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That took the wind out of her sails, effectively deflating them as well as embarrassing her. Damn him, he was right. For the baby’s sake she should have already gone to the doctor just to make sure everything was all right. Except for this awful morning sickness, she felt she was healthy. But what if she wasn’t? What if she was overlooking something important, or hadn’t realized it yet? And even if she herself was healthy, she needed to take prenatal vitamins and get checkups—for the child’s sake.
Marlowe pressed her lips together. This was not easy for her. She forced the words out. “You’re right,” she told him grudgingly.
“Does that mean you’re going to make an appointment with your doctor?” He evidently wasn’t convinced that she wasn’t merely paying lip service, just telling him what he wanted to hear.
“Yes,” she fairly hissed.
She wasn’t off the hook yet. “When?” he asked.
“Well, I can’t very well make it now, can I?” she pointed out. “It’s after eight and her office is closed for the day.”
Bowie nodded, accepting the excuse. “When?” he repeated, his eyes on hers.
She really wanted to shout at him, but she managed to keep herself under control because there were people around.
“Tomorrow,” she told him, gritting her teeth. “I’ll call the doctor tomorrow. Is that good enough for you?” she demanded.
He inclined his head. “Ask me again after you make the appointment.”
Marlowe rolled her eyes. He was really pushing it, she thought. “You are the most infuriating man,” she told him.
To her surprise, Bowie flashed an almost blinding smile at her. “But I’m growing on you, aren’t I?” he asked her.
She was tempted to tell him a number of things, none of them flattering at the moment. But she refrained. “I reserve the right to remain silent,” she answered.
She saw the way he smiled at her and knew he had her number, no matter what she said to the contrary. What he said next confirmed it.
“You don’t have to,” Bowie told her. “That says it all.” He looked at the nearly empty plate and her teacup. “If you’ve had your fill of tea and crackers, I’ll take you home.”
She rose from the table, surprised when he drew the chair back for her. She had to admit, the man had some very good inherent traits. And he might very well make a good father—or husband...
“Take me to the condo instead,” she told him. “I don’t feel like answering any questions, and if I go home to the ranch, with a bunch of people wandering around, I’m bound to run into someone, and they’ll ask questions. I’d rather just have some solitude.”
“All right, I’ll just give Bigelow a call,” Bowie began to say.
“No, don’t,” she said as they walked out of the restaurant and to his car. “Give the poor guy a break. I’ll be all right for one night,” she assured Bowie.
He rolled over what she’d said in his mind as he got into his vehicle. “I’m not going to take that chance,” he informed her.
Anticipating that he was about to take out his cell phone, Marlowe caught hold of his hand. “Wallace has probably made some plans for the evening. Even if he hasn’t, let him just enjoy some peace and quiet for a change. I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll be fine,” she assured him.
He left his phone in his pocket and instead started up his car. “Yeah, you will be,” he agreed, surprising her. “Because for tonight, I’m going to be your bodyguard.”
She thought of the last time they had been together for the duration of an evening and her mouth curved in an ironic smile. “That didn’t exactly turn out well the last time, now did it?”
He drove toward her condo a short distance away. “If you recall, I wasn’t your bodyguard then,” Bowie reminded her.
No, he wasn’t. He was something totally different, she thought, remembering that night. The next moment, she shut the memory away.
* * *
Walking into her condo a few minutes later, Bowie looked toward her living room. “I see you got the window fixed,” he commented.
“It’s January, and even though this is Arizona, the temperature can still drop down into the thirties at night,” she reminded him. “That’s more than a little brisk.”
“I was just making an observation,” he told Marlowe. “You know, not everything’s a criticism. You really have to stop being so defensive.”
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again. Lord, she hated it when he was right, but she knew she had to admit it.
