LITMIR.BIZ

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pregnancy. God, she just had to say it. Once the words were out, they could deal with it, but her courage had failed to accompany her tonight.

      She toyed with the locket around her neck, as if to draw strength from the two loving people pictured inside.

      They exited the car and Bronson led her into the house through the kitchen any chef would die to just spend one day in—four built-in stoves, a brick pizza oven, three sinks mounted beneath gray concrete countertops. Dark mahogany cabinets made the large space look and feel masculine.

      “Do you know what I’d do to have a kitchen like this?” she asked, running her fingertips along the grooved edges of the counter. “I love to cook in my spare time. I think I subscribe to every cooking magazine there is. With all this counter space, the stoves … My mind is working overtime.”

      Bronson tossed his keys onto the counter. “Feel free to come over anytime and let that imagination run wild. I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

      She doubted that invite would last once she told him about the baby. Amazing how quick she’d gotten used to saying the words in her head without feeling the need to scream or cry. But they were going to have a baby, so why worry about something she couldn’t change?

      “Everything smells delicious,” she told him. “Is it going to taste just as good?”

      Bronson extended his hand toward the open eating area at the end of the kitchen. “Let’s go find out.”

      She smiled at the round black table with high-back chairs, a simple white orchid in a slender glass vase and bright white plates waiting for the meal.

      “Table for two?” she asked, throwing a smile over her shoulder. “You did go all out, didn’t you? Or should I say your chef did.”

      Bronson pulled a chair out for her, brushed her hair from her shoulder and placed a gentle, tingling kiss right below her ear. “I may not have made the meal, but the rest is all me. I never need help impressing a woman.”

      Excitement mixed with guilt curled low in her belly. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Impress me?”

      “How am I doing?”

      Exceptional. Wonderful. Perfect.

      And why couldn’t this night end the way she wanted, ached for it to? Why couldn’t she have discovered the pregnancy tomorrow? Just one more night with him would’ve fulfilled her fantasies for years to come. Because she knew, once she dropped this bombshell, that would kill anything that had sparked weeks ago.

      “Doing well so far,” she told him, easing down into the chair.

      Bronson brought over two full bowls of salad with dressing and fresh bread. Mia couldn’t taste much, not for the secret on the tip of her tongue. She was a fraud, a liar. The kind of woman she despised.

      Finally, she dropped her freshly buttered bread back onto the plate. “I can’t do this.”

      With his fork halfway to his mouth, Bronson froze, eyes coming up to meet hers. “I’m sorry?”

      Unable to stay seated any longer, Mia came to her feet and stood behind her chair, gripping the back. “I can’t sit here and pretend this is going to go somewhere when I know it can’t.”

      Bronson’s fork clattered to his salad bowl. “What are you talking about, Mia? Are you having second thoughts about spending the evening with me?”

      “Not at all, but you may have second thoughts about me when I tell you that …”

      God, it was so much harder to say the words out loud, instead of just in her head. She’d never spoken them before and now that she was ready … well, she wasn’t ready.

      Bronson came to his feet, too, crossed to her and took her hands. “Come into the living room. You look like you’re ready to pass out.”

      Funny, that’s exactly how she felt and it had nothing to do with the morning sickness she’d been having.

      Bronson led her to one of the two oversized leather sofas. She eased down, praying to find the right words, praying he wouldn’t treat her differently. Praying he’d accept this baby.

      And in all honesty, that’s what everything boiled down to. With her background of foster homes and an unstable lifestyle, she just wanted this baby to be accepted and loved by Bronson. If he didn’t love her, that was fine, but this baby didn’t deserve to be shunned or kept from knowing his family.

      He took a seat next to her, grabbing hold of one of her hands and bringing it to his lips. “Did something happen? Yesterday you seemed fine when we discussed our dinner date.”

      “That’s because yesterday I was fine.” Other than morning sickness. “And I’m fine today.” Other than the morning sickness. “It’s just my life has changed drastically since you saw me last.”

      His eyes roamed over her body and back up to her face. “You look the same. What is it?”

      “I’m pregnant.”

      There, the words were out in the open and the world hadn’t stopped spinning. Well, hers hadn’t. She couldn’t say the same for Bronson, who had just gone a shade paler.

      “Pregnant?” he repeated.

      Mia nodded slowly, afraid of what he’d say or do next.

      “Now I understand why you’re hesitant to be here with me.” He came to his feet, as if he were afraid to sit next to her, touch her hand as he was. “Have you told the father? I mean, you two obviously aren’t still involved or you wouldn’t have agreed to come here, right?”

      Mia placed an arm around her abdomen, trying to keep the hurt from seeping in even more. He didn’t understand what she was saying. She’d never thought of that scenario when she’d rehearsed all of this in her head.

      “Actually, we are still somewhat involved,” she told him, looking up because she had to say this to his face and be brave. “You’re the father, Bronson.”

       Six

      Bronson heard the words, but he couldn’t believe life could be this cruel. Another woman, another baby flashed through his mind and along with that came the hurt and betrayal he’d worked so hard to bury.

      “I’m not the father, Mia.”

      Mia jerked, eyes wide. “Excuse me?”

      Bronson shoved his hands in his pockets. “I believe you’re pregnant, but I’m not the father. We used protection.” And then he remembered and that pit in his stomach deepened. “Your condoms.”

      In an instant, she was on her feet, standing mere inches from him. “Are you implying I did this on purpose? Do you remember that night? Do you remember how I said good night and it was you who kissed me? You who backed me into the room and hiked up my dress?”

      Bronson remembered … all too well, in fact. He remembered the rush to get her dress off, the rush as he fumbled with the condom and the pleasure he’d experienced like no other.

      All the accusations surrounding her and Anthony flashed through his mind. How she’d supposedly broken up his marriage, how their affair had lasted several years.

      “I know how it went down, Mia.” Nausea threatened to overtake him, but he couldn’t back down. “We used your condoms and now you’re pregnant. Pretty coincidental, don’t you think?”

      In a flash, her palm connected with his cheek. The sting didn’t even compare to the spearing pain running through him. He couldn’t handle another baby that wasn’t his. He could not, would not go down this path again. Nor would he be trapped, if somehow he really was the father, into a relationship or blackmailed for money.

      “You expect me to take your word about something this serious?”

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