God, that was only two days ago! She felt as if he had always been in her life, tormenting her.
She attempted to moisten her lips, but there was no moisture on her tongue to do so. ‘I must have got a slight touch of sunstroke,’ she excused, avoiding his gaze as she sat up slightly to take a drink of the juice he had put on the bedside table for her.
‘Or something,’ Liam drawled derisively. ‘I hate to tell you this, Juliet, but the sun isn’t hot enough in Majorca in November to give you sunstroke.’
Juliet barely heard his reply, horrified to have realised as she sat up that she was wearing nothing but her bra and pants beneath the bedclothes. Liam had undressed her before putting her to bed!
‘You’ve gone very pale again.’ His voice sharpened almost accusingly. And Juliet quickly realised why. ‘You aren’t pregnant, are you?’ he added harshly.
She gave an involuntary gasp. ‘Of course I’m not pregnant,’ she protested, holding the bedclothes to her protectively now.
‘I don’t see why there’s any “of course not” about it,’ he dismissed scornfully. ‘You’ve been living with my father for seven years!’
‘I told you—’ She broke off, the rise in her voice causing her head to thump again. She closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down; Liam seemed to enjoy getting a reaction out of her where his father was concerned, and she wasn’t about to give him that satisfaction just now. ‘I’m not pregnant,’ she repeated flatly.
How could she possibly be pregnant, when there had been no one in her life since Simon? Liam could think what he liked about his father—nothing she said seemed to convince him otherwise—but she knew the truth. And there was no way she could possibly be pregnant. By anyone.
‘You’re as white as the sheets.’ Liam’s voice was still accusing.
‘I’ll be fine once I’ve showered and dressed,’ she told him defensively, unwilling to tell him just how awful she really felt—or to let him know just how desperately she wanted him to leave so that she could put some clothes on.
He looked down at her, his expression sceptical. ‘Somehow I doubt it,’ he finally drawled.
‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you by apparently passing out in this way,’ she snapped waspishly. ‘The wine may have—all right, did go to my head,’ she corrected herself impatiently at his derisive expression. ‘But I’ll be on my way and out of your hair—’
‘Out of my bed,’ he corrected her. ‘I own the villa,’ he reminded her softly as she frowned.
She looked up at him sharply, relieved that it wasn’t actually his bed but at the same time totally disconcerted by the way he was looking at her. His gaze softened, a smile playing about his lips.
There was a sudden tension in the room. Their gazes locked, grey clashing with dark blue. Juliet was suddenly very aware of Liam’s closeness to her on the side of the bed, the warm heat emanating from his body, the slightly discernible smell of his aftershave. And of her own barely clothed body…
The bedclothes were still pulled up to her chin, but her shoulders and arms were bare, her hair a mass of tumbled red curls against her heated flesh. And this man had undressed her last night, had seen her wearing only the cream bra and panties.
She had never really thought about her body, about whether or not she was attractive to men, having no interest in them herself, but now, surprisingly, she wondered what Liam had thought of her long, silken limbs, of the slight swell of her breasts, the smooth curve of her hips and thighs…
God, not only was she suddenly completely aware of her own body but she was aware of the muscled strength of Liam’s too. His shirt was partially unbuttoned to reveal the golden hair that grew against the tanned skin there. She had never felt so physically aware of a man before. And it wasn’t something she wanted to feel now, either—not at all, but especially not for this man.
‘If you’ll go I’ll just shower and dress and then leave,’ she said stiltedly, her gaze remaining unblinkingly on the harsh attraction of his face.
His mouth curved into a smile, revealing even white teeth, deep grooves beside that mouth testifying to the fact that he smiled often. Normally. When not in the company of a woman he thought had been his father’s mistress!
‘There’s no hurry,’ he said huskily, reaching out to pick up a curling strand of her hair, his fingers lightly brushing the bareness of her shoulder as he did so. ‘Is there?’ he added softly.
Juliet swallowed hard, unable to stop the involuntary shiver that ran down her spine even at that light touch from the slender but powerful-looking hand. ‘I think we’ve agreed that we have nothing else to talk about,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Have we?’ Liam was suddenly much closer, his face only inches away from hers now, and Juliet was able to see the darker flecks of colour in the blue of his eyes, the golden length of his lashes. ‘Perhaps we could find something else,’ he murmured throatily.
She couldn’t imagine what. And she wished he would stop playing with her hair like that. Several curls wound about the length of his fingers now— fingers that kept lightly brushing against her bare shoulder.
‘I don’t think so.’ She was pressed right back into the pillow now as she shook her head, keeping herself as far away from Liam as possible given the fact that she was lying in the bed while he sat beside and over her. ‘It was a mistake coming here.’
‘I’ve never brought a woman here before,’ he mused softly, that darkened gaze roaming slowly over her now flushed features.
She thought that was the whole point; he hadn’t brought her here now, and he resented the fact that she had intruded on his life in this way, considering her connection to his father—a connection that brought back memories he would rather forget.
But at the same time she found it difficult to believe that he had never brought a girlfriend or mistress to this remote villa; it was the perfect place to come for privacy and relaxation.
‘You didn’t bring one here this time, either,’ she said. ‘I came here to talk about your father,’ she deliberately reminded him, knowing she had to put an end to this intimacy as soon as possible. It was far, far too dangerous.
The mention of his father acted like a slap in the face to Liam, who sat back sharply, untangling his hand from her hair before rising abruptly to his feet. ‘So you did,’ he acknowledged harshly. ‘I’ll go and get some coffee on. Come through when you’re ready.’ He strode purposefully from the room, closing the door forcefully behind him.
Juliet felt herself start to breathe again, deep, controlling breaths, and it took her several minutes to calm down her jangled nerves. Even so, she was still shaking slightly. And she didn’t think that it had anything to do with the wine consumption of yesterday!
What had Liam been doing? She hadn’t been mistaken about the desire she had seen in his eyes; she was sure she hadn’t. And, from a man who had shown her nothing but contempt since acknowledging that he knew exactly who she was, she found that more than a little disturbing. Had he been intent on seducing her himself, just to prove that everything he had accused her of was true? It seemed the most logical explanation, and it was one that Juliet viewed with horror. There had been no possibility of her responding to that seduction, but even so it wasn’t pleasant to realise just what contempt Liam held her in.
She threw back the bedclothes, swinging her legs to the floor to stand up and walk through to what she could see was an adjoining bathroom. At least, she would have walked