An Act of Persuasion

chapterR FIFTEEN



“NICE OFFICE,” MARK COMMENTED as he sat in Ben’s guest chair. “But why here and not in the heart of the city where all the action is?”

“I don’t need the flash of Center City. This is a nice, growing community and it serves its purpose.”

Right, Mark thought. Ben was always about efficiency. He’d never had much use for the extras. That included small talk.

“So I’ll get right down to it. Anna told me that she gave you her birth certificate.”

“She did. I’m glad you brought that up. I know I asked this of you before, but now I’m being serious when I say I would like you to stop your investigation. She’s trusted me with the task. I’ll take it from here. There is no point for you to waste your time.”

Mark should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. He’d already told Ben he had no plans to back off, but that had been before Anna brought Ben into the investigation. She, too, probably would prefer that Mark drop the matter and let Ben handle it. There was no doubt the man was completely capable of finding out whatever Mark would find out.

Sitting in this office, he felt a little silly now. He’d actually come here to offer a wager. It’s why he hadn’t wanted to discuss it in front of Anna when he saw her at the furniture store. Seemed a little insensitive to use the woman’s past as a challenge between him and Ben.

Only it had been months since he’d felt anything remotely challenging work-wise. Even the cases he took on seemed like no-brainers to him. He’d been polite when the officers had thanked him for his uncanny work in identifying clues and bringing new eyes to the case, but the truth was he thought whoever had worked those cases to begin with must have been fairly incompetent—or at best, overworked and under-observant.

No, the only real challenge Mark had faced since returning to the states was trying to win the affection of a teenager who hated his guts. So that wasn’t proving to be very satisfying. Since nothing got his juices going like matching wits with Ben, Mark thought he might use Anna’s situation for his own purposes. His conscience was appeased as long as Anna got the information she wanted. He figured no harm, no foul and a win-win for both of them.

Only Ben wanted him off the case. And, Mark realized, he felt like a jerk. “I haven’t changed my mind on this.”

“Look, Sharpe, it’s pointless to have us both looking into the matter. I’m the more obvious choice to do so—”

“You are?”

“I’m her... We’re going to be... What I mean is—”

“As far as I can see you’re still only her baby daddy and nothing else,” Mark said. “She gave the case to me first.”

“You have a business to run. You should be taking cases that pay.”

“I can do both. Besides, you know how I feel about Anna.” Mark watched a muscle in Ben’s jaw tick and he took an inappropriate amount of pleasure from it. After all, needling Ben was almost as fun as competing against him.

“No. Tell me. Exactly how do you feel about my Anna?”

Mark flashed the older man a smile. “She’s my friend. My only friend in the states really. And because, for some reason, she seems to like you, I won’t upset her by letting her know you referred to her as my Anna. I mean, really. Dude, it’s the twenty-first century.”

“If you won’t back off, then why did you come here today?”

“I thought we could... Well, it seems kind of stupid now.” Mark shrugged. “I thought maybe we could bet.”

“Bet? On what?”

“First man to find Anna’s parents.”

Ben actually laughed but it wasn’t a very funny sound. “You are unbelievable, Sharpe. You’re that desperate to prove you’re the better spy that you think we could race against each other to uncover Anna’s past?”

Was that what Mark was doing? Was he trying to prove something to himself? To Sophie?

“Look, it was a bad idea. I just thought— I need something. Something I can...win.”

“Still not getting along with your daughter?”

“You met her. You heard her.”

“She’s a teenager.” Ben offered the words as if they were explanation enough.

“She is and she isn’t.”

Mark thought about the performance he’d attended a few nights ago. The mayor of Philadelphia had hosted a fund-raiser and had asked Sophie to perform along with a few singers and dancers. Mark had insisted on accompanying her as a way to better understand the life she was living.

He had sat with Marie backstage and watched as, once again, Sophie did something to the piano he’d never seen another performer do. She didn’t play the instrument. She brought it to life. She didn’t make music. She told amazing, complex and wonderful stories.

When it was over, she’d graciously greeted the mayor and many of his guests. Answering the questions about her gift, her age and how she kept up with her schooling and her plans for the future. She behaved like...a professional.

A grown-up woman in a girl’s body. When he’d driven them home, he’d tried to pay her compliments to that effect. It seemed ridiculous to say, since he’d had nothing to do with raising her, but he’d been proud of her. Not only her talent, but her poise, as well.

She hadn’t responded to any of his comments and Mark was starting to feel as if he would never get through to her.

“I heard her play once,” Ben said now. “She has a spectacular gift. You didn’t say anything about that when you mentioned you came back for her.”

“I’m still coming to grips with simply being a father, let alone the whole prodigy thing.”

“You understand you need to give it time. A father-daughter relationship can’t happen instantly. At least, I would imagine that it can’t. I might have better advice for you if the baby is a girl.”

Mark nodded. It didn’t matter that Ben didn’t have a child yet, his advice made sense. Of course Mark needed to give it time. That’s what he was doing. Inch by inch. He accepted every invitation the Warrens offered for dinner or lunch. He took every opportunity to be with Sophie alone when her grandparents didn’t give her a choice to refuse his company.

He tried to be funny, he tried to be open-minded. He tried to be a cool dad. What teenager didn’t want the cool dad?

His apparently.

“Of course, if you push her too fast, it will only make her dig her heels in harder.”

Mark listened to the words he’d said to Ben only a few weeks ago and knew Ben repeated them intentionally. “You think you’re being funny, don’t you?”

“I’m not attempting to be humorous...although I won’t lie and say it didn’t feel damn good to give you some of your own medicine. Because while you weren’t wrong, now you know how I felt.” Ben seemed to lose the icelike facade he’d always maintained around Mark. It was as if he acknowledged their common bond. And they were finally talking to each other, man-to-man. “Patience used to be our strong point, you know.”

“Tell me about it. I could sit for hours in an unventilated room with temperatures outside spiking over a hundred degrees and simply watch a window across an alleyway on the off chance someone would show up for a meeting. Now I feel like I can’t stand being in my own skin for five minutes at a time. When I’m with Sophie I have this ridiculous urge to pick her up and start running without having any idea where we’re going. God, I can’t believe I said that out loud.”

And that he’d told Ben, of all people, how crazy he was feeling was the total kicker. Mark could only imagine how uncomfortable his former superior was right now with what had been a healthy dump of too much information.

Except when Mark looked at him, Ben didn’t look uncomfortable. Instead he looked...sympathetic.

“Yes. That’s exactly what I want to do most days with Anna. It’s...unnerving. Unfortunately, we find ourselves with two people who wouldn’t particularly appreciate that experience.”

Mark could see that, maybe for the first time, Ben understood what drove Mark to compete with him. They were more alike than they were different.

“It was ridiculous to use Anna’s past as some kind of wager between us.”

“It was.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“No. You weren’t trying to be insensitive. You’re simply having trouble adjusting to civilian life. And the reason why you’re making this adjustment doesn’t seem to be giving you a break.”

“A break? Try not a crack. She hasn’t given a smile or word freely. I don’t know what the hell to do because I don’t think she understands that this is about more than only letting me into her life. This is about us making a life together.”

“What are you saying? You want that room you’re making for her in your home to be permanent?”

Mark could hear the surprise in Ben’s voice. Because it was one thing to have a relationship with his daughter. It was a completely different thing to want to finish raising her. Did he want that? Had Dom and Marie been fifteen years younger and in better health, would he have been okay with letting Sophie stay with them while he continued to watch her life from the sidelines? He’d like to think he wouldn’t have. He’d like to think that no matter what, now that Helen was gone, it was time for Sophie to be with him.

“She might not have a choice. You haven’t met her grandparents. They’re in their seventies and not in very good health. I might be the best option for Sophie at this point.”

“Then you’ll figure it out. If you want it to work as badly as I can see you do, then you’ll make it happen. You’re not a quitter and I’ve yet to see you not get what you want.”

“Thanks.” That meant a lot coming from Ben.

“Will you back off Anna’s case and let me handle tracking down her parents?”

Mark could have accepted what Ben had said earlier. It didn’t make sense for both of them to look for the same thing. He had no doubt both of them would find whatever information was out there to learn. They were too good at what they’d done in their former lives to not be able to handle a basic request for information, even with an obstacle like false names.

But something in Ben’s expression made Mark pause. Despite playing it cool, Ben wanted him to back off. Badly. This was more than suggesting Mark would be wasting his time by doubling Ben’s efforts.

“Will you tell me the real reason why you want me to back off?”

Ben tilted his head. “No.”

Wrong answer. It meant Ben had an agenda and, for Anna’s sake, Mark couldn’t live with whatever consequences came from that agenda. At least he could provide Anna with some neutrality. For everything she’d done for him, he felt as though he owed her the simple courtesy of finding her parents.

“Sorry. I made a promise to her. She asked me to find them. I’m going to find them.”

“You won’t. Not before I do.”

“I’ve had the birth certificate for weeks longer than you’ve had it. What makes you think you’ll beat me to the information?”

“A hunch.” Ben shrugged.

“Okay, well, we said no bet. But I don’t see anything wrong with using your little statement there as...motivation.”

“You’re pathetic, Sharpe.”

“Don’t I know it?”

Mark left the office feeling lighter than when he’d gone in. For a few moments there, it had felt as though Ben were a friend. There simply to listen and let Mark get some of the shit he was feeling about his relationship with this daughter off his chest.

Two old adversaries who could see how their lives had changed and take comfort from each other in knowing that neither would forget the past. Maybe Anna wasn’t his only friend in the states after all.

* * *

“CAREFUL, CAREFUL.”

“Lady, we got it.”

Anna stared down the mover and he stared back hard. Considering he was holding up one half of her dining-room cabinet, she let him win. “Sorry. I’m a little anal about this stuff.”

“Really,” he muttered. “Couldn’t tell.”

Deciding it best to avoid the surly moving man who was sweating through his blue uniform shirt, Anna left the dining room and made her way to the living room where Ben was carefully measuring the wall.

“Geezus, Tyler, pick a spot in the middle and hang it up.”

Ben turned to give Mark a scorching glare. “To be properly centered I need the length of the wall.”

Mark walked over and put his finger on a spot. “Trust me. That’s the middle of the wall. I’m a crack shot and have an excellent sense of topography. I know where the middle is.”

Ben continued his measurements. “If you would like to be useful, I’m sure there are other pictures that need to be hung.”

“There are. Upstairs in her room. But, nut job that you are, you won’t let me in her bedroom.”

“There is no reason for an employer to be in his employee’s bedroom. Yes, while I concede that I am, in fact, calling the kettle black, it doesn’t change that I’m right. You stay downstairs and out of my way.”

Mark turned toward her. “Anna, will you talk to him?”

Anna smiled and watched as Ben finally tapped in the nail to hang her favorite painting. It was a print, not an original, but it was signed and numbered and she considered it her first big art purchase. A man and a woman in formal dress dancing on the beach. Very romantic.

Funny, for all the times she’d ever looked at it, she never once thought of her and Ben in the scene. She didn’t see him taking off his shoes and socks and rolling up his trousers to spin her around on the beach. He was far too practical.

But it never bothered her, his lack of whimsy. She loved his stability instead. Maybe that was why she liked the picture so much. Knowing it was a fantasy and nothing more. She would much rather have the man with the leveler and tape measure in his hand than some flaky guy on a beach without his shoes any day.

“It’s perfect,” she said as she approached them.

For the first time as she stood next to him and admired his precision, she wrapped her arm around his waist. She could feel him startle and his muscles tighten, but she didn’t let go.

Last week following the furniture shopping, she thought she was ready for sex. But after that moment at her door had passed, she hadn’t followed up on initiating the sex. Anna had assumed Ben would press again and when he did, she was prepared to give in. Perhaps it was silly, but she thought it was important that he initiate it when they did finally have sex again. That way there would be no confusing what was happening between them.

They would both know that he was openly acknowledging he wanted her. Even though he’d said as much to her over these past weeks, his deeds were what counted.

Only, after days went by and there was no move on his part did she start to understand something she’d never realized before. Ben needed something from her, too. He needed to know, maybe as much as she did, that she wanted him, also.

It wasn’t like her to make the first physical gesture. To take his hand first, or kiss him without any prompting. But she was coming to understand that if they ever were going to make it to that next step, she needed to show him how she felt.

He glanced at her and the look on his face was hard to read. Eventually, he relaxed, too, and circled his arm around her, pulling her closer. She leaned her head against his shoulder and she tried to imagine them as a painting. A man with a leveler and a pregnant woman staring at a fantasy that would never be them.

She liked it.

“Hey, lady, we’re done.”

The loud shout from the foyer broke them apart. Anna did a final walk-through with the movers then signed all the necessary paperwork. She had the check ready and a tip in a separate envelope for each of the men, thanking them for all the heavy lifting. Between what had already been delivered by the furniture stores and her personal effects, the house finally felt complete.

She was home. Her home, with her colors and her taste and her stuff and no one could ever make her leave it.

Ben had done this. He’d given this to her. Not a possession, or a property but, instead, a lifetime of security.

She could feel the tears coming and tried some shallow breaths to stop them.

“Oh, no. Here she goes,” Ben muttered to Mark. “Turns out she’s a pregnant crier.”

In retaliation Anna offered him a discreet view of a particular finger centered on her hand.

Mark chuckled. “There are worse things. See you two later. I’m having dinner with Sophie and her grandparents.”

“Good luck.”

“I’ll need it. Last time I had dinner with them I got her to speak five words. But only two of those were together. This time I’m going for a record-breaking ten. Maybe even a full sentence.”

Anna wiped her eyes as Mark left and suddenly the house, which had been a beehive of activity all day, was still.

“I can’t believe it’s done,” she said, joining Ben once more in the living room. “I can’t believe I’m here.”

“You’ve spent the past few weeks doing nothing but getting ready for this day. I imagine you’re allowed a sniffle or two.”

“You’re so generous. Want a final tour?”

“Of course.”

She held out her hand and he took it, giving hers a gentle squeeze. She walked him through each room and talked about the colors she’d chosen and what she was trying to accomplish with the furniture. All her dishes and knickknacks were still in boxes, but she had everything labeled and waiting in the appropriate room to be unpacked. It shouldn’t take her more than a day to have all that work done.

She led him upstairs and took him to the nursery first. She hadn’t yet decided on a crib, but she had found a soft rocking chair that looked like it had been swallowed in pretty soft green pillows.

Sitting in the chair she rubbed her belly as she pushed her foot against the floor. “I mean I know all those old-fashioned rocking chairs look great, but let’s face it, they’re not very comfortable. If I’m dealing with the fact that this kid will wake me up in the middle of the night, I should at least be comfortable while I’m feeding it, right?”

Ben nodded. “Sounds like a reasonable theory.”

“I’m having a mural artist come paint a scene. All the catalogs I’ve looked at show the nursery with fluffy clouds on the ceiling. I’m not sure why the kid wants to think its outside, but whatever. Since I can’t draw a stick figure, I’m leaving it up to the professional. I think we’ll do a blue sky with clouds and then maybe some cartoon animals.”

“I’ve always been partial to Bambi.”

“Then when that’s done, I’ll get serious about the furniture. I joined this online new-mommy group and I can’t tell you how much stuff this kid is going to need. Forget the crib, there are, like, a hundred other pieces of equipment it will require, not the least of which is something called a Diaper Genie. You don’t even want to know what that’s all about.”

She knew she was rambling, but he didn’t seem to mind. He simply leaned against the door with his arms crossed over his chest taking in everything she said.

“We’ll need two car seats. Everyone says that’s the most practical. To leave one in each of our cars so we’re not always swapping one out. Then there are the carriers—the backpack kind and the newborn baby kind. I don’t necessarily see you wearing one of those sling things, but you could probably make it work. Then there’s all the bags I’ll need to hold all the stuff to cart this kid from point A to point B.”

“Anna, you’re going to be a good mom.”

She looked at him. She could see in his expression that he heard the fear in her voice. “How do you know?”

“You’re one of the most caring people I know. Sometimes you put on a front and act tough, but I know deep down there is soft goo under the act. It’s why you used to scare me so much, I think.”

“I scared you?”

“Yep. You were this chaotic mess of light and softness. Sometimes I used to worry if I touched you, I might break you. But then I found out you’re strong, too. Lord knows you could always put me in my place. So strong, in spite of all the soft goo I know fills up your heart. You’ll love this baby and that will make you like a lot of other moms. But you’ll protect this baby with ferocity and that is what will make you a great mom.”

She smiled and tried to let what he said fill her up so she could really believe it. Because she desperately wanted to. “Every once in a while you say really nice things.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think, though, that I’m probably going to be scared until the kid gets here and I can prove to myself I’m nothing like my mother. I mean, what if she was like me in the beginning? Buying stuff and painting rooms, looking forward to meeting me and curious about how I’d be. But then when I was born it all changed.”

Ben looked at his shoes a moment then met her gaze. “You’ve talked about some memories. Ones that weren’t bad. Like the damp cloth on the back of your neck. So she must have cared for you.”

“Yeah, but watching over me when I was sick sort of gets canceled out by the fact she left me. Why did she do that?”

Anna rubbed her hands on the mound that was her stomach. It baffled her—she didn’t even know this kid’s name yet and already the idea of being separated from it was like tearing off a limb.

“Anna—”

“No, I don’t want to talk about that. Or her. This is my first night in my new home. My forever home. I want it to be a happy one. I want to remember it, always, as the best night ever.”

“I think I can handle happy. For you, I’m guessing that means pizza with mushrooms and anchovies—which continues to boggle my imagination—and a quart of some type of ice cream you will name at the very last minute.”

Anna’s stomach rumbled at the mention of pizza. It had been maybe only an hour since she snuck in a peanut butter and banana sandwich, but suddenly she found herself craving something she couldn’t name.

“Then we can segue from pizza into a movie. Something sappy that will have you in tears, which you will insist are happy tears, whatever the hell those are.”

No, she didn’t want a movie or pizza or ice cream. Suddenly Anna realized the thing she was ravenous for was him. It was as though a rolling wave of desire slammed on top of her, filtering down from her head to her knees to her toes.

She wanted him.

This wasn’t about trying to make them work as a couple. This wasn’t a relationship experiment. This wasn’t some random moment of weakness that they would try to brush under the rug after it happened. It was her, Anna Summers, wanting a man in her bed, wanting to get sweaty and hot with him. Wanting him to touch her. Claim her.

She scared him. He’d told her so. It was the most romantic thing he could have said because simply knowing that she had the power to make big, bad Ben Tyler afraid made her own fear less powerful. Less controlling.

“I don’t want the pizza or the ice cream or the movie. Well, maybe the ice cream, but later.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I want something else entirely. I want you.”

Ben smiled and offered her a hand to help her out of the rocking pillow. She accepted it and let him pull her close until her arms were circling his waist and her round belly was pushing against his.

“Yeah, I sort of figured that out.”

“You did, huh?”

“You’re looking at me like I’m the ice cream.”

“That’s funny because I do have the word lick on my mind.”

She felt a vibration flow through his body. “Anna, don’t tease me. I’m on a very short trigger.”

“No teasing. I want this. I’m ready for it. Really ready this time.”

He frowned. “You sound like you’re bracing yourself for a dentist visit.”

She rubbed his chest in a soothing gesture. “No, I’m excited. Nervous, but excited.”

“You know, we have done this before.”

“That night was a Dali painting. This will be real. I want it to be different.”

“I thought we did pretty okay last time.”

She shook her head, knowing she has having trouble explaining herself. “Last time everything seemed to happen—like it was happening to us. We weren’t thinking. Not really. We were going through the motions without really being aware of one another.”

He lifted her chin so she could see the truth in his eyes. “You’re wrong. There wasn’t one second I didn’t know who was in my arms, Anna. You were always there. I just didn’t handle the after part correctly.”

“To be exact, you fell asleep after,” she teased, trying to lighten the intensity she felt from him.

“And I imagine I will do so again. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll call out your name several times during the act so you’ll know I know who I’m screwing. Now let’s go.”

“Yes, sir!”