She pressed her hand to her stomach, her silver bracelets clinking, and prayed all the harder for the tiny life inside her. Her heart pounded faster. Or wait. Those were footsteps approaching her—Sebastian’s, of course. He wasn’t letting her off that easily. How strange that while he never fought, he always won.
Sebastian punched the elevator button for her, cocking his head to the side as he studied her with his piercing litigator stare. Oh God, she so didn’t want to climb into that claustrophobic box along with resurrected visions of their last ride.
“Uh, thanks, Sebastian, but I think I’ll take the stairs.”
She turned too fast and the world grew tighter like a narrowing focus of a lens. Her knees gave way, and all she could see on her way down were Sebastian’s Ferragamo loafers she’d given him last Christmas.
“We should call EMS,” Sebastian’s stepfather said for the third time, his voice booming with all the authority one would expect from a three-star general.Sebastian agreed. But the doctor—at the courthouse to testify in a hearing—seemed to think seven minutes and forty-one seconds of unconsciousness wasn’t anything to worry about yet. Dr. Cohen sat on the edge of the sofa, the young professional reading her watch while holding Marianna’s wrist in her hand.
After Marianna had landed at Sebastian’s feet in a fall as fast as his own stomach, he’d scooped her up and made tracks for an adjacent conference room. He’d stretched her out on a sofa, slipped off her shoes, loosened her pink jacket, while his mother hovered and the General located help in the form of Dr. Cohen.
While he’d asked his family not to come to the courthouse, they’d shown up anyway. It was a good thing after all.
Two of his brothers clumped in a corner with his mom and the General. Standing. Waiting. Sebastian hated inaction, a big part of why he enjoyed his job. There was always something to do, some way to charge ahead and take control.
Why wasn’t Marianna opening her eyes? And how many times would that doc count a pulse? Duke medical credentials be damned—and yeah, he’d asked when she started checking Marianna over. Dr. Cohen would just have to live with being overridden if his ex-wife didn’t wake up in the next ten seconds.
Sebastian knelt on one knee beside the sofa, lifting Marianna’s other hand, too cool and limp in his grip. “I’m going to take her to the E.R. now. If she wakes up on the way, great. And if she doesn’t—” What could be wrong with her? “She’ll be at the hospital all the sooner.”
The doctor stood, pulling her glasses off to hang from the gold chain around her neck. “That’s your call to make, of course, as her husband.”
Husband? Now wasn’t that a kick in the legal briefs? But he didn’t intend to correct the doctor and lose what tenuous ground he held over Marianna’s medical care at the moment. He shot a quick “mouths shut” look over his shoulder to his wide-eyed family.
A low moan from Marianna yanked his attention back to the sofa. Her lashes fluttered and he squeezed her hand.
“Marianna? Come on, wake up. You’re scaring us here.”
“Sebastian?” She elbowed up to look around, massaging two fingers against her temple. She blinked fast, her gaze skipping around the small room filled with nothing more than a conference table, swivel chairs, the sofa and concerned relatives. “What happened?”
“You passed out in the hall. Don’t you remember?” If any day was worth forgetting, this would be it.
She sagged back, her pink suit skirt hitching up her legs. “Oh, right, the courthouse, your Ferragamo shoes.”
He didn’t know what the hell his shoes had to do with anything, but at least she grasped the gist of the day.
His mother nudged him aside and placed a damp handkerchief over Marianna’s forehead. “Here, dear, just lie back until you catch your breath.”
“Thank you, Ginger.” Marianna accepted the cool cloth with a grateful smile.
Why hadn’t he thought to do that? “How are you feeling now?”
She looked away, apparently more interested in the window blinds than in seeing him. “I forgot to eat breakfast. That must have sent my blood sugar out of whack.”
“What about lunch?” He pointed to the industrial clock over the door. “It’s three o’clock.”
“Already?” She peeled the damp cloth from her forehead and dabbed it along her neck. “My nerves must have gotten the best of me. I couldn’t bring myself to choke anything down.”
If Marianna couldn’t eat, something was seriously wrong. This woman loved her food, one of the things he’d enjoyed most about her. Watching her savor oysters on the half shell had landed them in bed more than once. “Have you been sick?”
She sat upright, swinging her feet to the floor beside her silver slingbacks. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m responsible for myself now that we’re divorced.”
Dr. Cohen’s eyebrows rose. “He’s your ex-husband?”
Marianna nodded, glancing at the clock. “As of about a half hour ago.”
The physician brought her red-rimmed glasses to her mouth and nipped lightly on the tip. “Taking that into consideration with a low blood sugar level, no wonder you fainted.” She gave Marianna’s wrist a final pat. “And here I was assuming you must be pregnant just because that’s my specialty.”
Marianna winced and looked away as she’d done countless times over the years when people mentioned babies. The purple stains of exhaustion below her eyes broadcast the additional stress she’d been under lately if anyone looked beyond a credible makeup job. Sebastian stepped between her and the doctor, territorial, protective.
Shaking loose of that husband appellation and all the urges that came with it was easier said than done. “That’s not what’s going on, but we will find the real reason for her fainting spell.”
How many times in the past had he diverted conversations from the seeming unending litany of well-meaning and sometimes downright intrusive comments?
When are you going to make me a grandmother?
Isn’t it time to start your family?
You and Marianna treat those dogs like children.
I guess not everyone wants babies.
Dr. Cohen backed away, scooping her bag off the conference table. “My apologies for jumping to conclusions. Of course there are plenty of other reasons for fainting besides not eating. If the problems persist, however, I do recommend that you check in with your regular physician.” Hitching her bag over her shoulder, Dr. Cohen paused at the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s probably about time for my turn in the witness stand.”
The General escorted the doctor out with a thank-you while Ginger hovered just off to the side. “Marianna, dear, we’re glad you’re all right. Please know that you can call on us if you need anything.”
Like prideful, strong-willed Marianna would ever show that kind of vulnerability. He was still shocked as hell she’d asked to meet with him next week.
With soft spoken goodbyes, his family cleared out, leaving him alone with Marianna for the first time since they’d torn each others’ clothes off in the back of his car two months prior.
Damn, silence sure did weigh a lot.
He leaned back against the conference table, his arms crossed over his chest to keep from touching her. “I don’t think you should drive yourself home.”
She slipped her slingbacks onto her feet, drawing his attention to slender long legs. “And I don’t think it’s wise for us to get in your car together again.”
“Still want me that much, do you?” he couldn’t resist retorting.
“Don’t be an ass.” Her eyes snapped with barely restrained anger and something else he couldn’t quite define. “All I want is a nap.”
He needed to focus on her health, not those creamy legs that wrapped so perfectly around his waist. “You should see your doctor or go to an E.R. if he’s busy.”
“I have an appointment for the end of the week. I called this morning.”
His legal eagle instincts piqued, urging him to dissect her statement. “If you’re feeling that ill, why wait until the end of the week?”
Silently, she stared back, blinking quickly, her chest rising and falling faster by the second. He’d spent the last three years since passing the bar exam interrogating witnesses, and he had a good knack for spotting when a person was hiding something. And he knew without question, Marianna had a secret lodged somewhere inside that beautiful head of hers.
He intended to discover that secret before they left this room.
Three
“S o Marianna? Why wait four days to see the doctor if you can’t eat and you’re passing out?”
Marianna stared back at her narrow-eyed ex and experienced a total empathic bond with butterflies pinned to a display board. Somehow Sebastian knew she had a secret, and he wasn’t setting her free until she ponied up information.Did the state bar pass out internal lie detectors when awarding licenses? She had two choices here. She could brush him aside and wait for the doctor’s verdict that Friday. If she wasn’t pregnant, she wouldn’t need to say anything to Sebastian.
Except she knew in her heart, against all the odds, somehow she carried his baby, which brought her to the other option. Tell him the truth now, because if she didn’t he would be royally pissed next week.
And rightfully so.
“About that time a couple of months ago, in your car when we, uh…”
“Right, I remember.” Heat stirred in his eyes.
Of course he did, but hearing him admit it rekindled the steam of their raw goodbye. She could almost smell the rain and sex in the air. “We didn’t use birth control.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “Of course we didn’t. You’re not on anything, and I don’t carry any with me because we…” his voice slowed as his forehead smoothed “…don’t need it.”
She stayed silent.
He shook his head, opened his mouth and shook his head again. “You’re pregnant?”
She nodded, shrugging, still not able to form the words after so many years coming to grips with the idea of never having the chance.
He sunk into a leather conference chair, his face completely expressionless in spite of the slight paling. “You’re pregnant.”
“I’m fairly certain I’m two months along.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I already figured out the two months part.”
“Thank you for not asking whose it is.” She couldn’t have taken the pain of such an accusation on a day when her emotions were already stripped bare.
“I guess I’m not the total ass you seem to think I am.”
“You’ve questioned my hours at work often enough.”
He’d quizzed her about time with her boss more than once. Sure Ross Ward had a playboy reputation, but damn it, Sebastian should have known she could be trusted. She’d been hurt by his unfounded suspicions. He vowed he could read the truth in people’s eyes, but he’d sure missed the boat on that one with her.