A Baby For Mommy. Sara Orwig

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      “Okay?” he asked softly, hunkering down to be at her eye level. Her luminous eyes were deep pools of green that held his gaze.

      “I’m okay.”

      “Good.”

      “You didn’t give her a kiss,” Sophie said solemnly. “You gave us a kiss.”

      “You were a brave patient,” he said quietly, and squeezed Raffaela’s shoulder.

      “Why don’t you kiss her?”

      “Sophie, he doesn’t have to kiss everyone he takes care of,” Raffaela answered, her face flushing. “He just does that for little girls.”

      “Why? You always say everyone needs a kiss, including grown-ups.”

      Amused. Micah caught her chin with his finger and turned her face to him. He leaned forward and brushed the faintest kiss on her cheek. “You were a fine patient.” He winked at her and then looked beyond her at Sophie. “Now, I have kissed all my patients.”

      The girls smiled and moved away while he stood and reached down to pull Raffaela to her feet. She grimaced as she stood.

      “Maybe I should have explained to them that their daddy wouldn’t like me kissing Mommy,” he said, knowing he should leave it alone, but unable to resist.

      “They’ve forgotten about it now. If you had said that, they would be full of questions.”

      “Hurt?” he asked, aware he stood too close, knowing he should put space between them. He released her at once, but he wanted to keep holding her arm and touching her.

      Without looking at him, she nodded. “Thanks.” Her gaze was everywhere except meeting his.

      “Now I’ll turn around. You tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll disinfect the cuts on your back.”

      The pink returned to her cheeks and she nodded, shooting a worried glance at him, and he felt his body tighten. She was aware of the tension snapping between them as much as he was. She is the married twin, he reminded himself, wondering if he was going to have to tell himself that every few minutes until they reached civilization.

      He turned and waited, his imagination promptly running wild, envisioning her shedding his shirt. He inhaled and tried to shift his thoughts, listening to sounds around them. An army of men could have slipped up on him a few minutes ago, and he’d been so lost looking into her big green eyes that he wouldn’t have heard them until too late.

      “All right,” she said quietly.

      He turned and his pulse jumped. She was seated with her legs straight out in front of her. She wore her slacks again, and she held his shirt beneath her arms and in front of her, leaving her back bare. She was slender, her bones looked delicate, and he inhaled, his body reacting to the sight of her.

      Trying to get himself under control, he moved closer, his gaze drifting down to her waist where the deepest cut disappeared beneath her slacks. Cuts were dark lines across her back, but none were deep enough to require stitches or as bad as the gash on the back of her thigh.

      His gaze ran over her, and he leaned closer, noticing where her hair was matted with blood. “You’ve had a blow to your head. I’ll try to be gentle, but I think I should look at it.”

      “Will you please unfasten this necklace? I’ll put it in my bag.”

      He caught the delicate clasp in his fingers, his knuckles brushing her nape lightly. He inhaled, wondering why he was having reactions to every tiny contact with her.

      The necklace came loose, and he dropped it into her open palm. His fingers brushed her neck as he moved his hand.

      She sat quietly while he looked at the cut and disinfected it. She had a bump on her head, and he tried to avoid hurting her.

      “Now your back.” He began to disinfect and clean her wounds, working silently, too aware of the bare nape of her neck—pale and smooth.

      He swore, and she slanted him a glance over her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

      “I just hate hurting you,” he lied. He had not had this reaction to a woman since Shawna’s death a year and a half ago. And this was a damn poor time to come back to life. He had been numb and hurting over her loss for so long now, it had seemed to be a permanent way of life.

      He was on his knees, and he sat back on his heels. “Why don’t you stretch out? You have a cut below your waist that I should disinfect.”

      “Can I do it?” she asked, turning slightly, her cheeks flushing a fiery pink this time.

      “I don’t think so. Look, I’m not making a play. We can’t travel if you get infected. Out here in this jungle and heat, you can get all kinds of things.”

      She nodded and moved cautiously. He didn’t know whether she was being so careful because of her thigh or because she was trying to ensure that his shirt did not slip. She unfastened her slacks and then lay down on her stomach carefully. “I’m ready.”

      He took a deep breath and tugged her slacks down as far as the cut went. And it went down over the small of her back across the rise of her bottom. He gritted his teeth. His body was reacting swiftly, and he couldn’t take his gaze from her and had to fight the idiotic urge to let his hand drift over her smooth skin. He ached to push those slacks down and bare the rest of her enticing bottom. As he looked at her, he wanted to sink himself into her softness.

      Swearing silently, he worked quickly and stood. “I’m through.” His voice was hoarse, and he turned, walking away from her and trying to get his body under control.

      “Thank you,” she said after a few moments. He glanced over his shoulder at her and then walked back. Moments later, she was dressed again and held out his shirt. He accepted it, his fingers brushing hers lightly.

      “What about your head?” she asked.

      “It’s all right.”

      “I remember something to the effect that cuts can get infected easily here, in this climate.”

      He sighed and unfastened the handkerchief. He was cut and had a lump that was turning a dark blue. She inhaled, swamped with regret. “I’m sorry! You have a big knot—”

      “Forget it.” He grinned. Her breath caught in her throat as the smile transformed him from a formidable warrior into a charming male, and again she felt a strange stirring of awareness. He said she was married—if so, why was she having this reaction to Micah Drake? “You pack a mean wallop,” he said.

      “I thought you were with those men. I didn’t know.”

      He chuckled. “You got one of them full force. His head is probably about to come off about now. I’ve got a hard head.”

      “I can well imagine,” she answered with amusement, and saw his brow arch. “You’re too tall. Sit down somewhere so I can reach your head.”

      He handed her the first-aid kit and sat on the ground. She knelt beside him and began cleaning СКАЧАТЬ