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He smiles, and he’s so beautiful it makes me ache. “Nah. Testifying is all risk, no reward. Not my usual jam. Food’s getting cold, Laurelyn. Take the test.”

Touching his jaw, I turn his face so he’s staring again at the door jamb. But even that tiny connection is electric. It’s why I tell myself to just stop stalling and get the test over with. I unzip my jeans and push them and my underwear down.

Thoughts thunder through my mind as the stick is positioned between my thighs. I shouldn’t let him stand in the doorway with his sculpted body dressed in what is certainly an obscenely expensive suit. His authoritative and intrusive behavior shouldn’t go unchecked. If I don’t push back, going forward he could think it’s all right for him to be this way whenever he wants. Which it won’t be.

When I speak, my voice is barely heard over the running water. “Why are you here, Trick?”

“To find out whether or not we made another human.”

Swallowing the excessive saliva that forms at hearing the words out loud, I stare at the burgundy and gold stripes of the shower curtain. What am I going to do if I’m pregnant with Scott Patrick’s baby?

“Why do you care so much? Are you going to suggest I get an abortion?”

“No, and you better not suggest it either.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good, so we know where we stand on that. Take the test.”

“I don’t need help peeing. You can leave me alone.”

“You had three and a half weeks to take the test alone. When I show up, we do things my way.”

That sends a shiver through me as I remember what doing things Trick’s way sometimes means. A flash of myself draped over a foam wedge, limbs tethered like a slave’s, struggling through being paddled for a transgression against a man who clearly thinks he’s above the law and can get away with anything.

He did get away with paddling you and more, a small voice in my head reminds me.So far, he is above the law. And that’s partly because I failed to cooperative with the FBI. Now he’s here, getting away with whatever this is.

Closing my eyes, I try to blank out everything. After a few more minutes, I’m able to go. When I finish, the wand dangles above the water between pinched fingertips.

“Here,” Trick says.

My lids rise, and Trick curls his fingers, beckoning me to give the test to him.

“Let it dry all the way.”

“My girl’s a proper princess tonight.” His voice is low, sexy, and reminiscent of the nights I was with him. “Give it here, babe.”

Is the warm casual way he says babe calculated? Because it’s what convinces me to hand the stick to him. I don’t even look to see its result.

Trick’s dark blue eyes glance at it, and then he drops it into the trash. “Get cleaned up.” He washes his own hands and steps out, leaving me alone.

My nerves vibrate with the need to know. Instead of looking, I wipe myself, stand, and pull up my clothes, then I study the soap bubbles in the sink, thinking about Trick’s place, which is beautifully decorated and immaculately clean. He told me not to drag his bedspreads on the floor. Isn’t that incongruous with his wild lifestyle?

Using my elbow, I close the door he left open, then wash my hands for longer than necessary. Finally, after I’ve stalled all I can, I bend over the wicker trash bin and look in.

Positive.

* * *

Trick

The things I plan to say fade when I see Laurel’s face. There’s a crease between her brows and she’s got her hands clasped in front of her. Recognizing the posture as the one she takes when she’s vulnerable, I meet her in the middle of the room and pull her against me, closing my arms around her. The tension in her body makes it tremble.

“This was the year I was supposed to apply for grad school. That’s over for now. Work, a baby, and school? I can’t see how.” She exhales against my neck. “It’s fine though,” she says, her voice growing determined. “I’ve got a friend from college who’s been trying to get pregnant for three years. Even in vitro. I shouldn’t complain. I have a good job. I can do this.”

Her rambling doesn’t need a response, so I wait. Finally, she presses her palms against my chest to separate our bodies. Releasing her, it’s good to see her expression’s a little less strained than it was a few minutes ago.

Sitting down, she takes a sip of the room temperature ginger ale. “So now we know.” Laurel tucks her long legs under herself and draws a throw blanket around her shoulders. Her words don’t matter. The way her body curls inward tells the real story.