Adjusting the door to let in enough light from the hall, she darkened the room again and returned to his bed. Then she pulled the covers down to his waist so she could see the extent of his injuries.
She’d seen Booker before—all of him. She knew he had a body women admired and men envied. She especially liked his sinewy chest and the dark hair that swirled so perfectly across it. But she hadn’t been aroused in at least a year and certainly didn’t expect the desire that overtook her now.
Licking dry lips, she lifted her eyes to find Booker watching her. Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other. She wanted him to touch her, to make love to her the way he used to, when she’d been foolish enough to take him for granted and then cast him aside. But he made no move, except to close his eyes and turn his face away.
He wasn’t interested. Of course he wouldn’t be. That realization cost her some self-esteem, but she couldn’t really blame him. She was six months pregnant with someone else’s child. Why would he want her when he could have a woman with a body like Chevy’s? A woman with no immediate promise of future responsibility?
Katie’s chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. She’d been crazy to let the thought of making love, to anyone, cross her mind. What was the matter with her? She was finished with men, remember? Probably she was just hormonal. Pregnant women got that way.
Squeezing some antiseptic ointment onto her fingers, she dabbed it on the cut over Booker’s brow and a couple of the gouges on his hands. He wouldn’t allow any Band-Aids, said they’d only fall off, but he let her raise his chin so she could reach the cut on his lip. While she worked, she could feel the roughness of his whiskers, the softness of his lip and his steady regard beneath his lashes.
“Your hand is swelling pretty badly,” she said, releasing his chin as soon as possible. “You don’t think it’s broken, do you?”
“No.”
“Is there any way to be sure?”
“Short of having it X-rayed? No.”
“Maybe we should take you to the doctor.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m going to sleep now.”
“We could go in the morning, when you wake up.”
“Or I could go to the garage instead.”
“Booker, you work with your hands.”
No response.
“Fine. If you won’t have the injury X-rayed, I won’t go to Rebecca’s OB in Boise. I’ll head straight over to Dr. Hatcher,” she said, infusing her voice with a threatening note.
“You can’t,” he said simply.
“Why not?”
“Because you already traded me for that, and I’m not going to let you out of it.”
“Fine. I’ll trade you something else.”
A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Like what?”
“What do you want?”
His gaze lowered to her belly.
“What?” she said when he didn’t speak right away.
“Let me feel the baby move.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course.”
“But that could take a while, Booker. This baby doesn’t exactly move on command.”
“Are you in some sort of hurry?”
“Not really,” she said. It wasn’t as if she had to get up early for anything specific. But she wasn’t far enough along that it was easy to feel the baby move from the outside. Booker would have to put his hands up her shirt, right against her belly….
“Then what’s the problem?” he asked, challenge glinting in his eyes.
“There’s no problem,” she said. “I—I guess we could give it a try.”
He slid over to make more room for her, and she got into bed with him. For propriety’s sake, she sat against the headboard.
“You’ll be more comfortable if you lie down,” he said, using the hand that wasn’t swollen so badly to cover her legs with his blankets.
The appealing scent of Booker’s warm body engulfed her. “That’s okay,” she said, swallowing hard. “I’m fine.”
He shifted closer, and she took a deep breath before guiding his hands under her shirt. She had to rearrange them more than once searching for the perfect place to feel the baby. But the baby seemed to have settled for the night and wasn’t moving. By the time Booker shook off her hands and began to explore on his own, she was shaky and weak and wishing she hadn’t put herself in such a vulnerable position.
Closing her eyes, she tilted her head against the wall as Booker felt her stomach. He didn’t touch her anywhere else, but she couldn’t help remembering other times when he’d instinctively responded to her every desire…and thought she might melt on the spot.
“The—” She cleared her throat so she could speak, hoping to gain some perspective—and some emotional distance. “The baby is in a sac of fluid, so it’s kind of hard to feel. It’ll get easier as I get bigger. Do you—would you rather take a rain check?”
“Don’t talk,” he said.
“Why not?”
“Silence is part of the deal.”
“You didn’t mention that before.”
“Do you want to change your mind?”
No! She was on fire, scarcely breathing, burning both where he touched her and where she wanted him to touch her. The heady sensations coursing through her were all bittersweet, but sweet enough that she didn’t want him to stop. “I’m okay if you are,” she lied, trying to sound unaffected.
“Then relax.”
Relax? She couldn’t relax. She could see his bare shoulders gleaming in the light filtering into the room, the strong profile of his rugged face, and wanted to comb her fingers through his thick, tousled hair.
But she didn’t dare. He was just curious about the baby. And the baby seemed to like his touch. After a few minutes, as Booker held his palms against her belly, the baby moved.
Katie glanced down to see if he’d noticed. But his dark lashes rested against his cheeks, and his breathing had become deep and regular.
Too late. He was asleep.
CHAPTER TEN
BOOKER FELT AS IF HE’D been hit by a freight train. “I’m getting too old for this shit,” he muttered, staring at his cut and bruised face in the mirror.
He could smell bacon frying downstairs and knew that Katie was already up, fixing breakfast. He wondered how Delbert was doing. Delbert had cried the whole time Booker was being taken into custody.