when she looked like this, and she had no idea how to respond, so she didn’t. Instead, she went back to her original question.
“I asked you if you wanted something to drink.”
He shrugged. “Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“I’m not having anything,” she told him. “I’m pregnant, remember?”
And the reason he was here, the attempts on his life and all that entailed—including an unknown source, now that Marlowe denied having anything to do with it—instantly came crowding back into his brain.
“Oh, right,” Bowie murmured. “For a second, I just forgot.” And was trying to forget, despite everything, just how much he still wanted her.
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