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He was trying to do better.

Tick dumped his laptop on his desk and dropped his bag on the floor. He’d pushed hard to get back, intending to take Caitlin to lunch, but a stop in Beaumont had turned into a conversation about intel and he’d be lucky to catch her before she left to pick up the girls for ice cream Friday, a tradition stretching back to Eleanor’s toddlerhood.

He dragged a hand over his jaw. With plenty of time in the car to think, he’d parsed out the work problem — a large part of him still thought and worked like a field agent, wanting to be in the middle of everything, and that was too much. He’d have to be more centralized in the office, prioritize the travel . . .

Hell, he needed to prioritize his wife. He needed to treat her like what she was — the most important facet of his life.

Phone in hand, he strode down the hall and cut through the bullpen to Caitlin’s office. Brow wrinkled in concentration, she scratched a note in the margin of a report, and he leaned a shoulder on the jamb, content merely to watch her a moment, to soak in the curve of her cheek, the flick of her lashes, the stray lock of hair lying dark against her ivory blouse.

“You should let me take you to dinner tonight.”

At his voice, a smile stretched her full bottom lip, although her eyes were a little shuttered when she looked at him. “Hmmm, Eva would be distraught.”

“Eva has known since she was three that the time I spend with you is important.” He ignored her arched brow. Yeah, definitely time to make this right. “I’ll see her this afternoon and take them for breakfast in the morning.”

“They have a Saturday practice.” The hint of tension twinged in her tone. He ignored that as well. He was in the wrong and she’d been understanding, but still . . . and from experience, the best way to move them forward involved showing her he meant what he said.

“I’ll take them to eat, then drop them off and hang out while they practice.” In previous years, he’d helped coach once winter basketball started, but not this year, not while he was still getting his feet under him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and swiped to unlock it. “I’ll get the girls covered tonight and make us a reservation.”

“All right.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “We need to talk.”

His phone open to his email app — because, damn it, his email ran his life most days — he shot a sidelong look at her. All men knew that phrase of death, himself included. “Seriously, Falconetti?”

“Yes, Calvert, seriously.”

He froze, staring at the email from his urologist, the results from his five-year vasectomy check. Swallowing hard, he lifted his gaze to Caitlin’s. “My test wasn’t negative.”

She tilted her chin. “Oddly enough, neither was mine.”

“What?” The reality took a couple of moments to hit. He stared at her, his pulse thudding hard in his chest. “You’re pregnant?”

A smile flirted with her lips. “I did say we needed to talk.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, still trying to pull his thoughts into line, even as a small thrill of joy ran through him.

Because his dumbassery aside, she was his and he was hers and nestled in her womb lay the child they’d created.

The rest would come together.

Chapter Nine

All At Once

She still took his breath, made him feel tied up in the best of knots, and he leaned on the island, smiling at the sheer gorgeous wonder of her.

“You look great.” No statement blouse tonight, so he wasn’t as close to Zeb’s house as he feared. She’d topped an ivory silk camisole with a cashmere cardigan, dark slacks skimming long legs, and sweet Lord, those shoes.

“So do you.” An impish smile wrinkled her nose. “But I need you to take your suit coat off.”

Frowning, he tilted his head in inquiry. “Why?”

“So I can watch you put it on.” Her smile widened, affection and desire sparkling in her eyes, and he relaxed. If she was flirting with him, he hadn’t screwed up at an unsalvageable level.

Holding her gaze, he stripped off his jacket, and a soft laugh fell from her lips, sparking his own chuckle. She liked to watch him take off his coat as much as she liked seeing him shrug into it, and they both knew it.

Sure enough, color flared along those high cheekbones when he eased the coat back on with a long, slow roll of his shoulders, and he laughed aloud, reaching for her.

“Come here.” Snagging her wrist, he tugged her close so he could wrap both arms about her. The subtle spice clinging to her hair and skin filled his next breath. His whole body reacted to having her near, stress and strain seeping from his muscles, a low tug of arousal below his belt. He skated his lips along her cheekbone to murmur near her ear. “I’m working at doing better.”