Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

She took a quick step back. “Sorry,” she said in a way that made it clear she wasn’t sorry at all. “I don’t have an hour.”

“I’ll settle for thirty minutes.”

“I have an appointment.”

“Cancel it.”

If she hadn’t been so wet and uncomfortable, she’d have laughed. How could a man be so sure that any demand he made would be met?

“I can’t cancel it. And I’m already very late. So good-bye and—”

“Did you get your period?”

Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

Jesus. Chay ran his hands through his wet hair. On a scale of ten, he was somewhere around a minus five, but it was too late to change things, to work up to the question that had plagued him for the last few weeks or even to rephrase it.

“I said, did I get you pregnant? I never used a condom that night. It’s the first time in my entire life I forgot all about condoms and—” Someone walking past inadvertently poked him with an umbrella. Chay shot the guy a furious glance, took Bianca’s arm and tugged her closer. “We can’t discuss this here. I’ll get a cab. My hotel. Your apartment. I don’t care which. You pick it.”

Bianca couldn’t think straight.

The lieutenant had come all this way to find out if he’d made her pregnant? Impossible. She knew what kind of man he was, she knew all she needed to know about men who lived for risk. Her father had, pretending to be one man with her mother and a different one entirely with the other wife and family he’d kept a secret.

Men like that were not the kind to worry about anyone but themselves.

And yet—and yet here Chay was, a continent’s width from where he lived, asking her if—

“I’ve been going crazy,” he said in a low voice. “Just, you know, wondering. I told myself you’d contact me if you were pregnant and then I thought, no, maybe you wouldn’t. After a while, I decided there was only one way to get the answer.” A muscle knotted high in his cheek. “I need to know.”

He looked—desperate. The woman in her was amazed. Didn’t most men walk away from chance encounters without second thoughts? The psychologist in her was curious. There had to be more to this than met the eye.

But there was nothing the least bit professional in their relationship, if you could call a one-night stand a relationship, and all she owed him was an answer.

“You can stop worrying, Lieutenant. You did not make me pregnant.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” He puffed out a long breath. “Okay.”

“But—but thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stared at each other. Then the slightest of smiles tilted across his mouth.

“I have to tell you, this is the strangest conversation I’ve ever had, especially when you add in the fact that we’re standing here and nearly drowning.”

“Si.” She tried a smile, but she wasn’t sure it worked. “I mean, yes. Me, too.”

“Which is why we should go somewhere and talk.”

“We just did. Talk.”

“Look, it’s late. And we’re beginning to look like flood survivors. How about a drink? A meal? A cup of coffee?”

“Mannaggia! Coffee!”

“Fine. I passed a coffee shop on the next—”

“No. You don’t understand. When you said ‘coffee,’ it reminded me… Really. I have an appointment.”