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She was beautiful.
Her soft, rosy mouth. Her sleep-tousled hair.
And all the rest.
Her breasts, pressing against the thin cotton of her gown. Her long legs, outlined by the soft fabric.
Only the weight of the child against his chest kept him sane, enabled him to raise his eyes to Rachel’s without embarrassing them both.
“I’ll …” He cleared his throat. “I’ll take him upstairs.”
“T
hank you. For taking care of him.”
Karim smiled. “He’s a nice little boy.”
“Yes. Yes, he is.” She swallowed dryly. “I’ll take him up.”
“That’s liable to wake him. Let me.”
She nodded. Karim got to his feet and she fell in behind him, followed him up the stairs to the nursery.
She watched him bend over the crib, carefully place the sleeping baby in it. There was a light blanket at the foot; he drew it up, tucked it around the child, touched his pale curls lightly with his hand as he had done that first time.
“Sleep well,” he whispered.
Rachel felt a tightness in her chest.
How many times had she held the baby and thought, If only you were truly mine …?
Impossible, of course.
Karim’s brother and her sister had created this little boy.
But what if fate had written a different story? What if Ethan were not Rami’s and Suki’s but hers and—and—
She spun away, went into the sitting room and out to the hall.
Karim came after her. “Rachel?”
She was trembling. God, she was—
“Rachel,” he said again, “what is it?”
Walk away, she told herself. Don’t be a fool … don’t, don’t, don’t—
His hand fell on her shoulder. She could feel his hard body behind hers, could feel the heat emanating from him.
