And then she stared up at him. Tentatively, she reached up and touched his face, as if to make certain he was flesh and blood. Tears fell from her eyes when she whispered, “You’re alive.”
He nodded. “Yes, I’m alive.”
“But they told me you were dead.”
He nodded. “They thought so for a while, before I was rescued.”
“Rescued?”
“Yes. Almost a year later.”
From the look in her eyes, he saw something was bothering her. Maybe it was the fact that she was using his last name and claiming they were married.
“We need to talk privately, Laramie,” she said, barely above a whisper.
She was right. They needed to talk. He nodded and then glanced at the other two people in the room. Before he could say anything, Kusac said, “We heard.” He opened the door. When Margie Townsend hesitated, Kusac said, “They need time alone.”
Margie nodded. “Yes, of course.” She then said to Bristol, “If you need me I’ll be right outside the door.”
When the door closed behind them, Laramie helped Bristol sit up. She drew in a deep breath and stared at him. “I can’t believe you are alive.”
Laramie didn’t say anything. He was trying to make sense of what he’d learned and was failing miserably. He needed answers to help him understand. “How did you know I was supposedly dead?” he asked, sitting beside her on the sofa.
She nervously licked her lips. “I tried to find you. I sent you a letter, through the navy, and it was returned. A friend of mine knew someone who worked in the State Department. They checked into it and that’s what I was told.”
“When was this?”
“A few months after I last saw you.”
He nodded. “I was presumed dead, so the person was right. I was rescued just days before Christmas the following year.”
“That was a long time.”
“Yes, it was.” Only his close friends knew about the nightmares he’d had for months following his rescue. Nightmares he still had at times. His enemies had tried to break him and he’d refused to be broken. But their attempts had become lasting scars.
“Why were you trying to reach me, Bristol?”
* * *
Bristol drew in a deep breath, not believing that Laramie was alive, not believing that he’d shown up here tonight. How had he known where she was? Had he been looking for her? If he had, that would make what she was about to tell him easier. But what if he hadn’t been looking for her? What if he had forgotten all about her and moved on? For all she knew he could be married, although there was no ring on his finger.
She studied his features. He was even more handsome than she remembered. He looked slightly older and there was a hardness in the lines of his face that hadn’t been there before. Instead of taking away from his striking features, the hardness defined them even more. And the look in his eyes reflected experiences she couldn’t come close to imagining.
Even if those experiences had changed him, it didn’t matter. He still had a right to know about her son. His son. Their son.
He could accept it or question whether Laramie was truly his, but he had a right to know. How he handled the news was up to him.
Drawing in another deep breath, she met his gaze and said, “The reason I tried reaching you was because I wanted to let you know I was pregnant.”
Laramie froze. He stared at Bristol. He’d heard what she’d said but he needed to verify it. “You were pregnant?”
“Yes,” she said in a soft voice. “And you’re free to order a paternity test if you need to confirm that my son is yours.”
He had a son?
It took less than a second to go from shock to disbelief. “How?”
She lifted a brow, indicating she’d found his question as stupid as he had, but she answered nonetheless. “Probably from making love almost nonstop for three solid days.”
They had definitely done that. Although he’d used a condom each and every time, he knew there was always the possibility something could go wrong. “And, where is he?” he asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he had a son.
“At home.”
Where the hell was that?
It bothered him how little he knew about the woman who’d given birth to his child. At least she’d tried contacting him to let him know. Some women wouldn’t have.
If his child had been born nine months after their holiday fling, that meant he would have turned two in September. Laramie recalled that September. Although it had been hard keeping up with the days while being held hostage, somehow he’d managed, by counting each sunrise. He’d been lucky to be held in a cell with a tiny window.
He hadn’t known that while being a pawn in his enemies’ game of life and death that somewhere in the world Bristol was giving life.
To his child.
Emotions bombarded him with the impact of a Tomahawk missile. He’d been happy whenever Mac became a father again and had been overjoyed for Bane at the birth of his triplets. And now Laramie was a parent, which meant he had to think about someone other than himself. But then, wasn’t he used to looking out for others as a member of his SEAL team?
“Have you gotten married, Laramie?”
He frowned at her question. Marriage was the very last thing on his mind. “No, I’m still single.”
She nodded and then said, “I’m not asking you for anything, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just felt you had a right to know about the baby.”
He stared at her while conflicting emotions warred inside him. She wasn’t asking him for anything? Did she not know that her bold declaration that he’d fathered her child demanded everything?
“I want to see him.”
“And you will. I would never keep Laramie from you.”
“You named him Laramie?” Even more emotions swamped him. Her son, their son, had his name?
She hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure how he would like her response. “Yes. His first name is Laramie and his middle name is Randall, after my father. I thought you were dead and I wanted him to have your name. So I named him Laramie Randall Cooper.”
He didn’t say anything for a full minute. Then he asked, “So, what’s your reason for giving yourself my name, as well?”
* * *
Oh, boy. Bristol wondered why so much was happening to her tonight of all nights. When she’d left home she’d hoped for a great night for the showing of her work at the gallery. She hadn’t counted on a lover—specifically, her son’s father—coming back from the dead.
And now he wanted answers.
Although she knew he deserved to have them, she wasn’t ready to tell him any more than she had already. She just wanted to go home and hug her son. Tomorrow, she would tell her son that the father he thought had become an angel was now a mortal.
She was about to tell him she was tired of talking for now when there was a knock on the door. “I’ll get that,” he said, standing.
She still appreciated the way he walked. Spine ramrod straight, steps taken in perfect precision with the best-looking tush she’d seen on a man.
When