She had to be cool and composed—matronly, she told herself feverishly as she rummaged about in one cupboard after another for a vase, finally settling on a big square water jug and plunging the base of the bouquet in without removing the Cellophane at the top of the bouquet, turning away to the coffee maker in the next moment without noticing the bouquet was moving to one side and causing the jug to tilt.
The crash the water jug made as it hit the tiled floor almost made Victoria jump out of her skin, and brought Zac shooting out of the sitting room like a bullet from a gun.
'What the…?' He took in Victoria standing amidst a sea of water and jagged glass, and his sharp, 'Don't move, stay exactly where you are,' checked any movement she might have made.
He reached her in two strides, his shoes crunching fragments of broken glass, and whisked her up into his arms before Victoria could say a word, retracing his steps to the threshold of the kitchen and into the small hall beyond where he stopped, looking down into her flushed face and making no attempt to set her down. His eyes were dark and glittering and she was mesmerised.
'I've heard of keeping the little woman in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, but I've never realised how impractical it is before,' he said huskily. 'With someone like you, that is. Why won't you wear shoes, Tory?' he asked wryly.
Her habit of going barefoot whenever she could had been a bone of contention when they were courting, especially after she had trodden on a wasp on one occasion in her mother's garden, and on another had driven a half-inch wooden splinter deep into the soft flesh at the base of her toe. He'd shouted a bit then.
'I…I don't like shoes.' He had slipped his suit jacket off during his sojourn in the sitting room, and now, held close to the soft silk of his shirt, Victoria could smell the warm scent coming off his skin and feel the prickle of body hair beneath the smooth material. 'I never have,' she added weakly.
It wasn't fair that one man could be so devastatingly attractive, so sexy, so incredibly, broodingly male…
'Perhaps that's why your feet are so perfect.' But he didn't look down at her feet; his eyes were seemingly locked onto the soft moistness of her lips, and then his mouth was coming closer, and closer still. And she knew she wanted him to kiss her.
Victoria shut her eyes as his mouth touched hers, but then, when the kiss ended almost before it began, the light stroking of her lips not at all what she had expected, they snapped open in surprise. That was it? she asked herself confusedly. But…
'You seem to have miraculously escaped any injury,' Zac said briskly as he set her down on the thick wool carpet. 'Now you stay here out of harm's way while I clean up. I presume there's a dustpan and brush somewhere in that hidey-hole of a kitchen?'
'I… Yes. Umm…' Pull yourself together. 'The dustpan is under the sink,' Victoria managed stumblingly, hearing her trembling voice with very real disgust.
She had been in his arms, held next to that wickedly male body, and he had kissed her in much the same way he would kiss a maiden aunt, Victoria thought miserably. Perhaps her changed shape had put him off? The thought was crucifyingly painful. The cleverly cut lines of the dress with its low, low waist hid her shape wonderfully well, but he would have felt only too clearly what the dress hid. He probably thought she was fat and ungainly— repulsive even? She stood lost in a black abyss of despair.
'Victoria?' he had been talking but she only heard her name.
She came out of the dark morass of her thoughts to find Zac had cleared away every last speck of glass, and the kitchen floor was now drying and gleaming. 'Oh, thank you.' She managed a smile.
'I asked you if you had a bucket or something to stand the flowers in for now?' Zac repeated patiently. 'You can arrange them later when you've got more time.'
Fiercely masculine men like him should never do household jobs, Victoria thought, with an apology to all the feminists in the world, but the touch of domesticity emphasised rather than defused his powerful appeal, making it disturbingly dangerous. She didn't want to fancy him—there was nothing she wanted less in all the world— but she was aching with a desire that was hot and lustful and very
, very earthy.
'A bucket?' His patience sounded as if it was wearing thin.
'Oh, yes, a bucket. Of course.' Victoria tried to take control of both the situation and her own weakness as she opened the tall narrow cupboard wherein the vacuum cleaner was housed, and reached over it to the shelf where a lone bucket—hitherto unused—was sitting. He must think she was going doo-lally!
She turned to the sink, placing the bucket under the cold tap and turning the water on as Zac tied the big parcel he had made of the broken glass with string and wrapped it round with more newspaper before putting the whole in a big black dustbin sack.
And then she jumped for the second time that morning as Zac barked—just as she was about to lift the bucket onto the floor, 'What the hell do you think you are doing now?'
'What?' All thoughts of soft yearning vanished as she glared back into his angry face. 'What's the matter?' she snapped tightly.
'You. You're the matter. For crying out loud…' He raked back a lock of jet-black hair from his brow irritably. 'You were just about to lift that bucket out of the sink, weren't you?'
'Well, of course I was,' she retorted testily, her heart still beating a tattoo. 'I wasn't aware it could jump down all by itself.' She could be sarcastic herself when she wanted to be!
'You're pregnant, woman. You don't do things like sky-diving or running the London marathon, and you definitely, definitely don't do weight-lifting,' he said with biting derision. 'Don't you know what to avoid? Haven't you been to meetings, or whatever it is women go to at this particular time?'
'If you're referring to antenatal classes, I haven't been to any yet,' Victoria snapped back furiously. 'They start at the end of September, but I've managed quite well so far in case you hadn't noticed.' How dared he insinuate she'd put the baby at risk?
He glanced meaningfully at the black dustbin sack before placing it on the floor. 'Well, now you mention it…'
'Oh, shut up!' Victoria was too enraged to tread carefully. 'I was perfectly all right before you came round this morning as it happens, but you make me so nervous—' She stopped abruptly but it was too late. The black eyes had narrowed on her face.
'Do I? Do I make you nervous, Tory?' He sounded inordinately pleased with himself and she wanted to kick him, hard.