EXPECTING HIS CHILD (9 page)

Martina appeared at his bedroom door with lemonade and more painkillers. He shook his head. The painkillers might fool him into thinking his ribs didn't hurt, but the inactivity they induced wasn't worth it.

"I'm not taking any more," he said, rising from the bed.

Martina gaped at him. "But—"

"But nothing. I'm not taking any more of those pills during the day." He bent down to pull on his boots and bit back a grimace.

"Wait a minute," she said. "I can help you—"

"I can put on my own boots," he told her.

"Cabin fever?" she asked with far more sympathy than he deserved at the moment.

He scowled, brushed past her and stomped down the stairs.
Squinting
his eyes against the late-afternoon sun, he headed for the horse barn. He'd almost broken a sweat by the time he reached it, and he swore under his breath at how his body wasn't performing. Accustomed to pushing himself physically and mentally, he had little patience for sluggishness.

He broke the doctor's rule about lifting his arms and saddled his black horse, Thunder. Riding, he knew, would clear his muddy head. He guided the horse out of the barn and mounted him, liking the feel of his feet in the stirrups and the leather reins in his hands. Something inside him eased at the familiar sensation of horseflesh beneath him, and he took off in a trot that quickly turned into a gallop.

He was still sore from the automobile accident, and it occurred to him that he could have used a few spark plugs for this ride. But the wind in his face erased the comatose feeling he'd been fighting.

Riding toward the south pasture, he slowed when he caught sight of cattle. He rode a little farther until he saw the stream that joined Coltrane property with
Logan
property. The water represented one of the ongoing sources of conflict between Noah's family and Martina's. Their child, he feared, could be the greatest source of conflict the two families had ever experienced.

Not if he could stop it, he thought, determination coursing through him. He swung off his horse and looped the reins over a tree, then strolled toward the stream. He gazed at the
Logan
land on the other side. The grass had always looked greener, the cows fatter, and everything in general had appeared easier for the
Logans
.

He thought about Martina and what a powerful mix of woman she was, strong, beautiful,
vulnerable
. She didn't know the impact she'd had on him from the moment he'd looked into her eyes. He wouldn't call it love, because he'd long ago decided a man shouldn't place his bets on romantic love. His passion had been improving his family's situation.

Although he wouldn't deny his passion for Martina, he didn't want his emotions to get in the way of persuading her to marry him. It was right for them to be together. He knew it in his gut and in his bones. He knew he wanted her more than he should. The idea of losing her made him break into a cold sweat. She was the woman who carried his child, the woman who filled his mind with dreams and tested his mind's ability to rule his heart.

Remembering how his life had been without her, he felt his gut clench and he scowled. She was too important for him to let his emotions get out of control. She kept him on his toes, yet made everything inside him click. Later, after they had married, maybe he would be able to trust her enough to let go a little. But not now, he thought. Too much was at stake.

* * *

Martina glanced past her laptop computer screen out the window, searching for Noah. She shouldn't care. She certainly shouldn't worry. "He's a grown man," she muttered. "He can take care of himself."

"He'll come home twice as sore as he was when he left, but three times happier," a male voice said from behind her.

Martina turned and saw Jonathan in her open doorway. The brothers had been scarce around her, almost as if they were afraid of her. Martina knew that couldn't be true. "This is one of those self-destructive patterns men sometimes exhibit?" she asked.

Jonathan nodded, remaining in the doorway. "Yeah, but it's also a survival thing. Get out or go crazy."

Martina slid her glance toward the window once more, then back to Jonathan. "You can come in. Despite the stories I'm sure
you've been told, I don't bite
."

"I don't think I heard anything about biting," Jonathan said in a noncommittal tone, his mouth twitching as he slowly entered the room. She noticed his slight limp again and wondered what had caused it.

"What did you hear?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Something about a pregnant porcupine."

Martina chuckled. "Well, that would be true. This pregnancy has definitely brought out my quills."

"What are you going to do with my brother?"

Martina blinked at the directness of his gaze and his question. It was the same kind of question she might have expected one of her own brothers to direct at Noah. "I'm not sure. I didn't plan to get pregnant, so I never planned anything permanent with Noah." A subconscious delusional dream perhaps, but she'd never planned.

"He's not a bad guy. Well educated, he's the only one of us to get a master's degree. Of course, everything he got, he got with scholarships. He's smart, honorable and he would protect you with his life."

Yes, but would he love me with all his heart?
Martina's heart squeezed at the same time that she was touched by Jonathan's comments. "Are you his PR man?"

"He doesn't need one," Jonathan said. "Sometimes people get themselves in situations where they don't see straight."

"Are you suggesting that I can't see straight?"

"I'm suggesting that you're in a situation where it might be hard for you to see Noah clearly."

She took a careful breath. "I know he's a good man. He's probably a wonderful man, but your family and my family…" She lifted her shoulders.

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. Bad music between the
Logans
and
Coltranes
for a long time. Of course,
us
Coltranes
have been fighting our bad rep since we were born. That black-sheep stuff gets old when all you want to do is ask a girl to dance, let alone try to court her. Gideon says we're all going to have to import brides like they did in the Old West," Jonathan said. "Gideon has a great imagination. We were able to send him to college, and he has a decent head for business, but we're beginning to think he majored in girls and frat parties."

"Why didn't you go to college?" Martina asked.

"I did the rodeo." He cocked his head to one side. "That's how I got the limp. Adam would give his eye teeth for a degree. He's always reading. We call him Abe Lincoln when he's not around."

This was the first extended conversation Martina had ever had with any of the Coltrane brothers, and she found herself hungry for more information. "Why doesn't Adam get his degree?"

"He can't leave the ranch. He's the cattle expert."

"But he doesn't have to leave. He could earn a degree on-line." Martina pointed to her computer.

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "Is that so?" He walked closer to her. "We had this foreman who taught all of us how to fence," he said.

"Zachary," Martina said.

Surprise shot through his eyes. "Yeah. He kept us from ending up in jail, and he was always telling us that we should never stop learning."

"And how do you keep learning?"

He looked self-conscious. "I like music. I listen to classical stuff a lot."

"Do you play piano or…?"

"I never had lessons."

"Me, neither. My mother played and taught both my brothers, but she died when I was born, and my father didn't want anyone touching the piano after she was gone." Martina stopped, surprised at how easy it was to reveal something so personal to a stranger. A Coltrane, at that.

He looked at her with a hint of understanding in his eyes,
then
shook his head. "We always thought the
Logans
had it perfect, but I guess everybody has their problems." He glanced beyond her out the window. "Here he comes. He's gonna feel like a piece of tobacco that's been chewed and spit out."

Martina looked out the window, spotting Noah walk, with a slight limp, toward the house.

"He's a good man, Martina. You could do worse for your baby."

Her heart tightened. "I know, but there's more to it than the fact that he's a good man."

"The
Coltranes
and
Logans
have been making bad music for a long time. Maybe it's time to change the tune."

Martina remained silent and torn. Even if they could put all the bad blood between their families in the past, Martina wasn't sure she could spend the rest of her life trying to make another man love her.

Chapter 9

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"
I
need you to stay," Noah said the following night just as Martina started to leave his bedroom.

She turned back to face him, wishing for the hundredth time that he would wear a shirt so her gaze wouldn't wander to his broad shoulders and muscular chest. She was never unaware of the physical power of his masculinity. She was beginning to feel as if she was fighting a landslide by fighting her involvement with Noah. How could she remain close to him and continue to tell herself she didn't want him, mind, body and heart?

Keeping her gaze above his throat didn't help, she thought. His eyes did things to her. They always had. "Why?" she asked, trying to keep the edginess from her voice.

A wave of self-consciousness flashed across his face. It was so rare an expression for him she almost didn't catch it.

"I need to read," he said.

Puzzled, she frowned. "Is this a late aftereffect of your concussion? Do you need me to read to you?"

"No. I need to read," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, "and you need to be in the room. Close by."

Still confused, she walked closer. "Okay. Where should I sit?"

"The bed's fine," he said.

Martina glanced at him sideways.

"This isn't a seduction," he said. "It sounds a little hokey, but Adam read this article about how reading to babies while they're in the womb increases their intelligence."

Amused, but mostly touched, Martina sat on his bed. "You want to read to the baby."

He shrugged and nodded. "Yeah."

Her heart contracted. "Okay. What did you have in mind? Not stock reports."

He chuckled darkly. "No. Adam suggested
War and Peace
, but I told him that might be kinda heavy for a baby."

"So what did you choose?"

He picked up a book from the nightstand. "
The Hobbit
," he said. "I figure between the two of us this child will get plenty of adventure genes, so we might as well let her get started."

And so Noah sat next to her on his big bed and began to read the wondrous story of how boring, respectable and comfortable Bilbo Baggins got suckered into a wild and dangerous adventure.

And with each passing word of his baritone voice, Martina fell for him a little more. Noah had lied when he'd said this wasn't a seduction. It was a seduction of the most secret places in her heart. Although she'd occasionally badgered her brothers into reading to her when she was a child, her father had never read to her. She would have given up ice cream for a year just to have her father read the sports section of the newspaper to her.

When Noah finished the first chapter, he put the book back on the nightstand and gazed at her in an assessing way. "You're very quiet."

"I was listening."
And feeling too much. Wanting too much
.

"You're thinking I'm crazy."

No, I'm thinking I am crazy
. "Not at all," she said. "Did your father read to you?"

"Never," Noah said. "I will be a better father than my father was."

She watched him rub the back of his neck and could tell he was tired. "Why don't you get ready for bed and let me rub your neck for you?"

Surprise and near refusal chased quiet curiosity across his face. "Okay," he finally said. "Give me a couple of minutes."

He washed up in the bathroom and returned wearing briefs and nothing else. Martina suspected he'd kept on the briefs in deference to her, but they hid little. The air grew thick as she breathed. "I'll sit behind you since you can't lie down," she offered, and moved farther back on the bed to make room for him.

He sat down and she tentatively lifted her fingers to his corded neck. She kneaded the tight muscles and massaged his shoulders. His tension showed in the knots she rubbed.

Noah made a rough sound of appreciation. "I don't remember you being such a good masseuse."

"We didn't have a lot of time," she said, "for taking time."

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "That was wrong."

Her heart tripped over itself. "You're tired. You should go to sleep."

"You should stay with me tonight," he murmured.

"Maybe I will." The words popped out of her mouth, but originated in her heart.

She felt him stop breathing. He turned carefully and eased back against the pillows propped in front of the headboard. He chuckled and covered a wide yawn. "You would pick a night when I can barely keep my eyes open."

Martina smiled to cover her nerves. "I'm ornery that way."

He held out his arm. "Then be ornery next to me."

She moved to his side and reached to turn out the light. A suspended awareness seemed to swell in the very air around her. In the darkness, she lightly pressed her cheek to Noah's chest and felt the beating of his heart. She pulled back slightly and he stopped her by curling his hand over her cheek.

"Stay," he muttered.

"I can't lean on your ribs. I might hurt you." She entwined her fingers through his and slowly lowered her cheek to a pillow. "Go to sleep," she whispered.

Too tense, too aware of him to relax, Martina lay stiffly beside him absorbing the rhythm of his breaths and the sensation of his strong hand in hers. A score of emotions tugged at her – anxiety, tenderness, desire,
uneasiness
. But through them all, she had the odd sense that she was where she was supposed to be. Her mind and her brothers and the rest of the world could argue with her until sunrise, but Martina felt she was where she belonged.

If only until sunrise.

Hours later, she awakened to the sensation of Noah's hands on her bare belly. "What?"

"It's okay," he said, his voice both sensual and reassuring. "It's just me."

Just me,
Martina thought. When had Noah ever been
just anything?

"I keep having this dream where I'm touching your belly and the baby is moving." He brushed his finger over her lips. "And you're kissing me."

Martina licked her lips, her tongue glancing over his finger. His eyes lit like twin fires, and he slid his finger into her mouth. The small sensual invasion kicked the doors off her denial of the past months. This man could make her want like no other. She suckled gently on his finger and he groaned,
then
urged her onto his lap.

Lifting her shirt, he splayed his hands over her bare belly and held her with his gaze. "Kiss me."

His words were a combination order and plea she couldn't refuse. Martina slowly leaned forward and rubbed her mouth against his. He darted his tongue over her lips and inside, tasting her, taking her. His warmth and passion moved over her like a wave of heat on a hot Texas afternoon. Her heart pounded against her rib cage and her body temperature soared. She touched his chest and felt his heart pound against her palm. Could he really want her so much?

Noah pulled her shirt upward, stopping at her neck as if he was loath to pull his mouth from hers. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away slightly and tugged the shirt over her head. He gazed at her bare torso and pushed her panties low on her belly. "Oh, Martina, you have no idea what seeing you like this does to me." He shifted and lifted his dark, frankly sexual gaze to hers. "But you will. Up on your knees darlin'," he told her.

Martina complied. "Why?"

"Closer," he said, wrapping his large hands around her bottom and bringing her belly directly in front of his face.

Then he ran his hands all over her abdomen and followed with his mouth. His mouth on her ripe midsection was the most erotic sight of her life. She felt herself turn to liquid in all her secret places.

As he rubbed his cheek against her stomach, he lifted his hands and unfastened her bra. He ran his hands lightly over her breasts, finding her nipples already hard. "I would never have thought I could have wanted you more than I did in Chicago, but I was wrong," he said, and drew her lower so he could take her breast into his mouth.

Dispensing with her panties, he slid his fingers between her thighs and gently stroked her. Martina had never felt so voluptuously desirable. He made her ache for his possession. Each stroke of his tongue over her nipple and each flick of his finger over her femininity drove her closer to a frenzy of need. She tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a moan.

Noah pulled back, his eyes nearly black with sexual intent. "What do you want?"

She shuddered as he continued to stroke her. "You in me. I want you in me."

He swore. "I don't want to hurt you."

She shook her head. "You won't."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, swollen with wanting.

He quickly ditched his briefs and drew her hand to his full erection. He kissed her mouth as she stroked him. Touching wasn't enough, so she pulled back and lowered her mouth to kiss him intimately.

Noah let out a low groan. His thighs taut as bands against her breasts, he allowed her to take him into her mouth, but only for a moment. "I can't last, baby. Come to me."

On trembling knees, she mounted him, and at his deliciously full invasion, her moan mingled with his. For one powerful moment, they gazed into each other's eyes, joined at last. The evidence of their previous passion for each other, her ripe belly, served as yet another erotic, emotional reminder of their bond. Filled with Noah in the most basic way, she felt her landslide of emotions tumbling her more deeply toward him.

It was more than want, more than need,
something
terribly close to love. Closing her eyes against a shot of fear, she undulated slightly and heard his groan of pleasure.

"Come here," he said, and drew her mouth to his as he cupped his hands around her bottom and led her in a mind-bending rhythm. Everything but Noah faded from her existence.

Lifting one hand, he stroked her jaw as he consumed her with his mouth and tongue, echoing their deeper intimacy. Swollen with anticipation, Martina felt her
body tighten
around his shaft. The combination was too much. She shattered around him, her climax shuddering through her in fits and starts.

Noah gave a low groan that vibrated through her mouth, through her very being, as he spilled his pleasure into her. Martina felt her bond with him in every pore of her body.

* * *

The first sliver of dawn's pale light woke her the next morning. She blinked her eyes and was immediately aware of Noah. Her cheek rested against his arm, her belly against his side. She was naked and so was he. Although he was propped against the pillows, she could still see the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.

For a moment she wondered what it would be like to wake up in his bed and arms every morning. The forbidden image of looking into his eyes at the start of every day taunted her.

What about their families? And what if he only wanted her and never grew to love her? Her stomach tightened with fear. The baby moved inside her and she felt so torn that tears sprang to her eyes.

She had to get away from Noah, Martina thought. She needed to clear her head, and with him so close she didn't stand a chance. Not bothering with her clothes, she eased out of the covers and carefully slid out of bed, then tiptoed to the bathroom that connected Noah's room with hers. She closed the door, locked it and breathed.

Although he had been gentle, her nipples were tender and a few pink marks colored her skin. She had been completely enveloped by him, and she struggled with a sense of being overwhelmed. Much was at stake.

Biting her lip, she turned on the shower jets and stepped inside the bathtub.
A clear head
, she told herself.
I need a clear head.

As the commodities exchange would have it, Martina successfully avoided Noah throughout the morning. She had left early to go to the grocery store, and when she returned been told that he had asked for her. Since then, he'd been engrossed in taking advantage of a volatile day on the market.

Martina was no less confused. Making love with Noah had solved nothing. They still had the same problems. The only thing making love with him had shown her was the power of their passion for each other and the incredible bond they shared.

But how long would that bond remain if they didn't truly love each other? Martina feared she was fooling herself with that question. It was frightening to admit to
herself
, but she loved Noah Coltrane. She could hide it from everyone else, but she couldn't dodge it herself any longer.

She was wise enough to know that one-sided love didn't work. How long would their bond remain if Noah never loved her?

Pensive, she paced the downstairs living room. She didn't know which
was the most blah room in the house
, but this one came close. Beige walls, beige sofa, brown chair. The house desperately needed some color. It desperately needed a woman, but not
her
, Martina thought. She was far too independent and opinionated for the Coltrane brotherhood. She would drive them all straight up the wall.

The phone rang. Martina knew Patch, the cook, was out in the garden and everyone except Noah was outside. She hesitated to answer on the off chance that one of her brothers might guess her whereabouts. It continued to ring, and since she knew Noah was glued to the monitor and refused to talk on the phone when he was trading, she picked up. "Hello?"