fact, she felt incapable of moving at this moment.
Liam stood up next to her, and looked down at her intently. ‘Are you all right?’ He frowned. ‘You’ve gone very pale.’
She knew she had; she had felt the colour draining from her face even as he had said the words. And the sun reflecting off the blue of the swimming-pool was starting to make her feel dizzy, although at the same time she felt mesmerised by the flickering light, unable to look away.
‘Juliet?’ Liam prompted again, sharply this time.
She looked up at him finally, blinking rapidly as she tried to focus. Liam’s face was just a hazy outline, and the more she blinked, the more unfocused it became.
Liam grasped her by her upper arms as she swayed slightly. ‘Juliet, what—?’
Juliet didn’t hear any more; blackness washed over her as she felt herself falling, falling, falling…
‘WELL, I can honestly say that’s the first time a woman has fallen for me in quite that way,’ drawled the voice that was becoming all too familiar.
Juliet opened one eyelid—it was about all she could manage to do at this precise moment. Her whole body, including her eyelids, felt like a lead weight. And the sun blazing into the room made her close even that eyelid as its brightness dazzled her.
‘Wakey, wakey,’ Liam encouraged—far too boisterously as far as she was concerned. ‘Come on, Juliet, drink some of this juice; you’ll feel better for it.’
At this moment she didn’t think she would ever feel better again. If this was what it felt like to drink too much she knew why it had never happened to her before! Her head was thumping, her body ached, and her mouth felt as if it had fur growing in it. And people actually drank alcohol on a social basis as a way of enjoying themselves; they must all be masochists, she decided.
‘Juliet, it’s time to wake up,’ Liam encouraged in that cheerful, over-loud voice.
Why was it? she wanted to know. She just wanted to go back to sleep until she felt human again. If she ever did!
‘What was that?’ Liam prompted jovially as she mumbled under her breath.
‘I said ‘ She winced even at the sound of her own voice. ‘I said,’ she said again, much more quietly this time, ‘stop talking in that loud voice. And it’s much too bright in here.’
‘I’m talking perfectly normally,’ he informed her lightly, although his voice did seem to be slightly softer. ‘And I’ll draw the curtains if that will make you feel better.’
Curtains? What curtains? Where…? Juliet opened both her eyes in time to see Liam walk across the room, feeling sudden panic as she realised that she was in a bedroom, actually lying in the bed! In the bed? What…?
‘There.’ Liam had turned back to her, dressed now in a dark blue shirt and light-coloured denims. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’
Morning? What…?
‘Dear, dear, dear, Juliet,’ Liam drawled as he walked over to stand beside her. ‘You are in a sorry state, aren’t you?’ He shook his head mockingly as he sat down on the side of the bed. ‘You’ve been asleep for about sixteen hours and you still can’t think straight, can you?’
Sixteen hours! Then she hadn’t misheard; it was morning!
She went to sit up—only to find herself trapped beneath the bedclothes because of Liam sitting on the bed in the way that he was. She swallowed hard. ‘How did I get here?’ Her mouth still felt as if it was full of cotton wool and her voice was husky.
Liam folded his arms across his chest. ‘How do you think you got here?’ he taunted. ‘I didn’t drag you here by your hair, if that’s what you think.’
Her scalp tingled enough for that to have actually been a possibility! But no, Liam must have carried her here. He must have put her to bed too.
She swallowed hard. ‘I can’t think what happened…’
‘Can’t you?’ He looked down at her with a too innocent expression.
Juliet wished he would stop looking so damned cheerful! She had made a complete fool of herself and he was obviously enjoying the fact. That wasn’t very gentlemanly. But then, when had Liam ever been a gentleman where she was concerned? The one and only time she could remember was when he had stood up as she had got to the table in the hotel restaurant the very first night they met.
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
