EXPECTING HIS CHILD

by Leanne Banks

  "Thank you for telling me," Martina said, her mind whirling.

  "You're welcome," Jonathan said. "G'night."

  He hung up and Martina listened to the dial tone for a full minute before she returned the phone to the cradle. What if Noah had been hurt worse? A chill ran through her. What if he had died? For a moment, the darkness felt as if it had closed in around her, suffocating her.

  Throwing back the covers, she rose from the bed and flipped on one light, then another and another. She walked to the hall and turned on that light, followed the steps downstairs and turned on nearly every light until the house was bright enough for Christmas.

  "It's not as if I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon," she murmured to herself, and tried to deal with the terrible fear and pain she felt at the thought of Noah being hurt or dying.

  Pacing into the kitchen, she poured herself some orange juice and gulped it. Lately, it seemed as if she was always thirsty. She kept picturing Noah in his truck and the crashing, grinding sound of metal. In her mind, she saw him against white sheets in the hospital. Another more insidious image flashed of Noah dead.

  Her heart raced double time and panic coursed through her. She didn't want her baby growing up without Noah. For all her uncertainties about him, she believed he would be a wonderful father, a far different father than the one she had experienced. Noah would not ignore his child. Although Martina tried not to focus on it, when her mother died she might as well have been orphaned. If not for her brothers, she wouldn't have experienced any love as a child.

  The thought tore at her, tugging fiercely at her sense of loyalty, as it always did. Martina closed her eyes and shook her head. She couldn't deal with that right now. Right now, she had the edgy, overpowering need to see that Noah was all right.

  Noah awoke to the sound of loud voices outside his hospital room and winced at the pain in his chest. At the moment, it hurt to breathe. The only thing he wanted was blessed sleep. If that nurse poked him and asked his name one more time, he was going to tell her he was an alien. Or the president. Or, he thought with a pained grin, a woman. Maybe that one from the Zorro movie. Martina looked a lot like her.

  "If you're not related to Mr. Coltrane, I can't allow you in," the nurse said firmly.

  Noah opened his eyes at the mention of his name. His gaze encountered Jonathan and Gideon.

  "What?" Gideon rose and cracked the door.

  "This is ridiculous. All I want to do is see Noah. I have no interest in even talking to him." Martina's voice carried into Noah's room.

  Gideon turned an accusing gaze on Jonathan. "There is one very pregnant, very upset woman out there. Why in hell did you call her? Adam said we shouldn't."

  Jonathan shrugged. "Adam left."

  "He's gonna fry your butt."

  "Not if he doesn't find out," Jonathan returned. "Not unless the baby of the family snitches on me."

  Gideon scowled. "You son of a—"

  "Would you two shut up so I can hear Martina?" Noah demanded. "I want to hear this."

  "What is so—" Gideon began.

  "Shut up," Jonathan and Noah said in unison.

  "You haven't given me an acceptable reason to allow you into Mr. Coltrane's room. This patient has experienced head trauma and shouldn't be disturbed."

  "This is not the first tine Mr. Coltrane has acted as if he has experienced head trauma, but that's another matter," Martina said. "Mr. Coltrane is…"

  "She's not going to be able to say it." Noah shook his head, then winced at the pain.

  "Say what?" Gideon asked in exasperation.

  "You'll hear."

  "He contributed genetic material," Martina said.

  "Pardon?" the nurse said.

  "He supplied necessary chromosomes," Martina continued.

  "A sperm donor!" the nurse exclaimed. "You think I should let you in there because he was your sperm donor?"

  "He was not my sperm donor," Martina hotly denied. "Noah Coltrane donated his sperm the old-fashioned way. I'm expecting his child, and he has asked me to marry him."

  Noah started to chuckle, but it hurt too much.

  "Oh, you're his fiancée," the nurse said. "Why didn't you say so? You can go in."

  "Thank you," Martina said in a cool voice, then muttered, pushing open Noah's door, "I did not say I was his fiancée."

  "I'm asleep," Noah whispered to his brothers and closed his eyes.

  At her entrance, Noah heard both his brothers rise to their feet. Not surprised she had that effect on him, he thought. She'd probably made more than one man think about kneeling.

  He smelled her sweet scent and felt her gaze as she paused for a long moment at his bedside. He was struck by an overpowering urge to see her, and it took surprising willpower to keep his eyes closed.

  "Is he really okay?" she whispered.

  "Yeah," Jonathan said. "He's just—"

  "—sleeping," Gideon finished.

  "Which of you is Jonathan?" she asked, her voice like honey over his pain.

  "I am," Jonathan said. "You didn't have to come."

  "Yes, I did. I, uh…" She cleared her throat. "I needed to see for myself that he was okay."

  Her simple statement soothed his jangled nerve endings and abused body. Her presence both stimulated and relaxed him, and he felt himself drifting again. Martina was here and she cared. Everything wasn't all right, but it was a damn sight better than it had been.

  The next time Noah awakened, it was to an empty room, and he wondered if he had dreamed her into his room, wished her there in his state of concussion.

  His door whooshed open and Martina appeared with a cup of coffee in her hand. Her gaze met his. "You're awake," she said.

  "Yeah."

  "How are you feeling?"

  "Okay," he automatically responded, busy drinking in the sight of her.

  "Okay," she echoed in disbelief.

  "Well, as long as I don't breathe or move, I feel okay."

  She smiled at his light response, then her expression shifted. If he didn't know better, he would say she looked worried.

  "I'm sorry about the accident," she said.

  "Yeah, the truck's a goner."

  "I wasn't talking about the truck," she said. "I was talking about you."

  A tiny drop of hope trickled through his blood. "You didn't want me to croak?" he asked.

  "No. I didn't."

  "You might miss me," he said.

  "The baby would miss having a pretty wonderful father."

  Life wasn't worth living if a man didn't push his luck every now and then, Noah thought, so he pushed. "Then maybe you should marry me like you told the nurse you would."

  Martina stopped and stared at him for a full moment. "You heard that?"

  "Most of it," he said.

  "But you were asleep," she said, distress creeping into her voice.

  "Well, after you whispered with my brothers, I fell asleep, but—"

  Her eyes lit with anger. "You eavesdropped and pretended you were asleep. What a slimy—"

  "Just a minute, Princess Logan." Noah held up his hand and winced at the pain. "You were practically having a catfight with the nurse right outside my room. That's not eavesdropping."

  "But you pretended—"

  "Not for long. With the way I've felt since my truck rolled, I'd rather sleep through the next few days than win the lottery."

  Her skin paled. "It rolled? Your truck rolled?"

  Reluctant to alarm her, he bit back an oath. "It was just a little roll."

  Martina sank onto the corner of his bed. "There's no such thing as a little roll. Your brothers hedged on the severity of the accident."

  "They were just following instincts. Good instincts," he said. "No need to unnecessarily alarm a pregnant woman."

  "I don't need to be protected."

  "Yeah, you do," Noah said. "It's okay. This is one of the times in your life you need to be protected. You can't run as fast as usual. You can't lift as much as usual,
although I suspect you try," he added with a frown. "You need to be protected, and it's okay. It won't always be that way. It doesn't mean you're not as strong. It just means your body is busy doing something else at the moment. It's busy getting our baby ready for the big entrance."

  She looked at him and he could see she half-agreed and half-disagreed. Her eyes rounded slightly and she put her hand on her belly. "Sometimes I wonder if he already knows."

  "Knows what?" Noah prompted.

  Reluctance shimmered in her vibrant blue eyes. She hesitated. "Sometimes I wonder if the baby already knows your voice."

  Noah's gut tightened. "Is the baby moving right now?"

  Martina nodded, paused a few seconds, then moved closer to him. She put his hand on her abdomen, and Noah immediately felt a jab and a kick. He met Martina's gaze and saw the wonder in her eyes, the same wonder that burst inside him. The moment was a magical sliver of time. "Amazing," he said, lacing his fingers through hers over her abdomen.

  He watched Martina look at their intertwined hands. She bit her lip and eased backward.

  Her retreat annoyed him. His patience had been stretched to the limit. He wanted her to admit that she belonged with him. He wanted her to agree to marry him so they could raise the baby together. He wanted to throw her doubt, uncertainty and torn loyalties into a bottomless pit, and then throw her over his shoulder and take her home.

  He felt a dull throb in his chest, leg and head, and reluctantly admitted he probably wasn't in the best shape for hauling anybody over his shoulder. He deliberately tamped down his impatience. "Where are my brothers?"

  "They went home," she said. "They said—"

  The door swung open and the doctor appeared. He flipped through the chart. "I see you made it through the night without too much trouble," he said. "Although the nurse said you objected to the frequent checks."

  "She objected to the idea of me throwing a bedpan at her if she woke me once more before 5 a.m.," Noah said.

  The doctor put his stethoscope to Noah's chest. "Breathe normally," he said, then put the stethoscope to his back. "Again."

  "Rest for the next few days. You can sit up, but no physical exertion until your lung and ribs begin to heal. I suspect you won't feel like doing much, anyway. Plenty of fluids." He nodded in Martina's direction. "He's all yours, Mrs. Coltrane."

  Martina's eyes rounded. She opened her mouth.

  "Thank you very much," Noah said before she could voice her denial.

  The doctor left the room and Noah reached for the telephone. "I need to call one of my brothers to pick me up."

  Martina put her hand over his, preventing him from picking it up. "That's not necessary. I'm taking you to the ranch," she said.

  Surprised, he raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

  Her eyes flickered with brief uncertainty, but she took a breath and seemed to gird herself with determination. "I'm going to stay," she said. "For just a few days," she emphasized.

  He opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't that hurt, that he didn't need her to care for him, but the notion of Martina at the Coltrane ranch was so tempting it made his mouth water.

  "I feel somewhat responsible for your accident," she said. "After all, you were coming to see me when it happened."

  "You aren't responsible. It could have happened to me anytime. You can't predict when another truck driver has had too much to drink and his vehicle goes out of control and strikes yours."

  "I can accept that mentally," she said, lacing her hands together. "But…"

  "But?" he prompted.

  "But I just feel responsible. Your brothers are busy and you will need someone to help you for the next few days. It feels right that I should do it."

  Noah wished like hell that it would feel right to Martina to be with him because that was where she belonged. He could push her to confess deeper feelings for him, he thought. Another time, he promised himself he would. He stifled a sigh. "So this is about your honor," Noah said slowly.

  She met his gaze, then looked downward. "I suppose you could say that."

  "Honor's not bad. It's not a bad place to start at all."

  She met his gaze again and lifted her chin, the emotion in her blue eyes inscrutable. "For some things."

  * * *

  Noah was still sleeping when Martina pulled into the Coltrane driveway. She felt uneasy. This land had been forbidden to her since before she was born, and it felt very uncomfortable not only to drive on it, but also to know she would be here for the next few days. If her brothers found out… Her stomach plunged. She slammed the door on those thoughts.

  She took in the lay of the land and decided something about the Coltrane ranch seemed more primitive to her. Perhaps it was the buildings under construction, or the fact that no white fence or bluebonnets lined the drive.

  Or perhaps it was the house, she thought, as she slowed to view it. Painted brown with no shutters and no vegetation surrounding it, the house reminded her of a barn without the warmth.

  She slid a glance at Noah. He must have noticed the difference in speed, for he shifted. Despite his denial, she was sure he felt terrible. His color was off, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. Beneath his denim shirt, she knew his chest was taped. Given Noah's mile-wide macho streak, he would probably forbid her to help him up the front steps. Martina decided to leave the car running while she enlisted the help of one of his brothers.

  As she opened the car door and eased out, then headed for the house, it occurred to her that no Logan had ever set foot on Coltrane land without being armed. She lifted her chin and firmly pressed the doorbell.

  A tall, unsmiling, unfriendly-looking man opened the door and looked at her suspiciously. This must be Adam, the oldest Coltrane brother, she concluded. She hadn't met him at the hospital. Martina felt the power of generations of distrust flow between them. Her unease grew.

  Stiffening her back, she reminded herself that she was armed. Inside the small purse slung on her shoulder was a tiny silk envelope of something that gave her courage. Her secret talisman. Oh, yes, Martina was armed. With baby booties.

  * * *

  Chapter 8

  «^»

  "I brought Noah home from the hospital and I know he's going to try to overdo, so I need someone to help him up the stairs."

  Adam Coltrane looked at her as if she were an alien, which, in a way, she was.

  She heard the scrape of Noah's boots on the steps behind her. "I'm fine on my own."

  She rolled her eyes. "And he complains about my independence."

  "I can handle him from here," Adam said. "Thanks for giving him a ride."

  "She's staying," Noah said.

  Adam's face froze. "She's what?"

  "Just for a few days," Martina assured him. "Believe me, I'm just as uncomfortable with this as you are, but Noah will need some extra help the next few days, and it's not fair for you or your brothers to tend to him when the reason Noah crashed was because he was coming to see me."

  She felt Noah's hand at her back. "You look terrible. You need to lie down," she said.

  "Thank you," Noah said in dry tone. "You're not going to turn into a fussy, demanding woman who tries to order me around, are you?"

  Martina smiled brightly. "Of course not. I'll be an assertive woman who reminds you of the things you need to do to heal quickly. The quicker you heal," she said, "the quicker I leave."

  "No need to rush," he said in a voice that made her nerve endings ripple with sensual possibilities. "If someone lies down with me, maybe I'll rest better."

  Martina felt a rush of warmth and a tinge of embarrassment, but she refused to show either. "Then we'll have to see if we can round up a teddy bear for you."

  Noah chuckled, then winced and grabbed his ribs. "Oh, Lord, if you have any pity, don't make me laugh."

  "Then don't try to seduce me when you can't do anything about it," Martina said as gently as she could.

  "Sweetheart," Noah said with a dangerous light in his eyes, "d
on't say I can't. That's like waving a red flag."

  Martina struggled with the awareness that always seemed to shimmer between them. "I definitely don't want to bring out the bull in you," she murmured, then turned to Adam. "I think we need to get him into bed. Will you help?"

  Adam blinked, his eyes still wary.

  Martina's impatience climbed up the scale. "So what are you worried about? That I'll knife you all in your sleep? Unfortunately, I'm not as light-footed as I usually am, so I'm sure you'd hear my approach."

  "I'm more concerned about what your brothers will do when they find out you're here."

  So, this Adam wasn't a dummy. Martina had wondered the same. "They don't know I'm here. My brother Brock and his family are gone to New York City, and Tyler lives in Fort Worth. Besides, they're mostly civilized. I can't believe they would…" She broke off, recalling some recent heated conversations with her brothers. "Well, they don't know I'm here," she said, and walked through the door.

  "And you're not worried that the evil Coltranes would do anything to hurt you?" Adam asked.

  "Adam," Noah said in a stern voice.

  She gave a short laugh. "As if Noah would let you," she said, then met Adam's gaze. "Besides, if Noah is any indication, all of you are into this honor thing in a big way. I'm willing to risk it." She turned back to Noah. "What can I bring you to drink?"

  "I'm not thirsty."

  She looked Noah in the eye. Heavens, he was going to be more difficult than a two-year-old. "I didn't ask if you were thirsty. I'm sure you remember the doctor said you needed to drink a lot of fluids. Would you like me to choose for you?"

  Noah gave a slight groan. "Whiskey," he muttered under his breath. "Lemonade. Okay, bring me lemonade. Kitchen's straight ahead and to the left."

  Noah watched her leave and took a moment to relish the sight of Martina in his home. Her dark hair bounced against her shoulders and her long, coltish legs made short work of the hall to the kitchen. From behind, he could barely tell she was pregnant. Her back was straight, her buttocks tight and round, and her legs still as sexy as the day he'd first met her.