He hopped out of the driver’s side and looked at her over the roof of the car as she got to her feet. “I could probably take a couple of hundred off the price,” he said, desperation growing in his tone.

She didn’t want to think what he needed the money for. There was something about him that didn’t sit well now. Heavens, she’d been a fool to get in the car with him, no matter that Angie said he was a friend of a friend.

“It’s really not what I’m after, Turbo,” she said in a placating tone.

“But you said—”

“The lady said she’s not interested.” A hard male voice came out of nowhere, and Danielle’s gaze flew to the man standing a few feet away on the footpath. She sucked in a sharp breath, her heart hammering foolishly for one brief second. Flynn Donovan stood there, looking as if he wanted to do someone harm.

And that someone was probably her.

Turbo spun around, his mouth closing when he saw Flynn. All at once the young man appeared even skinnier and shorter, especially up against Flynn’s well-muscled body dressed in a gray business suit.

Funny, but she actually felt sorry for Turbo then. The tattoos, the pierced nose and the missing tooth were merely a front so that people wouldn’t notice his acne and too-thin body.

Flynn took a step closer and any suspicions she had about Turbo being up to no good disappeared under Flynn’s intimidating stance. She glowered at him. Couldn’t he see the younger man was nothing more than skin and bones?

“Flynn, don’t—”

“Forget it, lady,” Turbo interjected, his eyes wide with fright as he jumped in his car, gunned the engine and sped off, leaving behind a trail of exhaust smoke that sickened her in the humid tropical air.

But Danielle ignored it and glared at Flynn. “There was no need for that.”

Reciprocating anger flared in those dark eyes. “Of course there was.”

She bristled, half-afraid he was right but not willing to admit she’d acted foolishly. Not when she’d been trying so hard to do this all by herself.

Her chin tilted. “I could have handled him.”

He arched a brow. “Really? It may have escaped your notice but you’re pregnant.”

“I know a man’s weak parts as well as the next woman.”

“Obviously.” His mocking gaze traveled down the length of her floral shirt and white capri pants to the white sandals on her feet. For all his anger, she felt as if he’d just whispered kisses all down her body, right down to the tips of her toes.

Her hands balled into fists. “Mr. Donovan, just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m helpless.”

“Glad to hear it,” he taunted.

She squared her shoulders. “Oh, I get it. You’re one of those men who can’t help but interfere in a woman’s business. Well, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of mine in the future.”

“Oh, I intend to.” He started walking toward her, a dark glitter in his eyes. “After this.”

She watched him warily. “What are you doing?”

Another two strides and he had her by the arm. “Getting you off the road before you get run over,” he muttered, then started leading her back toward the building. “Or is that considered interfering, too?”

She was about to reply with something equally sarcastic, but all at once a funny feeling washed over her. Her head began to swim and, just as she reached the footpath, she felt the blood drain from her face and her knees turn weak. She clutched at Flynn with her other hand. God, she felt strange. Very, very strange. It must be the heat.

Suddenly both fear and panic that she’d done something to hurt the baby came crushing down on top of her. She took deep, calming breaths. No, she and the baby would be all right. It’ll pass in a moment or two. She only had to wait.

“Danielle?” he said sharply.

She moistened dry lips. “I’m okay. I feel a little faint, that’s all.”

He muffled something under his breath.

“I should be fine now,” she said in a small voice, and pushed herself away from him, but was unsteady on her feet.

He swore again and slipped his arms around her waist. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

Swinging her up in his arms, he punched in the security code he’d memorized from his last visit to the luxurious penthouse and headed inside to the coolness of the building. The elevator was available and he strode over plush carpet and into it, the lump of fear in his throat almost strangling him.

It was her he should strangle, he decided, as she rested her cheek on his shoulder, the soft fragrance of her perfume surrounding his nostrils. She didn’t make a murmur.

Once inside her air-conditioned apartment, he laid her down on the leather couch in the living room, noting the faint sheen of perspiration covering her soft, almost translucent skin.

“Stay there,” he grated, and headed for the telephone.

She lifted her head off the cushion. “What are you doing?”

He began punching in the first digits of the phone number. “Calling my doctor.”

“What? Don’t you dare!” She started to sit up, and he slammed the phone down and strode back to her side.

“You need medical attention,” he growled, helping her to sit up fully. She was so light, even with the baby growing inside her.

The baby! Alarm rocketed through him again until he saw some color had returned to her cheeks.

“It was the smell of the exhaust fumes, that’s all,” she said, brushing some blond strands out of her eyes.

Powerful relief filled him, followed by a burst of irritation. How could she take this so casually? He hated to think what may have happened if he hadn’t decided to come here today. No one would have heard her screams if that thug had roughed her up a little.

Or a lot.

He straightened, then impaled her with a stare. “You were taking your life in your hands with that idiot back there.”

The pink in her cheeks reddened defensively. “His name was given to me by a friend.”

His lip curled. “Terrific. The police will know exactly where to go after they find your mutilated body in Darwin Harbor. That’s if the crocodiles don’t get you first.”

“Ever thought about writing bedtime books for children?” she mocked, sounding almost back to normal, if there even was such a thing as normal for her. She was the most ambiguous woman he’d ever met.

And he was in no mood to appreciate a sense of humor right now. “People don’t always go around with Murderer tattooed on their foreheads.”

She stirred uneasily, her beautiful face clouding over. “I wouldn’t have gone with him if I’d really felt threatened. I have my baby to protect.”

Flynn’s eyes were drawn to where her hand rested on her stomach. He swallowed tightly, his gaze moving up and resting back on her face as he squashed the urge to pull her into his arms.

“That guy wouldn’t have taken no for an answer,” he reiterated, knowing that if he got her in his arms he would shake her first. Then kiss her.

Fear came and went in her eyes. “I know that now.”

Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders but he still couldn’t let go of the suspicion that she’d do something foolish.

“Why are you here, Flynn?”

Absorbed in his angry thoughts, it was the sound of his name on her lips that broke through to him.

But it was her words that reminded him of the paperwork inside his jacket…Reminded him that she’d do almost anything to get his attention. This was all about getting her own way. She was definitely high maintenance—in more ways than one.

He smiled unpleasantly. “I’ve come to give you something.”

She blinked warily. “You have?”

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