Flora's Defiance (7 page)

She had reached the mature age of twenty-six without realising just how vulnerable she might be with the wrong man. And Angelo was decidedly the wrong man. He was a very wealthy and sophisticated tycoon and at heart he was as cold as ice. But if that was true why was he offering to give Willem’s daughter a home? Mariska was not even related to him by blood, Flora conceded ruefully, torn in opposing directions and disturbed by the bits that didn’t add up in her view of him. To be fair to him he had looked out for the little girl’s interests from birth. Seemingly he had also done his utmost to help Willem and Julie. Evidently Angelo had a strong streak of family loyalty and an active social conscience but neither trait made her feel any more comfortable about having shared the greatest act of intimacy there was with him.

Four days later, Angelo phoned Flora.

‘Why are you calling? ‘ she demanded sharply.

‘You’re phoning my house daily but contriving not to speak to me,’ Angelo returned in a mocking reminder.

Flora went pink because when she rang Amsterdam
she always asked to speak to Anke. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to be personally involved in giving me regular bulletins on Mariska.’

‘Are you always this prickly with men?’ Angelo drawled silkily.

‘I’m
not
prickly! ‘ Flora snapped, her knuckles showing white as she gripped the phone tight with angry fingers, her stretched-tight control snapping at that fire-raising crack. Even his intonation set her teeth on edge. ‘I assume you’re calling to ask if I have any news yet on the pregnancy front and the answer is, sorry, no. I’ll have a better idea by the end of next week.’

‘So, we’re only allowed to talk if there’s bad news?’

At her end of the phone, Flora pulled a face. ‘You said it—’

‘For the benefit of your niece in the future, it would be sensible for us to establish a cordial relationship.’

Flora stiffened and reddened as if he had slapped her on the wrist for bad behaviour. Her teeth gritted because it was far from being the first time that Angelo van Zaal had managed to make her feel like a disruptive and rude child. Nor did she relish the obvious fact that Angelo remained confident that he would win the adoption competition. ‘You should have thought of that in Amsterdam and kept your hands off me!’ she snapped before she could think better of being that honest with him.

‘Pot … kettle … black,’ Angelo pronounced, deadpan.

And Flora was downright amazed that the violent jolt of rage that rocked her at that ruthless retaliation didn’t send her screaming into orbit. A lengthy silence
stretched at her end of the line as she struggled with her temper. ‘I don’t think we have anything more to say to each other right now,’ she breathed shakily, before she set the phone down hastily lest she forget herself entirely and screech back at him like a virago.

Please, please,
please
don’t let me be pregnant by him, she prayed in a frantic, feverish surge. Although at least he had been frank enough to admit that such an announcement would be ‘bad news’. Yet that fact ironically only made Flora’s heart sink, for she knew that if she conceived he would be anything but pleased and in even thinking that thought she felt that she was being unfair to him. After all, what rational man or woman wanted to conceive a child outside the bounds of a serious relationship? But, equally, how could she have put herself in the position of waiting to see whether or not she would fall pregnant from a casual sexual encounter? That very acknowledgement drenched her in hot shame.

Yet she could not possibly explain why her mind should immediately leap from that thought to a stirring recollection of her hands sweeping up over Angelo’s muscular hair-roughened torso. Yes, he had had strong grounds for his retaliation, for she
had
found it equally impossible to keep her hands off him that afternoon.

The week that followed was very stressful for Flora. Local education colleges were staging open days and all the accommodation for miles around was filled with parents and would-be students. Flora’s five rooms were fully booked and Sharon came in every day to help with the cleaning and changing of bedding as well as the breakfast rush. Every night Flora fell into bed much
too tired to lie awake worrying. But when the end of the week arrived she was suddenly fiercely and anxiously aware that unusually her menstrual cycle was exhibiting definite signs of being disrupted. She wondered if stress could be making her late. The next day, she woke at noon on the decision that, without further ado, she would head for the nearest pharmacy to purchase a pregnancy test. That decided, however, she was barefoot and still in her pyjamas when her doorbell rang in a shrill burst.

Having assumed it was the lady who delivered the mail, Flora flung open the door with scant ceremony and with a piece of jam-spread toast still clutched in one hand. She was aghast to see Angelo and stared at him much as she might have stared at an alien had he dropped out of the sky onto her doorstep.

Angelo studied her with narrowed shimmering blue eyes. The faded blue cotton pyjamas and bare feet made her look very young and, taken by surprise, her eyes shone green as precious jade against her rosy complexion.

‘What on earth are you doing here?’ Flora questioned in a rush of dismay. ‘Oh, my goodness, Mariska is all right, isn’t she?’

‘Mariska is fine,’ Angelo murmured quietly. ‘I’m more concerned right now about you.’

‘I’m concerned about me too … but you didn’t need to come all the way from the Netherlands to check up on me,’ Flora assured him in a surge of disbelief.

‘I was already coming to the UK on business. I had a meeting in London early this morning,’ Angelo responded deflatingly. ‘Are you planning to invite me into your home?’

Flora hesitated, reluctant to bring him into her private space, much preferring to keep him outside.

Angelo dealt her a shrewd appraisal and murmured with silken derision, ‘What age are you? Twenty-six years old, or sixteen?’

‘Is it my fault that you get on my nerves? I mean, at the very least you might have warned me that you were planning to visit!’ Flora complained heatedly, making no attempt to hide her resentment as she stepped back reluctantly to allow him into the hall.

A little black and white terrier barked frantically at Angelo from a doorway. He wasn’t accustomed to indoor animals in any of his phenomenally clean and smoothly run homes, so he ignored it. Even though the dog made an attempt to nip at his trouser legs, Flora patted it soothingly and rewarded the little animal with the toast in her hand. While idly wondering if a successful bite that drew blood would have won a second piece of toast and an all-out hug, Angelo frowned until he noted the way her clingy top rose to expose the smooth white skin of her hip and the curve of her bottom when she bent down. He had a sudden startling recollection of her pale slender body spread across that mattress on the houseboat and his big hands clenched in defiance of that image as he fought off the insidious arousal tugging at him.

‘Would you like coffee?’ Flora enquired, striving to employ the good manners she had been raised with.

‘We haven’t got time for that. You need to get dressed … and quickly,’ Angelo asserted, shrugging back his cuff to check the slim gold watch on his wrist.

Flora frowned, alarmingly conscious of the manner
in which his beautiful sapphire-blue eyes lingered on her and of the lack of clothing she wore. She had never met any other man with such a powerfully sexual aura and she seriously hoped that she never did again. ‘What the heck are you talking about? We haven’t got time for …
what?’

‘A conversation or an argument,’ Angelo responded drily. ‘I’ve made an appointment for you with a London obstetrician and getting there on time will be a challenge.’

Her wide green eyes rounded in sheer disbelief. ‘You’ve done
what?’
she gasped. ‘Made an appointment for
me
with an
obstetrician?’

‘I’m done with hanging around waiting to find out whether or not you’re pregnant,’ Angelo spelt out with forthright cool, his stubborn jaw line squaring in emphasis. ‘I’m assured that testing can safely be done at the earliest stage.’

Flora’s lower lip had parted company from her upper because she was still shell shocked by his announcement. ‘I can’t believe you’ve got the nerve to do this to me!’

’Por Dios,
I was waiting for you to take care of the issue and so far you haven’t. Clearly it was time for me to step in.’

‘No, it wasn’t, you interfering … louse!’ Flora clenched her teeth and swallowed a worse word while her eyes glowed with angry condemnation. ‘For your information, I was planning to go out and buy a pregnancy test today …’

‘I would prefer medical personnel to carry out the testing. There’ll be a smaller margin for error,’ Angelo
pronounced stonily, standing his ground, black-lashed stunning blue eyes bright with challenge. ‘If you’ve conceived, the sooner we know it, the better.’

Colour had already suffused Flora’s cheeks. ‘I’m not volunteering to be examined by some strange medic.’

‘Natalie is an excellent doctor and she will be discreet. We need to know where we stand without any further delay.’

‘How
dare
you meddle in my life like this? ‘ Flora launched at him fierily and she stalked past him to take the stairs two at a time. ‘I really can’t stand you, Angelo!’

‘But you still wouldn’t kick me out of bed,
enamorada mia,’
Angelo murmured silkily.

Flora spun back to look at him, outrage roaring through her while on another level she wondered what those Spanish words meant.

‘The truth hurts, doesn’t it?’ Angelo breathed with raw-edged confidence, reading her resentful expression with alarming accuracy. ‘It’s good to know that I’m not the only one suffering.’

Flora stiffened and veiled her gaze in a defensive move, but it was too late for self-protection because his lean bronzed features were already etched in her mind’s eye to ensure that every inch of her was insanely aware of him. Whether waking or sleeping, she saw Angelo van Zaal in her dreams. And it seemed that even when they were arguing the hunger he could invoke stayed in the ascendant, for her breasts were swelling, the tender nipples tightening while the heat of sexual response was simmering low in her pelvis.

‘We need to know what we’re dealing with,’ Angelo reasoned with scantily suppressed impatience.

‘But this is my body,’ Flora pointed out.

‘I would very much appreciate it if you would consent to see the doctor today,’ Angelo intoned between audibly gritted teeth.

‘You are so unspeakably bossy!’ Flora complained as she turned on her heel to complete her passage upstairs to her bedroom. She was furious that she was too sensible to refuse to attend the appointment just to make a point.

Angelo stepped back into the living room and realised that what he had taken for a giant furry and rather messy cushion was an obese black cat. The animal got up to prowl round his feet and then nudged up against him in a clumsy bid for attention. Already ill at ease in a cramped room overfilled with furniture and now under assault from the suddenly excessively affectionate cat, Angelo swore impatiently under his breath. The undersized dog was growling and baring its teeth at him from below the coffee table. Not a heroic beast, it was carefully maintaining cover and a safe distance from him.

Why did Flora Bennett have to argue with everything he did and said? She was intelligent enough to know that his having organised that appointment for her made sound sense, but still she would insist on forcing a confrontation over it. As for him being bossy? His lean, strong face hardened, his wide, sensual mouth twisting. It was his nature to take charge, and a wise move when he was very often the most intelligent and decisive
individual in the vicinity. Naturally he needed to know whether or not she had conceived his child.

And if she had? That was one question that Angelo refused to tackle in advance. After all, she was not at all the sort of woman whom he would have chosen to bring his first child into the world. No, she was very far from being the
right
sort, he reflected grimly, his lean, darkly handsome face settling into forbidding lines of censure. Having had a sleazy affair with her married boss three years ago, Flora Bennett had then proceeded to try and blackmail her lover into giving her an undeserved financial bonus. No revelation in her history could have filled Angelo with greater contempt, for he too had been targeted in the office by ambitious female employees keen to advance their careers by offering him sexual favours. In his experience it was clever women like Flora who were often the most calculating and greedy as well as being the most dangerous.

Flora got dressed in a hurry. She picked out a simple denim miniskirt to wear with a striped top and a cotton cardigan and slid her feet into high-heeled sandals. She ran a brush through her hair to fluff it up and steadfastly ignored Angelo’s shout up the stairs while she utilised her brown eyeliner and mascara and skimmed a sultry cherry colour over her lips.

‘I’m on my way!’ she yelled, speeding down the stairs.

Fuming at the amount of time she had wasted, Angelo paced in the hall and then, hearing her descent, swung fluidly round, only to tense at the sight of those endless
long legs and slender thighs. ‘That’s a very short skirt,’ he heard himself remark stiffly.

‘No, it’s not. I don’t wear
very
short skirts—I just happen to have
very
long legs!’ Flora snapped defensively.

Angelo found that unnecessary information, for he was already imagining those limbs wrapped round his waist again and his all-too-male body was reacting accordingly. So hard and full of repressed lust that he physically hurt, he swallowed back a curse and yanked open the front door. ‘Come on,’ he urged curtly.

Flora was taken aback to find a chauffeur-driven limo awaiting them on the street. She climbed into the very spacious interior and watched without surprise as Angelo flipped out a laptop to work on and proceeded to ignore her. Telling herself that she was relieved by his businesslike attitude, she lifted the English newspaper lying on the seat and proceeded to read it. As she read Angelo proved what a dynamo of business energy he was while he made and received calls in more than one language and rapped out commands and advice to various underlings. Listening to the level of innate authority and conviction with which he spoke, Flora was not at all surprised that she was seated in his limo speeding towards an appointment that he had arranged for her. It would take a very tough and obstinate woman to stand up to a male as determined as Angelo van Zaal, but she was convinced that she had the backbone if he pushed her hard enough.