was perfectly all right before you came.' She glared at him, her colour high.
'Were you?'
The mockery was all gone, his voice soft and low, and she shivered at its power over her, but her voice was firm when she said, 'I want you to leave, Zac. I want you to leave now.'
'I've only just arrived,' he countered easily.
'I mean it.' She raised her chin, looking him full in the face.
'Yes, you probably do.' He looked down at her, the black eyes onyx-hard and very cold. 'But we have things to discuss, Victoria, whether you like it or not.'
'That's where you're wrong.' In the past she had always rather relished the fact that he was nearly ten inches taller than her five feet six inches, but now it was merely daunting. 'I have absolutely nothing to say to you except goodbye,' she said flatly.
'For crying out loud!' It was a snarl of savage frustration. 'What's the matter with you? Listen to me, woman.'
'Don't 'woman' me, Zac,' Victoria said coldly, forcing her voice to betray none of the trembling that was turning her stomach over and over. 'Save that form of address f
or—' She found she couldn't say Gina's name and substituted, 'Your other women.'
Part of her couldn't believe she was talking to him like this and she doubted if anyone had before. Zac Harding was a law unto himself, a powerful, ruthless law which was dangerously self-sufficient and utterly without mercy for those who crossed him. He had terrified her when she had first met him all those months ago—terrified and fascinated and enthralled her to the point where she had been unable to imagine a world without him. And then she had thought she didn't have to, she reminded herself painfully. Fool that she was. But she'd learnt her lesson well.
'I refuse to have this conversation again.' It was icy and overbearing, and so utterly him that Victoria wanted to stamp her feet and throw a tantrum in a way she hadn't done since she was a toddler. 'And you will listen to me, Victoria, but for now—' he eyed her white face and the trembling she couldn't quite hide '—you need something to eat,' he finished smoothly.
'Eat?' She stared at him as though he were mad. 'I don't want anything to eat for goodness' sake, and I've told you—'
'And I'm telling you.' He crossed muscled arms over the wide expanse of his chest—a chest that was broad and hairy and wonderful to snuggle up to, Victoria thought weakly, before she slammed the door on that particular avenue of thought—and stood surveying her with narrowed eyes, his legs slightly apart and his body relaxed.
'I've been travelling for I don't know how many hours and I haven't eaten since last night. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and my patience is at an all-time low, okay? Added to which you look as though a good meal would do you no harm at all. Now—' he held up an authoritative hand as Victoria went to speak '—I promise that once we've eaten, and had that little chat, I'll leave.' There was no compromise in his tone.