Mia knew she needed people. She’d never wanted to need anyone, but she had to think realistically and see that she was out of her league here. She would need help and guidance with this child.
“I’ll let you know about that painter,” Mia said, hugging Olivia.
Mia left her office and walked out through Olivia’s as she always did. The summer evening breeze wasn’t quite so stifling tonight, and Mia lifted her face to the sky, feeling confident she was heading in the right direction with her life.
For now there was no turmoil, or not as much as there had been, and that suited Mia just fine. She hated drama—ironic since she loved working in Hollywood.
As she walked along the wide concrete path back to her house, she resisted the urge to call Anthony. She wanted to share her good news with him because they were friends, but she didn’t want to add any more issues to his home life.
She also wished she could talk to him about broaching the delicate subject with Olivia. The guilt she carried was pointless since she couldn’t say anything. How she wished she could go back to that day in Anthony’s office and not open that file he’d had on his desk. Why did she have to uncover a secret that had been buried for decades?
“Good evening.”
Mia squealed, jumping back with a hand to her heart. “Bronson! You scared me to death.”
If she hadn’t been so lost in thought, she would’ve noticed him sitting on her porch looking sexy as ever. Of course, he’d show up out of the blue. That’s what he did. Oh, he called every morning, but with his crazy work schedule, which changed from day to day, she never knew when he’d make a surprise visit.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He came to his feet and took her hand as she ascended the steps. “Were you lost in thought?”
Yeah, thinking about your brother.
“Something like that,” she told him as she fished out her key from her bag. “How long have you been waiting?”
“Just a few minutes.”
She led him inside, turned off the alarm and set her purse and keys on the foyer table. “I was just going to fix dinner. You hungry?”
A slow, cautious, sexy smile spread across his face. “Starving. I’d help, but the cook always kicked me out when I was a kid. So maybe I’ll just observe.”
Mia laughed as she toed off her heels and headed toward the kitchen. “I can turn on the TV if you’d like to watch something.”
She moved toward the flat screen on the wall between the breakfast nook and the kitchen.
“No, I’d rather have conversation or silence. My brain is on overload right now.”
Mia didn’t question what was wrong. He didn’t want to do personal and she could live with that … for now. But he was here, wanted to stay for dinner. Something drew him to her and she wasn’t going to question it.
She pulled one of her cooking magazines from her stack beside the fridge and turned to the earmarked page. As she bustled around the kitchen pulling out ingredients and double-checking the list, she was hyperaware of his presence. He didn’t say a word, but the shuffling of his rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt and the smell of his masculine aroma filled her kitchen.
“Feeling okay today?” he asked as she preheated the oven.
“I’m fine. I can’t wait until the ultrasound.” Mia pulled out a mixing bowl and stared across the island at Bronson. “I just want to see her.”
“Her?” he asked, raising a brow.
Mia laughed. “I go back and forth using her or him. I don’t care what we have.”
Bronson’s shoulders tensed.
“Sorry.” Mia cringed as she turned to get a pan. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
Silence settled in once again as she mixed and poured everything into the baking stone. Once she had the dish in the oven, she wiped her hands on a towel and turned to Bronson.
“That has to bake for about an hour. Do you want some wine or a drink?”
“No, I’m good.”
Mia couldn’t take it another minute. She just had to uncover the truth Olivia spoke of.
“I know it’s not my place to pry, but I need to know about your ex-fiancée and the baby.”
Bronson’s eyes turned dark as he jerked his gaze to hers. “No, you don’t. There’s nothing that concerns you.”
Mia wet a rag and wiped off the counter. She needed a prop for her nervous hands. “Actually, it does involve me, considering you’re hesitant about everything because of your past. Your ex-fiancée is always in the room with us, whether you realize it or not.”
“Leave it alone, Mia.”
For once she was not going to back down. “You know all about my life. You know why this baby means so much to me. I want to know why this baby scares you to the point that you can’t even discuss it without tensing up.”
Bronson came to his feet, running a hand through his stylishly messy hair. “I don’t know why you think now is the time to rehash all this.”
“I’ve been wondering for a while, Bronson, and today your mother—”
He jerked around. “My mother? You’ve got to be kidding. Did she tell you I loved that child, that his name was chosen and that I could hardly work for all the anticipation surrounding my upcoming marriage and baby?”
Mia tossed the rag into the sink. “She just said that—”
“What?” He threw his arms out to the side. “She said what? That my ex-fiancée was sleeping around behind my back and the baby wasn’t mine? Oh, and did she tell you how I believed the baby belonged to Anthony?”
Breath caught in Mia’s throat. Anthony the father? That couldn’t be. He loved his wife more than anything and was fighting to save his marriage.
She placed her palms on the island and stared into his tormented eyes. “Oh, God, Bronson. I had no idea.”
“No, but you had to push and push until I gave in. Well, congratulations. Now you know my secret.” He muttered a curse. “I don’t know how that wasn’t leaked to the media.
They all assumed we split over her losing the baby, that the stress was too much.”
Mia remembered reading that, hearing those rumors. Now she understood why this DNA test was so important … especially considering the rumors about her and Anthony and after he’d seen them talking in Cannes.
“That’s why you don’t believe me,” she whispered. “All of that in your past, added to my history with Anthony, has stacked the deck against me and instantly put you on guard. In Cannes, even, you probably thought I was working for the enemy. You slept with me with all these hateful thoughts in your head. I swear, Bronson, I never even entertained thoughts of sleeping with Anthony.”
Mia turned, holding a hand over her slightly rounded stomach. She didn’t want any of this ugliness to touch her baby.
“Maybe dinner was a bad idea.” She kept her gaze down, her body facing away from him. She couldn’t look him in the eye right now. Not when she knew so much hurt was swimming in hers. “I honestly didn’t meant to hurt you, to make you relive that nightmare. But I can’t be around someone who believes everything I say is a lie.”
Bronson’s hands came up to her shoulders. “Dinner