"Why?" she asked, trying to keep the edginess from her voice.
A wave of self-consciousness flashed across his face. It was so rare an expression for him she almost didn't catch it.
"I need to read," he said.
Puzzled, she frowned. "Is this a late aftereffect of your concussion? Do you need me to read to you?"
"No. I need to read," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, "and you need to be in the room. Close by."
Still confused, she walked closer. "Okay. Where should I sit?"
"The bed's fine," he said.
Martina glanced at him sideways.
"This isn't a seduction," he said. "It sounds a little hokey, but Adam read this article about how reading to babies while they're in the womb increases their intelligence."
Amused, but mostly touched, Martina sat on his bed. "You want to read to the baby."
He shrugged and nodded. "Yeah."
Her heart contracted. "Okay. What did you have in mind? Not stock reports."
He chuckled darkly. "No. Adam suggested War and Peace , but I told him that might be kinda heavy for a baby."
"So what did you choose?"
He picked up a book from the nightstand. " The Hobbit ," he said. "I figure between the two of us this child will get plenty of adventure genes, so we might as well let her get started."
And so Noah sat next to her on his big bed and began to read the wondrous story of how boring, respectable and comfortable Bilbo Baggins got suckered into a wild and dangerous adventure.
And with each passing word of his baritone voice, Martina fell for him a little more. Noah had lied when he'd said this wasn't a seduction. It was a seduction of the most secret places in her heart. Although she'd occasionally badgered her brothers into reading to her when she was a child, her father had never read to her. She would have given up ice cream for a year just to have her father read the sports section of the newspaper to her.
When Noah finished the first chapter, he put the book back on the nightstand and gazed at her in an assessing way. "You're very quiet."
"I was listening." And feeling too much. Wanting too much .
"You're thinking I'm crazy."
No, I'm thinking I am crazy . "Not at all," she said. "Did your father read to you?"
"Never," Noah said. "I will be a better father than my father was."
She watched him rub the back of his neck and could tell he was tired. "Why don't you get ready for bed and let me rub your neck for you?"
Surprise and near refusal chased quiet curiosity across his face. "Okay," he finally said. "Give me a couple of minutes."
He washed up in the bathroom and returned wearing briefs and nothing else. Martina suspected he'd kept on the briefs in deference to her, but they hid little. The air grew thick as she breathed. "I'll sit behind you since you can't lie down," she offered, and moved farther back on the bed to make room for him.
He sat down and she tentatively lifted her fingers to his corded neck. She kneaded the tight muscles and massaged his shoulders. His tension showed in the knots she rubbed.
Noah made a rough sound of appreciation. "I don't remember you being such a good masseuse."
"We didn't have a lot of time," she said, "for taking time."
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "That was wrong."
Her heart tripped over itself. "You're tired. You should go to sleep."
"You should stay with me tonight," he murmured.
"Maybe I will." The words popped out of her mouth, but originated in her heart.
She felt him stop breathing. He turned carefully and eased back against the pillows propped in front of the headboard. He chuckled and covered a wide yawn. "You would pick a night when I can barely keep my eyes open."
Martina smiled to cover her nerves. "I'm ornery that way."
He held out his arm. "Then be ornery next to me."
She moved to his side and reached to turn out the light. A suspended awareness seemed to swell in the very air around her. In the darkness, she lightly pressed her cheek to Noah's chest and felt the beating of his heart. She pulled
A wave of self-consciousness flashed across his face. It was so rare an expression for him she almost didn't catch it.
"I need to read," he said.
Puzzled, she frowned. "Is this a late aftereffect of your concussion? Do you need me to read to you?"
"No. I need to read," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets, "and you need to be in the room. Close by."
Still confused, she walked closer. "Okay. Where should I sit?"
"The bed's fine," he said.
Martina glanced at him sideways.
"This isn't a seduction," he said. "It sounds a little hokey, but Adam read this article about how reading to babies while they're in the womb increases their intelligence."
Amused, but mostly touched, Martina sat on his bed. "You want to read to the baby."
He shrugged and nodded. "Yeah."
Her heart contracted. "Okay. What did you have in mind? Not stock reports."
He chuckled darkly. "No. Adam suggested War and Peace , but I told him that might be kinda heavy for a baby."
"So what did you choose?"
He picked up a book from the nightstand. " The Hobbit ," he said. "I figure between the two of us this child will get plenty of adventure genes, so we might as well let her get started."
And so Noah sat next to her on his big bed and began to read the wondrous story of how boring, respectable and comfortable Bilbo Baggins got suckered into a wild and dangerous adventure.
And with each passing word of his baritone voice, Martina fell for him a little more. Noah had lied when he'd said this wasn't a seduction. It was a seduction of the most secret places in her heart. Although she'd occasionally badgered her brothers into reading to her when she was a child, her father had never read to her. She would have given up ice cream for a year just to have her father read the sports section of the newspaper to her.
When Noah finished the first chapter, he put the book back on the nightstand and gazed at her in an assessing way. "You're very quiet."
"I was listening." And feeling too much. Wanting too much .
"You're thinking I'm crazy."
No, I'm thinking I am crazy . "Not at all," she said. "Did your father read to you?"
"Never," Noah said. "I will be a better father than my father was."
She watched him rub the back of his neck and could tell he was tired. "Why don't you get ready for bed and let me rub your neck for you?"
Surprise and near refusal chased quiet curiosity across his face. "Okay," he finally said. "Give me a couple of minutes."
He washed up in the bathroom and returned wearing briefs and nothing else. Martina suspected he'd kept on the briefs in deference to her, but they hid little. The air grew thick as she breathed. "I'll sit behind you since you can't lie down," she offered, and moved farther back on the bed to make room for him.
He sat down and she tentatively lifted her fingers to his corded neck. She kneaded the tight muscles and massaged his shoulders. His tension showed in the knots she rubbed.
Noah made a rough sound of appreciation. "I don't remember you being such a good masseuse."
"We didn't have a lot of time," she said, "for taking time."
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. "That was wrong."
Her heart tripped over itself. "You're tired. You should go to sleep."
"You should stay with me tonight," he murmured.
"Maybe I will." The words popped out of her mouth, but originated in her heart.
She felt him stop breathing. He turned carefully and eased back against the pillows propped in front of the headboard. He chuckled and covered a wide yawn. "You would pick a night when I can barely keep my eyes open."
Martina smiled to cover her nerves. "I'm ornery that way."
He held out his arm. "Then be ornery next to me."
She moved to his side and reached to turn out the light. A suspended awareness seemed to swell in the very air around her. In the darkness, she lightly pressed her cheek to Noah's chest and felt the beating of his heart. She pulled
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