An Act of Persuasion - By Stephanie Doyle Page 0,13

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.

She thought about what her life would be like if the kid inside her turned out to be anything like its father. The world would have to watch out having two like him in it.

“It’s not as messy as I thought it would be.”

Anna wasn’t sure how to take that statement. Her office was always neat and orderly—everything in her place. Of course she kept her home the same way. Not that it was hard to keep a one-bedroom apartment neat, but still, all of her possessions meant something to her. Each purchase had meaning and she would never treat her things so carelessly. He should have known that about her. There was no reason for him to assume she would live like a slob. Still, she cut him some slack because she could see he was out of sorts simply being here.

“Okay.”

“You have no pictures.”

Anna carried the two steaming mugs to the living room and handed him one