sorry. I interrupted you,’ he said, sliding his fingers between hers so that their sensitive tips were stroking her, too. And even though there was a layer of soft stretchy fabric between them, his fingers were so warm that she could feel each one of them and the tracks they made on her skin as clearly as if she’d been naked under his touch.
‘You were saying that that you were lying with your hand on your bump, and.’ His voice was deeper and huskier than before, almost as though he was as affected by the contact between them as she was.
‘And I felt them move,’ she finished in a whisper, and saw his eyes flare wide in response.
‘Are you sure?’ Now he was staring down at the curve that was still almost small enough to be spanned by fingers as long as his. ‘Surely it’s still far too early?’
‘That’s what I told myself,’ she agreed, ‘but then it happened again, and a third time and … and I thought you would want to know and …’
He drew in a shuddering breath and she was stunned to see the bright sparkle of tears gathering in his eyes.
‘Oh, thank you, Sara,’ he said, so softly that she almost had to lip-read the words. ‘I can’t tell you how much …’ He shook his head, obviously moved beyond mere conversation.
‘I don’t know if they’re still moving, but do you want to …?’ She slid her hand out from under his and lay back across her bed, leaving his much larger hand spread across her.
It was so silent in the room that she could hear the numbers click over on the radio alarm beside the bed, so silent that both of them seemed to have forgotten to breathe while they waited for something to happen.
‘What did it feel like?’ he murmured so softly that it was almost as if he was afraid of frightening them, as if those tiny forms were timid wild animals.
She concentrated for a moment, recalling the movement deep inside her.
‘It felt like a cross between a flutter and a squiggle,’ she said in the end. ‘It wasn’t quite as delicate as a butterfly’s wing—it was slightly too substantial for that. But it wasn’t strong enough to be called a—’
‘There!’ he exclaimed with a look of awe on his face as he stared down at the place covered by his hand. ‘Was that what you felt?’
Sara concentrated for several long seconds and was growing worried that they’d reached the end of the performance when she felt the strongest movement yet.
‘Yes!’ she agreed joyfully, overwhelmed to be sharing this special moment with him. ‘That’s exactly what I felt. What do you think?’
‘What do I think?’ he asked seriously, a hint of a frown drawing those straight dark eyebrows together. ‘I think it’s boys, because that was definitely the sort of kick that will score goals.’
‘Idiot.’ She chuckled, delighting in his nonsense, but when she thought he would take his hand away again, he didn’t, propping himself on one elbow on the bed beside her so that he could leave it just where it was.
‘I was being serious,’ he said with a deliberately solemn expression, then asked, ‘What do you think they are? Identical or fraternal? Girls or boys?’
‘Or one of each?’ she suggested. ‘I’ve never understood some people being adamant about the sex they want their baby to be. I’ve always believed that it’s far more important that it arrives as healthy and as safely as possible.’
Their undemanding conversation had drifted from topic to topic, all loosely connected with pregnancy, labour and the care of newborns, and it was some time before Dan realised that Sara had fallen asleep.
For some while he lay there watching her, glad that the room was still warm enough so that he didn’t need to cover her with the bedclothes just yet, not while he was enjoying looking at the changes this pregnancy was causing to her body.
She’d never been as artificially slender as Zara and the soft curves of her burgeoning breasts and the full curve of her swelling belly were so naturally sexy that he’d been hard from the moment he’d walked into her flat and caught a glimpse of that skimpy purple thong.
Oh, what a fool he’d been, to be taken in by Zara’s spiteful games. How could he not have seen while he’d been reaching for the paste imitation that he’d already had a diamond within his reach? Sara wasn’t just a gifted and hard-working doctor, she was also one of the most genuinely good-hearted people he’d ever met. And, unless some sort of miracle happened, he’d lost her for ever.
So you’d better make the best of this special time, then, said a stern voice inside his head, and he took the words to heart. It might be the only opportunity he ever had to spend the night with her and he wasn’t going to waste a moment of it.
In the end, exhaustion got the better of him and the next thing he knew he was waking up with Sara’s softly curvy form wrapped firmly in his arms as if he was never going to let her go.
‘If only,’ he mouthed, full of regret, and whispered a kiss over the crown of her head.
A casual glance towards her bedside cabinet brought her clock into focus and he had to stifle an oath when he saw what time it was.
He hated having to do it, but there was no way he could untangle himself from her without disturbing her sleep. Besides, her cast had been resting over one of his ankles and he didn’t know whether he was even going to be able to walk on it. It felt as if the weight might have caused permanent damage to his circulation.
‘Sara?’ he called gently, hoping he might be able to rouse her just far enough to extricate himself. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve got to go,’ he said a little more firmly when she just tightened her hold on him. ‘I’m going to be late.’
‘Late?’ she repeated sleepily, and blinked … then blinked again and stared at him in disbelief. ‘Dan? What are you doing here?’
‘You invited me. Remember?’ He only meant to prompt her memory by stroking his hand over the curve of her belly but when he found himself stroking naked skin he pulled his hand away as swiftly as though he’d been burned.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered, mortified to feel the heat searing his cheeks as he rolled swiftly out of reach and leapt to his feet.
His shoes were scattered on the floor and his keys were … under the edge of her bed, and his brain was definitely lodged south of his belt while she was curled up in the middle of all those crumpled bedclothes like a sleepy cat.
‘I’m sorry but I’ve got to run or I’ll be late for my shift,’ he apologized, and let himself swiftly out of her flat, then nearly tripped on his way down the stairs when his hormones reminded him that he’d never seen a sleepy cat with such long slender legs … even though one of them was temporarily encumbered with a clumsy cast … or wearing such an outrageous scrap of underwear.
To lessen the danger that his preoccupation might cause an accident in the early-morning traffic, he forced himself to concentrate on the evidence he’d seen of how well her injuries were healing.
It hadn’t been many days since she’d cheated death by inches, but already some of the bruises were starting to fade, working their way through the colour progression
