An Act of Persuasion - By Stephanie Doyle Page 0,17

was pregnant.

Ben considered hitting something again, but he knew it was pointless. Instead he got out of the car and stood still for a moment as a wave of fatigue washed over him. He’d simply gone to Anna’s house and back, but suddenly he felt as if he’d climbed a mountain.

Focusing, he pooled his energy and concentrated on getting through the front door. That he could manage. He would not be reduced to crawling there on his hands and knees. Feeling shaky but determined, he took small, even steps until he was at the door, then through it.

Climbing the steps to his bedroom was beyond him, but the couch in his office was waiting for him. Making his way down the hall, he thought only of the end result. Himself lying prone. The couch was like a beacon calling him to it. He slid the door to his office open and with only a few final steps, collapsed onto the comfortable cushions.

Toeing off his shoes he lay down and accepted the fact that his body required regular rest. To this day he would not refer to the process of restoring his energy as a nap. Instead he referred to it merely as recovery time. And today, after facing Anna and the certain knowledge that last night hadn’t been a dream and she really was going to have his baby, he figured he was entitled to a longer recovery time.

Yes, he thought as his eyes closed and he could feel his body relax, he certainly would need to be at full strength before their next encounter. Anna was no pushover. And given her obvious reluctance to his idea that they should be married, he would have to try another stratagem.

Because before this was all over she was going to be his wife.

CHAPTER FIVE

MARK SHARPE GLANCED up at the sound of the office door opening. He’d taken a small but expensive two-room office in Liberty One, Philadelphia’s second-tallest building since the completion of the Comcast building. With the glass wall between his office and his assistant’s desk, he could see and hear everything in the space he occupied, which soothed his always alert senses.

As a former CIA agent, there were some habits he knew he would never be able to break and being completely aware of his surroundings at all times was one of them.

Anna walked in and set her purse on her desk. Her shoulders were slumped, her face was pale and there were circles under her eyes. She wore a particularly cheerful sundress that did nothing to alter the impression that she wasn’t a happy person.

Damn Ben. Mark had expected more from him.

Pushing away from his desk he walked out to greet her.

“So how did the big reveal go?” he asked.

She’d told him on Friday about the party for her former coworker, and her intention to come clean with Ben. Looking at her face, Mark was pretty certain he knew the answer. Ben might have been a brilliant spy, but when it came to interpersonal relationships, the guy was a wash.

Mark had known Anna now for only eight weeks, and known about the pregnancy that whole time. She was probably the only woman alive who would announce during an interview that she was pregnant—it wouldn’t occur to her to keep that fact a secret until after she landed the job. Not that it mattered. His goal was to have Anna working for him, pregnant or not.

In those eight weeks he’d never once seen her look so...depleted. Even with the morning sickness there was always a vibrancy about her that never waned.

At least not until today.

“He wants to marry me.”

Huh. Okay, maybe Ben had come up to snuff. That proposal wasn’t completely unexpected. Ben had always been a do-the-right-thing kind of a guy and when you knocked up a girl, the right thing was to propose.

It’s what Mark had done all those years ago. He would always be thankful Helen had the foresight to not take him up on his offer.

Helen. It was an ache that still hurt when he thought of her. The girl he’d known was now dead and, although she never would have believed he was capable of it, he grieved for her. Deeply.

With a huff, Anna slumped in her chair. “Can you believe he did that?”

“Yes. You know Ben. What did you think he was going to do?”

“The right thing by the kid.”

“But not the right thing by you?”

She scowled at him. “What is this? The nineteen

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