Sutherland’s Pride by Kathryn Brocato Read Free Book Online Page B

think when I refused to listen to you?”
    Pride glanced at him. He sounded calm and reasonable, unlike the way he usually reacted when this subject came up.
    “I didn’t know what to think at first. It shocked me to realize you actually wanted to believe I had another lover.”
    Flynn’s expression didn’t change, but he looked bleak suddenly. “You thought I wanted to believe you were running around on me?”
    “What else could I think? If you had been halfway interested in proving I was a liar, you’d have had those medical tests redone by another doctor.” She reached for her wine glass, needing fortification badly. “Let’s discuss about something else, Flynn. I’m through talking about this.”
    “My parents had those tests repeated several times when I was a teenager. Dad was more interested than I was in my future ability to have children. I couldn’t see repeating them yet again.” He paused, staring at her. “It wasn’t exactly fun to keep dwelling on my personal failings.”
    Pride leaned back in her chair. “I wouldn’t call it a personal failing. As far as I’m concerned, you were potent and virile and all those other words denoting masculine achievement in fathering a child.”
    After a moment of stunned silence, Flynn burst into laughter. The pinched, gray look left his face, and warmth blazed from the penny-brown eyes. He reached across the table, holding his hand palm-up.
    “You always know the perfect thing to say to a man, don’t you? Give me your hand, sweetheart.”
    “What for?” Pride held onto her prickly attitude with both hands. Now was not the time to let Flynn into her heart again.
    “Because I want to hold it.”
    “Oh, yes?” She eyed his hand a moment. “You aren’t going to kiss it or anything revolting like that, are you?”
    “I just want to hold it a minute.”
    She glanced at her gold watch. “One minute then.”
    Flynn laughed and closed his fingers over the slim hand that settled into his. Then he met her eyes. “I don’t quite know how to say this, Pride.”
    “Then perhaps you’d better not. Thirty seconds.”
    “Your watch is fast. Look, Pride, I — ”
    “Oh, thank you, Flynn. I haven’t eaten shrimp cocktail in ages.”
    The waiter returned with appetizers, and Pride withdrew her hand when Flynn’s grip loosened. She picked up her fork and ignored his outstretched hand.
    “Pride, I’m trying to say something to you. Would you mind paying attention for a minute here?”
    “Save it for later,” Pride recommended. “I’m busy. I really appreciate this. I do love a good shrimp cocktail.”
    “You’ve never been a chatterer,” Flynn observed. “What is it you’re afraid I’m going to say to you?”
    Pride popped a large shrimp dipped in red cocktail sauce into her mouth. She had to finish it off before she could reply to his question. The task kept her from splashing the contents of her wine glass in his face.
    “I have no idea,” she said, at last. “But I’ll tell you this. If you’re about to state that now, after all I went through three years ago, you have suddenly achieved a belief in my innate honesty such that you now accept my assertions that you are the father of my child, I’ll dump this entire dish of shrimp cocktail over your head.” She dipped another shrimp in the sauce and waved it at him. “It would be a sad waste of good shrimp.”
    “Is that so?” Flynn withdrew his outstretched hand. “How about if I say I now have an open mind on the subject?”
    Pride chewed another shrimp in a thoughtful way. “I’d say you always had an open mind. Everything I said went in one ear and out the other.”
    “Now who has the open mind?” Flynn asked.
    She grinned across the table cheerfully. “An open mind is the chief characteristic of a good journalist.”
    “You aren’t going to listen to me, are you?”
    “Well, it wouldn’t be fair, would it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean far be it from me to deprive