“Thank you,” she said in little more than a whisper.
He realized he was still holding her hands, leaning quite close to her over the car’s console between them. Her gaze was still locked with his, and he was momentarily trapped in liquid emerald. Despite all that had happened between them, all the uncertainty ahead, she still took his breath away. She was so beautiful, with her long-lashed eyes and full, sensuous mouth, her heart-shaped face framed in thick, dark, glossy hair. But it was more than her beauty that had always drawn him to her. He admired her courage, her dignity, the proud spirit her experiences had bruised but not extinguished.
She shifted in her seat, and he wondered if he was making her self-conscious.
“Are you uncomfortable?” he asked.
She smiled faintly. “The baby just kicked me in the side.”
That, of course, drew his attention straight to her tummy. She was still so small that he hadn’t really thought much about the baby’s development. At almost six months along, it must be pretty well formed by this point, he realized. He wanted to feel the movement himself, but he knew better than to place a hand on her without permission. His female cousins who’d had children had often complained about people—even strangers—thinking they had a right to feel a pregnant woman’s stomach.
Hannah seemed to read his thoughts. She took his hand and laid it on her swollen tummy, just above the seat belt she still wore. Only moments later, he felt a little thump beneath his palm. His eyes widened. “Was that it?”
“Yes. He’s active this afternoon.”
“He?”
She shrugged, her emotions well-masked, though her voice sounded a bit huskier than usual. “Just a figure of speech. This time tomorrow, I could be saying she.”
He focused on his hand, his attention on the movement beneath it. He pictured a little girl who looked just like Hannah—or a boy with his own mother’s big dark eyes. Both images made his chest tighten. He raised his gaze to look at Hannah only to find her studying his face with eyes that looked suspiciously moist. The next thing he knew, his mouth was on hers.
* * *
The console of Andrew’s sports car dug into Hannah’s left side. The baby kicked against her right rib cage. The still-fastened seat belt bit into her shoulder, and her left leg had twisted into an uncomfortable position. And yet she was in no rush at all to move out of Andrew’s arms.
His mouth moved slowly on hers, his lips firm and gentle at the same time. The faintest hint of early evening shadow roughened his cheek when she laid her fingertips against it. His hand slid to the back of her head to hold her in place as he took his time exploring every inch of her willing mouth.
She had known the first time Andrew kissed her that there was a volatile chemistry between them, something she had suspected from the first time their eyes met. She’d tried to tell herself at the beginning that she was deluding herself, that she was confusing gratitude and attraction, that her stinging ego was pushing her to look for validation in a man’s approval. But the more time she had spent with Andrew, the more she’d become aware of what a good man he was, and how much she genuinely admired and truly liked him. None of which had convinced her that they belonged together. Just the opposite, in fact. She had survived the end of her marriage with her heart battered but intact. Some instinct told her a bad outcome with Andrew would devastate her—not that he’d given her any reason to believe he was interested in pursuing a long-term relationship with her.
Slowly he drew back his head, leaving her lips damp, tingling, aching for more. Her throat clenched, her pulse raced, and her already-hormonal emotions threatening to overwhelm her. Her heart still ached from the look she had seen in his eyes when he’d felt their baby move. Between that and the kiss, she couldn’t trust herself at all just then to think rationally.
She cleared her throat. Hard. And still her voice was hoarse when she said, “We’d better go. I called Mom from the body shop and told her we were on the way. They’ll be wondering what happened to us.”
She was relieved when he immediately drew back. Apparently he was going to stick to his promise that he was letting her set the pace now. At least until his patience ran out.
She heard him snap his seat belt back into place, but kept her face turned to look out the passenger side window. She needed to use the remainder of the drive to get her expressions under control before dealing with her family again.
“I moved out of my motel room while you were running your errands,” Andrew said conversationally as he drove through the resort gate. “It seemed a waste for me to take up a room when every vacancy is in demand.”
“That was generous of you.” Hannah had no doubt that he’d had plenty of offers of spare beds from her family, since each household had at least one. “Where are you staying?”
“Steven’s spare bedroom. The whole family volunteered, but I think I’d be most comfortable with Steven.”
She bit her lower lip, realizing that Andrew would be staying right across a narrow road from her now rather than half a resort away in the motel. Great.
“Unless you’d rather I stay with you instead.”
She whipped her head around in response to his comment. “What?”
Andrew slanted her a rare, playful grin that made him look even more like his lighthearted brother. “Just kidding.”
Even though her lips twitched with an unexpected smile, she shook a finger at him. “Behave yourself.”
His chuckle was more wry than amused. “If I’d done that, we wouldn’t be in this situation, would we?”
Her cheeks warmed as erotic images flashed through her mind—again. “You hardly bear all the blame for that,” she murmured.
He glanced at her and she thought she saw the shared memories heating his eyes. But rather than continuing the topic that had the potential to become awkward fast, he asked, “Where do you want me to drop you off?”