The Dying Room by Debra Webb Page A

old.
Happier times
.
    “I thought of a few more questions I needed to ask you.” He placed the photo back on her desk. “I called you last night and then again this morning, but you didn’t call me back.”
    Her fingers squeezed into the leather of her executive desk chair. “I think I made myself clear about answering any other questions.”
    “Okay. So you’re not going to tell me the father’s name.” His gaze zeroed in on hers, his smoky gray eyes making her instantly uncomfortable in her clothes. “Did you inform him before proceeding with the adoption?”
    Tension trickled through her. “I did not. No. He made it clear he wasn’t interested in me, marriage, or in children. There was no reason to tell him. The adoption was a private one that didn’t include unnecessary questions or stipulations.”
    “Before I go any further,” he warned, somehow seeming closer, “you need to think about the legal ramifications of what you did back then.”
    Anger ignited inside her. “Of what I did back then?” She jammed the chair against her desk and stalked around to the other side to confront him face-to-face. “Do you have any idea how difficult it was for me to come to you with this?”
    He held her furious gaze without flinching. “I have a pretty damned good idea.”
    “Then why are you determined to make me regret my decision?” For years she had pretended
it
never happened. She had blocked the memories of her rounded belly and of the fierce pains of childbirth. And the cries... the sound of her daughter’s first cries still echoed through her from time to time. She had blocked those memories just as she had any happy moments from her ten-year, ill-fated marriage. Sylvia Baron was an expert at burying feelings... at hiding the hurt.
    His hands were on her arms and pulling her close before she could bat them away. “I never want you to regret anything you share with me.”
    If he hadn’t murmured the words so tenderly... so honestly she might have been able to stay angry and push him away but he had and she could do nothing except lean into him.
    “You did what you had to do,” he whispered against her hair, those strong arms holding her so tight. “No one can fault you for that. I’m just not sure you’re seeing past your emotions.”
    Sylvia grappled for her composure. She drew back from him, his touch falling away, leaving her feeling cold and empty. “This was not a snap decision. I’ve struggled with it for months.”
    “Everything about your life will change. The father could cause trouble for you personally and to your professional reputation. Before I go beyond the point of no return, I need to be certain this is what you really want.”
    Drawing in a deep breath, Sylvia steeled herself. “This is what I want. I’m prepared for meeting any legal challenges that may arise. If you choose not to take my case I would appreciate a recommendation for another investigator you feel is trustworthy and reliable.” There. She’d said it. There was no turning back. This was the right thing to do. This was what she wanted to do. No question.
    “Have you talked to your parents?” He stood firm with his questioning. “This affects them as well.”
    Sylvia folded her arms over her chest. He was not changing her mind. “I have not told another living soul except you.” She searched his face. If she didn’t know better she would think he was the one having trouble with moving forward. “Are you not up to the challenge of getting the job done?”
    He hesitated and another burst of fury flamed through her. “Are you operating under the delusion that our one-night stand somehow gives you some stake in my wellbeing? Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Corlew. We had sex. Granted it was good sex—”
    “Great,” he corrected. “We had
great
sex.”
     She rolled her eyes. “I’ve had great sex with my vibrator. That doesn’t mean I plan to start consulting it regarding difficult decisions.”
    He