She could see the very male shudder work over him. His eye practically twitched at the mention of underwear and bras.
“I’ll get it for you. Don’t worry.”
She smiled, feeling warmth that had nothing to do with bathwater flash over her. “Thank you.”
SAM stepped out of the bathroom and rubbed the back of his neck. Sainthood. He deserved sainthood. Not only had he stood in the bathroom with a very gorgeous, very naked woman, but he’d calmly discussed getting her things like a bra and underwear without batting an eyelash.
Give him bombs, grenades, blood, guts and gore, but bras?
Jesus.
Now, where the hell was he going to get her a bra?
“Hey, get her settled?”
Sam looked up to see Garrett and Donovan coming up the stairs. He grimaced. “Uh yeah. Sorta.”
Garrett gave him a look.
“She needs a bra. Something about pregnancy and big boobs and I sort of tuned out after that.”
Donovan’s chest heaved in silent laughter. The bastard.
“So get her one,” Garrett said.
Garrett almost pulled off that somber, stick-up-his ass look. Oh yeah, he was good, but Sam saw the flicker of amusement in his eyes.
“There are three women in this house on a constant basis. Surely we can come up with a bra,” Sam muttered.
“Uh well Rusty and Rachel are smaller,” Donovan said, hedging. “Not that Sophie is like big or anything, but she’s bustier.”
It dawned on his brothers about the same time it did on Sam. Their faces contorted, and Garrett’s mouth flapped open and shut.
“Christ. That leaves Mom,” Sam said.
Garrett started backing away, hands out. “Oh no. Hell no. I’m not asking Ma for one of her bras. That’s just . . . wrong.”
Donovan looked like he’d swallowed a bug, and then both he and Garrett stared at Sam.
“Your woman. You do it.”
Sam cleared his throat. “Rock, paper, scissors?”
“Fuck that,” Donovan snorted.
“You pussies.”
“You go. We’ll pay for your therapy later,” Garrett said.
Sam turned in disgust and stalked away.
“You should probably know Ma’s not very happy with you right now,” Donovan called after him.
Sam turned. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Garrett and I filled her in. You know on the story. About how you knocked Sophie up, came home, then fished her out of the lake.”
Sam blew out his breath and turned his face up toward the ceiling. “Yeah, and I bet you really hated telling her all that, didn’t you?”
Garrett shrugged. “You can thank us later, man.”
Sam held up his middle finger and hurried down the stairs to face his mom.
CHAPTER 11
SAM hovered near the bathroom door and checked his watch. She hadn’t called out, and he kept returning for fear he wouldn’t hear her when she did. He couldn’t decide whether to go in and check on her or wait it out.
The decision was taken from him when he heard her soft call filter through the door.
“Sam?”
He pushed in, hastily tossing the items his mom had given him on the counter. When he turned to her, he saw her drowsy eyes watching him. Her face was flushed with the steam from the bath, and her hair lay damply against her cheeks.
“You okay?”
She nodded slowly. “I tried to get out, but it hurt. I was afraid of falling.”
He frowned and moved forward. “I told you I’d help you. You ready to get out now?”
Again she nodded, and he reached down, sliding his arms into the water. His hand glanced off her lush bottom and then went to the tender flesh underneath her knees. He lifted, and the water rushed over her skin like silk. He was riveted to the sight of her swollen, lush body.
He stood her up long enough to get a towel around her. She glanced shyly up at him, her blue eyes sweet. Just like they’d been the first time he ever saw her.
He’d hated seeing her work in that dive. She was too young, too innocent to be exposed to the assholes who frequented the joint. Now he felt like an idiot, because after living with her father, the guys at the bar had to have seemed like Boy Scouts.
“I can dry myself,” she said after clearing her throat.
He turned to the counter and gingerly raised the bra with one finger. “I know this isn’t ideal, but it was the closest thing we thought would fit you. The uhm underwear, well as long as it doesn’t fall off . . . You could pull it up over your belly.”
Amusement twinkled in her eyes, but she smiled as if he’d just given her diamonds.
“Thank you. This will be perfect.”
She bobbled just a bit when she tried to step forward, and he picked her up and set her on the counter.
“It’s all that hot water,” he explained. “It’ll make you light-headed, especially when you’re pregnant. You probably shouldn’t have stayed in so long.”
She arched one golden brow at him. “How do you know so much about pregnant women?”
An uncomfortable prickle assaulted his neck. “I uhm must have read it somewhere.”
He turned right and then left and realized she was still trapped in her towel and she needed to get dressed.
There was a short knock at the door, and he scowled as he turned. He opened it just a crack so whoever was outside wouldn’t see in. Donovan stood there holding a pair of pants and a T-shirt. He thrust them toward Sam.
“Figured she’d do better if she wasn’t running around in just Ma’s bra and underwear.”
There was a hint of a grin on Donovan’s lips, and Sam glared a giant hole through his head.
“Thanks,” he muttered.
“Any time.”
He grinned again and then sauntered off.
Sam called him a few choice words and retreated into the bathroom, where Sophie was still perched on the counter, the towel gripped tight at her chin.
The towel split just at her belly, and he was afforded a tiny glimpse of the gentle mound that shielded his child. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen it a couple of times already. It was the way just a hint showed from the protective confines of the towel.
Careful so as not to spook her, he slowly dipped his hands into that little part and pushed the towel aside so that more of her belly was bared.
“Sam?”
His name came out breathless. A little hesitant. A little nervous. But there was no fear in her voice.
“Let me see her, Soph. I want to see my daughter. One moment where it’s just us. No distractions. No danger. Just you and me and our child.”
Her hand loosened its grip on the corner of the towel, and finally she dropped it altogether. The material fell away, baring her breasts and her belly. Even the delicate, feminine V of her legs, with the soft, silvery blond wisps of hair, was visible.
It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Here on this counter, Sophie bruised and battered, her hair wet and fatigue pulling at her eyes. Was there a more beautiful sight than a lushly pregnant woman?
He couldn’t resist touching her. The tips of his fingers brushed along the tops of her thighs, around to her hips and finally up and over the tautness of her abdomen. As they gathered at her center, her belly dipped and jerked.
He drew away, stunned. “That was her!”
Sophie’s face lit up like a million candles. “Yes. That’s her.” Her own hand came to cradle her belly, and she rocked back and forth as though she was sitting in a chair soothing her baby.
Drawn by a power he didn’t understand, Sam lowered his head, inch by inch until his lips were just a breath away from that tiny little pitter-patter. He pressed his mouth in the gentlest of kisses even as he palmed both sides of Sophie’s belly to hold her in place.
The tiny kick against his lips had him smiling in sheer delight.
“She’s saying hello,” he said hoarsely.
When he looked up at Sophie, he was taken aback by the sheer sadness in her eyes. He could swear there were tears, but she blinked and they were gone. What could possibly have upset her?
He crinkled his brow and touched a hand to her cheek. “Is everything okay, Soph?”
She smiled, though it looked shaky to him. “I’m fine. The bath did wonders. I feel like a new woman.”
It was almost easy to forget that she was sitting naked in front of him—if he didn’t keep getting distracted by the breasts he and his brothers had discussed in depth out in the hall.
Her nipples—one of his favorite things—were darker now instead of the delectable shade of pink they’d been. They looked browner, ruby almost. He’d give anything to taste her one more time. To run his tongue along the puckered peak and feel her come apart in his arms.
His body tightened painfully, and he nearly unmanned himself by bumping into the counter edge. Son of a bitch that hurt!
“I um got you a bra. It’s right here. Donovan brought you some pants and a T-shirt. We’ll get you shoes when you’re dressed. Let me help you get into everything, and then we’ll see what we have to work with.”
She wrinkled her nose at the bra. “God, it’s one of those torture devices. One of those thirty-six-hour jobs or whatever they’re called.”
Sam laughed. Even he’d heard enough television commercials to know there were eighteen-hour bras. But who the hell would want to stay in such a barbaric contraption for eighteen hours? Those things weren’t for sissies.
“You’re going to have to help me get it on. I can’t put it on backward and twist it around. It’ll kill my arm. I’ll put the cups on and you fasten the back.”
“Well hell,” he grumbled. “I’ve had plenty of practice getting women out of bras, but I can’t say I’ve ever helped a woman into one.”
She flashed a grin. “Then you’ll learn something new and useful.”
She positioned the bra, looped the straps over her shoulders, and he stared down at the dangling clasp. How hard could it be?
He fastened the clips and tried very hard not to remember where he’d gotten this or who had worn it last, because there was only so much his brain could take.
“Just hold the underwear. I’ll step in,” she directed.
He bent and held what looked to be grannie panties out and open while she grabbed on to his wrists for support and cautiously threaded one leg at a time into the holes. A few seconds later, she had underwear all the way over her belly and she burst into laughter.
“I look like a goober,” she said, still laughing.
“The clothes will cover it.” Thank God. Even as unattractive as his mom’s girly things were, Sophie still managed to look sensational in them. He could tie a garbage sack around her and she’d still light up a room.
The pants weren’t hard, but the shirt was more awkward. He merely stretched out the armholes until he could fit her arms through without making her do contortionist tricks.
“Want me to dry your hair?”
She blinked in surprise. “Would you? It would be so hard to do it one-handed.”
He reached for the blow-dryer. “Can you stand for this long or would you prefer to sit on the toilet seat?”
She put her hand on his chest and eased her way onto the closed toilet.
He started the dryer and threaded his hand through the strands as he motioned the blower up and down. After a few minutes, he took a brush from the counter and delicately drew it through her tresses.
She closed her eyes and held her face upturned just a bit, like she was experiencing the first rays of sun after a long winter. Wanting to continue pleasing her, he brushed the strands as he blew over them, until they shone like spun gold.
“No one has brushed my hair for me since I was a child,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “It feels wonderful.”
“I’ve never brushed a woman’s hair before,” he admitted ruefully.
She opened her eyes and they smiled back at him through the mirror.
“I’m getting the idea that you were an expert at getting women out of their clothes and messing up their hair, but maybe not so much with anything that came afterward.”
“Not that many women,” he muttered.
She cocked her head, and he could see the question brewing on her lips.
Once again, a knock at the door interrupted them. Sam blew out his breath in relief, turned off the dryer and laid it aside.
“It’s open,” he called.
Donovan stuck his head inside. “I have Mom’s med kit if you want me to look over Sophie’s stitches. She’s insisting on calling Doc, but I made her wait to see what you wanted.”
“Yeah, okay, let me take her in the bedroom so you’ll have room,” Sam replied. “Tell Mom to hold her horses. Didn’t you explain to her the situation we’re in here? We can’t be calling everyone in Stewart County to come over.”
“Yeah , but you know Mom,” Donovan said in amusement.
Sam touched Sophie on the shoulder as Donovan backed out of the bathroom. “Can you make it?”