An Act of Persuasion(13)

“Tell me.”

“I’m pregnant. Three months, to be exact.”





CHAPTER FOUR



ANNA LOOKED AT the clock on her kitchen wall. It was one minute to noon and she held her breath waiting for the minute hand to move. As soon as it did, her doorbell rang. Ever punctual Ben.

After she’d dropped her bombshell on him, he’d insisted she come inside so they could talk about it, but she hadn’t lied when she’d said she wasn’t up for it. Even starting her second trimester, nausea and exhaustion could still sneak up to overwhelm her. And given how pale he’d gotten after the words left her mouth she knew he wasn’t up for a discussion, either. They both had needed some space and time.

He agreed to let her leave on the condition he would come over today at noon when they could have a calm and rational conversation after both of them had time to rest. Anna had gone to her apartment and had crashed hard, falling into a dreamless sleep. In truth, she didn’t know if that was from the baby or from the relief at finally having told him.

Rising, she walked to the tiny foyer, undid the chain on the door and opened it.

Ben was on the other side already frowning. “You didn’t ask who I was.”

“Oh, here we go.” She knew to expect this. Ben was overprotective and paranoid in normal circumstances. She usually gave him a pass because she figured a man who spent over fifteen years with the CIA had a right to always be watching over his shoulder for bad guys. Now that she was carrying his child, she could foresee those protective instincts leaping into overdrive.

Because of the baby, of course. Not her.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, it’s childish. When someone knocks on your door you need to ask who it is before you open it. It’s a basic precaution.”

“It’s twelve o’clock. I knew you were coming. You’re punctual as all hell. I didn’t need to ask who was on the other side of the door.”

“You’re pregnant,” he said, marching into her apartment. He filled the living room instantly. It was amazing to her. Ben wasn’t especially tall, or particularly buff. But he had this presence that made everyone in the vicinity around him take notice. At least she always did.

“I told you that, remember?” She closed the door and waited for the interrogation to begin. She’d had weeks to prep her answers and felt fairly confident she was going to pass this test.

“How long have you known?”

“Since I took the test maybe two weeks after I realized I was late.”

“So at least six weeks ago, but you waited to tell me?”

Taking a deep breath she mentally ticked through all her very sound, very logical reasons. “One, miscarriages happen most commonly in the first trimester. I wanted to be certain everything was fine and the baby was healthy before telling you anything. Two, you sort of had your hands full with the cancer. I wanted to wait and make sure you weren’t dealing with any type of rejection from the stem cells. Three—”

“No three. No one or two.” He was clearly angry. “I am the father of the child you are carrying and I should have been told!”

Anna jumped. In the six years she’d worked with him she’d never heard him raise his voice. Not even when she had been shouting at him for leaving her out of his life-and-death decision had he ever shouted back.

Instantly contrite, he bent his head and pushed his hands into his pants pockets. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m upset.”

Obviously. Anna wasn’t sure how his admission made her feel. She didn’t know she had that kind of power over him. She didn’t think anything could rattle Ben Tyler. Then again, he’d never been confronted with fatherhood before. It was definitely a game changer.

“Why don’t you sit? I’ll make us some tea.”

“Can you have tea in your condition?”

This time she turned her back on him before rolling her eyes. “I have decaffeinated.”

He sat on the couch as she made her way to the kitchen. She watched him as she filled the teapot with boiling water. He was touching her stuff. The throw blanket she kept on her couch. The decorative pillows she’d picked out. He should have looked silly—someone so incredibly masculine sitting on her deep purple couch surrounded by the electric blue and yellow pillows—but he didn’t. He owned the couch, bright colors or not, the way he owned the room.