Rising, I opened the door, held the test behind my back. He stared down at me, a half grin on his face. He was supposed to be in a meeting with his attorney. Now he was home, and I felt as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

His hair was neatly combed, and he wore a collared shirt and sport jacket, which for him was formal wear. “What’s the verdict?”

I glanced at the test and saw the single line. Not pregnant. Relief washed over me. “It’s negative.”

His brows knotted. “Are you sure?”

I handed him the test. He glanced down, frowned, before he smiled again. “It could be wrong.”

“It’s supposed to be ninety-nine percent accurate.”

“One percent is one percent.”

“A long shot.”

“My life is a long shot.” He studied the test. “Aren’t you supposed to do these in the morning?”

“I suppose.”

He tossed the test in the trash and took my hands in his. “Don’t look so stressed. It’ll happen.”

Yes, it would. So why was I so fearful of it? “I know.”

“I know how to fix that frown,” he said softly.

In his world, sex solved everything.

“Do you?”

He took me by the hand and guided me away from the bathroom. “Look at it this way, we’ll increase the odds. Insurance, just in case.”

“I have to leave in an hour. I’m meeting Marisa.”

“Marisa? What for?”

“She wants to get coffee. I don’t have to teach today, so why not?”

Marisa’s call had thrown me off my game. I didn’t want to see her, see Clare, today of all days. The last thing I wanted was a reminder of secrets I had never told. But saying no looked worse.

The mention of Marisa’s name brightened his gaze as he ran his hand up my side under the oversize T-shirt and squeezed the tender flesh of my breasts. Jack had always had a thing for Marisa and once had asked me to dye my hair red. That idea had flown like a lead balloon.

Now he pushed me toward the bed with enough force to send me tumbling backward. I was annoyed at his callousness. And a little turned on. If I were pregnant, there wouldn’t be many more days of wild sex for the foreseeable future.

“Are you pretending again?” I asked.

He pushed off his pants, tugged my cover-up off, and opened my legs. “How so?”

Games. Always playing games. “Who am I today? Marisa? I saw the way your eyes lit up when I mentioned her name.”

He hesitated for an instant and then pushed inside me, rougher than usual. “Does it matter?”