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But she really was awake again by the time she’d washed her face and changed into a camisole and boxer shorts for bed. “I’ll take first watch,” she said, sliding under the covers.
“You were snoring on my shoulder ten minutes ago.”
“And now I’m refreshed.”
He shook his head, but she eventually convinced him to lie down and close his eyes. It wasn’t easy sharing the bed with his sculpted body that was stiff for all the wrong reasons. If she’d had a choice, she would have slept on the couch, or even Kyle’s bed, but they had to keep up appearances, hoping whoever was behind this would strike again.
The awkward morning-after in Vegas had been a picnic compared to this. As his breathing evened out and no one attacked, her mind wandered through the whole mess. The worst part of this moment, she decided, was knowing.
Knowingit was her fault. Her lie had them playing out a role neither of them wanted.
Knowingthe attraction wasn’t mutual. He stepped into the breach as a friend. He’d said it himself, his reactions were protective, not affectionate.
She rolled to her back, staring at the dark ceiling. She had to focus on the positives here.
Being attacked at Tim’s house meant they were on the right track. Bart still had the notebook and though the dates weren’t current, he was confidently deciphering the shorthand.
The break-in proved they’d laid the right bait about the notebook. The video feed showed they had a pickup truck anda plate number to watch for. Bart even had Eva tracking down Mary Lou’s rig and routes.
Bart rolled to his side. “You’re not sleeping,” he mumbled, his breath fanning her cheek.
“I’m taking first watch,” she murmured. She had an irresistible urge to touch him, to watch him sleep, to memorize every inch of the man so she had something to tell their child. “Go back to sleep.”
She blinked away the blur of tears. Motherhood hadn’t been on her agenda so going it alone had never occurred to her. But she’d rather take the relocation and raise the baby on her own than trap Bart into an unexpected commitment.
Her hand fluttered over her belly. Already it seemed like an automatic reflex, though it would be several more weeks before she showed.
She’d come here to tell him and yet she couldn’t seem to say the words. Bart was a good man. The type of man who would insist on being there for her and the baby. It was hardwired into his nature and one more reason she found herself wishing for what couldn’t be.
Beyond the purposes of this particular case, she didn’t want to be a wife in name only. She wanted to love and be loved in return. Those feelings were as much a shock to her as they would be to him if she ever had the courage to share them.
This afternoon’s adventures had put the matter in stark relief. As long as the cartel was bent on punishing her for trying to turn Krystal, she was a danger to Bart, his son, and his business.
She couldn’t let an unexpected pregnancy keep them in the line of fire. It wasn’t fair to either of them. Desperate, she said a prayer that whoever was behind this would attack tonight so they could wrap this up.
Bart couldn’t even utter the word ‘marriage’. She couldn’t force him to keep up this ruse for long. She rolled to herside, studying him while she tried to separate her respect and admiration from her physical attraction to him. A futile exercise as her feelings were all tangled up in one messy package.
His breathing was deep and even and after another minute, she leaned close, pressing her lips to his brow. He sighed, stretching an arm out across her midriff. Heat sizzled through the thin fabric of the camisole.
Slowly, carefully, she wriggled an inch closer to him. And another. Closer to the shelter and strength of his embrace. Even asleep, he steadied her and eased the fears that had kept her awake since Gonzales had grabbed Krystal.
She set a palm to his chest, over his heart, and wished for some elusive connection she couldn’t define. They were friends, professional allies, and their sole attempt at being lovers had been one hell of a night despite the aftermath and resulting pregnancy…
The realization caught her off guard. Why didn’t it feel weird to carry his baby?
“Mmm. Touch me.” His deep voice sent a shiver down her spine.
She glanced down to see her hand stroking his bare chest. Startled, she jerked away, ready to apologize, but his arm tightened, bringing her closer. His eyes were closed and she realized he was still asleep.
She, however, was wide awake. Her breasts were pressed so close to his chest the fabric between them should have burned away. There was no place for her hands to go except around him, and she was hopeless not to indulge the need pounding through her.
She traced his arm, down the wide expanse of his back, exploring every hard plane and enticing angle.
His leg pushed between hers and she gripped his ass as she rocked her hips, rubbing her core against his hard, hot thigh. He moaned some encouragement she didn’t need.
In some distant corner of her mind, she knew it was wrong to take advantage of his reflexive reaction to a female in his bed. The man was exhausted. They both were. But the desire coursing through her overrode common sense. And protection was a foregone conclusion at this point; not like a condom had done them any good last time.
“Are you sure?” She whispered the words into the hollow of his throat. If he said ‘no’, if he regretted this…
