With Honor. Rhonda Lee Carver

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      Stepping back against the wall, he gave her room to pass. This must be like going into the lion’s den. Only danger lurked in an animal’s lair.

      She glanced around the room, expecting a bachelor pad with mood lighting, big screen TV, beer bottles and whatever else Shane liked. Yet, it wasn’t anything like she’d anticipated. The place was clean. Not just clean, but eat-off-the-floor spotless. From brown leather couch, to the glass coffee tables and wooden floor, everything appeared immaculate. The Shane she’d met in Florida had talked freely of his likes–playing video games on the flat screen, beer and dirt bikes. His home lacked any evidence of the toys.

      “Something wrong?” he asked from behind her.

      Facing him, she started to make an excuse, but decided she had nothing to prove but the truth. “Nice and clean. Surprising.”

      With an amused expression, he said. “Yes, it’s clean. And I do have an inside toilet, I eat with utensils and I bathe.” With a shove of his elbow, the door slammed. She was locked inside. No turning back. “I’m not used to being a gentlemanly host either, at least that’s what I’ve heard, but can I get you anything? A drink? Maybe a new, more flattering representation of who I am?”

      A smile teased the corner of her lips but she pushed it away. “No, but I’ll take a seat if that’s okay.”

      “So, you’re planning on staying a while?”

      Ignoring the quip, she took a seat on the sofa.

      He remained standing, staring at her. She had to crane her neck at a weird angle to see his face and it made her nauseous. He took a seat, not on the couch but the chair, relaxed into the leather cushions and propped his bare feet up on the coffee table. The man never appeared unnerved, and it bothered her. And he had nice feet, which annoyed her more.

      “I’ll be here long enough for the two of us to discuss what needs to happen now.”

      His eyes penetrated into her.

      She tugged the hem of her skirt lower on her thighs. Irritation clawed at her. She should know him some. After all, they’d slept together and created a baby. Yet, she felt like she’d never met him before yesterday. The difference wasn’t just his personality. His physical features too. Was it the strong set of his angular jaw? Maybe the slight curve of the bridge of his nose where it appeared to have been broken? Or possibly the thin white scar on his cheek marring the otherwise golden olive complexion?

      The area between his eyebrows crinkled. “You aren’t going to get sick are you?”

      Jasmine pulled herself out of her perplexing thoughts and gave her head a quick shake. “Please stop asking me that. I’m fine. I…let’s just get this over with.” She smoothed her clammy hands down her legs. “I’m not asking for money, or even responsibility or obligation. I just want to make that clear. I want nothing.”

      Rubbing his clean-shaven jaw, he kept his eyes in a probing stare on her. He was a cautious man, obviously. That hadn’t been her first impression of him during the interview for the magazine. He’d seemed more free spirited. “When a woman hunts a man down, corners him in the restroom and later breaks the news that she is carrying his child, well, it would seem to most people that she wants something.”

      She swept a lock of hair behind her ear. “I guess my approach was a little awkward. It wasn’t any less awkward when you pretended you didn’t know me. You seemed pretty good at indifference.”

      “Awkward?” His brow shot up in accusation. “I’d say downright over the top. You caught me off guard and I was preoccupied, not indifferent.”

      Feeling her cheeks heat up, she moistened her lips and took a deep breath. “After the way you left me–”

      “Left you?”

      “In the middle of the night? The note you’d left–it was egotistical and rude.” Laying her palms in her lap, she noticed that she trembled. She threaded her fingers so he wouldn’t see. “Sure, we weren’t expecting it to lead to anything, but things happen…it did. Although you did make a small promise–”

      “Promise?”

      “Are you going to continue to repeat everything I say? I am speaking English.” She snorted in frustration.

      “I’m not a promising sorta guy. Or a marriage type, either.”

      Squinting, she wondered if this was his way of testing her. “You told me that you wanted to take me to breakfast the next morning and then we’d part as friends. Not marriage. If you think I’m here with plans for a relationship, you’re mistaken. In fact, I wouldn’t have gone to breakfast with you even if you’d followed through.”

      “That’s not a promise,” he said.

      “Of course you’d say that,” she snapped.

      Dropping his feet to the floor, he planted his elbows on his knees and propped his chin on one fist. She got a whiff of a woodsy scent and shampoo. His gaze held her face, but somehow it seemed to target the area between her thighs. Tingles erupted inside her stomach. Her body betrayed her mind. How could she want a man with his track record of love ’em and leave ’em? The pregnancy hormones caused the flare-up of need in the core of her body. The one thing she wanted from him was confirmation of his ability as a father, not as a partner.

      “I’m a little confused, darling. Are you here to give me shit for making a so-called promise for eggs and bacon? Or, did you just want to tell me that I’m responsible for making a baby?”

      Her jaw ached to drop, but she didn’t dare show emotion. She had a feeling he’d enjoy getting a rise from her. “I’m over the make-a-promise-then-run thing.” Waving a hand in the air, she blew off his sarcasm. “I didn’t miss you when you left. What we’d shared in bed was a blip on the radar of a forgotten night.”

      One corner of his mouth curved. “Is that so? Then why are you angry?”

      “Angry? Maybe I have reason to be. You left me a note like I was nothing more than–”

      “A blip, perhaps?” He wiggled his brows. “Maybe it’d be best just to clear the air and admit you were wanting seconds.”

      He teased her, or did he really think she wanted him? His eyes glistened and his smile broadened as if he found this entertaining.

      “I assure you, Shane Conner, I do not give a hoot about you–or your body parts.” Her gaze automatically dropped to his zipper. “It’s my moral obligation to tell you that during our time together we conceived a child. Just that simple.”

      “The paper you gave me says you’re eleven weeks.”

      “Yes.”

      “Why didn’t you come sooner?”

      “Because I just found out myself a short time ago. Then it took me another week and a half to decide if I wanted to share the news with you.”

      “Were you hoping I’d jump up and down in glee at the concept of becoming a father?” His eyes narrowed.

      “Is this an interrogation?”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ