Maid for Montero - By Kim Lawrence Page 0,56
look at her twin.
Digesting the information in shock, Zoe recovered enough to knock this on the head. ‘It is never brilliant to fight,’ she said numbly.
Oh, God, this was her fault!
Of this Zoe had no doubt. The child in question was the son of the attractive vet who had made a play for Isandro at Chloe’s party. The woman had gone out of her way ever since to be unpleasant to Zoe, and she had no doubt the kid was only repeating what he had heard at home. Probably everyone was saying the same with various degrees of contempt.
How could she not have considered the possible fallout for the twins when she had embarked on this affair? She had thought that by keeping the affair from them she was protecting them…Some protection, she thought, self-disgust bubbling like acid in her stomach.
She patted Harry’s curly head. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll make things right with the headmaster.’
‘I told you not to tell, Georgie. Look, she’s crying now.’
Zoe gave a watery smile and sniffed. ‘No, I’m not crying. And I’m very, very cross with you.’
The kiss she then planted on Harry’s head might have given mixed messages, but what mattered was putting this right. And she would. The sooner, the better. No gingerly easing off the plaster—it was a straight in there, hold your breath, grit your teeth and rip it off. The brutal approach might sting a bit at the time but why prolong the agony?
So the analogy was not perfect. No matter what spin she put on it, Zoe knew that this was going to hurt more than losing a few superficial layers of epidermis, but the important thing was not giving herself time for her resolve to weaken and waver.
That had been the theory anyway. But it was after eleven when the doorbell finally rang and by this time Zoe had gone through nail-biting apprehension and nervous pacing and come out the other side.
She let the doorbell ring a second time before she took a deep breath and headed for the hall. I’m totally calm, she told herself, serene even.
Her serenity lasted all the way up to the door and it swung inwards to reveal a tall, lean figure looking sleek and exclusive in a designer suit and, frankly, well out of her league. It hadn’t been intended to last…They were a total mismatch outside the bedroom. She took a deep breath and pushed away thoughts of the bedroom and reminded herself all she was doing was hastening the inevitable.
So suck it up, Zoe, you’re a grown-up, a parent…running away or, even worse, running into his arms is not an option.
‘Sorry I’m so late…’ Drawn irresistibly to her body heat and softness, he began to lean forward, but was forced to draw back when she whisked away and began to walk towards the sitting room. His expression thoughtful, he watched her retreating back. It grew less thoughtful as his heavy-lidded eyes lingered on her rounded bottom. He shook his head to clear it. ‘I hope the food isn’t spoilt.’
‘I didn’t make any food.’ Her spine stiff with tension, she walked ahead of him into the sitting room, trying desperately to remember her carefully prepared speech. It had vanished into the ether, or at least into some dark dead end of her stressed brain.
He had caught the negative vibes even before she avoided his embrace. Isandro’s expression grew contemptuous as he asked himself what point exactly he had been making when he hadn’t rung to say he’d be late.
It was simply another example of his increasingly pathetic attempts to pretend that this was all casual. Who was he kidding anyway?
Well, there, he’d admitted it, but this wasn’t the time to rush on and make any dramatic declarations. Clearly if he wanted to keep Zoe in his bed and in his life he would have to bend some of his normal rules.
The painful acknowledgement had an aftertaste of relief to it…He felt a little of the tension in his shoulders release. Why on earth had that been so difficult? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been bending the bloody rules to breaking point from the moment her blue eyes, sinuous curves and smart mouth appeared in his world.
Life was about to change, and he wasn’t infatuated; he was…past infatuation.
Still unwilling to follow this insight through to its conclusion, he closed the door of the sitting room behind him. He should be opening doors. The contemplative furrow in his brow smoothed.
It was not a