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  She didn’t comment right away, chewing on the corner of her lip in contemplation. “Perhaps the three of us could fit in the bed. If you don’t mind getting kicked by Paige’s feet . . .”

  “I’m fine.”

  She took her hand from his arm. “Well, if you’re sure . . .”

  He wasn’t sure of anything except that it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to share the same bed. At least not until the age of sixty-five, then he should have his lust under control. Sexual appetites diminished by retirement age. They had to.

  She reached down and picked up the ax. Carefully handing it to him, she said, “I thought maybe we should have a talk.”

  Was it his imagination, or did she appear a bit paler than usual? “What’s wrong? The baby?”

  She gave him a reassuring smile. “The baby’s fine and so am l.”

  “One of the kids? Has Jason been rude?”

  “No, it has nothing to do with the kids.” Her tone soothed even though her eyes were watching him closely. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem awfully tense. Do you want me to massage your shoulders?”

  He restrained a groan at the mere thought of having her hands on him. He shouldn’t risk it, yet he didn’t have the strength to turn away when temptation took the upper hand. “Why don’t we go into the house?”

  She frowned. “I didn’t intend to take you away from your work. I know you’ve been busy....” Her voice trailed away as she eyed the rows and rows of wood stacked along three sides of the shed. It didn’t take an ace detective to determine he had cut enough wood for three hard winters and then some.

  He didn’t want her thinking too long and hard about why he was so damn intent on becoming a world-class lumberjack.

  He propelled her toward the door.

  Once they were inside, he directed her to the office. It was the only place he could think of where they wouldn’t be disturbed.

  After he closed the door, Abby pointed to the chair. “If you sit there, I can reach your shoulders.”

  “You don’t have to rub my shoulders.”

  “Yes, I do,” she said quite firmly. “You’ve given up your bed and now you’re paying the price. The least I can do is ease out the kinks. Besides, I like having something to do while I talk. It’s more relaxing.”

  For her, maybe. How was he supposed to keep his mind on her words when her hands were putting his body through an exquisite torture?

  He gritted his teeth and decided this was his penance for letting his desires and fantasies take control. He’d probably endure less agony if he donated his body to science while he was still alive.

  “It’s not surprising you couldn’t cut that log,” she mused. “The knots in your back are as large as Mount Rushmore. One of my foster mothers told me that you should always listen to your body.”

  He preferred to have her set up intimate communication with his body but knew that wasn’t an option for either of them. “How many foster mothers did you have?”

  “Twelve.”

  His gaze narrowed. “Why so many?”

  “Situations change. Sometimes, they had too many kids. One family decided to leave the foster-care system and adopt a set of twins. Another moved to a different state when the husband got a better job. Sometimes people discovered they weren’t cut out to deal with more kids than their own.” She paused. “I have to admit, as a teenager I didn’t make it easy.”

  He could hear in her voice the secret pain she tried to hide. “That must have been tough.”

  Her rubbing motion slowed for a bit before resuming stimulation of his flesh. “It’s not so bad if you don’t count on anything. You learn to keep loose and be flexible.”

  “And keep your suitcase packed?”

  She laughed but Devlin heard the strain behind the sound. “Sometimes it seemed that way.”

  Devlin’s fingers curled into a tight fist. He wanted to punch somebody. But what did he punch? The system? Her parents who had died? The foster families whose good intentions couldn’t understand a teenager’s growing pains?

  A new ache unfolded within Devlin. He wanted to take Abby in his arms and banish all the loneliness.

  But his commitment to her tied his hands to his side.

  That’s what he’d promised her. If only he had realized how much more she needed before he’d proposed this marriage. Somehow, providing a roof over her head didn’t quite make the grade. She deserved to be loved and cherished. No one deserved happiness more than Abby.

  If only he’d realized how much they both needed and wanted. But he didn’t. Now they were caught in the net created by his shortsightedness. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself.

  “Relax, you’re tensing up again.” She ran her hand over his tight muscles. “It wasn’t all bad, you know.”

  He didn’t believe her for one moment but forced his body to loosen.

  She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “You haven’t introduced me to your bookkeeping system yet.”

  “Bookkeeping system?”

  “I want to start repaying that loan.” Her voice was cool and impersonal, a sharp contrast to the sensual havoc she dealt his body. “The house in Ohio hasn’t had any offers yet and I want to start repaying the loan.”

  He couldn’t answer right away as she went to work on the ache in his shoulder blade, her fingers finding the sensitive cords of muscle. The last thing he wanted to discuss was money. Talking about anything seemed irreverent and irrelevant in the wake of the magic she evoked.

  She stopped kneading his shoulder. “Devlin?”

  “We can work on the books whenever you like.” Hell, he’d sell his soul to the devil as long as she didn’t stop. Having her touch him like this was almost worth the agony of sleeping with Hulk and Princess. Almost.

  “Perhaps you could take me through the records tomorrow night after dinner.”

  “Fine.”

  He grunted. Words were too much effort.

  A few minutes passed before she said, “I went to the doctor today.”

  That caught his attention. He turned his head. “Everything okay?”

  “It was just a routine checkup. All he did was check my blood pressure and review my records that had been sent from Ohio.”

  “Your blood pressure was okay?”

  “Yes.”

  “The doctor didn’t think you were too thin?”

  Her gaze glinted with amusement. She lowered her arms to her sides and moved away from the chair. “Are you telling me I’m too skinny?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  A rosy hue darkened her face but she didn’t back down. “You prefer a plump wife?” she teased.

  Within the intimacy of the four walls and with his body still humming from the sweet sensations of her touch, he couldn’t resist the urge to reciprocate. He leaned back into the chair and interlocked his fingers behind his head as if pretending to give her question a great deal of thought. “I prefer a healthy woman who knows how to take care of herself and her family. A woman with eyes as blue as Lake Michigan, a shape that teases a man’s appetite and a smile that raises his pulse.”

  She swallowed and suddenly sat down in the big blue velvet chair. “That’s a lot for a woman to live up to.”

  “You’d be a tough act to replace, that’s for sure,” he said, not bothering to clear the huskiness from his tone.

  Her gaze shied away from his. The action gave him some consolation. It was nice to know the attraction between them wasn’t just one-sided.

  Yet, neither did it change anything.

  There was still the contract.

  She suddenly got to her feet and started pacing around the room. “Have you thought about when we should tell the kids about the baby?”

  He unlocked his fingers. “I hadn’t given it much thought. Have you?”

  “We should probably tell them soon. I’m already having trouble buttoning my jeans.”

  He eyed her shape that was hidden underneath a loose swea
ter and a pair of black jeans. The bulk of the knit camouflaged her figure well. “We can tell them tonight if you’d like.”

  She ran her palm along the edge of the file cabinet and played with the handles. “I’ll need to buy some maternity clothes. I might need to borrow some money from you until I can earn some extra.”

  It was only the sight of her poker-straight posture and the realization of her tension that kept his temper under control. “I’ll pay for the clothes.”

  “I don’t—”

  “This pregnancy was created by both of us. You’ll carry the baby and I’ll pick up the tab.” Then he tried to defuse the atmosphere so she’d be less resistant. “Mother Nature made the rules. Not me.”

  “I guess that’s the only argument I can’t win, isn’t it?” Her color was high.

  “You’ll look a lot better pregnant than I would.”

  “You think so?” She tilted her head as if contemplating what he might look like. “I bet you’d be incredibly sexy.”

  He didn’t trust the sudden devilry dancing in those blue eyes. “Did that doctor prescribe a hallucinatory drug?”

  She licked her lips. “I have a very good imagination.”

  “I don’t think I want to hear this.”

  If anything, her expression became naughtier. “You could probably get on the cover of Vogue magazine.”

  “You think so?” Without thinking, he started toward her.

  The blues of her eyes widened, creating a brilliance that was mesmerizing. She took a step back and then stopped. Lifting her chin up high, she gave him a look that warned him not to come any closer.

  Yet, he did, anyway. There was no turning back. He had to touch her or go insane.

  When he was only a breath away, he lifted his hand and drew his fingers along the creamy fineness of her cheek. Just one touch. That’s all he’d allow himself.

  It should have been enough.

  It wasn’t. The mere brushing of his flesh against hers nearly brought him to his knees. He’d forgotten how perfect she felt.

  Or had he?

  In the wee hours of morning, with Hulk taking half the couch and Princess pressed close, it was memories of Abby that dominated his senses. No matter how many positions he tried to arrange himself in on that lumpy couch, or how many times he tried to push the dog and cat away from him, he couldn’t forget the taste of Abby. Or her scent. Or the throaty cries she emitted when they made love.

  Touching her brought to life every moment they were together.

  “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

  The plea tugged at him. He wanted to pretend he didn’t hear her. In the mirrors of her eyes, he knew she wasn’t unaffected by his callused fingertips. With very little resistance she would come willingly into his arms and they could recreate the passion between them. The temptation beckoned. His arms were heavy with need.

  But afterward . . .

  It took every ounce of strength he had to step away and let his hand drop back to his side.

  Abby’s sigh sounded like a mixture of regret and relief. He kept his own pain locked inside, knowing he had doomed himself to another long night. The ticking clock was the only intrusion to the quiet filling the room.

  She swallowed, the action telling of her own strain. Had she been caught in that maze of hoping he’d ignore her request? He wanted to demand the answer.

  Yeah, but what good would it do? He’d made her a promise. If this marriage was going to work, he had to be the one person whose word she could trust.

  Abby brushed back her hair. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He didn’t sound like himself. Hardly surprising. He didn’t feel like himself, either.

  “It doesn’t seem to get any easier, does it?”

  He shook his head. He’d exhausted his limited vocabulary.

  She stepped back and looked away from him. “I’ll start on the books tomorrow.”

  As she turned and left the room, a wake of emptiness lapped over him. He forced himself to stay where he was. If he moved, he’d have gone after her and tried to persuade her to stay.

  Neither of them wanted that.

  This marriage was supposed to have been so simple and straightforward. Their individual problems were to be solved by it.

  What he hadn’t foreseen was the problems their marriage had unleashed.

  The pregnancy, Jason’s attitude and Paige sleeping in his bed were issues they could deal with. Devlin hadn’t expected perfection. That would have been unrealistic. And if nothing else, he was a realist.

  The problem that was suddenly looming larger before him, growing with each day that passed, was the urge to make this marriage real in every sense of the word.

  It wasn’t just because they’d created a new life between them.

  He wanted Abby because she was Abby. Not only because she was his wife. Not only because she was going to have his baby.

  He liked the idea of Abby having his baby. Nothing could please him more. But not like this. He wanted to share the bounty of this moment as any normal husband would. He wanted to bring his wife crackers in bed. Drive out for a midnight snack, if that’s what she craved. This baby should be a natural extension of a normal marriage relationship. But he knew that wouldn’t happen. Abby would never ask. She would never expect those kinds of things from him.

  He knew that as certainly as he knew his name.

  Abby had learned not to depend. Not become dependent. In the past, that knowledge had protected her from being hurt when she was forced to leave one situation and move to another.

  She had survived and become stronger.

  He had no business asking for her vulnerability.

  But he wanted it. Hungered for it. Desired it on the most basic level a man could feel.

  And for a brief moment, he almost demanded she give it.

  Touching her had been a potent combination of heaven and hell. He’d wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her into the bedroom. The scent of her lingered, playing havoc with his libido. It had been hell to forgo the temptation.

  It would be hell trying to forget.

  ***

  CHAPTER 5

  On the home front, nothing changed.

  Devlin chopped more wood. He built four floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, which now held all Abby’s cookbooks and then some.

  The night after their conversation in his study, he and Abby together had told the kids about the baby.

  Paige had clapped her hands and pronounced in no uncertain terms that she wanted a baby sister. She had promptly started picking out names. Each day was something different. So far, the baby in her mommy’s tummy had been called Baby Jenny, Baby Sally, Baby Betsy and Baby Kelly. Kelly was in honor of Kelly Castner, her “bestest friend in the whole world.”

  Jason’s reaction was fairly predictable. With his eyelids lowered to half-mast, he snorted with derision and stalked back into his room.

  His oldest son’s reaction hadn’t surprised Devlin. Wrapped up in their own rock-and-roll universes, teenagers preferred to pretend they didn’t have brothers and sisters, period. Neither did they like to believe their parents had sex.

  Despite Jason’s indifference, Devlin figured the baby would break down Jason’s defenses just as Paige had. Little Paige had pretty much wrapped her big brother around her finger. All she had to do was bat her baby blues and Jase was putty in her hands. He kept his bedroom door shut against the rest of the world except for his stepsister, who could come and go as she liked. Paige had discovered what Jason would prefer the world not to know—he was a softie.

  The baby would figure it out, too.

  Riley was a different matter entirely. His reaction to the news had been to give no reaction at all.

  Of the three children, his youngest son had embraced this new family arrangement with unabashed eagerness. Riley followed Abby around like a happy puppy. And not once since Devlin’s marriage to Abby had the teacher o
r principal called to report any incidents at school. No fights. No stealing of schoolbags. No pulling of hair. Obviously, Abby had been the answer to his youngest son’s problems.

  If Riley was threatened by the baby, he wasn’t telling. He hadn’t asked any questions or argued with Paige whether the baby might be a boy or a girl. If Devlin didn’t know better, he’d wonder if Riley had even heard what was said.

  Devlin decided to take the wait-and-see approach. Riley couldn’t keep anything bottled up for long. He just hoped his son spilled his feelings soon. It wasn’t healthy to build up frustrations.

  And he, more than anyone, knew that kind of pain.

  He was finding it harder and harder each day to keep his feelings for Abby in check.

  It didn’t help that his parents were crazy about her, singing her praises and patting his back for marrying such a wonderful woman. His mother had invited them over for several meals and had been thrilled each time Abby brought along one of her cookbooks to lend to her. His dad wasn’t any less enthusiastic, slapping his knee with delight when Abby encouraged him to tell several of his old “war” stories.

  While Devlin was pleased that his wife and his parents got along, he wished he could share a little of their comfort level.

  Having Abby in the house meant that her presence was stamped everywhere. She’d added the little touches to the house that he’d never thought to add. There was a mirror in the downstairs bathroom. There were now knick-knacky-type things sitting on end tables and window ledges. She’d even gotten rid of the plastic place mats and paper napkins, replacing them with a flowery tablecloth and real napkins.

  Now that Abby had taken over the bookkeeping in his office, he couldn’t hibernate there in the evenings. Being in the same room with her and not being able to touch her produced a perpetual state of agony.

  Even when he wasn’t in the same room with her, he couldn’t escape being aware of Abby. Especially not after he pulled open his underwear drawer one day and realized she’d folded his briefs. He and the boys usually just emptied the laundry basket right into the drawers. They didn’t even have to touch their clothes from the moment they left the basket until they had to wear them.