Page 7 of Bryson

The burst of happiness he was feeling died a slow death.

"What the hell are you saying?" he asked angrily.

She shrugged and looked over his left shoulder to avoid looking at him. "I have my career-"

"Is that all you can bloody well think about? Your frigging career? This is a life-changing moment-"

"For me!" she blazed at him, eyes flashing. "I'm the one who will be carrying this baby inside me for nine months. It's my body that will be going through all the changes. Not yours, so don't sit there and tell me about life-changing moments. You're a man and have no clue what a woman goes through to bring a child into the world."

"And yes, my career means a lot to me. I worked damn hard to get where I am and now this-" she slapped a hand on her flat stomach. "This is going to change everything."

Rising lithely, he stood there towering over her, a frown etching his brow. "What exactly are you saying?"

"I'm not staying here."

"Then why the bloody hell did you come!"

"I won't have you shouting at me-"

"I will do as I damn well please!" he blazed. She watched as he turned on his heel and strode to stand at the window. That was always the case with them. He was half Irish and had inherited the temper from that side of the family. She was never one to sit by and allow people to walk all over her. They had butted heads from the very moment they met and it had continued up until the time she left.

Volatile didn't even begin to describe their relationship. Shoving his hands, palms out, into his back pockets, he hunched his shoulders and stared out at the gathering dusk.

"I want to be involved in my child's life," he said tonelessly, without turning around. "I don't know what kind of a father I'll be, considering the example I had, but I will bloody well try to be a good father." He turned around. "I want the chance to be there for you."

"I cannot stay here, you know that."

"If you don't want to stay at the ranch, I can arrange a suitable lodging for you. We have some townhouses-"

"I'm going back in a week's time." She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, refusing to feel guilty at the look on his face. "I have some clients-"

"And that means more to you than the life you're carrying? How selfish can you be?"

"Selfish? I didn't have to take the trip all the way here to tell you. I could have kept it from you."

"Why did you, then?" he asked harshly, fed up and frustrated with her constant refusal to see things his way.

"Because it's the right thing to do. Because you deserve to know. Look-" she lifted her hands in an unconscious appealing gesture. "I don't know what I'm doing here. We're talking about a baby, another human being in the mix when we're no longer together. You're involved with someone-"

"That's not important," he said brusquely.

She lifted tapered brows as she stared at him. "That wasn't what it looked like in the magazines. You two seemed very cozy."

"Jealous, sweetheart?" he jeered.

"Don't flatter yourself." She pushed herself out of the chair and distinctly felt when her stomach heaved and pitched. "Oh God!"

He started after her in alarm as she flew past him.

He stood there listening for a second as she retched violently, his alarm escalating into fear. Shoving the door open, he hunkered down behind her, automatically gripping her hair that had come undone to keep it out of her face. When she was finished, she leaned back against him weakly, the sheen of moisture covering her face. Without a word, he picked her up and carried her to the sink so that she could rinse out her mouth.

"Put me down," she demanded weakly.

"Shut the hell up," he said without rancor as he carried her to the bedroom. Instead of putting her to bed, he sat with her cradled on his lap.

"How often does that happen?" he asked quietly.

"Once or twice a day." She closed her eyes wearily.