Marching Orders

Rafe didn’t intend to thank the man for it, either. Sometimes, he wondered if the colonel and he were on the same page. The last thing he needed tonight was to cloud his mind with alcohol.

Anna gave the champagne a passing glance. “That was nice of him.”

Nibbling at her bottom lip, she stepped closer. And closer. Rafe just stood there while she lifted her hands and laced them around the back of his neck.

“I missed you so much when you were gone,” she said softly. “I mean, when we left each other in Monte de Leon, we thought we’d only be apart a couple of days. It turned into two long months.”

That comment ate away at him like nothing else could have. It was wrong to play with her emotions this way. Still, what choice did he have? He couldn’t risk telling her everything. Not yet.

“I missed you, too,” he answered.

Anna brushed her mouth over his. “But we’re together now—just like you promised that day you put me on the transport to come back to the States. The day you asked me to marry you.”

“I remember,” Rafe lied.

She moved in for the kiss. He didn’t quite manage to suppress a groan, but it didn’t matter. Anna caught the sound with her mouth. She brought her sweet lips to his and gave him a kiss that nearly made him forget that this was supposed to be all for show.

She pulled back, slightly, and stared into his eyes. “I think we should start making up for lost time right now, don’t you?”

But she didn’t wait for him to answer that. She kissed him again.

Rafe braced himself for the assault. Or at least he tried to do that. It didn’t work. Her taste slammed through his body. The energy. The intensity. And the distinctive feeling that he had lost his freaking mind. He had no business kissing her like this.

None.

Nada.

Zip.

He should be concentrating on a plausible lie to get him the heck out of there before he stripped that gown off her and hauled her in the general direction of the bed. Still, he didn’t move. He stood there and took everything. The kiss. The heat of her body. Her.

Anna slipped her hand into his hair. “You don’t know how many times I wished that we hadn’t agreed to wait until our wedding night to make love. Did you ever regret our decision to wait?” she asked, her voice as silky as the gown she slid against his body.

Rafe couldn’t look at her. Not even a glimpse. If he did, she would know something was wrong. Instead, he stared at her earring. A small pearl dangled on a delicate thread of gold.

“You better believe there were times I regretted it,” he managed to say. “In fact, the regrets went up a significant notch every time I laid eyes on you.”

He didn’t have time to pray that she wouldn’t question him further about it. Or time to come up with a lie that would give him an exit. He felt every muscle in her body go stiff.

Anna jerked away from him, and in the same motion she reached for his shoulder holster that he’d left on the nightstand. He could have stopped her from pulling the gun, easily, but it would have been a huge risk. If something had gone wrong, she might have gotten hurt. So, he just stood there while she drew his own weapon on him.

“Answers,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I want answers, and I want them now.”

He tried to play it light, but inside it was a whole different story. She’d obviously figured out he wasn’t the man she thought he was. Now, the question was—what would she do about it? Would she really try to use that gun?

Maybe.

God knows what all of this would push her to do. If their positions were reversed, if he’d been kept in the dark about something like this, then he’d sure have that gun in his hand, and it’d be aimed at her.

“Answers?” he calmly repeated. He inched closer, but stopped when she lifted the gun and aimed it right at his heart. “What do you mean, darling?”

“The truth. There was no decision for us to wait,” she clarified.

“Damn,” he mumbled. Silently, he added some much harsher profanity.

He stared at her, cursing this stupid plan and cursing the fact that he hadn’t stopped it. But there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

Besides, he had a more urgent problem facing him. Literally. Somehow, he had to get the gun away from this woman without either of them getting hurt.

“Anna—”

But that’s all he managed to say.

“Rafe and I were lovers,” she whispered, a tear racing down her cheek.

There was no good comeback for that so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He figured he’d be saying that plenty of times before the night was over.

“Sorry?” she snapped. Her eyes sliced at him with a scalpel-sharp glare. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Two months too late. I’m pregnant.”

Oh, man. That knocked the breath right out of him. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and stare at her.

Pregnant!

Hell.

Anna was pregnant.

With her eyes brimming with tears, she levered the gun slightly higher. “And now I want to know what you’ve done with my baby’s father.”

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