human again.” Jake poured authority into his voice, acting very matter-of-fact, as if he brushed her hair every day.
She swallowed and looked around a little helplessly, as if she didn’t quite know what to do. He gave her no choice and reached across the bed to gently lift her body into a sitting position before he slid in behind her and seated himself on the bed. His thighs wrapped around her hips. A sense of haunting familiarity washed over him, as if he’d done this a million times. His fingers slid into the mass of tangled hair and that too felt familiar.
Jake took a breath and drew the scent of her into his lungs, the woman—who belonged to another man—that he meant to keep for himself, to steal. “Emma?” His voice took on an inquiring tone. “Are you all right?” He dropped his hands to her shoulders.
Emma shook her head.
“Tell me.” He ran the brush through her long hair, careful not to pull. He’d never brushed a woman’s hair in his life, yet it felt as if he had. Instinctively he held the silken strands above the knots so it wouldn’t pull on her scalp as he brushed. He knew she had a tender scalp, and for a moment he heard her laughing explanation, as if she had spoken aloud, that the curls made her sensitive. They’d never once talked about brushing hair, but the memory was in his mind, clear and vivid.
Emma felt his hands in her hair and she closed her eyes, realizing she’d been waiting for him, needing him, needing his strength. It upset her that she needed anyone, and she was ashamed that she couldn’t seem to cope on her own. She couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t face her apartment without Andy, and now . . . Her chest ached. Her heart felt so heavy she was afraid she’d choke with the need for air.
“Emma.” His voice held an edge, a command. “Tell me.”
“The doctor said the baby is at risk and I have to be on bed rest.”
There. She’d said it aloud. Finally faced the terrible news because he was there. A complete stranger. Why had she been waiting for him? She’d been angry and hurt that he’d stayed away so long. She’d barely been aware of the doctors and nurses bustling around her, trying to be cheerful, but she’d been acutely aware of him each time he’d been in the hallway outside the nursery looking at his baby. And she’d overheard the nurses gossiping endlessly about how sexy and hot he was.
She didn’t want to cry anymore. She wasn’t even certain she could. All day long, all night, all she could do was think of Andy, miss him, pray he’d died quickly, without pain. Now she was terrified of losing his child, of not having a way to take care of herself or the baby. She had no one to help her. She was completely and utterly alone in the world.
“What are they saying is wrong?”
His voice was calm and the sound of it steadied her. His hands moved through her hair with the tug of the brush and somehow even that motion soothed her. She took a gulp of air and found she could think better with him close to her.
“I have some internal injuries and they think my body won’t hold the baby as it grows. I’ll have to be on complete bed rest by my fourth month.”
The brush stroked through her hair a few more times before he put it down and divided her hair into three strands. “We can get a second opinion, Emma. It’s not hard to fly someone in. If he agrees, then you’ll just do whatever it takes.”
“How?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I don’t have Andy to help me. They operated on my leg; I can’t walk, I can’t work. I don’t have a clue what to do.” She detested sounding so pathetic.
He tugged on her hair until she turned back away from him, her shoulders sagging. “We’ll do just what we’re doing now. Help each other. I’ve got money and a big house if you need it.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need a handout.” She did, though. That was what was so humiliating. She was practically begging for a
She swallowed and looked around a little helplessly, as if she didn’t quite know what to do. He gave her no choice and reached across the bed to gently lift her body into a sitting position before he slid in behind her and seated himself on the bed. His thighs wrapped around her hips. A sense of haunting familiarity washed over him, as if he’d done this a million times. His fingers slid into the mass of tangled hair and that too felt familiar.
Jake took a breath and drew the scent of her into his lungs, the woman—who belonged to another man—that he meant to keep for himself, to steal. “Emma?” His voice took on an inquiring tone. “Are you all right?” He dropped his hands to her shoulders.
Emma shook her head.
“Tell me.” He ran the brush through her long hair, careful not to pull. He’d never brushed a woman’s hair in his life, yet it felt as if he had. Instinctively he held the silken strands above the knots so it wouldn’t pull on her scalp as he brushed. He knew she had a tender scalp, and for a moment he heard her laughing explanation, as if she had spoken aloud, that the curls made her sensitive. They’d never once talked about brushing hair, but the memory was in his mind, clear and vivid.
Emma felt his hands in her hair and she closed her eyes, realizing she’d been waiting for him, needing him, needing his strength. It upset her that she needed anyone, and she was ashamed that she couldn’t seem to cope on her own. She couldn’t get out of bed, couldn’t face her apartment without Andy, and now . . . Her chest ached. Her heart felt so heavy she was afraid she’d choke with the need for air.
“Emma.” His voice held an edge, a command. “Tell me.”
“The doctor said the baby is at risk and I have to be on bed rest.”
There. She’d said it aloud. Finally faced the terrible news because he was there. A complete stranger. Why had she been waiting for him? She’d been angry and hurt that he’d stayed away so long. She’d barely been aware of the doctors and nurses bustling around her, trying to be cheerful, but she’d been acutely aware of him each time he’d been in the hallway outside the nursery looking at his baby. And she’d overheard the nurses gossiping endlessly about how sexy and hot he was.
She didn’t want to cry anymore. She wasn’t even certain she could. All day long, all night, all she could do was think of Andy, miss him, pray he’d died quickly, without pain. Now she was terrified of losing his child, of not having a way to take care of herself or the baby. She had no one to help her. She was completely and utterly alone in the world.
“What are they saying is wrong?”
His voice was calm and the sound of it steadied her. His hands moved through her hair with the tug of the brush and somehow even that motion soothed her. She took a gulp of air and found she could think better with him close to her.
“I have some internal injuries and they think my body won’t hold the baby as it grows. I’ll have to be on complete bed rest by my fourth month.”
The brush stroked through her hair a few more times before he put it down and divided her hair into three strands. “We can get a second opinion, Emma. It’s not hard to fly someone in. If he agrees, then you’ll just do whatever it takes.”
“How?” She turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I don’t have Andy to help me. They operated on my leg; I can’t walk, I can’t work. I don’t have a clue what to do.” She detested sounding so pathetic.
He tugged on her hair until she turned back away from him, her shoulders sagging. “We’ll do just what we’re doing now. Help each other. I’ve got money and a big house if you need it.”
She stiffened. “I don’t need a handout.” She did, though. That was what was so humiliating. She was practically begging for a
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