don’t make a habit of sleeping around.’
He’d worked it out. He vividly recalled her charmingly unpractised loving, the shock in her eyes at the ecstasy they’d shared.
‘Pregnant.’ He paused, frustrated that his brain wouldn’t function. Now it had side-tracked into imagining Imogen swollen with his child, her hands splayed over her ripe belly. He’d never lusted after a pregnant woman yet the image in his head filled him with all sorts of inappropriate thoughts.
Diable! He should be concentrating, not mentally undressing her.
He dragged his attention back to her face. ‘We used condoms.’
Jerkily she nodded. ‘It turns out they’re not a hundred percent effective.’
‘You’re sure about this?’ He searched her features. She looked different—drawn and tired. And...was that fear?
‘I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t. I took the test in London. That’s why I came to Paris, to find you.’
Thierry stared into those haunted eyes and told himself the sensible thing would be to insist on a paternity test. He had only her word the child was his.
Yet, crazy as it was, he was on the verge of believing her. He’d been with her just two weeks, but he felt he knew her better than any of the women he’d dated.
Even better than Sandrine.
The thought sideswiped him. He’d grown up with Sandrine and had loved her with all his youthful heart.
The memory served its purpose, like being doused in a cold mountain stream. He needed to think critically. He straightened.
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.
