An Act of Persuasion - By Stephanie Doyle Page 0,28
some last-chance sex for you.”
Her conclusions were ridiculous. “Anna, I was fighting for my life. Not abandoning you.”
“See, that’s just it. I thought we were fighting for your life.”
“I’m sorry. But I still don’t understand. You say all these things. About how you feel. I’m offering to marry you. I’m giving you a chance to come back to the place you said was your home.”
Anna shrugged. “I know. Crazy, right? But it’s gone now. The delusion, or the hope, or whatever. I can’t pretend you love me and I can’t love someone who doesn’t love me back. I mean, how pathetic would that be? So we’re done. We’ve got to figure out the right thing to do for this kid, but the you-and-me part of it is over.”
No. He wouldn’t accept it. Simply hearing her say the words felt as though this heavy weight dropped on his body.
He remembered being trapped in a foreign embassy where he was planting a listening device. He remembered hearing footsteps getting closer to the room where he was working. He remembered seeing the bars on the window and knowing that the only exit was through the door where the enemy was about to walk through and capture him.
He’d felt this same sensation then. A sense of hopelessness.
No way out.
Except he’d managed to find a loose panel in the dropped ceiling. He’d been able to lift himself up into the crawl space and replace the panel just as the door to the room had opened.
He’d stayed in that space for hours until the diplomat who had returned to the office to work late had finally left.
It taught him a valuable lesson.
There was always a way out.
“Over?” He shook his head. “Hell, Anna, we’re just getting started.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“HEY.” ANNA WAVED at Mark through the glass partition. He was on the phone, but he lifted his hand in acknowledgment.
She’d avoided Ben this morning by getting a ridiculously early start to the day and taking the bus into the city. She imagined he was parked outside her apartment building right now waiting for her. She told herself that only served him right for being so high-handed and presumptuous as to ignore her insistence that she would be taking the bus.
She would not feel guilty.
Anna settled into her office chair and booted up her computer. As the machine went through its processes, she thought about last night.
“Over?” she said out loud in bad imitation of Ben. “We’re just getting started.”
Why did he have to be like that? Why couldn’t he let it go? She thought her confession would have freaked him out. She knew him well enough to know that he was not comfortable with difficult things like emotions and feelings. The very idea that she’d been suffering from unrequited love should have sent him running for the hills.
Ben didn’t do romance. He certainly didn’t do romantic tragedy. As far she could tell, Ben didn’t do love, either.
Instead of bolting out the door, he’d made his proclamation. They weren’t over. They were just beginning.
It was enough to give a pathetic girl hope. Anna wasn’t sure she wanted it. She didn’t need another six years of suspended animation. What she needed was to move on from him. All those years of loving him and waiting for him to love her back was enough. If something was meant to happen between them, surely it would have already happened.
Although getting angry at him because she had fallen in love didn’t exactly seem fair. It wasn’t exactly his problem, it was hers. But who cared about fairness when you were knocked up and alone?
“Hey,” Mark said, popping his head around the glass wall. “Ben said I have to fire you.”
“What did you say?”
“To shove it. Also, I implied you’re my girlfriend now.”
Anna sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
Mark wiggled his eyebrows. “I have to have my fun. Come to my office and bring your notepad. I’m going to need you to take some dictation.”
“Hardeehar.”
Mark loved to use secretary references from the 1950s because he thought it made him sound cool. Occasionally he shouted from his office that he needed coffee or martinis. Every once in a while she brought him a cup of tea, just to be difficult.
Anna sat in the chair in front of his desk while he took his seat.
“So what do you need?”
“A case,” he said. “We don’t have one.”
“You solved the Monroe case already?” Anna was stunned. The case had been cold for more than eight years.