"What do you owe them, Martina?" he asked. "Now that you're a grown woman ready to give birth to our first child, what do you owe your brothers?"
She bit her lip and shredded more pillow stuffing. "I don't know, but I do know I hate feeling disloyal to them." She shook her head as if she wanted to shake off the discussion. "Addie has homegrown tomatoes for me. And I crave homegrown tomatoes so much I would probably trade my body for them."
Noah tucked that vivid image-inducing comment in the back of his mind and took the pitiful-looking pillow from her arms. "Is surgery possible, or should we go ahead and dig the grave?"
"We can always send it to Wendy," she said in that too-sweet voice again as she turned and walked from the room.
Watching her, Noah wasn't offended by the dig. If Martina was the tiniest bit possessive, then perhaps she could be possessed.
Martina listened to the second chapter of The Hobbit and fought the lulling seductiveness of Noah's voice. She remembered the way he'd touched her the night before. She remembered how right it had felt, so right to be possessed by him, to possess him. But she was fooling herself because although she might have a piece of Noah's heart, she would never have all of it. Would that be enough to last her the rest of her life?
Her stomach twisted and desperation tightened the back of her throat. The whole situation felt like a no-win for everyone involved, even the baby. That thought tore at her.
She needed to go back to her condo in Dallas. She needed to think clearly. This was too important. Noah was right about that. In the meantime, she wished Noah would stop going shirtless and get laryngitis.
Her heart and body softened just hearing him read. Which showed how insane he was making her. She bit back a sigh of disgust at her reaction to him. Looking at him in the glow of the lamplight, she knew he would make it so easy to fall into his arms and bed, but she'd learned making love with him would just confuse her further.
As he finished the last words of the second chapter and closed the book, Martina sprang from the bed. "Well, I'm beat and I'm sure you are, too. Good ni-"
Noah stood and took her hand. "No need to rush," he said, pulling her to him.
Oh, yes, there is, she thought. "I need to go to bed," she said, trying very hard to ignore the way her heart raced and the fact that he stood before her nearly naked. "Without you."
He toyed with her hair. "Why?"
"Because making love with you isn't a good idea," she said.
"You didn't like it?"
His gaze wrapped around her with a combination of warmth and seduction. "I didn't say that. You told me that you didn't want emotions getting in the way of your thinking, that this situation is too important. I think you're right, so we shouldn't make love."
"How do you know that making love with me doesn't make you see everything more clearly?"
Because my brain turns to mush when you are within five feet of me. His fingers in her hair had a drugging effect on her. It was all she could do not to lean into him and put her hands on his bare shoulders. She could easily drown in his eyes.
"I just know," she said. "So I'll go."
"Just one moment," he said, and eased his hand under her shirt to her bare belly at the same time that he lowered his mouth to hers. "I want to say good-night to both of you," he murmured, and kissed her and caressed her abdomen.
Martina willed herself not to melt, but his hands were both soothing and arousing, his mouth both gentle and seductive. His clean, musky smell and the promise of all the sensation and emotion he stirred in her drew her. Noah made her feel everything in 3-D Technicolor. She could have kissed him and let him touch her all night.
And if she didn't move away, she was going to dissolve into a puddle on this very spot.
Her heart and body protesting, she moved backward unsteadily. Noah's arms shot out to stabilize her, sending her emotions into another tailspin. She lifted her hands and took another step backward. G'night, Noah.
When Martina awoke the next morning, she opened her eyes to a bowl of fully ripe homegrown tomatoes on her dresser. On them perched a note in Noah's bold handwriting. "Tomatoes for you every morning. You with me every evening. Fair trade? Yours, Noah."
Martina didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She had no intention of telling Noah he left homegrown tomatoes in the dust even if it was an absolute fact. If he wasn't so nearly perfect, she'd kick him. She had to leave soon or she would give in to him.
That evening, Noah was edgy as hell. He was getting better and he couldn't fake it, and Martina was going to leave. He could feel it in his bones. Why couldn't he get through to her?
After dinner, he reviewed some stock charts, then returned downstairs. He heard Martina and Jonathan laughing in the living room. The sound drew him. He walked closer and heard her voice.
"One, two, three. One, two, three," she said. "See? You can do it. Who told you that you can't dance?"
"My leg isn't helping much, but it's not as bad as it would be if it were raining. This is the waltz? Damn, I never thought I'd see the day I'd be waltzing."
"With a very pregnant lady, no less," she said with another chuckle that made Noah's nerve endings crinkle.
"We're some kind of pair. The limping horse whisperer and … "
"The pregnant porcupine?" she suggested.
"I wasn't gonna say that."
"No." Martina's voice bubbled with amusement. "You were just thinking it."
Noah felt his gut twist with an emotion he couldn't immediately name. If Martina was going to pair with anyone, it was going to be him. Jealousy? Shock raced through him. He was jealous of his brother? He must be losing his mind, he thought, but the feeling didn't fade as he heard their continuing banter. Why was it so easy for Martina and Jonathan? Why did she smile and laugh with Jonathan when she avoided Noah as if he were the evil dragon from The Hobbit? Why? he wondered as he listened.
"Let me know if you get tired," Jonathan said. "Are you sure pregnant women are supposed to dance?"
"Pregnant women can do anything their doctors tell them they can do."
"You're sure about that?" Jonathan said.
"I'm sure. Are you afraid I'm going to have the baby in the middle of the living room just because I waltzed with you?"
Jonathan blanched and stopped midstep. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"
Martina shook her head and laughed. She had learned that Jonathan was the most easygoing of the Coltrane brothers. He provided a welcome break from all the tension she felt with the other brothers, including Noah. "I imagine it's going to take more than a waltz to pry this one out of me. You have to remember this baby has inherited stubbornness genes from both Noah and me."
"You and Noah are gonna have your hands full," Jonathan warned her.
"I didn't know dance lessons were on the schedule," Noah said, entering the room. "Where do I sign up?"
Martina stiffened and stepped on Jonathan's foot.
He winced.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I'm not the best teacher."
"The best I ever had," he said.
From the corner of her eye, Martina saw Noah's frown deepen.
"The best you ever had," Noah echoed in a deceptively mild voice.
Jonathan did a double take. "Best dance teacher," he said to his brother, and slowly stepped away from Martina. "Thanks for the dance lesson." He shook his head at Noah. "I think I'll get a beer."
He left and an uneasy silence descended. "Would you like to go out on the porch?" Noah asked.
Confused and uneasy, Martina shrugged. "Okay."
She followed him outside, not standing too close. It was a warm, cloudless night, but the breeze made it more bearable. She drew in a deep breath and gazed up at the big Texas sky. "I like being able to order pizza and Chinese food and have them delivered in Dallas, but I sure do miss the stars. The city lights detract. Every now and then it's nice to look at a sky full of stars."
"Are you a city girl or country girl, Martina?"
"Both," she said. "I enjoy the conveniences of city life, but I need the quietness of the country at times."
Noah was in an odd mood. She could sense it, and it made her tense and uncomfortable.
After a long silence, Noah finally spoke again. "You and Jonathan seemed to get along well."
"He talks to me."
"What do you mean?" Noah asked, studying her.
"Your other brothers don't speak to me. I know they wish I wasn't here. Especially Adam. I can't say I blame them, but Jonathan doesn't mind talking to me, and he doesn't really expect anything of me."