His mouth flattened, the determination on his face making her heart pound. “Unless this baby turns out to be someone else’s, which I highly doubt, then yes, I am entirely serious.”
She didn’t like the edge to his voice or the look on his face. “Of course it’s yours. How can you even ask that?”
He looked at her as if she was naive to be asking the question. “How far along are you?”
“Eight weeks.”
“A blood test will confirm it, then.” He lifted a brow. “Funny how we were obsessively careful not to allow a pregnancy to happen and yet, magically, it happened on that last night when you asked me not to wear a condom.”
She stared at him. “Tell me you are not suggesting I manufactured this pregnancy.”
He shrugged, his face as hard as she’d ever seen it. “It wouldn’t be the first time in history it’s happened.”
The blood drained from her face. She yanked off her seat belt and launched herself at him, her palm arcing through the air toward his cheek. He caught her hand before it got anywhere near his face and yanked it down to her side, pulling her onto his lap.
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