Page 81 of Dangerous Secrets

“I haven’t been throwing up a thousand times a day! That’s ridiculous. Just in the mor?—”

She stopped suddenly, eyes wide. Nick froze, too. They looked at each other. There was utter silence in the pretty little bathroom as Nick searched her eyes for the truth he suddenly felt in every cell in his body.

“Go ahead, finish that sentence. You only throw up in the mornings. You know what that means, don’t you? It means you’re pregnant.”

“No,” Charity whispered. Her hand went immediately to her belly, as if trying to feel what was there through muscle and skin. Nick knew what was there. A baby.Hisbaby. He would bet hisnew million dollars on it. “No. No way. I can’t be pregnant.” She looked appalled at the thought.

Nick frowned. “You certainly can be pregnant. God knows we fucked enough, and once without a rubber is all it takes. Ask any teen-age girl.”

Charity flinched. “This is—this is ridiculous. I can’t possibly know anything for sure. Not now, not yet. I’d need tests, blood tests, urine tests, whatever, it takes weeks to be sure . . .” her voice tapered off as she stared wide-eyed at Nick. Both of them were absolutely certain, he knew it, but Charity was having problems coping with it.

Nick was a soldier, Charity wasn’t. All his life he’d never flinched from reality. He saw what was, not what he wanted, always, and he saw it immediately. He never needed time to adapt. Christ, if you need time to adapt to new situations, stay away from battlefields.

In war, taking time to process things is a very good way to get killed.

Charity came from a gentler background, where bad news came rarely and there was time to acclimate. She was still processing the idea while Nick was already planning ahead.

A baby. Ababy! Jesus. He’d never wanted marriage and he’d always rejected even the thought of kids. What the fuck did he know about families, about raising kids? He’d grown up in an orphanage and brutal foster homes, not exactly role models.

Of course, Jake had grown up the same way and he was the best husband and father on earth. But that was Jake. Nick was Nick. All it took was a hint from the woman du jour of wedding bells or even jewelry and Nick was in the next state. It wasn’t anything he wanted, or anything he ever expected to want.

Which is why the jolt of desire he felt nearly knocked him to his knees. Desire for Charity, but also desire for their child. It was a totally new emotion, but he processed it instantly as itsettled inside him. There was no doubt it was real. He recognized it instantly, as if it had been there all along, patiently waiting for him to acknowledge it.

That angry buzzing that had filled his head and clouded his mind was gone. His mind was completely clear, and he knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted Charity and this child he’d made with her. He wanted it ferociously, more than he’d wanted to become a Delta operator all those years ago.

In a flash, his life turned around 180°.

He wanted it all. A real marriage and fatherhood. He wanted to live with this beautiful woman in this beautiful house in this beautiful little town. He wanted to raise their son or daughter in a loving home, protected and cared for. And he wanted more kids. Why the hell not? Why stop at one?

Of course, between now and that future there were a few hurdles to overcome and one of them was staring at him right now, white-faced and shell-shocked.

Nick took her hands in his. They were ice-cold. He brought them to his lips and kissed them. Charity drew in a deep breath and snatched her hands away from his. He let her do it. Right now was not the time to force her in any way.

Like a child, Charity hid her hands behind her back. She looked up at him, searching his eyes, trying to read him.

Nick knew exactly how to deflect curiosity and hide whatever he wanted to hide. It was one of his gifts, together with stillness and emotional detachment. It was what made him such a good undercover cop. He knew how to keep people out. But now he needed to switch gears, fast.

He deliberately drew down the shield he’d had all his life around his mind and heart and let her in.

Charity shook her head slowly. “Whoareyou? I think I’m going crazy. I fall in love with a man in the space of a week, thenI marry him and become a widow on the same day. And now my husband comes back from the dead. It’s too much to take in.” She swallowed heavily. “I need the truth. Tell me what’s going on, Nick. Or is Nick even your real name?”

“Yeah, my name’s Nick. I’ll tell you everything, but first you’re going to clean up and then you’re going to sit down before you fall down.”

He held her hair back with one hand while she splashed cold water on her face. He put a toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste on the sink shelf and looked at her pointedly. She brushed her teeth, and rinsed her mouth out with mouthwash. He put a comb in her hand and she combed her hair. Nick knew that these small grooming motions made her feel better, more in control.

A little color was returning to her face, but her hands were still shaking. He turned her towards him. “Okay now. We’ll have our talk, but not in here. It’s too important a conversation to have in a bathroom, so we’ll go to the living room. You’re going to walk to the couch or I’m going to carry you. Your choice, but you have to take it now.”

Charity blinked. He knew how to put command in his voice. She obeyed instinctively. She made for one of the arm-chairs, but he steered her to the couch and sat down next to her. She drew back, alarmed.

She wanted to avoid him. Tough shit. He was here and he was staying. He reached over for her hand. She gave a little half-hearted tug to try to get her hand back, but his grip was firm. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he wasn’t letting her go. He needed to be touching her for this part.

She turned to him. “Okay,” she said quietly, hand still in his. “This is what I know about you. Your name is Nicholas Ames, you’re thirty-six years old, you are—were a stockbroker in New York. You made some money and this year you retired from the office you’d worked in for twelve years. You want to open abusiness of your own. Your father was a lawyer, your mother was a teacher. So tell me—how much of that is true?”

Nick was so goddamned proud of her. Any other woman would be screaming by now, but not Charity.

Her words echoed in his head.How much of that is true?“Basically none of it,” he confessed. “Except I am thirty-six.”

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