by Leanne Banks
"No. I need to read," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, "and you need to be in the room. Close by."
Still confused, she walked closer. "Okay. Where should I sit?"
"The bed's fine," he said.
Martina glanced at him sideways.
"This isn't a seduction," he said. "It sounds a little hokey, but Adam read this article about how reading to babies while they're in the womb increases their intelligence."
Amused, but mostly touched, Martina sat on his bed. "You want to read to the baby."
He shrugged and nodded. "Yeah."
Her heart contracted. "Okay. What did you have in mind? Not stock reports."
He chuckled darkly. "No. Adam suggested War and Peace, but I told him that might be kinda heavy for a baby."
"So what did you choose?"
He picked up a book from the nightstand. "The Hobbit," he said. "I figure between the two of us this child will get plenty of adventure genes, so we might as well let her get started."
And so Noah sat next to her on his big bed and began to read the wondrous story of how boring, respectable and comfortable Bilbo Baggins got suckered into a wild and dangerous adventure.
And with each passing word of his baritone voice, Martina fell for him a little more. Noah had lied when he'd said this wasn't a seduction. It was a seduction of the most secret places in her heart. Although she'd occasionally badgered her brothers into reading to her when she was a child, her father had never read to her. She would have given up ice cream for a year just to have her father read the sports section of the newspaper to her.
When Noah finished the first chapter, he put the book back on the nightstand and gazed at her in an assessing way. "You're very quiet."
"I was listening." And feeling too much. Wanting too much.
"You're thinking I'm crazy."
No, I'm thinking I am crazy. "Not at all," she said. "Did your father read to you?"
"Never," Noah said. "I will be a better father than my father was."
She watched him rub the back of his neck and could tell he was tired. "Why don't you get ready for bed and let me rub your neck for you?"
Surprise and near refusal chased quiet curiosity across his face. "Okay," he finally said. "Give me a couple of minutes."
He washed up in the bathroom and returned wearing briefs and nothing else. Martina suspected he'd kept on the briefs in deference to her, but they hid little. The air grew thick as she breathed. "I'll sit behind you since you can't lie down," she offered, and moved farther back on the bed to make room for him.
He sat down and she tentatively lifted her fingers to his corded neck. She kneaded the tight muscles and massaged his shoulders. His tension showed in the knots she rubbed.
Noah made a rough sound of appreciation. "I don't remember you being such a good masseuse."
"We didn't have a lot of time," she said, "for taking time."
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "That was wrong."
Her heart tripped over itself. "You're tired. You should go to sleep."
"You should stay with me tonight," he murmured.
"Maybe I will." The words popped out of her mouth, but originated in her heart.
She felt him stop breathing. He turned carefully and eased back against the pillows propped in front of the headboard. He chuckled and covered a wide yawn. "You would pick a night when I can barely keep my eyes open."
Martina smiled to cover her nerves. "I'm ornery that way."
He held out his arm. "Then be ornery next to me."
She moved to his side and reached to turn out the light. A suspended awareness seemed to swell in the very air around her. In the darkness, she lightly pressed her cheek to Noah's chest and felt the beating of his heart. She pulled back slightly and he stopped her by curling his hand over her cheek.
"Stay," he muttered.
"I can't lean on your ribs. I might hurt you." She entwined her fingers through his and slowly lowered her cheek to a pillow. "Go to sleep," she whispered.
Too tense, too aware of him to relax, Martina lay stiffly beside him absorbing the rhythm of his breaths and the sensation of his strong hand in hers. A score of emotions tugged at her – anxiety, tenderness, desire, uneasiness. But through them all, she had the odd sense that she was where she was supposed to be. Her mind and her brothers and the rest of the world could argue with her until sunrise, but Martina felt she was where she belonged.
If only until sunrise.
Hours later, she awakened to the sensation of Noah's hands on her bare belly. "What?"
"It's okay," he said, his voice both sensual and reassuring. "It's just me."
Just me, Martina thought. When had Noah ever been just anything?
"I keep having this dream where I'm touching your belly and the baby is moving." He brushed his finger over her lips. "And you're kissing me."
Martina licked her lips, her tongue glancing over his finger. His eyes lit like twin fires, and he slid his finger into her mouth. The small sensual invasion kicked the doors off her denial of the past months. This man could make her want like no other. She suckled gently on his finger and he groaned, then urged her onto his lap.
Lifting her shirt, he splayed his hands over her bare belly and held her with his gaze. "Kiss me."
His words were a combination order and plea she couldn't refuse. Martina slowly leaned forward and rubbed her mouth against his. He darted his tongue over her lips and inside, tasting her, taking her. His warmth and passion moved over her like a wave of heat on a hot Texas afternoon. Her heart pounded against her rib cage and her body temperature soared. She touched his chest and felt his heart pound against her palm. Could he really want her so much?
Noah pulled her shirt upward, stopping at her neck as if he was loath to pull his mouth from hers. With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away slightly and tugged the shirt over her head. He gazed at her bare torso and pushed her panties low on her belly. "Oh, Martina, you have no idea what seeing you like this does to me." He shifted and lifted his dark, frankly sexual gaze to hers. "But you will. Up on your knees darlin'," he told her.
Martina complied. "Why?"
"Closer," he said, wrapping his large hands around her bottom and bringing her belly directly in front of his face.
Then he ran his hands all over her abdomen and followed with his mouth. His mouth on her ripe midsection was the most erotic sight of her life. She felt herself turn to liquid in all her secret places.
As he rubbed his cheek against her stomach, he lifted his hands and unfastened her bra. He ran his hands lightly over her breasts, finding her nipples already hard. "I would never have thought I could have wanted you more than I did in Chicago, but I was wrong," he said, and drew her lower so he could take her breast into his mouth.
Dispensing with her panties, he slid his fingers between her thighs and gently stroked her. Martina had never felt so voluptuously desirable. He made her ache for his possession. Each stroke of his tongue over her nipple and each flick of his finger over her femininity drove her closer to a frenzy of need. She tried, unsuccessfully, to bite back a moan.
Noah pulled back, his eyes nearly black with sexual intent. "What do you want?"
She shuddered as he continued to stroke her. "You in me. I want you in me."
He swore. "I don't want to hurt you."
She shook her head. "You won't."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded, swollen with wanting.
He quickly ditched his briefs and drew her hand to his full erection. He kissed her mouth as she stroked him. Touching wasn't enough, so she pulled back and lowered her mouth to kiss him intimately.
Noah let out a low groan. His thighs taut as bands against her breasts, he allowed her to take him into her mouth, but only for a moment. "I can't last, baby. Come to me."
On trembling knees, she mounted him, and at his deliciously full invasion, her moan mingled with his. For one powerful moment, they gazed into each othe
r's eyes, joined at last. The evidence of their previous passion for each other, her ripe belly, served as yet another erotic, emotional reminder of their bond. Filled with Noah in the most basic way, she felt her landslide of emotions tumbling her more deeply toward him.
It was more than want, more than need, something terribly close to love. Closing her eyes against a shot of fear, she undulated slightly and heard his groan of pleasure.
"Come here," he said, and drew her mouth to his as he cupped his hands around her bottom and led her in a mind-bending rhythm. Everything but Noah faded from her existence.
Lifting one hand, he stroked her jaw as he consumed her with his mouth and tongue, echoing their deeper intimacy. Swollen with anticipation, Martina felt her body tighten around his shaft. The combination was too much. She shattered around him, her climax shuddering through her in fits and starts.
Noah gave a low groan that vibrated through her mouth, through her very being, as he spilled his pleasure into her. Martina felt her bond with him in every pore of her body.
* * *
The first sliver of dawn's pale light woke her the next morning. She blinked her eyes and was immediately aware of Noah. Her cheek rested against his arm, her belly against his side. She was naked and so was he. Although he was propped against the pillows, she could still see the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.
For a moment she wondered what it would be like to wake up in his bed and arms every morning. The forbidden image of looking into his eyes at the start of every day taunted her.
What about their families? And what if he only wanted her and never grew to love her? Her stomach tightened with fear. The baby moved inside her and she felt so torn that tears sprang to her eyes.
She had to get away from Noah, Martina thought. She needed to clear her head, and with him so close she didn't stand a chance. Not bothering with her clothes, she eased out of the covers and carefully slid out of bed, then tiptoed to the bathroom that connected Noah's room with hers. She closed the door, locked it and breathed.
Although he had been gentle, her nipples were tender and a few pink marks colored her skin. She had been completely enveloped by him, and she struggled with a sense of being overwhelmed. Much was at stake.
Biting her lip, she turned on the shower jets and stepped inside the bathtub. A clear head, she told herself. I need a clear head.
As the commodities exchange would have it, Martina successfully avoided Noah throughout the morning. She had left early to go to the grocery store, and when she returned been told that he had asked for her. Since then, he'd been engrossed in taking advantage of a volatile day on the market.
Martina was no less confused. Making love with Noah had solved nothing. They still had the same problems. The only thing making love with him had shown her was the power of their passion for each other and the incredible bond they shared.
But how long would that bond remain if they didn't truly love each other? Martina feared she was fooling herself with that question. It was frightening to admit to herself, but she loved Noah Coltrane. She could hide it from everyone else, but she couldn't dodge it herself any longer.
She was wise enough to know that one-sided love didn't work. How long would their bond remain if Noah never loved her?
Pensive, she paced the downstairs living room. She didn't know which was the most blah room in the house, but this one came close. Beige walls, beige sofa, brown chair. The house desperately needed some color. It desperately needed a woman, but not her, Martina thought. She was far too independent and opinionated for the Coltrane brotherhood. She would drive them all straight up the wall.
The phone rang. Martina knew Patch, the cook, was out in the garden and everyone except Noah was outside. She hesitated to answer on the off chance that one of her brothers might guess her whereabouts. It continued to ring, and since she knew Noah was glued to the monitor and refused to talk on the phone when he was trading, she picked up. "Hello?"
There was a silent pause. "Is this the Coltrane residence?" a female voice asked.
"Yes, it is," Martina replied, her curiosity growing.
"I'd like to speak to Noah Coltrane, please."
Martina felt a sinking sensation in her stomach. "He can't come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?"
"This is Wendy Holden, and Noah and I had dinner a few months ago in Dallas. I own a travel agency and I'd like to discuss his fencing camp. Tell him to give me a call, and this time, I'll give him a home-cooked meal in my home. That way we can avoid interruptions," she said in a smoky voice.
Martina felt the ugly scrape of jealousy. Fierce and intense possessiveness coursed through her. She took a careful breath. "I'll give him the message. Does he have your number?"
Wendy, whom Martina was certain was blond, thin and had no problems with swelling ankles, happily recited her number and hung up. Wendy probably had no problem seeing her toes.
Martina nearly broke the pencil lead as she wrote the message for Noah. She was so upset she could pop. When had he seen her? Who else had he courted and seduced during the time they'd been apart?
While she'd been heaving with morning sickness, he could well have been seducing half of Texas. Make that Texas and Chicago.
Martina knew she wasn't being rational, but the inviting tone in the woman's voice pushed all the wrong buttons. She stared at the beige wall and decided she couldn't stay in this house one minute longer. She heard the back door slam, signaling Patch's return.
She male tracks to the kitchen and placed the offending message on the kitchen table. "I need to go out for a while. Please make sure Noah gets this message."
"Where you going?" the small, older man called after her.
"Out," Martina replied as she stepped through the front doorway and headed for her car. She needed to think.
* * *
As he watched his last trade of the day fill, Noah finally took a breath. The market had been especially volatile today, and since he'd been out of commission several days this week, he'd wanted to take advantage of his opportunities. He felt stiff and sore, and he wanted to see Martina.
She had made love with him with such abandon last night. It had been better, more powerful than he remembered. She had the strange ability to satisfy him completely at the same time that she made him want more.
He stood and resisted the urge to stretch, knowing it would hurt more than it would help. He could tell his lung was better. He didn't feel the damn rattle every time he breathed. Sick of babying his ribs, he figured he'd still have to put up with sleeping upright a while longer.
Noah couldn't deny he was improving, but he was determined to find a way to keep Martina with him. Last night was a start. He wondered where she was. "Martina," he called, whipping open his door. "Martina."
"She's not here," Patch said, appearing at the bottom of the steps and waving a piece of paper. "She told me to make sure you got this message, then she left."
Noah frowned as he made his way down the stairs. "Left? Where'd she go?"
Patch shrugged. "When I asked her, she said, "Out." He raised his bushy gray eyebrows. "You might want to read the message."
Noah scanned the piece of paper and felt his gut sink. Wendy Holden was a man-eater and proud of it. His only interest in her had been her suggestion to promote the ranch's fencing and roundup weekends through her travel agency. When Wendy had indicated she wanted more, Noah had sought other avenues for promoting the ranch's expansion activities. Martina didn't know any of that, though. He could easily imagine what had gone through that pretty head of hers. "Damn," he muttered. "She didn't say anything about where she was going?"
"Out," Patch repeated with emphasis. "That was the last word I heard before the door slammed behind her. She took her car."
"Damn," Noah said again, and took the steps two at a time. If she was leaving permanently, she might have left her clothes, but would have taken her computer, he thought, swinging open her bedroom door to view her room. Her
laptop was still on the small desk. He gave a small sigh of relief.
He stood in her room and stroked his chin, thinking. If I were Martina and I was upset as hell, where would I go?
An answer immediately came to him. An answer that did not please him. His gut twisted. "Damn," he said for the third time, and headed for his brother Adam's truck.
* * *
Chapter 10
«^»
Noah spotted Martina's blue Mustang just as the Logan house came into view. He felt an odd mix of relief and ingrained wariness as he looked at the large, impressive home. Damn. Sometimes he hated being right.
The pretty house, the pretty flowers and the pretty life represented the exact opposite of what the Coltrane ranch had to offer. He narrowed his eyes as he pulled the truck to a stop. That was in the past. If they wanted, the Coltranes could plant flowers with the best of them.
He swung out of the truck and headed for the front door, stiffening his spine in preparation for battle with Martina's family. He punched the bell and glared at the door as he waited.
The housekeeper answered the door, casting a suspicious look at him. "Good afternoon, Mr. Logan."
"I need to see Martina," he told the woman.
"She's in the library. I'll have to ask if she's receiving visitors," the housekeeper said with a sniff.
Noah made a face at the woman's back and didn't wait for an invitation. "I'll announce myself," he said, brushing past her.
"If she shoots you with one of her daddy's rifles, don't say I didn't warn you. She ain't in a pretty mood."
He paused at the wry tone in the housekeeper's voice and offered his own wry grin as he tipped his hat. "Thank you very much, Miss…"
"Addie," she said with a look of pleased surprise at his politeness. "The library's at the end of the hall. Good luck."
He took in the comfort and beauty of Martina's childhood home and felt his gut tighten. A woman could feel at home here, whereas at the Coltrane ranch… He stopped just outside the last open doorway.
Martina stood, shredding the stuffings of a pillow. Small wads of the stuff clumped around her feet. She made a whimpering sound that clutched at his heart. "I wish you were here," she said. "A million times I've wished it, but never more than now."