“What is this?” He sounded more like a Scots warrior than ever, and her hands began to shake.
Sam kept her back to him while she filled the pot. “What’s what?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual tone of voice.
“Don’t play games, Samantha.”
“I’m not play—” She stopped mid-word. Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what he meant. She put down the glass pot then turned.
He stood in the doorway to the kitchen. The pink-and-blue box looked very tiny in his enormous hand.
“It’s a home pregnancy kit,” she said, drawing her hands down the sides of her jeans. “But you already knew that.”
“Is it yours?”
She nodded. “It’s mine.” She hadn’t watched Court TV for nothing. She knew how this worked. Answer only the question posed. If he wanted more information out of her, he was going to have to pry.
“And?” He took a step closer.
She would have taken a step backward but that would mean climbing into the kitchen sink. “And nothing,” she said.
“Are you pregnant?”
“Take another look at the box, Sherlock.” Her temper was stretched to the breaking point. “It’s unopened.”
“Do you think you’re pregnant?”
Her eyes burned with angry tears. “I think that’s none of your business.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“I don’t particularly care what you think.”
“Your breasts are bigger,” he said, assessing her with his eyes. “Your face is fuller.”
She grabbed the bag of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. “Want one?” she asked, ripping open the bag and stuffing a cookie in her mouth. “Terrible for the waistline, but what a way to go.”
“What is this about?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Certainly nothing that has anything to do with you.”
“You’ve slept with someone else since we made love?”
An ugly flush moved up her throat to her face. She maintained her silence. No matter what she said, she was doomed.
“Answer me,” he said in a tone that would unnerve a lesser woman. “You owe me that much.”
“I owe you ten thousand dollars for the plane ride,” she said. “Answers will cost you a lot more.”
“I’m not known for my patience.”
“That makes two of us,” Sam said. She brushed cookie crumbs from her hands. “Why don’t I write you a check and you can run along.”
She tried to maneuver past him, but he blocked the entrance.
“Weren’t you supposed to call for a cab?” she asked.
“When were you planning to tell me about this?”
“Never,” she snapped. “Is that what you want to hear? I’d hoped I could live my entire life without having this conversation.” Oh, God, her voice was beginning to tremble. She sounded like she was yodeling. “I thought I might have a problem, but I was wrong. Case closed.”
“You didn’t miss a period?”
He wasn’t letting her slip past him, physically or emotionally.
“It was the crash,” she said. “It disrupted my cycle.”
“The crash was three months ago.”
“So it’s taking me a while to get back on track.”
“There’s more to it than that.”
“No!” Her voice rose in agitation. “That’s all it is.” She refused to allow it to be anything else.
“You fainted, lassie.” His tone softened and the look in his eyes made her legs go weak. “Your breasts are larger and your belly—”
Her hands instinctively cupped her belly and she lowered her head to hide her tears.
“I can’t be pregnant,” she whispered. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“At last,” he said. “Something we can agree on.”
She wanted to smack him but didn’t have the energy.
“Take the pregnancy test,” he said.
“This is my problem.” She snatched the box from him. “I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Don’t push me away, Samantha,” he warned. “I won’t go before this is settled.”
“I resent your tone of voice,” she said, recovering her equilibrium. “This is my home, and if I tell you to leave, you’re damn well going to leave.”
He brushed away her words as if she hadn’t said them at all. His eyes never left hers. “Could anyone else be the father?”
For a brief moment she considered lying to him but found she couldn’t. “No,” she whispered. “No one else.”
“Then do it now.”
The thought of knowing the truth was more than she could handle. “I can’t do it now. You’re supposed to run the test in the morning.”
“That’s not what it says on the box.”
He was right. The words Use Any Time of Day were written across the front of the package in bold letters.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll do it and then we won’t have to have this conversation again as long as we live.”
She started toward the powder room with him right behind her.
“Don’t even think it,” she said from the bathroom doorway. “You’re not coming in here with me.”
“I want to watch when you run the test”
“Wait out there,” she ordered. “This is a one-woman operation.”
A few minutes later she returned with a specimen cup of urine.
“What happens next?” he asked.
She spread the instructions on the kitchen counter. “I put five drops of urine in that little well then wait three minutes.”
“Only three minutes?”
“That’s what it says.” It hardly seemed long enough for something so momentous. “Either a plus sign or a minus sign will appear in this window.” She met his eyes. “And then we’ll know.”
“Then get on with it, lassie.”
She carefully squeezed five drops into the well and set her timer. The instructions said it had to be exactly five drops or the test results could be badly skewed. She sat at the kitchen table. Duncan sat opposite her. Neither one said a word as the seconds ticked by silently.
Ding. Ding. Ding.
Her breath caught. She pushed back her chair and stood up. “This is it,” she announced. One of the least necessary observations she’d ever made.
“Aye,” he said. “This is it.”
She looked at the white plastic receptacle. A big red plus sign looked up at her. She closed her eyes then looked again. The big red plus sign was still there. She felt the way she had right after the plane crash, numb, elated, terrified, shell-shocked—all those things at the
