My Baby, My Love

Finally convinced that it would take the entire Army marching band to wake her, Noah made a couple of phone calls to get his mind off the bewitching woman. The last one was to Agent Wickowski, who expressed anger at not being told about the orderly. He wanted to come over and talk with Sydney right away. Noah convinced him to wait and suggested Wickowski talk with the nurse and the police officer first.

For a long time after that, Noah watched Sydney sleep, sorting through his options. He didn’t have many, he acknowledged glumly. He couldn’t simply walk away from her or the situation. He and Jerome had a blood tie he couldn’t deny. And now Noah was irrevocably bound to Sydney. The thought was nearly as disturbing as the woman herself.

She looked almost ethereal in sleep. How would she look when she grew round with the baby she carried?

Following that line of thought would lead to disaster, Noah told himself. Impatiently, he stood and put out the Do Not Disturb sign. Then he called the desk to ask them to hold all calls. Disgruntled, he lay down on the other bed and willed himself back to sleep. Questions loomed in his mind. He tried to picture Sydney and Jerome together and the image made him angry and restless.

When she sat up hours later, he was still awake, still trying to figure out how to initiate the discussion they needed to have.

She rolled over and looked at him, her eyes misty with sleep. “Hi.”

“Feel better?”

“I think so. Why are we whispering?”

“So we don’t strain your voice?”

“Oh.” She moistened her dry lips. “What have you been doing?”

“Watching you sleep.”

She blinked in surprise. “You do lead an eventful life, don’t you?” and she yawned, stretching away the kinks.

Noah’s attention riveted on the material of the T-shirt where it tightened over the gentle swell of her breasts. She caught him looking and color suffused her face.

Heat stole up his neck as well. When was the last time he’d been caught staring at a woman like some randy schoolboy?

Sydney rolled off the other side of the bed before he could apologize. “Bathroom,” she whispered without looking at him.

Well, at least she was steadier on her feet now. Noah sat up, frowning when the shower started.

She was too weak and dizzy. She could fall, hit her head. Anything might happen. Bathrooms were dangerous places. There was also the cast on her hand to consider. He didn’t know if she was supposed to get it wet or not but it would definitely hamper her in the bathtub.

Noah suspected it wouldn’t do him much good to point out either of those facts to her. Sydney Edwards—Inglewood, he tacked on sternly—definitely had a mind of her own.

Running a hand through his hair, he decided it would be much better for both of them if he didn’t dwell on the image of her standing on the other side of that flimsy door taking a shower.

“I needed a nap more than she did,” he muttered to himself as he reached for the telephone to call room service.

Sydney stepped from the steamy bathroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped loosely around her head. She’d donned his T-shirt again, but the shorts had obviously proved too much for her. She gripped the drooping shorts firmly around her waist. He wished she looked ridiculous—instead of sexy as hell.

“Quite a fashion statement,” he told her with what he hoped was an easy smile.

She looked down at the shirt where it clung a bit damply to the tops of her breasts and made a face. “I couldn’t retie the drawstring with only one hand.” Her embarrassment was tempered by annoyance.

Noah forced his eyes up and away, disturbed by his instant reaction. “I should have thought of that. I’ll help you.”

He could be detached. Of course he could.

“Come here.”

Sydney hesitated.

Remembering her earlier comment about the way he gave orders he added, “Please.”

Her expression lightened in a sudden burst of humor. “I’ll bet that didn’t hurt a bit.”

“What didn’t?”

“Saying please.”

“Anybody ever tell you that you have a sassy mouth?”

She grinned. “No one dares. Have you been in the military a long time?”

She was stalling. He didn’t mind the delaying tactics a bit. Touching her so intimately was going to be uncomfortable for both of them, especially since he knew she wasn’t wearing a thing under those bits of cloth.

“I got a military scholarship in high school.”

“ROTC?”

He nodded and perched on the edge of the bed so he could reach for the string.

“You know, we could call the front desk,” she said suddenly, backing up. “They might have a gift shop. Maybe I could have them send up a dress or something.”

He could just envision trying to help her into a dress. “I don’t think so, but picking up your clothing will be our first priority.” His sanity might depend on it. “Come here.”

With an air of resignation, she approached. “I feel like a little kid,” she said with endearing nervousness.

“Trust me, you don’t look anything at all like a kid.” And that was a pity. He wouldn’t have thought twice about helping a kid.

He’d never felt such intense physical awareness of a woman before. He had to keep telling himself she was his brother’s wife. Surely he could do this without embarrassing both of them.

But sitting on the bed had been a mistake. It put him just above eye level of the rounded curves his T-shirt strove to conceal. Her nipples contracted into tiny hard points. Noah tried not to stare and reminded himself once more that this was his sister-in-law, not some woman he was trying to take to bed.

“Sorry,” she said. “I feel foolish.”

He knew the feeling.

“Is this the spot where I’m supposed to close my eyes and think of God and country?”

She surprised a chuckle out of him. He liked the way she turned to humor in difficult situations. “I thought it was queen and country.”

“Only if you’re British.”

“Ah. Well, c’mere darlin’,” he said with a drawl.

Her expression flashed with mild alarm that immediately turned to an answering grin. “Go for it, Tex.”