EXPECTING HIS CHILD Page 6

  She felt his warm, long finger on her cheek. "You were worried about me," he said in astonishment. "You're upset because you didn't want anything to happen to me."

  Martina opened her eyes. "Don't read anything into it. It doesn't mean anything," she told him. "It's those dingdong pregnancy hormones."

  He pulled her against him. "You missed me."

  "I did not," Martina said, relishing the comfort of his arms.

  "Okay, then I'll leave."

  She tightened her hands on his arms. "Don't," she whispered, a request she couldn't stifle.

  "Admit it," he said. "You care for me."

  "I care for every human being on the planet except ax murderers and very mean people."

  "But you didn't worry about every human being on the planet tonight. You worried about me." He lowered his head putting his mouth inches from hers. "Admit it."

  You can't make me. You can't make me, she thought, zipping her lips.

  "Shy?" Noah asked in a gently mocking voice. "I'm surprised. You're many things, but I've never thought of you as shy."

  "I'm not!" Completely out of sorts, she felt as if her composure had taken the last train to Beaumont.

  Startling her, he swung her up into his arms and carried her into the softly lit den. "What are you doing?" she exclaimed. "Trying to give yourself a hernia?"

  "There you go again – worrying about me. Careful, Martina, or I'll start thinking you truly care about me."

  "Oh, that's ridiculous," she muttered, relieved when he set her down on the couch. She started to rise, but Noah put his hands on either side of her, trapping her.

  "I would be just fine if you would give me a little space," she told him.

  "Maybe later," he said, pulling her into his arms and lowering his head.

  He took her mouth, and Martina's composure left Beaumont and headed for Mexico. He kissed her intently, as if to reassure her that he was very much alive. His mouth, a seductive combination of supple and soft, nibbled at hers, sucking her lips, and his tongue slid over hers.

  The low, sexual murmur rising from his throat lit a hidden flame inside her. She could almost believe he wanted her. His breath and hers mingled, her heart pounded, and he continued to kiss her.

  One of his hands wandered to her tank top, lifting it, and his slightly callused palm touched her bare belly. His fingers caressed her while his mouth grew hungrier with each passing moment.

  Martina's temperature shot to sweltering, and she felt her breasts throb with need. As if he knew the way her blood flowed through her body, Noah skimmed his fingers upward to the underside of her breasts. Lifting her bra, he rubbed his thumb over one breast, getting close to, but not quite touching, her nipple.

  Unchecked desire licked through her, and she suckled his tongue, craving the way he made her feel. His thumb glanced over her nipple, and she shuddered.

  "Like that?" he asked in a taunting sexual voice against her lips. Giving her no opportunity to answer, he took her mouth again and began to rub her turgid nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

  The caress tightened her nether regions with shocking speed and force.

  "Oh." The helpless sound escaped her mouth.

  "You feel incredible," he told her, lifting his other hand to her other breast, stroking and teasing her.

  Martina felt as if he was stimulating her intimately. Each tug of his fingers on her nipples squeezed a coil deep inside her. Unable to remain still, she undulated against him.

  He groaned and lowered his hand, replacing his fingers with his warm, wet mouth. The sight of his dark head against her pale breast was too erotic to bear. Closing her eyes, she fought the escalating pleasure. This couldn't be happening, she thought.

  Noah's tongue cupped her nipple, sucking, sending her over the top and crying out. A shocking, intense climax rocked through her. "Oh, my!"

  She bit her lip as his terrible, wonderful mouth continued, sending her into another spasm of pleasure. Helpless and vulnerable, Martina felt a well of emotion that swelled in her eyes.

  "Oh, damn, not again," she whispered, distressed.

  Noah pulled back and looked into her eyes. She looked away, swiping at hers.

  "Come here," he said, pulling her into his arms.

  "This is crazy," she wailed. "How do you…" She broke off, feeling a fresh threat of tears. "This is insane. We're wrong for each other. You don't really want me. You want the baby and your honor and—"

  Noah moved her hand to his very hard masculinity, abruptly cutting her off. She savored the intimacy of touching him for a few seconds. She savored the hope that he truly did want her for a few seconds. Then the baby kicked and so did reality.

  Martina drew back. "You can't want me."

  His eyes dark with desire and challenge, he nudged her gaze upward to meet his. "Why not?"

  "Because I'm very big," she said.

  "With my baby," he said, rubbing his hands over her full abdomen. He lowered his mouth to kiss the bare skin. "This makes you the sexiest woman in the world to me."

  Martina searched her brain for a response, but found none. He almost made her believe it. Almost.

  "I want to make love to you."

  Panic shot through her. "Oh, no." She pulled back and shook her head. "Not a good idea."

  "Why?" he asked, his slight grin belying the serious glint in his eye. "It's not like you'll get pregnant."

  "It's just not a good idea."

  "You really have no idea how sexy you are to me right now. Your body is so responsive, your breasts full. Do you have any idea how much of a turn-on it is knowing I can bring you to climax just by touching your breasts? Imagine what else could happen if—?"

  "—I had no idea I would." Martina shook her head adamantly. She didn't need to imagine. Reality was clouding her head enough.

  "Never before?" he asked.

  "No," Martina said, feeling her cheeks heat self-consciously. "I think I may have seen something about it in one of the pregnancy books I read."

  "Really! What did it say?"

  "I don't remember much. I think I skimmed that part, but the point is—"

  "What do you remember?"

  Martina sighed, wishing she could transport herself to Anywhere-elseville. "It just said something about how women's breasts are sometimes more sensitive during pregnancy and some women have been known to have orgasms just by…" Help!

  "By touching," he finished. "With hands or mouth."

  Martina felt his words like a touch and her body remembered his recent caresses. She shook her head. "This is crazy. You've got to stop."

  "Why?" he asked in an irritatingly calm voice.

  "Because we're not right for each other, and—"

  "Why?" he asked again.

  "Well, there's the fact that your family hates mine and mine hates yours."

  "But I don't hate you, and you don't hate me," he said. "So why are we not right for each other? What don't you like about me?"

  Martina blinked. He'd taken her off guard again.

  "You don't like the way I look?"

  Her gaze helplessly fell over his strong body and chiseled facial features. "I, uh…" She swallowed. "I don't not like the way you look."

  His lips twitched at her grudging response, but he continued. "Do I not turn you on sexually?"

  She cleared her throat. She couldn't very well deny he turned her on after the way she'd just responded to him. "I, uh…" She exhaled in frustration. "Yes, of course you turn me on. I don't think I'd be pregnant if you didn't."

  He nodded. "Then it must be my personality, the way I think and act."

  Unable to bear the riot her emotions were causing inside her, Martina stood. "No, I like…" She trailed off, confused and frustrated. Noah's personality was what never failed to bowl her over, but she couldn't tell him that. "Yes, that's it. You're just too damn smart," she said angrily. "And intuitive. You're too intuitive. And you argue with me too much."

  Noah stood. "You would hav
e no use for a man who didn't meet you head-to-head and toe-to-toe. You're too strong a woman not to demand strength in your man."

  Frustration roared through her and another spate of tears threatened. Martina bit her lip, refusing to cry. Heaven help her, this man knew her better than she'd realized. What in hell was she going to do?

  He gave her an assessing gaze. "You look like you could use some time to yourself."

  He was right. And wrong. But she latched on to the offer. "Yes, thank you."

  "Anything else?" he asked.

  "Anything else what?" she asked, still confused.

  "Is there anything else you need?"

  Martina refused to think about what he said anymore. If she did, she feared her brain would explode. "Cheesecake," she said. "I need cheesecake."

  He gave her an odd look, then shrugged. "Okay. I brought something for the baby, but I left it in the truck. I'll be back in a minute."

  Curious but wary, Martina followed him to the door.

  Remaining on the porch, he opened the door and gave her a CD. "It's Mozart," he said. "There've been studies done that suggest listening to Mozart can increase a child's intelligence."

  Touched, Martina scanned the CD. He was thinking about the baby even when he wasn't here with her.

  "I don't want to try to make Super Baby, but if a little music will make life nicer for her…" He shrugged.

  "Him," Martina corrected.

  "We'll see," he said with a knowing grin. "G'night. I'll call you."

  "G'night," Martina echoed, and fought a hint of a bereft feeling as she watched him leave. Closing the door and locking it, she opened the CD and put it on, allowing the music to wash over her. Too restless for sleep and leery of the dreams she might have, she poured herself some fruit juice and returned to her computer. She needed to lose herself in her work. She needed to lose herself in something besides Noah.

  Mozart played and moments passed. The doorbell rang, surprising her, dragging her from her work. She eyed the clock and wondered who could be at her door. Staring outside her peephole, she saw no one, but heard the sound of a car engine. She checked the peephole again and saw no one.

  Irritated, she opened the door and saw a vehicle disappear around the corner. She frowned, wondering if the ringing doorbell had been a product of her imagination. She happened to glance down and spotted a brown paper bag.

  Picking it up, Martina peeked inside.

  A slice of cheesecake.

  Her heart turned over. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.

  * * *

  He was getting to her. Satisfaction pumped through Noah at the thought as he drove to the Coltrane ranch. Martina was starting to face the fact that she wasn't immune to him. Soon she would face the fact that they should marry.

  Noah wasn't worried about love. Their passion and their child was enough to bind them to each other. He didn't want love clouding the more important need for them to get married.

  Noah had always doubted that romantic love was in the cards for him. His mentor, Zachary, had always stressed how important it was for a man to find his purpose and perform it. Noah had quickly learned his purpose was to bring innovations to the Coltrane ranch to increase revenue and secure his and his brothers' future. In the back of his mind, he'd vaguely believed he was securing the future of the next generation of Coltranes. That belief was no longer vague. It held a distinct picture in his mind of Martina and his child.

  His purpose, also, was to bring honor and integrity to the Coltrane name. God knows, after his father's reputation, the Coltranes needed every drop of honor they could produce. He felt a sliver of discomfort. In that respect, Martina was correct. He had a passion for her, but the bottom line was that this was a matter of honor. She would eventually adjust to that fact, he was certain.

  Turning in to the long drive to the house, Noah relished his progress. Soon, Martina would be where she belonged. With him. He tried looking at the ranch through her eyes. Since she had grown up on a ranch, many of the sights, sounds and smells would be familiar. The flat Texas terrain and the dry heat would come as no surprise.

  He pulled his truck to a stop and glanced at the large two-story wood-frame house that stood like a stubborn weed on dry rocky ground. Although the Coltrane home showed little in the way of feminine influence, it was freshly painted and renovated, and boasted most modern conveniences.

  Mounting the steps, he thought Martina would approve of the rebuilt porch and refinished oak floors. He walked through the downstairs, taking inventory. She might want to add some rugs or pictures, he thought, looking at the clean bare walls, but she would like the modern appliances in the kitchen. She might want to add some lamps. Sometimes the rooms seemed dark. He would clear out a room for her to do her Web page design. With a few minor changes, he decided she would adjust. She would like it, he thought, following the sound of his brothers in the TV room. No problem—

  Noah stopped short at the sight that greeted him. Adam and Gideon lay sprawled on the sofa and recliner in their boxers. With a book propped in his lap, Adam chugged a beer and Gideon sucked on a cigar, his newsmagazine abandoned on the floor beside him.

  Wearing headphones, Jonathan sat on the floor watching television while he hummed off-key.

  "Be quiet," Gideon said.

  "He can't hear you," Adam said, and turned up the volume on the wrestling show.

  No-woman's-land.

  Gideon glanced up. "Yo, brother, how goes the taming of the shrew?"

  Noah sighed and raked his hand through his hair. "Progressing," he said, and sat down on the sofa. He stared unseeingly at the television screen, his mind busy.

  "No bite or claw marks?" Gideon asked with a smart-aleck grin.

  Noah shook his head.

  "What are you doing to cut down on the battle scars?"

  "I feed her," Noah said, his lips twitching as he imagined Martina's enjoyment of the cheesecake he'd left her.

  Still wearing headphones, Jonathan glanced up at him and nodded, yelling, "Hi."

  Noah pulled back one of the earphones. "I gave her the Mozart CD for the baby."

  "What'd she think?" Jonathan asked.

  "I don't know, but she didn't look like she wanted to slap me. That's an improvement."

  "Any chance there'll be a wedding soon?"

  Noah felt a burning determination. "Damn straight." He looked at his oldest brother, who he'd noticed hadn't said anything. "Talk," Noah said to him. "Front porch."

  Adam glanced at him and slowly rose from his easy chair. "Okay." Setting Homer's Odyssey aside, Adam joined Noah on the front porch. In his boxers, he was an incongruous picture of a "good ol' boy" traditional cattleman with a closet appreciation for literary classics.

  "What do you want now?" he asked, as he had asked Noah dozens of times before. Although Adam gave the impression of being reluctant to change, he offered a steadiness that had provided a balance to him and his brothers.

  "When I walked into the house tonight, it occurred to me that a woman considering moving into our home might find the prospect difficult."

  Adam propped his beer on the porch rail and glanced down at his skimpy attire. His mouth quirked in an ironic grin. "I don't know why."

  "Oh, something about the combination of the World of Wrestling full blast on the TV, men sitting in their underwear drinking beer, smoking cigars and yelling at each other."

  Adam shook his head. "You're gonna have a hard time changing our habits."

  "I'm not planning on it."

  Adam took another drink of beer. "Then what?"

  "You know that building we've been putting together for offices?"

  "Yeah."

  "I was thinking about using some of my own money and making it into a house, instead."

  Adam let out a long breath. "Has she agreed to marry you?"

  "No, but—"

  "Don't you think you're gambling against the house? You keep forgetting her family hates us."

  "I haven't forgo
tten it," Noah said. The reality of the grudge burned like a hot poker in his gut every waking minute. "But Martina is going to marry me."

  "She and her brothers just don't know it yet, right?"

  Noah appealed to his brother's sense of the bottom line. "I'll take it out of my own pocket," he said. "I've done pretty well with some of my day trading."

  Adam scratched his head and shot him a glance mingled with doubt and respect. "Good luck. You're gonna need it."

  * * *

  Chapter 7

  «^»

  A ringing sound jerked Martina from her sleep. Disoriented, she sat up in bed. The ringing continued and she shook her head, trying to clear it. When she realized the sound was coming from the phone, a dozen thoughts flew through her mind.

  If this was Noah, she was going to give that man a piece of her mind. He hadn't just been late this time. He hadn't shown up at all. She'd paced the house the entire evening watching the clock and then had a difficult time going to sleep.

  What if it was someone else, though? Brock? Tyler?

  She reached across the bed and snatched the phone from the cradle. "Hello?"

  "Martina Logan?" a male voice said.

  "Yes."

  "Sorry to call so late. This is Jonathan Coltrane. Noah won't be able to make it tonight."

  Martina glanced at the fluorescent-blue numbers on her alarm clock. "Since it's after 2 a.m., that thought had occurred to me."

  "Yeah, well, he was in an accident on his way to see you. The doctor says he's gonna be okay, but—"

  Martina's heart sank to her knees. "Doctor?"

  "Yeah, the ambulance took him to the hospital. His truck is totaled. He's gonna be real pissed off."

  Martina swallowed over her racing panic. "How is he?"

  "Broken ribs, punctured lung, concussion and one of his legs is bruised pretty bad. He'll be sore and cranky the next few days."

  Wide awake now, she clenched her hands to keep them from trembling. "Which hospital is he in?"

  "County Hospital. We'll bring him home in the morning. The doctor would've let him go except for the punctured lung and the concussion. They wake him every so often and ask his name. I was in there one of the times they woke him, and he muttered something about needing to call you right before be fell asleep again."