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gaze. “You are awake.”
    “You’re back.”
    “Obviously.”
    She winced at his sarcasm. “How did your meeting go?”
    She didn’t really care, but nothing else came to mind and total silence simply did not work right then. Nevertheless, she had no doubts that the meeting had gone exactly as he had wanted it to. He was that kind of man. It took a will of iron with the intelligence of
Socrates
and
Einstein
combined to defeat
Claudio
’s plans.
    Or a woman’s rebellious reproductive system, a voice in her head mocked. He couldn’t battle that, no matter how smart and stubborn he was, could he? And in all likelihood, he wouldn’t want to. It would require her having treatments that may or may not be successful for pregnancy that the press was bound to get wind of.
    She couldn’t bear the thought of what that would mean and knew he wouldn’t tolerate such an intrusion into his life.
    “It went much as I expected it to.”
    “I’m not surprised.”
    “What do you mean by that?”
    “Only that you are very good at getting your own way.”
    “I am not selfish.”
    “I didn’t say you were.”
    “What are you saying?”
    “Nothing.”
    “
Roberto
said you did not eat dinner.”
    “I ate on the plane.”
    Claudio
frowned. “A cup of coffee and two cookies is not dinner.”
    “It was all I wanted.”
    “Skipping meals is not healthy.”
    “One missed dinner is not going to kill me.”
    “Are you sick?” He asked it so baldly, without the slightest trace of compassionate concern that she winced again. “If you are, you should not be traveling.”
    “Don’t worry, I’m not going to give you the flu, or something. I’m not sick.” Not with anything he could catch anyway.
    He did not look appreciably cheered by that assurance. “I expected you to be awake when I got back, but you were not.”
    “I had no way of knowing when that would be.”
    “It is barely nine o’clock.” He said it like he couldn’t imagine going to bed this early. And probably, he couldn’t. The man needed less sleep than anyone she knew.
    If he knew she’d gone to bed as early as seven, he’d be convinced she was ill. She saw no reason to enlighten him. “I was tired.”
    “But you are not sick?”
    “No.”
    “You are certain?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are you pregnant?” He asked the question with the same lack of emotion he’d asked if she was sick to begin with.
    The words skewered her. And there was no sense of anticipation in his features, no warming at the prospect, which hurt just like everything else did right then.
    “No. Not pregnant,” she forced out of stiff lips.
    “You are sure?”
    She hadn’t started, but she was sure. “I’m positive.”
    “Then this strange behavior is the result of period hormones?”
    No doubt a good portion of what she was feeling and her willingness to act on those feelings was caused by hormonal imbalances. “If it pleases you to think so, then yes.”
    Hormone driven, or not, the knowledge her marriage was over was real. His lack of love for her was fact. Her unpredictable reproductive system was not the stuff fantasies were made of and the pain inside her was a physical ache that made it hard to breathe.
    He made an impatient movement. “Nothing about this situation pleases me.”
    “I am sorry.”
    “I do not want an apology. I want an explanation. You said you had things you wanted to talk about but I come back to the suite only to find you sleeping.”
    “Is that a crime?”
    “No, but you are making no sense to me right now.”
    “Heaven forbid I should stop fitting in the slot you’ve assigned me to in your life.”
    “I have done nothing to deserve your sarcasm.”
    “Except refuse to listen to me.”
    “On your timetable. I am here now. Ready to listen.” He spread his hands in an expansive gesture that also served to draw her attention back to his beautiful naked body.
    Tears burned the back of her eyes, but maybe they were not as never ending as she had