“What?” he asked, what could his sweet Astor possibly have to tell him that he didn’t already know?
She drew in a breath, opened her mouth, then closed it. “I can’t do this with you touching me.” Her gaze dropped to their hands, he still held hers, his thumbs circling round and round on her palms.
“Okay,” he said slowly, releasing her and she immediately scrambled off the bed.
Instead of saying anything, she just bounced about, moving from one foot to the other, her hands twisted together. He’d never seen her like this before.
What could possibly be making her this nervous?
All of a sudden it hit him. “Oh, are you pregnant?”
“What? No,” she said emphatically.
“Because there’s something you don’t know as well, I want to have kids one day.” Growing up the way he had, no mother, just a father who bought and sold women like they were real estate, and a string of nannies who he knew his father killed when he got bored with them, he had always wanted what everyone else had. A family, people who loved him, something real, he thought he and Astor could have that.
The color drained from Astor’s face and he started to worry. What was going on here? What was wrong with her?
“I’m sorry, I can’t say it,” Astor said, her eyes growing watery.
“You can’t act like this and then not tell me what’s going on,” he said, sharper than he intended but he was getting scared.
“I’ll write it,” she said, now refusing to look at him. She went to the nightstand, and scribbled on a piece of paper. With a shaking hand she passed it to him.
With an equally shaking he took it and stared down at the piece of paper, ice streamed through his veins.
He’d been stupid, allowed himself to fall in love, and now he learned the truth about her.
“I’m sorry,” Astor whispered.
“You should be,” he growled as he advanced on her. “You’re a cop?”