It wasn’t to be borne. Never in her life had she known such bone-deep humiliation, and it numbed her.
Harris reached for the top button of her blouse. “I’m going to loosen her clothes. She still looks too pale.”
That brought Clair around. She shot to her feet, staggered, got steadied by six big hands, and shoved away from them all. She waved a fist with credible intent. “Touch my clothes and I’ll brain you.”
Harris straightened. He still looked concerned. “You’re all right now?”
She wanted to die. “I, uh…you were right. It was just the heat. I’m fine.”
Dane cocked a brow. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Clair stared at him, aghast that he’d come to such a conclusion.
Alec nodded. “Celia stayed light-headed when she was pregnant. Especially when she got too warm.”
Laughing, Harris said, “Clair’s not even dating, so unless you can get pregnant from a toilet seat, I don’t think that’s the problem.” He again tried to reach for her top button.
Clair swatted at him. “I’m not preg—”
“She dates,” Dane argued. “Okay, not much, but I know a few months back she was seeing some guy.”
Harris scowled. “She was?” He turned to Clair. “When were you dating? Who was he?”
Ohmigod. No way in hell was Clair going to talk about Kyle. Not with his photographic efforts spread out in all their lack of glory on Dane’s desk. She swallowed, found her voice, and rasped, “Enough. From all of you.”
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