Zoe and the Tormented Tycoon by Kate Hewitt Page B

especially if anyone learned she was pregnant. ‘I think I should stay here,’ she said after a moment, and heard the hesitation and uncertainty in her voice.
    â€˜Is there a reason why you don’t want to return to England?’ Max asked, his tone neutral, but nerves and fear made Zoe spiky. ‘You mentioned—’
    â€˜I just want to stay here,’ Zoe cut him off, and Max nodded. He wasn’t going to press, Zoe realised with a wave of relief. At least not yet.
    â€˜Fine. Have you seen a doctor?’ he asked after a moment.
    â€˜No, not yet. It’s still early days.’
    â€˜Yet if you’re feeling wretched, surely there is something a doctor could prescribe.’
    â€˜I don’t know—’ Zoe admitted. She watched as Max withdrew a slim mobile phone from his breast pocket and began to punch in numbers. ‘What are you—?’
    He spoke tersely into the mobile, and Zoe realised he must be talking to some assistant, a staff member ready to scurry and obey his sharply given commands. He snapped the phone shut. ‘My assistant is looking into doctors. We’ll try to get an appointment for this afternoon.’
    Zoe was torn between annoyance, admiration and a strange sort of gratitude. When he put his mind to it, he obviously got things done, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be quite so managed . ‘I’m fine—’
    â€˜You said you were feeling wretched,’ Max pointed out, and then had the gall to actually sniff. ‘Perhaps you’d like to shower before your appointment?’
    Mortified, Zoe flushed to the roots of her unwashed hair. Surely she didn’t actually smell ? ‘Fine,’ she said stiffly. She rose from her chair; Max hadn’t moved from his militarylike stance in the centre of the room. ‘Are you just going to wait here?’ He shrugged one powerful shoulder and Zoe couldn’t help but ask a bit resentfully, ‘Don’t you have things to do? Money to make?’
    Max gave her the faintest flicker of a smile. ‘The good thing about making money,’ he said, ‘is that after awhile it makes more all on its own.’ He shoved one hand in his trouser pocket, looking a shade more relaxed. ‘I have time.’
    She should be glad Max was here, Zoe knew, grateful that he’d changed his mind and wanted to be involved in some way. Yet for some perverse reason she could only feel resentful. He changed his mind, and now she was meant to leap to do his bidding? She felt like a parcel to be cared for, rather than a person.
    The shower felt good, stinging and hot, and despite her queasy stomach she felt a bit better, enough to dress with care in a pair of skinny jeans—she could still fit into them, although the zip stuck a bit in the middle—knee-high leather boots and a silky T-shirt the colour of sea foam. She did her make-up, knowing she was being ridiculously vain, wanting to look good for Max. She doubted he would even notice, and yet still she was ludicrously disappointed when she returned to the living room and he didn’t even glance at her.
    â€˜We have an appointment in an hour,’ Max said briskly. ‘My car will be here in five minutes.’
    â€˜That was quick,’ Zoe said a bit sulkily. ‘Amazing how you can get things done when you put your mind to it.’ She knew she sounded sharp and sarcastic and didn’t really care.
    Max fixed her with a cool, even stare. ‘I understand why you’re angry with me, Zoe. I didn’t behave as I should have—as I wanted to—the last time we spoke. I’m sorry. But I’m doing my best now to take care of you and our child, and I’d appreciate not having it tossed back at me at every turn.’ He spoke levelly, his face expressionless, and Zoe nodded in acceptance.
    â€˜I suppose this situation is difficult for us both.’
    â€˜Indeed.’ He reached out an