“Maybe,” I grunted. I turned and strode away, yelling a dismissive thanks to her.
“Oh, be careful if you feel nauseous again!” Megan called after us. “The seats are leather.”
“I have a million problems, and leather seats ain’t one of them,” I muttered.
“Those aren’t the words to the song,” Savannah said, now twisting to make things harder on me.
I arrived at the numbered parking spot where our unremarkable dark blue sedan was parked. I unceremoniously slid her off my shoulder and onto her feet, then backed her against the passenger’s side door with one arm on each side of her head. I held her there for a few sweetly agonizing seconds as she peered up at me with those gold eyes.
I leaned closer to her. “Paraphrasing,” I whispered.
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“The song lyric. I was paraphrasing. Now, since we’re finally alone, I need some answers.”
“Well, I need...” She licked her pink lips, and my cock jumped with the hope thatitwas what she needed.
I took a step back from her. Not far enough for her to slip away from me, but enough distance to keep from sharing my excitement with her. Obviously, I was in no condition to have a full conversation at that moment. Besides, I didn’t know how close the threat to her was. But there was one answer I needed right away.
“So, are you?”
“Am I what?”
God, was she trying to torture me? Probably. And I damn well deserved it. “Are you pregnant?”
“Pregnant?” She furrowed her brow and shook her head. “Why would...” She blinked slowly. “Oh. Damn Megan. No, I am not pregnant! I haven’t even...”
She didn’t finish her sentence, but my own brain went into overdrive, coming up with fantasies about what I wanted tohear. I haven’t even been dating. I haven’t even been seeing anyone. I haven’t even wanted another man inside me since we broke up.
Yeah, that was irrational and unfair as hell, but the heart—and the cock—want what they want. I put all my energy into keeping my expression neutral because I also had no right to be so relieved she wasn’t carrying another man’s child.
“Wait, do you think I’m running away from my life because I’m pregnant? Or running from someone because of it? I’m thirty-one years old. I could handle a pregnancy and even a child by myself. My problems are strictly professional, just like this”—she pointed between us—“needs to be. And I don’t think anyone is actually after me, but...”
“But let’s assume they are. That’ll keep us on high alert. And Mai told me this is a business problem.” I ran a hand through my short hair. “I just needed to know whether I have to keep your delicate condition in mind during this whole thing.”
“Delicate condition?” She raised her eyebrows so high, I thought they might disappear under her hair. “It’s not the Victorian era. Now, are we standing in this parking lot all day, or are we going somewhere?”
I put my hands up to show my surrender and backed up until I hit the side of the car in the next spot. She pulled open the door and climbed into the passenger seat. I reached for the door to close it, but she slammed it in my face. I hid my grin until I was behind the car and loading our luggage into the trunk. I didn’t know whether her feisty attitude replacing her haunted look or her pronouncement that she wasn’t carrying another man’s baby made me happier.
Who the hell was I kidding? While I counted both as a win, I knew damn well it was the second one that made my heart lighter.
I slid into the driver’s seat and closed the door. Savannah had polished off the bottle of water and was chewing a pieceof minty gum as she leaned her head back against the leather seat. Her color was back to normal, but she looked exhausted. Now that I knew she wasn’t on the run for personal reasons and there wasn’t some asshole boyfriend I needed to pulverize, the third degree could wait.
“Speaking of keeping this professional,” she continued our conversation without missing a beat, “it is completelyunprofessional to toss me over your shoulder like a caveman.”
I played dumb. “You’re pissed off about that?”
She turned toward me and glared. “How would you feel if someone did that to you?”
“Like the time I had the wind knocked out of me from a nearby IED explosion and my buddy carried me to safety? Pretty damn grateful.”
“I… This wasn’t…” She sighed loudly and turned forward again. “I was able to walk, and I prefer not to be manhandled.”
I grinned. “Manhandled? You make it sound like I threw you into the back seat and had my way with you.”
Red color flooded her cheeks. Yeah, we were reliving the same memory of that night seven years earlier when we’d run into each other at a dive bar in Ocean City, had a couple of shots, and danced for hours to 80s music. And then after that...
But damn it, this was not the time for nostalgia. I pressed the starter, and the engine roared to life. “We’ll stop for supplies, then head east. Get some rest. You look exhausted.”
