EXPECTING HIS CHILD Read online

  "C'mon, I need to get you into bed. You have lost your mind," Adam said, shaking his head and acting as a crutch on the stairs. "Bringing Martina Logan into our house. Are you sure that concussion hasn't impaired your judgment?"

  "My judgment's fine. It's these damn ribs and my gimpy leg." Accustomed to nearly unlimited energy, he despised his current weariness. "I feel like a toddler who needs a nap. I've been trying to get Martina out here since I found out she was pregnant. When she volunteered, did you really think I was going to refuse her?"

  "Only if you were thinking straight," Adam said.

  "Absolutely not. Martina Logan has just fallen into my lap, and I may not be in the best condition, but I plan to take full advantage of the situation. If I have anything to say about it, she won't be leaving."

  Adam helped Noah around the corner to the bedroom. He rubbed his face with his hand and looked at Noah with an expression that mixed admiration and pity. "If she's gonna stay, you'd better get that house finished. The boys won't know what to do with a pregnant woman in the house. A Logan at that."

  * * *

  Martina spent the day bringing Noah beverages, encouraging him to stay away from the computer, intercepting telephone calls and telling him to rest. Before today, she'd had no concept of how busy his plans for the ranch and trading on the stock market kept him. Keeping him from the computer and the phone presented an ongoing tug-of-war. By afternoon, she was tempted to spike his drink with a sleeping pill.

  She glanced at the clock – 11 p.m. – and gazed again at Noah. He was the most driven man she'd ever met in her life. All that passion drew and excited her at the same time that it repelled her. The thought struck her that he was so hard-driven, so much harder on himself than anyone else, that he could use a soft woman in his life.

  In that case, Martina wryly thought, he didn't need her. She couldn't help but notice that the Coltrane home needed a woman's touch the way a flower needed rain, but adding a woman's touch to a bunch of rogue brothers in West Texas had never been her life's aspiration. Martina had always prized independence, respect and autonomy. In secret moments in the dark, she had wished for a special love with a man, but she'd never been able to meld her need for independence with her longing for love.

  Looking at Noah with his mussed dark hair, black eyelashes against his tanned skin, and broad shoulders, she was struck anew by how complex he was. He was so strong it was difficult for her to imagine him needing anyone, especially her.

  She lifted her hand to touch his forehead, then thought better of it and lowered her hand to her lap.

  His eyes flickered open, and for a moment she wondered if he'd read her thoughts.

  "You're supposed to be asleep," she whispered.

  He glanced at the clock. "So are you."

  "What do you want to drink with your pain medication?"

  "No…" he began, and his lips twitched. "Just water."

  Martina filled his glass in the bathroom that adjoined his bedroom to hers and brought it to him. He grimaced as he turned, but quickly downed the pills and water. "Thanks. Did you get anything to eat?"

  "Yes, your brothers kept bringing me sandwiches. It was almost as if they thought I was a hungry animal and I'd get nasty if I didn't get fed."

  His lips twitched again. "Can't imagine where they got that impression."

  Realization hit Martina. "What did you tell them about me?"

  "Just that feeding you tends to keep you in a good mood. You gotta remember we haven't had a woman around for a long time, so they don't really know what to do with you."

  "You didn't seem to have that problem." The comment heedlessly popped out of her mouth.

  His eyes darkened with sensual awareness. "I always thought it was important to learn what gives a woman pleasure."

  "That sounds like you've had quite a bit of practice," she said.

  "I've had a few relationships," he conceded. "No woman got me anywhere near the altar. Except you."

  Martina opened her mouth to remind him of the very obvious point that the reason he wanted to get married wasn't that she had bowled him over. It was that she was pregnant with his child. He still had circles under his eyes and she could tell his ribs were hurting, so she didn't want to argue with him. He needed to sleep.

  "I wasn't your first, either, Martina," Noah said quietly.

  She closed her eyes, torn between revealing the truth and keeping her mouth shut.

  "You didn't love me like a virgin would."

  His assumption irritated her. She opened her eyes and looked at him. "How many virgins have you been with?"

  He paused, rubbed his chin, then narrowed his eyes. "None."

  "Then I guess you wouldn't know, would you?"

  He looked at her in disbelief. "I can't believe you made it into your twenties without having a lover."

  "Well, you might be forgetting my two older brothers, who pretty much threatened to cut off the genitals of any man who dated me longer than a month. I graduated from a women's college and I like my independence."

  "But you made love to me like a woman who knows how to please a man."

  "I didn't want you to know how inexperienced I was."

  "Why me, then? Why me for your first lover? A man your family would hate. A main you couldn't share a future with."

  "I think knowing I couldn't share a future with you was part of it. It made you safe. You wouldn't want to marry me any more than I would want to marry you."

  He pinched the bridge of his nose as if his head was aching. Concerned, Martina touched his shoulder. "Do you need some headache medication?"

  "No, I just want to make sure I understand this. The entire reason you got involved with me was that you knew we wouldn't get married?"

  Martina pulled away. "Well, no. That wasn't all of it. I was very attracted to you. I was probably even fascinated," she grudgingly revealed. "I loved the way your mind worked."

  He glanced at her with a predatory glint in his eye and tugged her down onto his bed. "Still very attracted?"

  Martina's heart stuttered. "You need to go to sleep."

  He skimmed his finger down her bare arm. "You didn't answer my question. Still very attracted?"

  She felt a shiver. "You really do need to rest."

  He leaned forward, his lips a breath away from hers. "If you love the way my mind works, why do you fight me so much?"

  Martina's mouth went dry and she tried to swallow. "You're a little overwhelming."

  "Not for you," he said, rubbing his mouth against hers, creating a delicious buzz. "You're strong, sweetheart. You can take me anytime you want, so why don't you?"

  Martina's stomach tightened. His mouth played over hers, teasing, taunting and inviting. He lifted her hand to his shoulder, as if offering his smooth skin and hard muscle for her pleasure.

  He made it so easy to touch him and to want him unbearably. He made it so easy to believe at this moment that he would not deliberately bend her will to his.

  He slid his hands to the underside of her breasts and gave a sigh that mixed desire and frustration. "I want to make love to you."

  A dozen yes and no replies stuck in her throat. She swallowed hard. "You're still recovering. Your ribs are broken, your lung—"

  "You could have a healing effect on me," he murmured, his thumbs moving closer to the tips of her breasts.

  Martina shook away the thick cloud of wanting. "That's a ridiculous line," she whispered.

  "Maybe we should stop talking."

  His thumb glanced over her nipple and Martina felt herself begin to melt. She fought it. "Maybe we should start thinking," she said, and forced herself to push away from him.

  Standing, she resisted the urge to fan herself. She felt hot from the inside out, and she knew the air conditioner was running full blast. Filled to the brim with such wanting, she feared she would turn into a pillar of salt if she dared even to look at him.

  "I've dreamed of making love to you in my bed."

&n
bsp; Martina looked at his big bed with the golden oak headboard and royal-blue coverlet. It was easy to visualize him naked and wrapped around her. She squished her eyes closed and banished the images from her mind. "Go to sleep, Noah. You need your rest."

  And Martina needed her sanity.

  * * *

  By the following Friday, Noah wanted to fight. Cooped up in the house with his ribs hurting, sitting up in bed every night, blowing into that damn lung machine every hour and having Martina in his house but not in his bed and not to stay made him want to kick down a few doors. To make matters worse, he couldn't even engage his brother Gideon in a good frustration-reducing fencing match because he wasn't supposed to raise his arms.

  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."
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br />   "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

  «^»

  "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?"