“I wish I could do something useful,” she muttered, but she rose and walked into the kitchen.
He couldn’t tear his gaze from the sexy sway of her hips or the way her hair swung against her back. He bit the inside of his cheek and spent the next few minutes getting his dick to calm down so he could to talk to her neighbors.
His canvass of the two next-door apartments yielded only one result, but at least it was a good one. A middle-aged woman had heard the whole thing. And, she informed Scott, she was the same person who’d found Meg’s phone and called her friend after Meg had ended up in the hospital because of her ex the last time. Scott told her the police would be by to interview her and returned to Meg’s to find her sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of juice in her hand.
“Good news. Mrs. Booth heard Mike, and she recognized his voice. I put a call into the station and asked them to send someone to take her statement. And yours.”
She blew out a long breath and stared at her glass. “Thank you.”
He didn’t like seeing her so down. He eased into the chair beside her and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, just so he could touch her again.
Her cheeks flushed, and a flicker of awareness lit her gaze. There she was. The passionate woman he knew had returned. “So what were you doing before Mike showed up?” he asked, changing the subject while they waited for the cops.
“Online shopping. Browsing, really. Making lists of what I need for the baby, comparing costs on the big items. Things like that.”
“Sounds fun.”
A smile lifted her lips, and damned if his gaze didn’t zero in on that sweet mouth. The desire to kiss her sucker-punched him, but he remained in his chair, one hand clenched in frustration.
“It is. I don’t know the baby’s sex, but it’s been fun to look at all the cute little baby clothes and think about how I want to decorate for him. Or her.”
“Is this a two-bedroom?” he asked, because he wanted to say screw it, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her back to bed, to hell with any damned statements.
All he wanted to do was bury himself inside her while making her come hard and often. Then spend the rest of the night curled around her, keeping her safe and protected.
“No, just one bedroom,” she said, oblivious to his sexual frustration and X-rated thoughts.
How the hell he maintained a thread of normal conversation was beyond him.
“I’ll put the crib in my room for now. The bedroom is big enough.”
He thought about his large house, the one he’d bought as a surprise for his soon-to-be-growing family before he’d discovered his wife had had an abortion without asking him. But he’d loved the house and moved in anyway. Four bedrooms, three and a half baths, plenty big for . . . Shit.
He was not going there.
“And since my room decor is neutral, I can do whatever I want in the baby area . . .” Meg trailed off, realizing she was rambling, and a hot flush rushed to her cheeks. “I’m really sorry. You can’t possibly be interested in decorating talk.” She could barely meet his gaze.
“Meg?”
“Yes?” She glanced up at the sound of her name, a rumbling caress coming from his sexy mouth.
His navy eyes were focused on her, and she felt his gaze as if he were physically stroking her skin. Goose bumps lifted on her bare arms.
“Take my word for it. If you’re speaking, I’m interested.”
And that interest showed in his intent stare and focus. Not to mention she’d felt his erection pressing against her when she’d sat on his lap earlier. She’d done her best not to squirm in her seat.
“Look, I’m sure this can’t be easy for you, but life has a way of throwing you curve balls. The important thing is how you roll with them. Have you eaten?” he asked, surprising her with the subject change.
“I was going to make myself a sandwich when I got hungry.”
Her stomach chose that moment to grumble, loudly. God, could things get any more embarrassing? She had a hot guy she wanted to jump in her living room, and she was going on about baby furniture while her stomach made unattractive noises.
She’d just have to roll with it, as he’d said. “If you’re hungry, I could make you one too? Unless you didn’t plan on staying . . .”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just realized . . . Why are you here? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you showed up when you did, but . . . why?” She’d been so thrown by Mike, so relieved to see Scott on the other side of the door, she hadn’t thought to ask.
“I came to see how you were doing. And—” He slipped a hand behind her neck, his touch a hot brand on her skin. “I didn’t like not speaking to you all week.”
Her stomach flipped delightfully at the admission. “I felt the same way,” she said, unable to not tell him the truth.
“Now that’s good to hear.” He spoke in a low, husky voice. Then he moved in, his lips this close to hers, his breath warm against her mouth. “Because staying away was fucking hard.”
His thumb swiped over her lower lip. A hot, aching feeling settled between her thighs along with dampness and a deep yearning for fulfillment. “Scott—” She didn’t know what she wanted to say, just that she wanted—no, needed him.
His eyes darkened with serious intent. She wanted his hot mouth on hers desperately, and barely breathing, she waited for what he’d do next.
But the doorbell rang, jarring them both. She jumped, he swore, and the moment was broken.
“That’ll be a cop to take your statement.” Scott shot her a look of regret before he rose. He paused and drew a long breath.
His hands, she noted,
