The Pregnancy Promise. Barbara McMahon

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      Tray brought up oatmeal and tea. He sat beside her and matched her spoonful for spoonful. She thought it funny he would eat so plainly, and drink tea when she knew he devoured coffee all day long. A couple of times during the meal, she caught Tray studying her. Lianne wanted to squirm under his intense regard, but did her best to appear unconcerned propped up against the headboard. The pills were beginning to take effect and she felt marginally better. She appreciated his taking care of her. She never expected that. Fighting terrorists or kidnappers, yes, taking care of a sick friend—no. Showed she really didn’t know all she could about him.

      “Are you tabulating every flaw to pass on to your friend?” she finally asked.

      “No, I’m mentally listing all the attributes I think will have him falling over himself to date you. You’re prettier than I noticed before.”

      She felt a spurt of amusement. “Thanks, I think.”

      “Well, we don’t have that kind of relationship. I never noticed how pretty you are.”

      “You have your own bevy of female companions,” she said. “I bet they’re all beautiful.” She’d seen several over the years—always model thin and glam.

      “The old adage about beauty only being skin deep still applies.” He looked down at his tea, slowly lifting the cup to sip.

      Lianne wondered what she might have said to cause that pensive—no almost pained look. Had he and a girlfriend just broken up? She tried to remember the last woman in his life. Suzette or Suzanne or something like that. Occasionally she heard him talking to her on the phone. Tray also kept his personal life out of the office.

      She suddenly realized she knew very little about her boss beyond the day-to-day operations of the business. How odd. After working closely together for so long, they should know more about each other.

      “What does this Mark look like?” she asked.

      “He’s about my height. Has sandy color hair. He’s really interested in football, follows major league teams all season long. Goes to the same gym I go to”

      Lianne wondered if she’d like that. She knew something about football, with five brothers, how could she not? But she wasn’t a passionate fan. “What else?”

      “He’s in advertising, doing very well.”

      She wrinkled her nose.

      “Not something you like?”

      “Too much cajoling people to buy stuff they don’t need.”

      “Part of the economy.”

      “I guess. Is he from Washington?” she asked.

      “Not originally. From the Midwest somewhere, but has lived in DC for a dozen years or more. I think he went to Georgetown University and just stayed. You two would have great kids together.”

      “I’ll reserve judgment until I meet the man,” she murmured. “Did you get the Schribner file?”

      The conversation changed to business and Lianne and Tray fell into their familiar pattern of discussing clients and the various needs, who would be good to handle certain aspects and the shortfalls of one of the newer recruits.

      By the time their meal was finished, Lianne felt better, physically and mentally. Talking with Tray pulled her back into the work arena and had her temporarily forget the ticking clock. She’d give anything to be normal, but since she wasn’t, maybe she should take a page from Tray’s book and find a way around the problem.

      Once breakfast was finished, she expected him to take off. Instead he said he’d hang out for a while and let her sleep.

      Whenever she awoke, he was nearby, offering tea or food. Somewhere during the day, he’d gone out and bought groceries. Lunch was more substantial than breakfast and dinner was almost a feast.

      Tray left after dinner but promised to return the next morning, despite Lianne’s protests.

      The next day, Lianne felt better. She had made it through another month. “You don’t have to wait on me, I’ll be fine now,” she said at breakfast, eaten downstairs this morning after a quick shower and clean clothes. She still felt awkward at Tray’s newfound concern for her.

      “There are things waiting at the office,” he said, slowly.

      “Go. I’ll be in tomorrow for sure.”

      “I can wait,” he said. “Give you a ride back.”

      “No need. I have my car, so have to drive it back anyway.”

      “If you’re sure?”

      “I am.”

      She walked him out to his car a short time later, wondering if any neighbors were around to see the sleek black sports car, which was a testimony to his success. Lianne rarely saw the car without wishing she could drive it, just once. She’d love to ride СКАЧАТЬ