Blowing out a silent whistle, she lay back and stared up at the ceiling. Her skin still tingled where his palms had moved slowly up her spine, pressing her fully against him. She’d expected him to pull her into bed right away and take what he seemed to want, what his obvious arousal proved he wanted. But surprisingly, he’d held back. He’d been more concerned with what she might be thinking or feeling.
Was this considerate man the same one who’d been so gruff with her and Max today? The man who’d dumped them and hoped to be rid of them?
The two mental images didn’t quite match. But that telephone call she’d overheard revealed a lot. What would she be like if she lost Max?
Losing Max to Manuel, or even to diabetes, was always a possibility. The worry she carried with her drew closer to the surface, and she went into the bathroom to move her son into bed. Fortunately, he wasn’t sweating or showing any other signs of distress.
Once she had Max situated, her mind immediately returned to Preston. Who knew a man could kiss like that? When his lips had brushed hers the first time, so lightly, it was barely a kiss at all. Somehow, he’d made her want to seek his mouth….
Throwing an arm over her eyes, she remembered the restrained, almost reverent way he’d touched her after that, and marveled at the confidence he must feel to leave so much room for reciprocation. He hadn’t pushed her to take more than she was ready to receive. His touch had been an invitation to participate, an invitation to experience something far beyond anything she’d experienced with Manuel.
And she’d almost taken that opportunity. Now that she was feeling more like herself, she was glad she hadn’t. She barely knew Preston Holman, and soon she’d never see him again. But for a few seconds, she’d felt as though she needed Preston’s hands on her more than her next breath.
So where was he?
Leaving the bed, she went to the window and parted the drapes but she couldn’t see him outside. He wasn’t around when she got up to test Max at three, either. She was just starting to worry that he might have gone to another motel and abandoned them, after all, when she heard him come in at nearly four.
Emma feigned sleep as he moved around the room, even though she was fully awake and had been watching the clock since she’d been up with Max. As a single mother with a child to protect and a dangerous ex-lover dogging her every step, she had no business becoming so involved with a stranger. Least of all one caught up in his own past. Still, she couldn’t help feeling safer when Preston was around.
From beneath her eyelashes, she watched him cross the room to the bathroom, heard the toilet flush and the sink tap go on. When he returned, he shed the jeans that fit him so perfectly and crawled into the other bed wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.
Emma breathed deeply, trying to determine whether or not he’d been drinking. She hated it when Manuel drank, because it heightened his possessiveness and lengthened the time it took him to achieve an orgasm. But she couldn’t smell any alcohol on Preston, only soap and a hint of aftershave.
Her ni**les began to tingle as they had when he’d stroked her back, and she wondered what it might’ve been like to make love with him. Different than with Manuel. Certainly better.
With so much going on in her life, she was crazy to even think about it she decided, and turned over. Slipping her arm around Max’s little waist, she pulled her son close to her. Manuel was probably in town by now. He—
Emma didn’t want to dwell on that, either. Letting her mind drift back to the man who’d surprised her so much when he’d kissed her tonight, she listened to Preston’s breathing grow deeper and steadier until she finally slept herself.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Emma began to stir as Preston hung up with the mechanic at Mel’s Auto Repair.
“The garage is open,” he told her when she leaned up on one elbow.
She yawned. “This early?”
“Yeah.” Briefly, their eyes met and last night’s intimacy stood between them. Preston had to acknowledge that Emma looked even sexier sleepy and disoriented than she did wide awake and coherent. But he wasn’t about to let her affect him the way she had before. Sleep didn’t come easy for him as it was. And wanting something he wasn’t going to get didn’t help.
“If I hurry over there, maybe we’ll get out of here today,” he said and turned away to pull on a T-shirt. “They have a free continental breakfast downstairs. I’ll bring you and Max a plate before I go.”
“That’d be great.”
He bent over to tie his tennis shoes. “What do you want?”
“What do you think they’ll have?”
“Doughnuts, muffins, coffee, juice, cold cereal. Maybe some waffles and eggs.”
She shoved a hand through her sleep-tousled hair and seemed to have trouble deciding.
“I want sugar cereal,” Max announced, throwing off the covers and joining the conversation.
“No, not sugar cereal,” Emma said. “Get him—”
“Then a donut. How ’bout a doughnut? Pul-leeze, Mom?”
“Get Max some eggs, bacon and—” she frowned at her son “—a doughnut, I guess. A small one, if they have it. If they don’t have eggs, please get him a waffle and no doughnut. And ask if they have sugar-free syrup.”
Sugar-free syrup? Preston had never known a mother more concerned with her son’s diet. “What about you?”
“I’ll have the same.”
He shoved his wallet in his pocket and gathered his keys. “Let me in when I get back. My hands will be full.”
“I’ll go with you and help you carry everything!” Max cried, and bounded out of bed. But Preston knew better than to take Max. Spending time with him was difficult. And if Manuel was in town, it wouldn’t be wise for Max or Emma to leave the room.
“You need to stay here with your mom. I’ll be right back.”
Max’s face fell. “You don’t like me, do you.”
Preston hesitated at the door. What could he say? He didn’t like Max. He didn’t like him because he was alive and Dallas wasn’t. But that made no sense, even to him. “I’ll be right back,” he said again, and shut the door, hating himself more than anyone.
CHAPTER NINE
AS SOON AS Preston left to take the van to the garage, Emma counted the carbohydrates on Max’s plate and administered his morning insulin. His syringes weren’t supposed to be reused, but she carefully capped the needle and put it back in Max’s tester kit. If worse came to worst and she couldn’t buy any supplies this morning, she’d have no choice but to use it again. Insulin couldn’t be taken orally. But she only had two more test strips, not even enough to get through the day. She had to do something about his meds as soon as possible.