My Baby, My Love

She released her one-hand death grip on the scrunched-up shirt and lost her hold on the jogging shorts underneath. They slid dangerously down her slim hips.

“Oops!”

Noah stopped their descent at her hips, which placed his face only inches from her navel beneath the thin bit of cotton. He inhaled the pleasant scent of the soap she’d used all over her body.

This had been a very bad idea.

“Here,” he said a bit gruffly. “You hold the shorts. I’ll get the drawstring.”

Their hands connected. Noah drew in a sharp breath and reminded himself once more that this was his sister-in-law. Calling on every bit of discipline he’d ever known, he tugged up the hem of the T-shirt and reached for her waistband.

“I think I’d better tell you that I’m ticklish.”

Noah stopped, his fingers barely touching her smooth marble skin. “Ticklish?”

“Very ticklish. And I always get even.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not ticklish.”

“There are better ways of getting even.”

“I think I like the sound of that.” He slid a finger beneath the edge of the waistband searching for the drawstring. He tried not to acknowledge the silky feel of her skin as he brushed against the indentation that was her belly button. Her tummy contracted in instant reaction to his touch. His groin tightened in answer.

“Noah…”

“Don’t move. Don’t even breathe,” he warned.

He tugged the drawstring loose, tied it and sat back, breathing as though he’d just run a marathon.

Sydney jumped back like a scalded cat. The towel on her head tilted to one side and she pulled it free.

“Well. Now. That wasn’t so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

He stood and walked to his duffel bag so she wouldn’t notice the effect that little encounter had had on him. He needn’t have worried. Sydney was looking everywhere but at him. He pulled items randomly from his kit.

“I need to borrow your comb, if you don’t mind.”

“Use anything you need.”

Just don’t tell me about it, he almost added. The intimacy of this situation was taking a high toll on his good intentions. “I’m going to grab a quick shower myself. If room service comes before I’m done, check the peephole before you open the door. If you aren’t certain, wait for me. Okay?”

Her eyebrows raised mockingly. “Were you a drill instructor by any chance?”

He managed a lopsided smile, relieved she’d found a way to cut the tension between them. “Sorry again. I’m used to giving orders.”

“I can tell.”

“I just don’t want you to take any chances.”

“Yes, sir, Major, sir. Go take your shower.”

Sydney watched him go with a mixture of relief and regret. Her reaction to that little scene had been juvenile, to say the least. She tried to tell herself that there had been nothing sensual in Noah’s touch except in her own warped mind, but the truth was, for a minute or two there, they’d been a man and a woman who were attracted to each other. She didn’t want to know what he must be thinking of her.

Noah was much nicer than she’d expected from the things Jerome had told her. Oh, Noah could be every bit as bossy as his much younger brother, but he took her refusal to obey in stride.

Noah wasn’t Jerome. He’d gone out of his way to put her at ease despite his dominating tendencies. And if she could still feel the touch of his fingers against her bare skin, well, she’d just have to find ways to become more independent while her hand was in a cast—especially when it came to the awkward process of getting dressed.

Most of her belongings were at Laura’s apartment and that was going to require an explanation. Noah was bound to think it odd that she and Jerome had separate bedrooms. She should just tell him the truth and be done with it, but she was embarrassed. She didn’t want to see disdain in Noah’s expression. Or pity. Jerome had been his brother. What would Noah think when he discovered their marriage had been a total sham from the start?

Her gaze fell on the deep blue African violet. She thought of the plant stand in her bedroom where a dozen more violets sat beneath the window. She’d planned to move them all to Laura’s place this week.

She ran her finger gently over a soft round leaf. Noah couldn’t possibly know how much she loved the delicate plants. Unless he’d already been inside the apartment. Or Jerome had told him. The brothers had been doing a lot of talking in recent months. Jerome was excited by that fact.

In fact, Noah had called during her final battle with Jerome. While the two were on the phone, she’d packed her bags and left the apartment. The decision hadn’t been easy. She wasn’t a quitter by nature, but she also wasn’t going to become a victim in a relationship that was becoming more and more turbulent.

She and Jerome had married because they seemed to like each other and wanted to raise a family. It had been that simple and that complicated. She’d accepted that they would never have a normal physical relationship. She’d thought having a child was all that mattered. She thought of her reaction to Noah and shook her head. It was hard to believe her sheer stupidity.

Sydney stared at the rings on her finger. How had it come to this? She hated knowing Jerome had died while bitter words lay between them. And her guilt was compounded by her bizarre attraction to Noah.

Her gaze slid to the bathroom door. Noah had left it slightly ajar, probably so he’d hear her if she called out. She was touched by his unexpected kindness, yet disturbed by the way her body responded to him. She wasn’t sure how to act around this stranger who was suddenly her self-proclaimed protector.

The scent she’d come to associate with Noah wafted out on wisps of steam. It amazed her to realize that, despite her mix of feelings, she felt safe with Noah.

When he finally stepped into the room, her gaze was instantly drawn to his broad chest, still damp from his shower. She drew in a breath as he pulled on a crisp white shirt, completely at ease with himself, and thankfully unaware of the jittery effect the sight of his bare chest had on her pulses.

Sydney jumped as someone rapped sharply on the door.

“It’s okay,” Noah said soothingly. “That will be the food. Stay there. I’ll get it.”

He returned with a wheeled cart and she sniffed appreciatively as he set out the meal. She would have preferred to do her own ordering, but she was too hungry to argue.

She did, however, eye the pot of tea in surprise.

“Not coffee?”

“My mother believed tea was a cure-all,” he explained. “When I was a kid, tea appeared every time I had a sniffle. I made out okay so I figured it couldn’t hurt in case your throat was still sore.”

She pulled the tea bag from the water. “I thought chicken soup was supposed to be the cure-all.”

When he turned that full smile on her, she forgot all the reasons she should be wary of Noah. The planes of his face softened into a devastatingly potent charm that was far more captivating than blatant good looks.

“I’ve heard that myth, too,” he agreed.