be wearing some expensive perfume, but whatever it was, it was lovely. Lavender water, maybe? Or maybe the smell was just Jenny.
This was ridiculous. He was growing sentimental in his old age. He got a grip-metaphorically as well as literally-and carried his lovely burden to her bedroom.
She still didn’t stir. He lowered her onto the bed, pulled the bedclothes away, and then rolled her over so she was lying on the sheet. Then he unfastened her robe and stared for a second, his mouth twisting at the sight of her pregnant body in her shabby pajamas. She looked defenseless. Young. Poor.
His sisters wouldn’t be seen dead in clothes like these, he thought grimly. Maybe he could call Lana tomorrow and ask what women wore when they were pregnant, something soft and pretty and-
What was he thinking of? Jenny wouldn’t thank him for criticizing her clothes!
Enough. He stooped to pull the bedclothes over her, and as if he’d spoken her name, she stirred and opened her eyes. She looked at him as if she was dreaming. Her eyes crinkled into a smile of pleasure, but they had that look that told him she wasn’t seeing him. She was seeing some lovely thing in her dreams.
He touched her eyelids, closing them gently.
“Sleep,” he told her. “Sleep, Jen.”
“Love…” It was a husky whisper. Her eyes didn’t open. She wasn’t seeing him-heaven knew who she was seeing-but her arms came out and her hands reached for his face, urging him down to her. He was so surprised that he let himself be propelled toward her.
“Love.” The word was whispered in the dark, and her lips found his as he froze into stunned submission. He let himself be kissed.
Her lips were so soft, urgent, even in sleep. They tasted like nectar, and he couldn’t believe what she was doing. Her hands were holding his face against hers, and her mouth was searching, searching…
And finding. She had what she wanted in the touch of his mouth against hers. She had…what?
Whatever it was was indefinable. The touch was like fire between them, a fierce, burning pain that threatened to overwhelm him. He felt his gut tighten, and it was all he could do not to gather her body against his and sink beside her on the soft, welcoming bed.
No! For one long moment Michael froze, but she was too sweet. Like a siren’s song, she was impossible to resist. He let himself be drawn in, sinking to sit on the bed beside her and returning her kiss with a passion that stunned him. With a fire he didn’t know he possessed. With a need…
This was crazy. Jenny was asleep! She was dreaming of her dead husband, not him!
Somehow he dragged himself back, and her hands fell loosely to her sides. Her eyes were still closed, but her mouth curved into a gentle smile of happiness. She was making no objection. She’d kissed her man, and now the dream could continue.
“My love,” she whispered, and she turned, snuggling into the pillows and drifting into dreams in which Michael had no part.
HOW COULD HE sleep after that?
He couldn’t. No man could. He lay and stared into the dark for a long, long time. At about three or four there was a whimper from the laundry room, then another. Not a howl. If it had been a howl, maybe he could have resisted, but the dog sounded as miserable as he was. And lonely.
He swore, then padded through the living room and opened the laundry room door. Socks lay on his towels and looked at him with eyes that expected nothing-he’d lost all hope.
“This is ridiculous,” Michael said. “You should be in the pound.”
The dog’s eyes said he agreed with him entirely. That was what he deserved.
“She wanted me to brush you. I’ve fed you and housed you. There’s nothing else you need.”
The eyes said he was entirely right. Socks needed nothing more. Except…
“Come on,” Michael said, goaded, holding the door wide. “I guess I’m lonesome, too.”
It was the first time he’d admitted such a thing in his entire life.
It was also the first time in his entire life that Michael Lord shared his bed with a dog. Yet still he stayed awake.
Because all he really wanted to do was to share a bed with Jenny.
CHAPTER TEN
JENNY SLEPT LATE-gloriously late. She woke to sunlight streaming in over her bright coverlet and to a snuffling at her side. A moist tongue touched her tentatively on the cheek. She smiled with delight and rolled over to embrace one ecstatic dog.
“Socks! How did you get in here?” And then she frowned, remembering the events of the night before. “How did I get in here? Michael?”
He must have carried her in. Her eyes flew open, and the memory of a dream came back to her-a dream so sweet it made her toes curl and a blush creep across her cheeks. Michael holding her. Michael’s mouth on hers, the feel of his body…
“It must have been a dream,” she said fiercely, sitting up with a start. Socks looked inquiringly at her and let his tongue loll, waiting for the next move. “I never would have… He wouldn’t…”
Unbidden, her fingers came up to touch her mouth, and the taste of him still seemed to be there, infinitely sweet.
Michael.
“For heaven’s sake, what am I thinking of? It was probably you doing the kissing, you dopey mutt.” She gave Socks a hard, swift hug and swung her feet out of bed-then stopped as a knock sounded at the apartment door.
She froze. Michael would get it. She’d just stay here.
Michael didn’t get it. The knock sounded again, firm and sure, and Jenny figured this wasn’t someone who’d go away. She looked at the clock on her bedside table and gasped in disbelief. It was ten o’clock!
She never slept until ten o’clock. Never!
Michael would be at work. He must have left without waking her.
The knock sounded again.
She didn’t want to answer it. Not alone. But if it was the immigration people, then the worst thing she could do was to pretend not to be here. She took a deep breath, hitched her pajamas over her pregnant tummy, grasped Socks’s scruff and padded barefoot toward the front door.
“This is your job,” she told Socks firmly. “I’m the one in charge of TV dinners and you’re the one in charge of security around here. You’re a guard dog, Socks. Guard!”
He looked adoringly at her and wagged his tail. Yeah, right.
IT WAS MEGAN MAITLAND.
Jenny opened the door half an inch without releasing the chain and checked the front step with one cautious eye. Then she gasped and withdrew, fumbling to release the chain. Megan! The CEO of Maitland Maternity-the matriarch of the entire Maitland clan-and here was Jenny looking like…
“Like something the cat dragged in,” she told Socks desperately. “Or maybe you dragged in. For heaven’s sake, I’m wearing Peter’s old pajamas…”
It couldn’t be helped. Megan had seen her and Megan was waiting. Pinning on her most welcoming smile and hoping her hair wasn’t sticking straight up-which it always did after sleep-Jenny opened the door.
When she finally made her voice work, it came out a ridiculous squeak. “Hi.”
“Hello, my dear.” Megan smiled, unfazed at the sight before her. She appeared not to notice the pajamas, or the amazing hairstyle, or even the pregnancy, but took Jenny’s hands in hers as though welcoming her into the family. “Michael told me you’d be home and that I could find you here.”
“I-I don’t…” Jenny was floundering like a fool but Megan didn’t seem to notice that, either.
“I wanted to catch you yesterday at the children’s wedding,” she said, edging around Jenny and heading
