by Rebecca Deel
The tub drew her interest as her lower back muscles tightened again from carrying Junior’s added weight. She didn’t know how long Micah would be gone, decided a quick bath might ease the aches enough to sleep.
She dug through her bags and found her nightclothes. Within minutes, she sank into the depths of the tub filled with warm water. Sheer heaven. She propped her head against the back of the tub. Soon, the pain drifted away. A smile crossed her lips. At least until she stood up and the aches returned. March 31 couldn’t come soon enough.
Not wanting to be lazing in the tub when Micah returned, Sophie finished and dried off. She entered the main room again and stopped.
Micah was back, sitting in a wing chair, punching numbers into one of the two phones in his lap. He glanced up. “Feel better?”
Heat burned Sophie’s cheeks. Man, this was awkward. “What are you doing?”
“Programming our numbers into each phone so we can call each other if we get separated. I’ve also added Brent’s number.”
She acted nonchalant about putting away her clothes, refusing to look at the bed which loomed in the center of the room. Why hadn’t the bed seemed that large before she took a bath? This was ridiculous. Micah wasn’t going to pounce on her. She was eight months pregnant, not a real attraction for most men.
She glanced at Micah. His gaze locked with hers.
“You okay, Sophie?”
Nodding, she turned toward the bed and stopped again.
“I’m sleeping on the couch.”
His statement had her swiveling on her heel. “What about your leg? Micah, you can’t.”
He set the phones aside and rose, crossing the room in a few long strides. “A couple pain relievers and my leg will be fine.”
Not true. She’d seen his pained expression more than once over the last couple of days. The last thing she and their baby needed was for him to hurt and be a step slow.
His hands cupped her shoulders a moment. Sophie’s gaze remained glued to the broad chest inches from her nose until he tipped her head up to meet his gaze. “I’ll be fine. Climb into bed while I shower.” His thumb brushed her lower lip in a brief caress before he stepped away and retrieved his bag.
The bathroom door closed with a quiet snick. Sophie’s lip tingled. She dragged her hands through her heavy fall of hair and turned once again to the bed dominating the room. Micah needed rest as much as she did. He wouldn’t sleep if she didn’t. She grabbed the decorative pillows and tossed them in the chair Micah had just vacated, then turned down the covers.
Sophie rummaged in the closet and found another set of sheets, a pillow, and a quilt. She prepared the couch for Micah to sleep on.
That done, she slipped under the covers and propped herself against the headboard, pillows cushioning her back. One flick of a button and a local newscaster droned about the road conditions and the potential for three new inches of snow by morning. Sophie couldn’t remember the last time Nashville had this much snow in a week’s time. Ice and freezing rain were more common in the dead winter in Middle Tennessee.
The bathroom door opened. Micah stepped into the main room, bag in hand. His black sleep pants and T-shirt emphasized his defined muscles. He raised an eyebrow. “Thanks. I could have taken care of that.” He dropped the bag against the wall.
“Would you mind leaving the bathroom light on and the door cracked?” Sophie’s lips curved. “I left my nightlight at the house and I can almost guarantee I’ll be up in a couple hours.”
“No problem.”
He checked his gun and placed it on the coffee table within easy reach. Micah limped to the bed and sat beside her. “Back still hurt?”
“The warm water helped.”
“I’m glad.” He caught her hand in his and lifted it to his lips. A soft butterfly kiss, then, “Sleep well, Sophie.” He returned to the couch and stretched out. Within minutes, his breathing evened out.
Once the news credits rolled and the programming switched to a late night talk show, Sophie clicked off the television and slid further under the covers, surprised to find herself almost ready to doze off.
She woke up later in the night, pain shooting up from one of her calves. She squealed and struggled to sit up, get out of bed, anything to relieve the pain, but her basketball-sized stomach had her flopping around like a beached whale.
“What’s wrong?” Micah jolted upright and tracked the room with his weapon. “Did you hear something?”
“Cramp,” Sophie choked out. She gritted her teeth against the scream that wanted to leap from her throat.
Micah put his gun back on the table, hurried to her side and whipped back the covers. “Which leg?”
Brain fogged with pain and fatigue, Sophie couldn’t form the words to tell him it was her left calf, so she grabbed his hand and pulled it to the knotted muscle. By that time, tears poured down her cheeks. Who knew a leg cramp could be so painful?
“Hold on, baby.” Micah rolled her gently to her back and straightened her leg before pressing her foot upward with gentle but insistent pressure and forced the muscle to release.
Oh, man. What blessed relief. She dragged in great gulps of air, panting as if she’d just run a race. “Thanks. I’ve never had a muscle cramp like that. How did you know what to do?”
“When I’m not recovering from a leg injury, I run. I’ve had a few cramps over the years when I didn’t hydrate enough or my potassium was too low.” He slid off the bed and padded across to the bathroom. A minute later, he returned with a washcloth and wiped her face with soft strokes. “Better?”
“Much.” She laughed. “Except now I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Want me to carry you?”
“No. You really would strain something. I’ve never been a lightweight like Sierra and now I’m carrying extra baby weight.”
“When you come back, I’ll massage your calf. If we don’t, you’ll be sore tomorrow.”
Sophie hobbled to the bathroom. When she climbed back on the bed, her teeth were chattering. “Aren’t you cold?” she said as she burrowed under the covers.
“I’m fine. I’m going to shift your legs toward me. I’ll keep as much of you covered as I can, but I really do need to work on your leg. I speak from painful experience.”
“Okay.” Sophie shivered and pulled the covers up to her nose. Who turned off the heat? If she didn’t know better because of the glowing bathroom light, she’d think the power was off.
Micah moved her around toward him and raised her pajama leg up to her knee. His hot hands felt so good on her cold skin. He worked for long minutes on her calf until her muscle was pliable under his talented hands. “Okay now?”
Eyes heavy with sleep, Sophie sighed. “Oh, yeah. I’m keeping you around, Winter. You’re very handy in an emergency. Does the massage therapy cost extra?”
He chuckled. “I’ll add it to your bill. Still cold?”
“I feel as though we’re stranded in the Antarctic.”
“Do you trust me?”
Sophie stilled at his soft question. With the bathroom light glowing behind him, Micah’s face remained shrouded in the night shadows. Did she trust him? Two days ago, her instinctive answer would have been a resounding no. Now, her emotions were tangled in knots so tight, she didn’t know where one feeling ended and another began. One thing she did know was his drive to protect her and Junior. “Yes.” She huffed out a breath. “Never thought I would say that about a cop, either.”
“I’m not asking you that question as a cop, Sophie.” He waited, motionless.
Did she trust him as a man? Sophie swallowed. She was as vulnerable as any woman would be with a man occupying the same space. Her hand flattened over her stomach. The baby could be at risk, too, except she knew beyond any doubt Micah would die to protect his son. As his mother, that protection extended to her as well. “You’re an honorable man. I know you won’t hurt me.”
In answer, he wrapped her in two quilts and carried her across the
room, sat on the couch, placed Sophie beside him, and tugged her into his arms. He yanked his own quilt over his shoulders, one arm holding her secure against his chest. The other arm rested on her hip, broad hand on the mound of her belly as if offering warmth to his son as well.
Tears pricked her eyes, this time from turbulent emotions rather than pain. She clamped her eyes shut before the moisture could leak and lead to more concern and embarrassing questions to which she had no answers. Must be pregnancy hormones. She refused to consider the possibility of real feelings blossoming this fast for Micah Winter.
Within a couple minutes, the warmth from his body had seeped into hers, chasing the winter chill away. Her muscles loosened and she relaxed against Micah. In a haze of warmth and drowsiness, Sophie drifted to sleep.
When she woke, fingers of early morning sunlight caressed her face and the steady rhythm of a heart beat under her ear. She raised her eyelids just enough to peer through her lashes and fought to not react or, worse yet, scramble off the couch. Not that she could scramble anywhere these days as her beached-whale dilemma last night proved.
Micah’s black T-shirt filled her field of vision. His chest rose and fell beneath her head, since she was using the handsome cop as her pillow. Sophie’s hand rested on his broad chest. How on earth would she deal with this? Micah had only meant to offer her and Junior warmth and she was draped all over his chest.
Something must have tipped him off that she was alert because the arm around her back tightened and the fingers of Micah’s other hand tunneled through her hair.
“Morning.” His voice rumbled beneath her ear. “Sleep okay?”
“Sorry about using you as a pillow.”
He chuckled. “I like being your pillow. Junior and I have been getting acquainted the last few minutes. He wants to be a field goal kicker for the New Orleans Saints.”
Sophie grinned. “What about the Titans?”
“No way,” came the prompt response. “My son knows I’m a long-time Saints fan.”
“How long have you been awake?”
“A while. Took me a few minutes to figure out Junior was playing.” Another tightening of his arm. “Why don’t you go ahead and shower first. I need to check in with Brent.”
She nodded. “I’ll hurry.”
“No need. No one knows we’re here. You’re safe.”
Sophie sat up, gaze locked on his. “This is not only for my safety, Micah Winter. Junior needs his dad, too, so he can learn about life and football.” And how to make a woman’s heart melt like Micah’s words did to hers.
A smile, then, “One thing before you scoot to the shower.”
“What?” Sophie’s heart thudded in an erratic rhythm. Had something happened overnight? She didn’t remember the phone ringing. He would have awakened her if some other disaster struck.
His gaze dropped to her lips, lingered. “This.” He cupped the back of her head and covered her lips with his own.
Her hand fisted in his shirt as he devoured her lips in a hot, no-holds-barred kiss. His tongue glided in a dance with hers that sent her blood skittering through veins at Nascar pace. Her breath shortened. Though he changed the angle and increased the pressure, Micah’s hands stayed tangled in her hair and pressed against her back.
Long, heart-pounding minutes later, Micah eased his lips from hers. His swollen lips, glittering eyes, and flushed cheeks sent a zing of satisfaction through her. Nice to know she still attracted him despite bed hair and a body swollen with his child.
He set her on her feet. “Get in the shower, Sophie, before I forget how to be a gentleman.”
#
Micah watched Sophie close the bathroom door and heaved a deep sigh. Those scorching kisses had not been his brightest move, especially not in these surroundings with who knew how many people after them. A moment of distraction at the wrong time and a bullet might end the lives in his care. He couldn’t find it in himself to regret his stolen kisses, but it confused issues between himself and his beautiful cat burglar.
He grabbed the television remote and clicked on to a local station. On site remote reports around the Nashville area showed cars stuck in ditches or skidded off roadways. Reporters babbled about 4 inches of new snow overnight in the biggest snowstorm in years. Micah snorted. They hadn’t seen a snowstorm until they lived through the blizzards D.C. experienced each winter.
When the excited coverage about the snow shifted to area happenings, Micah’s attention focused on the scene shown behind a local reporter. He scowled. Why was his cabin on the news? Rubbing his early morning bristles, he leaned over and retrieved his cell phone from the table. Who leaked information of the home invasion to the media sharks?
He punched in Brent’s number with a passing thought to the early hour.
“Wondered how soon you’d call.” Brent didn’t bother with a greeting. “Sophie okay?”
His gaze zeroed in on the closed bathroom door, ears picking out the sound of the shower over the droning reporters. He forced his mind away from thoughts of streaming water in a steamy enclosure. “She had a rough night. How did the media find out?”
“Police scanner. I’ll head to your place after the news hounds leave.”
“How is Winston?”
“He called it. Broken ankle, out of commission for at least eight weeks.” Silence from Brent, then, “You wouldn’t be interested in taking his place, would you?”
“I’ve got my hands full right now.” He had no intention of telling Brent exactly how full his hands had been moments earlier. Micah closed his eyes. What was wrong with him? He’d never had this much trouble concentrating during an op. Micah Winter, laser-focused sniper extraordinaire, scowled, furious with himself. Sophie and the baby couldn’t afford his lapse in concentration. “Besides, I’m still employed though on medical leave.” His gaze locked on the bathroom door again. “How long is the offer good?”
“Permanent invitation, Micah. I need someone with your experience and connections.”
“I may not be interested in field work,” he said. He wanted to be upfront with his friend because Micah knew his priorities were changing. Where before he had only himself to worry about, now a woman carrying his child was starting to matter. He didn’t even know how to verbalize what he felt for her. He didn’t have any verbal problems with the little boy she carried.
A wave of fierce possessiveness rushed over him. Junior was his. Period. No one and nothing meant more to him than his son with the exception of the boy’s mother. He wanted to hold Junior in his arms, be the first to throw him a football, the one he ran to when life knocked him down. He wanted that with a surprising fierceness. He’d only known about Junior for two days. How could Micah love a baby that much?
“I don’t care about the field work, Micah. Winston will heal and be back in play soon enough. He’s an adrenaline junkie. I need your knowledge and strategic abilities. Everybody wants a former Secret Service agent on their payroll. I would count myself lucky to have one who is also a friend to watch my back and look out for my people. I need you, man. I’m shorthanded in the office as well as the field. The business is taking off and I need more people trained. You’ve been in this game long enough to be a great field training officer.”
Curious now, Micah settled against the cushions. “Where do you train?”
“We have a training facility on site complete with a mock town. I also need you in the classroom. You have specialized training in areas that would be invaluable to my people.” Brent paused. “Your pay would easily be more than what Secret Service agents pull down. Might come in handy with a baby on the way.”
“You don’t pull any punches, do you?” Micah said, his voice soft. The money wasn’t a big draw at this point. He had enough stashed away to take care of Junior and Sophie for a while, but he didn’t intend for the boy’s mother to pay for college. Even if her store had a bustling business for the next eighteen years, the college bill would outstrip her resources depending on where hi
s son decided to pursue a degree.
The muscles in his face hardened. And his son was going to college before he made any other choices, even the military. If Junior wanted to go into one of the branches of the military, he was going in as an officer.
“I play dirty if the stakes matter.”
As far as Micah was concerned, the stakes didn’t get any higher than the life of his son and Sophie. The water turned off in the shower. Micah dragged his gaze from the door and focused once again on the television screen. Sophie wouldn’t appreciate him staring at the door like a stalker. He sighed. So much for keeping his mind on the op rather than the woman. “I’ll get back to you about the job soon. Anything else happening?”
“The Nashville detective, Abbott, is poking around in your profile, searching online for dirt on you.”
Micah stiffened. “How do you know?”
“You really want to know?”
Now why wasn’t he surprised Brent had a computer hacker in his arsenal of workers? Had to be a good one to notice that much digging by local law enforcement. “No. Is Abbott learning anything I should be concerned about?”
“Not according to Callahan. Our record is spotless, you know. No information beyond what we agreed would be safe for your family. Abbott hasn’t penetrated below the second layer.”
Micah counted every penny he paid Fortress Security money well spent. Abbott was finding things available in the public record. With the precautions he’d put in motion from the hospital emergency room in D.C., he prayed his family stayed safe. He didn’t want his sister’s family or his parents endangered because of his work or bad timing. He rubbed his whiskered jaw. Who knew stopping for coffee would turn out to be so expensive? Brent’s services didn’t come cheap.
Now, if only last night’s fireworks at the cabin didn’t prompt too many deep-level searches for the owner, he might keep his name out of the media and buy his family one more day of safety. “Have Callahan bury the cabin’s ownership deeper.”
“Already in the works. Anything else pops, I’ll let you know.”