legal pad.
Attired in black jeans, a white chambray shirt unbuttoned at the neck with the sleeve cuffs carelessly turned back, his hair slightly ruffled as if he’d dragged his fingers through it, he looked vaguely piratical, even satanical.
Dark eyes, dark hair, olive skin, his expression unfathomable as he stood regarding her.
Tasha felt vaguely defensive, even wary. Normally she’d have moved in close, reached up and kissed him, sure of her welcome, the feel of his arms closing around her slender form as they pulled her in and he deepened the kiss.
Sometimes they’d talk, but most often he’d simply sweep an arm beneath her knees and carry her into their bedroom. Fast and furious, slow and gentle…one would inevitably follow the other in a long loving far into the night. Often the talking waited until morning as they showered together, ate breakfast, dressed for the day.
Now Tasha remained still, unfamiliar uncertainty meshing with an undeniable sexual attraction. ‘Yes.’
Jared didn’t move, and she contemplated walking straight past him to the spare bedroom.
Except there was a waiting, watching quality to his stance. A silent warning she instinctively knew she’d do well to heed.
‘Working hard?’ It was a light query, and unnecessary. He was one of a few people she knew who could survive on four or five hours’ sleep and face whatever the day held with energy and purpose.
Razor-sharp was a superlative often used in reference to Jared North’s mind power, his memory recall. Very little, if anything, escaped him.
‘A few more hours should do it.’
The faint drawling quality sent prickles of unease up her spine. They were both being excruciatingly polite. Too polite, she perceived, aware there was a degree of anger beneath the surface of his control.
With her? Of course with her! The pregnancy was her fault. Well, not entirely, but she could have, should have been aware of the consequences and ensured extra precautions were taken. Except she hadn’t given the possibility of pregnancy a thought.
Divine intervention? A test by the Deity to determine the strength of their relationship?
Oh, dammit, Tasha cursed silently. She was really losing it!
‘Goodnight.’ She made to step past him, only to pause as his hand closed over her shoulder. Firm fingers cupped her chin, tilting it so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. ‘Don’t.’ Dear heaven, he was so close, too close. ‘Please,’ she added quietly.
Jared touched a finger to her lower lip, and he offered a faint smile. ‘Afraid, Tasha?’
‘Of you? No.’
‘So brave.’ His voice held a mocking tinge she chose to ignore.
It took courage to project cool when her pulse felt as if it was jumping out of her skin. ‘Is there a purpose to this?’
‘Does there need to be one?’
‘Yes,’ she managed evenly.
‘By all means…’ His mouth closed over hers in a gentle exploration, teasing, evocative, as he held her there.
For an instant she began to respond, the instinctive inclination automatic, then reaction set in and she strained against him, unsure whether to feel relieved or disappointed as he let her go.
‘You don’t play fair.’ Her breath hitched a little as she sought control.
‘Did you imagine I would?’
She looked at him, caught the stillness in that dark gaze, and recognised the need to act with her head and not her heart.
‘No.’ Beneath the sophisticated façade there was a primitive ruthlessness apparent, a hard strength coupled with indomitable power. Characteristics that made him a man feared in a court of law…and out of it.
A sensual man, she added silently, practised in the art of lovemaking and pleasing a woman. Intense passion and great tendresse…he employed both with considerable skill. Yet there was also the hint of sweet savagery, well-leashed, but exigent none the less.
A tiny shiver slithered the length of her spine. Jared North was someone no one in their right mind would choose to have as an enemy in any arena.
‘I’m going to bed.’ She turned away from him and took the few steps necessary to bring her level with the spare bedroom.
‘Sleep well.’
Tasha ignored the faint irony in his voice, and chose not to respond as she entered the room. She turned on the light switch, then closed the door quietly behind her and stood leaning against it for several minutes.
She was tired, mentally, emotionally, physically, but she doubted her ability to enjoy an easy night’s sleep.
There were too many thoughts chasing contrarily through her mind, and she endeavoured to dispense with them as she removed her clothes. Make-up came next, then she donned a nightshirt and slid in between the sheets.
She must have slept, for she was caught up in a dream so realistically vivid she was there, living the fight to save her baby from being taken away. She screamed at the nurse to bring him back, but no sound came out, and she screamed again, louder this time, forcing her voice in a bid to be heard. But the nurse kept walking, and Tasha tried to get out of bed to go after her, only she was hooked up to various machines, drips, and she began pulling at the tubes, swearing at her seeming inability to disconnect them as she sought to free herself.
Then there was a familiar voice, hands whose soothing touch provided a calming influence, and although she heard the words, none of them seemed to register. The scene switched to another, one where the baby was now a young toddler, laughing as he played with toys on the lawn out back of a beautiful home, and she was there, watching with maternal pride.
Dreams, fantasy, wishful thinking. Perhaps a little of each. When she woke she retained a vivid recollection, and there was an awareness of the dawn filtering through the shutters, followed by the knowledge this wasn’t the spare bedroom, nor was she alone.
Had she cried through the night? Or had Jared—?
‘You called my name.’ He’d hit the floor running at the first scream, and arrived to pull her into his arms as the next scream emerged from her throat.
The tortured voice had chilled him to the bone, and he’d pulled her close, soothing until she quietened, then he’d brought her into his bed, gathered her in and held her through the night.
Was she aware she’d clung to him in her sleep? Whimpered indistinctly whenever he sought to ease her into a more comfortable position?
Tasha felt the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her cheek, sensed the warmth and slight muskiness of his skin, and experienced a familiar sensation unfurling deep within. The quickened pulse-beat, the sensitised pores, and an electrifying awareness that curled through her body, rendering it boneless, his, anticipating the drift of his fingers, the touch of his lips.
It was an achingly familiar pattern most mornings as they
