My Baby, My Love

“Good. I hate scenes first thing in the morning.”

“Then move your hand or you’re going to get a doozy.”

He realized that in avoiding her bad arm, his hand had pressed against the soft round curve of her breast. Instantly, he released her. Sydney moved forward with quiet dignity.

“Why are we here?”

“This is where I’m staying.” He reached for the elevator button.

She raised her eyebrows expressively.

“I didn’t think you wanted to answer any more questions for a while.”

After a second she gave a delicate shudder and looked away. “I don’t.”

As a crush of people jostled their way out of the elevator, Sydney was pressed up against him. He steadied her lightly, careful of his hands this time. But that only reinforced his awareness of her body. A very nice body. She was a good height for a woman, almost at eye level with him.

The sudden flare of awareness in her eyes caught him off guard. Her lips parted. A lacy sweep of pink brightened her cheeks. His answering response came as another surprise. As soon as they entered the elevator away from prying eyes, he stepped away from her.

“My room has two double beds, Sydney,” he said to reassure her as well as himself. “You can use the second one to try for a little sleep while I make other arrangements.”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Who put you—?”

“In charge? I did.” Her whispery voice only added fuel to the unwanted kindling of awareness. “You’d better stop trying to talk. You’re losing what little voice you have left.”

Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her head. “I realize you haven’t seen any proof of this so far, but I am quite capable of taking care of myself, Major.” Her voice dropped even lower as it cracked and broke. “I’ve been doing so for a number of years.”

“I know. Jerome told me you were an orphan.”

It had only confirmed his conviction that Jerome was a fool who’d let himself be trapped by a needy older woman with a biological clock ticking away.

On the other hand, Jerome had always liked to get his own way, so Noah figured it was the woman who would come to regret the decision. Jerome was a handsome charmer. He was also totally self-centered and used to being catered to.

Still, Noah had found himself studying Sydney’s photograph at odd moments, baffled by the woman Jerome had selected for his wife. While pretty, she wasn’t the flashy adornment Noah had expected Jerome to pick.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make your wedding,” Noah told her. “I was out of the country at the time.”

“He would have liked you to be there,” she said without looking at him.

Privately, Noah doubted that.

“It was a simple service. We didn’t even use a church.”

Was that a trace of regret? Noah couldn’t tell. The last assignment had left Noah taking a hard look at the choices he’d made in his own life. He’d experienced a tug of envy over the life his brother had planned. Talk about irony. Noah risked his life every time he went on a mission, yet it was Jerome who’d died protecting someone else, leaving Noah the living hostages to fortune.

Noah was relieved when the elevator doors opened and he could abandon that train of thought. He led Sydney down the hall.

“How did you come to be an orphan?” he asked abruptly, curious about the woman his brother had married.

“My parents and older brothers were killed in an avalanche on a skiing vacation in Austria when I was seven.”

“That’s rough.”

Remembered grief reflected in her eyes. “I was supposed to go with them, but I came down with chicken pox the day before the trip so I stayed with my grandmother.”

“So you weren’t a total orphan?”

With an impatient toss of her hair she shook her head. “She died of a massive heart attack when I was sixteen. Do you really want my life history?”

He unlocked the door to his room. “Maybe later. Does it bother you to talk about the past?”

“No.”

He gestured her inside the room and she entered cautiously, almost as if she expected someone to jump out at her.

“Have a seat,” he said brusquely.

“You must scare the heck out of young recruits.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re good at giving orders and intimidating people.”

He found himself wanting to smile again. “I don’t scare you.”

She arched her eyebrows again. “Remember that.”

He suppressed an urge to chuckle. He hadn’t expected to like Sydney so much. He laid a finger over her cracked lips. “Save your voice. You can yell at me later. Right now you look done in.”

She studied him through eyes semiglazed by pain and fatigue. He sensed both grief and fear hiding beneath the surface and held up a hand to stave off any further protests. “I’ll try to stop giving orders. In the meantime, let’s not argue until you’re back to fighting form. Do you want to eat or sleep first? You’ll be safe here, Sydney.”

Her eyes spoke volumes, but she turned without a word and set the plant on the nightstand. She moved stiffly to the far bed with its undisturbed cover.

“It’s silly, but I’m so tired I can’t even think straight anymore,” she murmured.

“It’s not silly at all.” He stripped down the covers and let her climb into bed, still clothed in his running outfit. Sydney wasn’t the sort to lean on anyone if she could help it. That she let him help her and didn’t even protest when he smoothed the blanket over her told him a great deal about how bad she was feeling. He’d been right not to initiate a serious discussion right away. There’d be time later.

He’d meant to keep his actions strictly impersonal, but as her eyes fluttered closed, his hand reached out and gently stroked the hair back from her face. She twitched, but that was all. He would have sworn she was asleep in seconds.

Noah sat at the table and watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing and tried to control the unexpected spike from his libido. Sydney would be shocked if she knew the sort of urges she was stirring in him. He was feeling a little shocked himself.

No other woman had provoked this raw need to protect and cherish. Why Sydney of all people? Unless it had something to do with the baby she carried. He’d shied away from thoughts of the child ever since she’d uttered those damning words. Jerome’s baby.

He ran unsteady fingers through his hair. What a mess. His brain knew she was his brother’s wife, but his body didn’t seem to care.

He stared at her hand, lying protectively curled across her chin. She had long, graceful fingers and short, unpolished nails, but it was her ring finger that captured his attention. She wore a simple, wide gold wedding band and an ordinary diamond solitaire on her left hand.

Glad to have a focus—any focus that would keep him from looking at her—he studied her ring. She designed jewelry for a living. He would have expected something different on her finger—something unique. Obviously, he would have been wrong. Still, that jarring note was one more in a growing list of inconsistencies he’d noticed since he arrived.