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“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling weak and close to tears.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Jordan told her, gently guiding her back to the upholstered chair. Hebrought her a glass of water and she drank thirstily. Jordan stayed by her side.
Resting her head against the back of the chair, Molly closed her eyes. “I’ll be all right in a minute,” she said.
“Relax,” Jordan told her.
Molly felt him place a thin blanket over her. Her mind was drifting into a lazy slumber. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t a good idea to fall asleep while she was at Jordan’s house, but that demanded far more effort than she could muster.…
* * *
Jordan sat across from Molly, watching her while she napped. His heart ached as he studied her, hoping she could rest.
The awkwardness between them troubled him. He knew he was to blame and that Molly was protecting herself from any further heartache.
He’d acted like an idiot about the pregnancy. Over the past week he’d made several attempts to reconcile himself to the fact he was going to be a father again. It hadn’t worked. His instincts told him to run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.
He admired Molly’s courage and wished he could be different. He wished he could feel the elation he’d experienced when they’d first learned she was pregnant with Jeffrey. But that wasn’t possible. Not anymore.
From the moment Molly told him she was going to have another child, all he’d known was fear. It clung to his every thought, dictated his actions and taunted him with the feeling that nothing in his life would ever be right again.
He longed to give Molly the emotional support sheneeded and deserved through this pregnancy. But he didn’t know if he could. This child, innocent and fragile, left him weak with anxiety.
A strand of blond hair fell across her pale skin. Jordan yearned to tuck it behind her ear, to hold her in his arms. He didn’t examine his feelings too closely because if he did he might remember their night together in Africa.…
It’d been like that in the beginning, when they were first married. Their need for each other had been insatiable, and their happiness had brimmed over into every aspect of their lives.
He needed to move away from Molly, Jordan decided, otherwise he’d become trapped in the maze of happy memories.
Making dinner seemed the solution, so he went into the kitchen and brought out a package of steaks. His culinary skill was limited, but he could barbecue a decent steak. Salads weren’t that difficult, either. He took the lettuce from the refrigerator, plus a tomato and a green pepper. He chopped the vegetables, feeling especially creative. Every now and again, his gaze involuntarily drifted to Molly.
He must have been glancing at her more frequently than he realized, because the knife sliced the end of his index finger. A rush of bright red blood followed.
“Damn,” he muttered at the unexpected pain. The cut was deep and bled freely. Turning on the faucet, he held his finger beneath the running water.
“What happened?” a groggy Molly asked.
“Nothing.”
“You cut yourself.” She was standing next to him. “Let me see.”
He jerked his hand away from her. “I told you it’s nothing.”
“Then let me take a look at it,” she insisted. She turned off the water and held his wrist, then wrapped his hand in a clean kitchen towel.
“It’s not that bad,” Jordan said, feeling foolish. It was his own fault for being careless.
“You’ll live,” she agreed. “I’ll put a bandage on it and you’ll be good as new within a week.” She opened the cupboard by the kitchen sink and removed the bandages, carefully wrapping his index finger in gauze and tape. When she’d finished, she kissed the back of his hand.
The kiss, simple as it was, rippled through him. Unprepared for the impact of her touch, he drew in his breath sharply. Somewhere in the farthest reaches of his mind, the pleasure took hold of him and refused to let go. It had been like this in Africa when she’d put her arms around his neck and her breath came hot against his throat.
When he dared, he lowered his eyes to Molly’s and found that she was staring at him. Hers were a reflection of his own, filled with doubt and wonder.
Neither of them moved, neither breathed. He needed to kiss her. Not wanted.Needed. He couldn’t think about this feeling, couldn’t analyze it, knowing that if he did he’d lose courage.
He reached for her and she came into his arms. She parted her lips to him and trembled as her body adjusted to his.
He kissed her again. What had started out gentle and exploratory had become a frenzy of need.
