Baby Bombshell

by Lisa Ruff

  “You told me she was on our side!” Antonio said, his dark eyes boring twin holes into Evan. “You said this would be a big piece of cake.”

  Evan shook his head. “She told me last month that we had her support.”

  “Bah! So much for your connections,” the older man said, waving a hand. “She was the one you talked about in my office?” Anna asked Evan.

  “It doesn’t matter. We must use my connections,” Antonio interrupted, pacing up the hallway and back. “I have just had a thought. Jimmy Johnson is a city council member and my best customer. I will go to him right now and he will straighten this out.”

  “It’s eight o’clock, Pop. I don’t think—”

  “Take Anna home,” Antonio directed Evan and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Do not blame yourself. Sometimes these things happen in politics. I will take care of it from here.”

  With that, he strode off. Elaine sighed, gave Anna and Evan a the-things-I-put-up-with look and trotted after him.

  Evan and Anna watched them go, then she turned to face him. Her eyes were cool, her gaze speculative. “That woman was on a mission to kill this project, Evan. What did you do to her?”

  Evan knew there was no point in delaying the inevitable. If he had learned one thing lately, it was that the longer you waited to tell the truth, the worse the consequences became. And he couldn’t afford to pile more deception onto the one he was already hiding from the Berzanis.

  Bracing himself, he looked her straight in the eyes. “She’s Kippy’s aunt.”

  “Kippy?” Anna blinked at him in confusion. “The blonde with big—”

  Evan winced. “Yeah, her.”

  “But you said you broke up with her.”

  “I did. She just didn’t think I meant it.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think she’d be so vindictive.”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake, Evan.” Anna put one hand on her hip as she glared at him. “I could have told you that and I spent about sixty seconds with the woman.”

  “Okay, fine, I’m an idiot,” Evan said, trying to keep his voice down. “I admit it. I should have dumped her after we got approval.”

  “So, you screwed Kippy and now we’re screwed,” Anna said bitterly.

  “You want me to go apologize and ask her out again?” he asked harshly. “Say the word and—”

  “Stop it!” She put up a hand as if to ward off his words. “Please tell me you at least broke up with her in person.”

  “What, you think I texted her?” Evan’s temper flared hotter.

  “When you dumped me, I got no communication at all. A text message would have made my day.”

  The words hit Evan like a slap. Sucking in a deep breath, he held it, then let it out slowly. “I called you.”

  “Yeah,” she said flatly. “After you found out I was pregnant. When you couldn’t pretend we hadn’t slept together.”

  He looked away, then back, meeting her gaze squarely. They had wandered off course. He wanted to blame her for that, but Anna wasn’t at fault here; he was. “I broke things off politely with Kippy,” he said quietly. “Like a gentleman. She just didn’t like it.”

  Anna nodded, her eyes tired and sad. “So what the hell are we going to do now?”

  “Fight Miriam Shermer,” Evan said evenly. “Cover every last one of her stupid, petty details and in one week shove them back up her ass where they came from.”

  Anna shook her head. “Evan, it’s not enough time.”

  “I am not letting her win.” Evan bit the words off one by one. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He took her arm and ushered her out of the building. Outside, a light breeze had sprung up. They walked the two blocks to his car, not saying a word. The crisp air bore the smell of autumn—rotting leaves, wood smoke and damp pavement. It was dark now, the brick sidewalk shadowed under trees that had not yet shed all their summer cloak.

  Unlocking the door to his car, Evan helped her inside, then got in and started the engine. On the drive, her silence continued. It made him nervous. Anna was a Berzani and they were never quiet. He wished he knew what she was thinking. Somehow, he had to fix this mess for her—and for her parents. It was the least he could do.

  Minutes later, he parked in the Berzanis’ driveway.

  “You don’t have to get out,” she said, gathering up her briefcase and reaching for the door handle.

  “We can fight this, Anna,” he said, touching her on the arm. “I have a few strings I can pull.”

  “Oh? There’s more women you’ve slept with?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “People who owe me favors,” he said, ignoring the taunt.

  Anna sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. She looked tired, defeated and distant. Sitting with her, so close and yet so far apart, Evan felt lonely. It occurred to him that he was more alone in this minute than at any time that he could remember. Was that why he wanted so much to hold her? To kiss her? To ask forgiveness? After all the damage he had done, he doubted she would want his affection—or his apology.

  Anna turned and looked at him. “I don’t know what Pop’s got up his sleeve. He’s likely to do more harm than good.”

  “Jimmy will calm him down,” Evan said. “I’ll call him tomorrow. He’ll help us keep Pop under wraps.”

  “I guess this means I’m not going back to San Francisco.” Anna rubbed her temple.

  A flutter of anticipation stirred in his chest: he would have her for one more week. The hope he felt made him pause. He only wanted time to settle things between them, that was all. Wasn’t it?

  “We’re going to need somewhere to work,” she said.

  “Not here. Not with your father hanging around.”

  “What about the dealership?”

  “I’d rather not. Too many interruptions for me.” Evan was quiet for a moment, carefully contemplating the suggestion he was about to make. “We could use my apartment. I have an office with a large desk, high-speed internet, the works.”

  She looked at him for a long moment. He saw some of that Berzani determination restored to her eyes. Finally, she nodded, then opened the door. “Okay. What time?”

  “How about nine o’clock?” He paused and looked at her cautiously, unsure how personal he ought to get. “Unless you’re not feeling so hot at that hour.”

  “Nine is fine,” she said mildly. “My morning sickness is mostly gone. See you then.”

  Evan watched her walk to the front door and saw it close behind her. A light brightened the first-floor window. When a second light shone from one upstairs, he swallowed hard. She was in her bedroom now and he could imagine her there. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel for a minute, then sat back, put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway.

  For one week, he was going to work with Anna. He knew that she would focus on the project and he would, too. But Evan also knew they had to deal with the chasm between them. Somehow he had to find a way to bridge that gap. He had to convince her that he could be a father, without making the mistake of becoming her husband.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna listened to the tick and ping of the motor cooling as the chill air permeated the car. The weather had taken a definite turn toward winter today. The trees that lined the walkway swayed and shivered in the cold northwest wind. Leaves that had just turned bright shades of yellow and red skittered across the hood of the car, dancing and swirling in the breeze.

  She checked her watch: five minutes past nine. She was late, but that didn’t goad her. Eventually, she was going to have to get out of the car and knock on Evan McKenzie’s door. Of course, it wasn’t the actual knocking that was so daunting. It was the prospect of spending seven days with the man. Why did that seem like a Herculean task?

  The answer was clear, though she wished she could deny it: her heart wanted to believe love was still possible. The idea of being alone with him in his house still made some perverse part of her soul sing. No matter how many times h
e crushed her with disappointment, this seed refused to die.

  Anna didn’t think of herself as an optimist. Before all this, she had thought of herself as a realist with cynical leanings. Now, she didn’t know what she was. Her entire world had been picked up, shaken hard. The debris was still falling around her in unrecognizable patterns and her cynical realism often deserted her. Without it, she could not stifle the stupid, futile hope that Evan would change and come to love her.

  Sighing, Anna put her head back against the seat. This was crazy. She had rehearsed this a million times already in her head. All night, she had told herself it was just work, a collaboration. For her parents’ sake, she had to get through it. She reminded herself that she was here to do a job. Sit ting in a cold car, wishing for the impossible, did no good.

  Firmly resolved once more, Anna opened the car door and got out. From the backseat, she gathered her laptop and briefcase, then locked the door. She walked up the sidewalk, letting her professional eye take over as she looked around. Evan’s building was as stunning a place as her mother’s raves had promised. Each unit was three stories high with cantilevered decks hung from walls as if without support. The gray-washed cedar siding was punctuated with tall windows half-hidden by the trees. Nestled in banks of shrubbery, each condo was almost a separate private town house.

  A walkway of pavers set in a chevron pattern led her to the front porch steps. With dread, Anna climbed them, but she knocked firmly on the door. Almost before she lowered her hand, the door swung inward. Evan stood there in gray trousers and a white shirt, a burgundy-paisley tie knotted firmly at his throat. All that was missing was the suit jacket to complete the ensemble. Under other circumstances, Anna might have laughed at his formal attire—they were just working in his home, after all—but like him, she had donned a skirt and blouse this morning, choosing the armor of business to set the correct mood.

  “Hey,” Evan offered without a smile.

  “Sorry I’m late.”

  “No problem. I was just answering some e-mails from the office.” He stepped aside and gestured her to enter. “Can I take your coat?”

  Anna put her cases on a small table near the door and slipped out of her jacket. He put it in the closet, then grabbed her laptop bag and led the way down a short hall into the rest of his home. Picking up her briefcase, Anna followed silently.

  For once, her mother had not exaggerated. Evan’s home was like something from House Beautiful: airy, open and spacious. Two sofas in navy leather were arranged perpendicular to each other at the end of the room. A large coffee table, made from what appeared to be a ship’s hatch, sat in front of them. There was the ubiquitous flat-screen television mounted on one wall, but the sound system was discreetly hidden in a cherry-wood cabinet beneath it. The walls were white, the floors maple with a clear varnish. The front wall was mostly glass, including French doors out onto a deck and beyond that, a magnificent view of the Chesapeake. It reminded Anna of her own panorama in San Francisco.

  What surprised Anna was how finished and put together it all felt. There were beautifully framed pictures on the walls, a sculpture of a great blue heron in one corner, even the deck furniture coordinated.

  “This is nice. Who did the interior?” she asked.

  Evan had stepped into the kitchen, which was open to the rest of the room. With granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances, it was as much sculpture as functional work space.

  “I did.” He turned around with a bag of coffee in his hand and frowned. “You were expecting early man-cave?”

  Anna shrugged. “I don’t know many men with throw pillows on their sofas.”

  “Not Carl or your other architect friends?”

  “Well, they’re different,” she said, fiddling with the handle of her bag. “They’re paid to be coordinated.”

  He shook his head as he ground some beans and poured them into a coffee filter. He put the bag in the freezer, then rinsed and dried his hands. “There comes a time when even a dedicated bachelor has to stop living out of cardboard boxes and buy real furniture.”

  “So this is a recent conversion?” she asked, cocking her head to one side. It was a more personal question than she intended to ask, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. Being in his apartment, she somehow felt closer to him than she ever had, perhaps even closer than the intimacy they had shared in San Francisco.

  “Not recent. If I’m going to live somewhere, I move in completely. That means art, furniture and even matching dishes.” Turning, Evan grabbed two mugs from a cupboard and held them up to her as evidence. Both bore the same pattern of scattered leaves on a white background. He smiled, just a slight lift of one side of his mouth, but it warmed his face. “Patrick’s convinced I’m a freak.”

  Anna laughed. “If it weren’t for Kate, Patrick would still be living on a boat and eating off paper plates. He’s the freak.”

  “Do you want coffee?” he asked.

  “Herbal tea, if you have it.”

  Anna stood watching Evan move around the kitchen, unsure of what to say—what to do—now. She felt like an intruder in his private domain. Tension lurked in the corners, ready to spring. She wondered if he felt the same.

  Evan filled a glass teakettle with water and put it on the stove. “Why don’t you go check out the office,” he suggested. “It’s up those stairs, down the hallway, to the right. I’ll bring your tea when it’s ready.”

  Grateful to escape, Anna grabbed her laptop case and climbed the steps he had indicated. At the top, she went down the hall. As she passed an open doorway, she couldn’t resist peeking inside. It was a bedroom: obviously Evan’s bedroom. She stopped, knowing she was snooping, but unable to turn around and leave.

  A huge four-poster bed sat to the left, against the wall. Covered in a dark blue duvet, it looked soft and inviting. Anna swallowed as she imagined Evan lying there alone. Or with someone else. An image of his former girlfriend Kippy flashed into her head. Forcing her eyes away, she looked across the room to the windows that offered the same view as downstairs, drawing the eye.

  There was a balcony here, too, furnished with a small table and a love seat that had a matching padded footstool. Evan had probably sat there many times with a companion. A woman, enjoying the afternoon sun, wearing his shirt and nothing else. She would snuggle next to him. Maybe they would share a glass of wine, kissing between sips. Then, when the sun went down and shadows filled the bedroom—

  Anna cut off the painful thought. Backing up, she turned and fled the room with its unbearable scenes, continuing down the hall to what had to be the office. Facing the street, it didn’t have the water-view of the other rooms, but was a pleasant space all the same. It was complete with an inlaid rosewood desk, two leather chairs, flat-screen monitor, file cabinets, printer, copier, everything ready for them to dive in and get to work.

  Anna opened her laptop. As it came to life, she concentrated on the task at hand, pushing the rest aside. Work was her focus. That she had come to his home to do it was coincidental. She would ignore the bedroom down the hall, and forget about being the woman in Evan’s life or in his bed. She was here to save the project and help her parents. They only had seven short days to make their case. Nothing else mattered. Not even these thoughts and feelings that someone less cynical than her might mistake for love.

  EVAN STARED AT THE KETTLE without really seeing it, his hands braced against the edge of the stove. His attention followed Anna’s footsteps on the hardwood floors above his head. They fell softly on the stairs, turned to go down the hall. She slowed, then stopped. He tensed, knowing that she was looking in his bedroom. One step more and silence. Was she inside his bedroom? She must be. What was she looking at?

  That question sent a bolt of heat through him, his body hardening with hunger. The urge to climb those stairs and coax her farther into that room was impossibly strong. Earlier, after he made the bed, Evan had almost closed the door. He had stopped himself. He never shut that d
oor. Why close it today? What did he want to hide? Unable to answer his own questions, he had left it open.

  Now he wished he had closed it: imagining her there, inside that room, was too much. Spinning around to the sink, he splashed cold water on his face and dried off with a hand towel. He could do this. For one week, they would work together. Judging by her garb, Anna meant to keep things as businesslike as he did.

  The teakettle began to whistle. He turned off the burner, then poured hot water over the tea—mint that might soothe her stomach if it was upset this morning. Pouring himself coffee, he picked up the two mugs, took a deep breath and climbed the stairs. At the door to the office, Anna’s back was to him as she leaned over her laptop. She turned and looked up as he entered.

  “Find everything you need?” He set the mug next to her computer.

  “Yes, thanks. I typed Madame Commissioner’s list into my computer last night so we can dissect it. Here’s a copy for you.” She handed him a small memory stick.

  He took it from her and looked at it, then popped it into his computer. Her brisk, get-down-to-work tone cleared the ground between them, but it still irked. Their conversation downstairs had recalled the evening they had spent together in San Francisco, an echo of the warmth and ease of being with her. He scolded himself for wanting to dance on the edge of danger, and sat in the chair opposite her.

  “So, what should we tackle first?”

  Anna pushed her laptop around so that he could see the screen. “I think half of her questions are just smoke. We’ve essentially answered them in the documentation already submitted. She just made them seem bigger by carping on the vanishing maritime community. I made some notes on how we might counter that.”

  “You must have stayed up late doing this,” Evan said, keeping his eyes on the computer screen, hesitant to show his concern for her and the baby. She had never taken it too well over the phone.

  Anna just shrugged. “Not too late.”

  “Well, don’t push too hard.” He slid a glance at her.

  Anna lifted her mug and sipped her tea, effectively hiding her expression. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”