her face. With her free hand, she clutched the sheet to her chest like some ancient battle shield. “Yes?”
“You did mean that you were on the pill, right?”
“Not exactly.”
His features froze over. Some unidentifiable emotion—panic maybe, or fear—clawed at his chest. She still wouldn’t look directly at him. Oh yeah, his sixth sense was never wrong.
“Not exactly?” he repeated, remembering just how many times he’d made love to Tina during the night. How many times his little warriors had stormed her undefended beaches. The air in the room got a little thin and he had to gulp in oxygen like a drowning man. “Just what the hell does ‘not exactly’ mean?”
“It means that I’m not on the pill, but you don’t have to worry.”
Not on the pill.
Four words guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of men everywhere. The world shifted just a bit and he felt as though he were perched on the edge of a cliff and already sliding swiftly toward a crevasse that was going to swallow him whole. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Don’t have to worry? he thought. What the hell kind of man did she think he was? Did she really believe he could make a child and walk away? Didn’t she know him at all?
Oh, God.
A baby?
His blood pumped and the furious roaring in his ears sounded a backdrop for the bass drum beating of his heart.
“And I shouldn’t worry because…”
Here it comes. Tina had known all along that she’d have to tell him. That she wouldn’t be able to not tell him. But it was different, now.
Back home in California, when she was talking to Janet, planning all of this, thinking it through, she’d done it objectively. She’d reasoned it all out and the plan had seemed fair to her. She would have the child she’d always wanted and Brian would have the opportunity to either be a part of the child’s life or not, as he chose.
Now though, guilt was a living thing inside her.
Now, she regretted the lie to him—though she didn’t regret her actions, not one bit. She wouldn’t trade the past several hours with Brian for anything. And hopefully, they’d created a child—and she would love it with all her heart.
The problem was, she loved Brian, too. And loving him, she could feel badly for tricking him into this. For taking advantage of the nearly magical chemistry they’d always shared. But if she had to live with guilt to have his child, then that’s just the way it would have to be.
She looked up at him and etched this image of him into her brain. Stern, his face set in hard planes and sharp angles, his eyes glittering with impatience and the first stirring of temper. Outside, the sun was creeping into the sky, sending the first pale rays of light reaching into the shadows of the room. Birds chirped, the wind blew softly and the day moved forward even while time seemed to click to a standstill here in Brian’s apartment.
He reached for her, his hands coming down on her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh, branding her skin with heat. “Tell me what the hell you think you’re doing, Tina. I’ve got a right to know.”
She steadied herself, taking a deep breath and blowing it out again before trying to answer him. Then tossing her hair behind her shoulders, she looked him dead in the eye and started talking. “Yes, you do. And I was going to tell you anyway, I want you to know that.”
“Tell me what?”
“That I want to be pregnant.”
He blinked, opened his mouth, then slammed it shut again, clearly waiting for more.
She gave it to him.
“And I’m really hoping that we made a baby last night.”
He let her go so suddenly, she staggered backward a step or two before regaining her balance. His eyes went wide and he looked at her as if she were a stranger who’d wandered into his room accidentally.
“A baby?”
Tina winced slightly at the horrified tone in his voice, but she stood her ground defiantly. A Coretti didn’t hide from responsibility. “That’s right. I wanted a baby and I wanted you to be the father.”
He reached up and shoved both hands along his skull, as if he were trying to keep his brain from exploding. “You wanted,” he said after a long, painful moment of silence. “You didn’t think I should get a vote in that?”
Tina’s lips quirked and her gaze slid past him to the bed and back again. “You voted yes, Brian. Many times as I recall.”
“I voted for sex,” he pointed out harshly. “Don’t remember voting for fatherhood.”
That stung and because it was true, she only nodded. “I know. But when I said you didn’t have to worry, I meant it.”
“Right. Don’t worry. Make babies, move on.”
“Brian, I want this baby.”
“Don’t say that,” he snapped. “We don’t know that there is a baby.”
She slapped one hand to her abdomen, as if she could block the ears of the microscopic life that might already be forming inside her. “I hope to heaven there is.”
“Tina, what in the hell were you thinking?”
“I just told you.”
“Uh-huh,” he muttered thickly and moved past her, grabbing up his jeans and tugging them on.
“Your biological clock ticks and the alarm goes off on me?”
“For God’s sake, Brian,” she said, gathering up her sheet and holding it even tighter around her body, “you don’t have to act like I pulled a gun on you and forced you to have sex with me.”
His head snapped up and he pinned her with a look that would have terrified a lesser woman. But Tina was used to the Reilly temper. And had one of her own to match.
“You tricked me,” he said.
“I tempted you,” she corrected, clinging to that
distinction.
“You knew damn well what you were up to and didn’t tell me.”
“Oh, please,” she said, pushing her stupid hair back out of her eyes again. He was dressed now. So unfair. He had the advantage here. Hard to fight for your rights with dignity when you’re wearing a pale green toga. “Don’t act like some poor little virgin who was taken advantage of. You were more than willing, thanks to that idiotic bet you and your brothers made.”
He stopped. “You know about the bet?”
“Yep.”
He scowled. “Liam.”
“Yep.”
He lifted one finger and pointed it at her like a physical accusation. “So you set this up deliberately. You caught me at a weak moment.”
One dark eyebrow lifted. “And your point is?”
Furious now, Brian buttoned up his jeans, planted both hands at his hips and glared at her. “You should have told me.”
All of the air left her lungs in a rush and she almost felt like a balloon deflating in the hands of a greedy child. Hindsight was always twenty-twenty, she reassured herself. And he might have a tiny, tiny, point. “Maybe.”
“No maybe about it, babe.”
Tina winced. Funny. He’d called her “babe” all night and it had sounded sexy, titillating. Now it sounded cold and dismissive. “If