“Well, what’s so damn important? You could tell me that, at least.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s confidential.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “We’ve been married for years. Nothing is confidential anymore.”

His chuckling, as he turned away from me, actually pissed me off. I hated that my plans were going to be thwarted. “I promise to make it up to you,” he mentioned as he took the seat back behind his desk since I wandered over to the window that looked out on the backyard I loved so much.

“What if I told you that my plans were time sensitive and couldn’t be rearranged?” I asked him as he glanced over at me. Tucker seemed thoughtful for a moment and then just grinned instead.

“Unless you’re on deadline with a book, there’s never anything so time sensitive that you can’t manage to swap out for another day.”

Damn it, why was he being so difficult? “Fine,” I hissed.

“Fine,” he mocked. “Now, get over here and try to convince me anyway, even though you know you’re not going to get your way this time. It’s the least you can do after coming in here looking like that and distracting me.” Tucker rarely made demands of me. Most of them involved something in the bedroom when he did. It was the only reason I wasn’t throwing a bigger fit over my ruined plans for my pregnancy announcement.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea anymore.” I was being completely honest because my queasy stomach was about to ensure that I couldn’t follow through with my seduction plan anyway.

“What? Why not? You got all dressed up and everything. It would be a shame to see that look go to waste.”

“It would…” I started to say before my mouth filled with saliva, the precursor to the sick-fest I knew was about to follow. I kicked out of the stupid shoes and ran to the trash can because there was no way I could make it to the bathroom from there.

“Mina!” Tucker called out as I retched into the can that normally sat beside his desk. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“I’m…” Nope. I wasn’t fine and I couldn’t even manage to get the word out because there were more heaves that were bound and determined I was going to purge the rest of my breakfast. That sucked because I had kept breakfast light today in order to make sure this very thing did not happen.

By the time I finished throwing up, then suffering through several rounds of dry heaves in the can, Tucker was there, rubbing my back and trying to make sure my hair stayed tied back out of the way. “Did you eat something that didn’t agree with you this morning?”

I wanted to punch him because he actually seemed amused by the fact that I wasn’t feeling well. “No, you idiot, this happens to women who are expecting a baby. Of course, that’s something you would have learned in a far better way if you weren’t planning on blowing me off on Saturday to do God knows what with God knows who,” I accused.