"But I want to know."
"Fine," he said, not missing a beat as his gaze met hers. "Let me stay the night."
She blinked and he watched her swallow. "I can't imagine why you would want to stay the night with a woman who is seven months pregnant."
"I can think of some reasons," he said, holding her gaze. "Would you like me to tell you them?
"I'd like to see you naked in the moonlight with your belly swollen with my baby. I'd like to touch you with my hands and mouth. I'd like to-"
"No!" Martina shook her head and put her hands to her ears. "No. I don't want you to tell me reasons, and you don't need to tell me your source because you're not staying the night."
"Why not?" he asked, applying a second coat of polish. "Has pregnancy made you chicken?"
"No," she said. "It's made me more sensible."
Noah silently pondered her response as he finished the second coat. Then he skimmed his fingers up the sole of her foot and looked up at her. "You have pretty feet."
Her toes curled and he grinned. "You're welcome."
She looked at him with flashes of wariness and wonder, sensuality and seduction in her startling blue eyes. "It would be easier for both of us if you would just be yourself, instead of being so … " She broke off, her finely arched eyebrows furrowing.
"So what?" He linked his fingers around her slim ankle.
"So kind," she said. "It would be better for you to just be yourself."
His lips twitched. "And that would be?"
"Domineering, pushy, superior, overprotective."
"Is the who I was in Chicago?"
She faltered and looked down. "No, but I'm sure the prospect of fatherhood brings out buried qualities in a man."
He sighed, wondering how he was going to get through to her. He had known her when she was soft and open to him. He remembered that Martina and knew she was still inside. Her softness and openness were just locked away from him.
He stood between her legs and leaned forward, nudging her chin upward with his finger so he could see her eyes. "I wish I knew what you were afraid of."
Bingo. Her eyes widened and she sucked in a sharp breath. The air between them seemed to thicken and crackle. "I'm not afraid."
Noah didn't believe her and although she might be mad as hell at him, he wasn't backing down. "Keep saying it, Princess Logan." He dipped his head close enough to brush his lips over hers, close enough to remind both of them what they'd once shared. "Maybe you'll believe it." He grabbed his hat from the table. "Sleep well."
* * *
Martina sat in her kitchen fuming as she waited for her toenails to dry. Noah Coltrane was an egotistical jerk, pretending that he wanted to seduce her, then insinuating that she was afraid. Not just afraid in general, she suspected, but afraid of him. She made a scoffing sound that only her goldfish could have heard if it had had ears.
She glanced down at her azalea-pink toenails and felt herself soften. The man had painted her toenails. If she tried to explain this to anyone else, she would sound like a nut. But the experience had been oddly intimate. Her foot resting between his legs, brushing his strong inner thighs, had reminded her of the passion they had shared. His determination to do a perfect job had reminded her of his determination to push her to the heights of pleasure.
She wasn't afraid. She was terrified.
What if she couldn't resist Noah? What if she fell in love with him? What if she fell so helplessly in love with him that she gave in and married him and spent the rest of her life trying to make him love her? She knew he didn't love her. He liked her and perhaps in some strange way desired her, but her primary value to him was the fact that she carried his child. His motivations for marrying her were all admirable and honorable, but they didn't involve love.
Martina didn't like the idea of being the only one in over her head here. If she was going to be vulnerable and head over heels in love, then she wanted Noah to feel the same way. It seemed fairer that way. Plus, she'd spent too many years trying to gain equal ground with the men in her life; she didn't want to spend the rest of her years doing the same thing.
Martina shuddered, then stood and walked gingerly toward her computer room. She'd had very good reasons for running from Noah seven months ago, and those reasons were still valid. She put her hand on her abdomen and sighed. Unfortunately, she had an even bigger reason she could no longer run from him. She just wondered how she could keep from falling in love with him.
* * *
Martina wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but Noah managed to join her for her first childbirth-preparation class. As they pulled into the parking lot of her doctor's building, she turned to him. "If anyone asks, we are not married. I don't want anyone misinterpreting your presence."
He ignored her and got out of the truck. Martina followed his lead and started to get out of her side. Her foot slipped and she started to fall. A thin slice of panic cut through her.
Noah's arms closed around her and he pulled her against him. "Don't do that," he said.
"Don't do what?" she asked, hiding her own jittery nerves. "I had to get out of your truck."
"Just wait for me to help you," he said irritably, his jaw tight with tension. "Don't let your mile-wide independent streak end up hurting you or the baby."
His accusation stung. It felt so good to be held by him at the same time that his words hurt her. "You don't really think I would do anything to hurt the baby."
He loosened his grip and the fierce glint in his eyes faded. "I don't think you'd do anything to hurt the baby. I want you to be careful with yourself. I'm not around as much as I'd like to make sure you're okay."
"I'm okay," she insisted as much for herself as for him. "I'll be okay."
He released her, but stayed close as they walked into the doctor's office. The lobby was used as the classroom and several couples were already seated. A nurse approached Martina with a folder.
"Hi, I'm Emily Ross and I will be your teacher for the next several weeks. You are?"
"Martina Logan and-"
"And you must be Mr. Logan," Emily said with a smile.
"No," Martina and Noah said at the same time.
"His name is Noah Coltrane," Martina said. "We aren't married."
"But I plan to change that," Noah said.
Emily's smile broadened. "Oh. Well, welcome to the class."
Martina frowned at him. "Did you have to tell her that?"
He shrugged, momentarily distracting her. She wished he wouldn't do that. The simple movement conjured up images of nights when she had traced the contours of his shoulder muscles with her hands and mouth. Stop it, she told herself.
"Would you rather I tell her you were the best lover I'd ever had and I have every intention of making you mine for good?"
Martina blinked and her stomach filled with butterflies. "If that were true," she said, "then you would have sought me out before seven months had passed."
"I did," he said. "Your employer said you were doing Web design from your home, there was no forwarding address or phone number from your previous apartment, and no one in West Texas seemed to know where you were. And for some reason your brothers weren't inclined to discuss your whereabouts with me."
Martina stared at Noah, feeling an odd knot of emotion form in her throat. Looking into his eyes, she could almost believe that her leaving abruptly had mattered to him. But that couldn't be, she told herself. He'd been so light about their relationship, so firm about not discussing the future. He'd teased her out of her clothes and into his bed so quickly it had made her head spin. Every time she was around him, it seemed he made her head spin.
Gulping over her tight throat, she shook her head. "You told me one of the things you liked most about our relationship was that neither of us had any long-term expectations. You told me that the last night we spent together."
He narrowed his eyes. "Neither of us knew what we had, what we could have."
Her heart ached, but she needed to remind him and herself. "And we'll never know now," she said firmly, and looked around for a seat. "Time for class."
Throughout the session, Martina felt Noah's gaze on her, but she tried to concentrate as the instructor gave a brief overview of the warning signs and stages of labor, and instructions on sex during pregnancy. When Martina looked at her full abdomen, she wondered if she would ever have sex again. When she thought about the warning signs of complications, she thought about her mother.