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My Baby, My Love
Dani Sinclair
Mills & Boon M&B
SHE WOKE UP PREGNANT!When Sydney Edwards woke in the hospital, she couldn't believe her eyes–or her ears. The most tempting man she'd ever seen sat by her side and told her she was pregnant! Then he insisted she needed his protection….Noah Inglewood had never met his brother's widow, but now they shared a bond that couldn't be broken. His brother's actions had placed Sydney in great danger–and Noah in an impossible situation. Sydney was the only eyewitness to murder, and Noah had to keep her safe. But he was falling in love with Sydney–and keeping one precious little secret….



My Baby, My Love
Dani Sinclair


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

DANI SINCLAIR
An avid reader, Dani Sinclair didn’t discover romance novels until her mother lent her one once when she came for a visit. Dani has been hooked on the genre ever since, but she didn’t take up writing seriously until her two sons were grown. With the premiere of Mystery Baby for Harlequin Intrigue in 1996, Dani has kept her computer busy ever since. She’s a two-time RITA
Award finalist, for Better Watch Out in 1998 and Midnight Prince in 2008. Dani lives outside Washington, D.C., a place she’s found to be a great source for both intrigue and humor!
You can write to her in care of the Harlequin Reader Service.
For Rhonda Harding Pollero (goddess extraordinaire) for unstinting help, unwavering friendship and incredible talent. Best five-dollar investment I ever made.
And always, for Roger, Chip, Dan and Barb, who never fail to be there for me.

CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN

PROLOGUE
Her heart thudded in her chest. Despite the early-morning hour, Jerome’s red sports car was already in the parking lot behind the bank. Fear of another confrontation with her husband nearly made Sydney get back in her car and drive away.
Then she spotted Mrs. Argossy. The bank manager was struggling to hang on to a dozen balloons while lifting a case of soda from the trunk of her car. Jerome wouldn’t start a scene in front of his boss. Not when he was up for promotion again. All Sydney had to do was stay near Mrs. Argossy and she could start the morning without a battle. And maybe if she saw him early and got it over with, he wouldn’t disrupt the jewelry store where she worked by coming over at lunch.
“Need some help?” she called out.
“Sydney! Good morning! Some help would be wonderful.”
“Someone’s birthday?” she asked.
“Janet’s. We’re going to have a party after work this afternoon. I thought I’d get a jump on things by bringing my contribution early, but I see Jerome is already here. You two certainly do get up early for a pair of newlyweds.”
Sydney tried to slow the nervous hammering of her pulse by taking the case of soda and reaching for a gallon of ice cream. Gratefully, Mrs. Argossy lifted a gaily decorated cake and shut the trunk.
“We’re hardly newlyweds,” Sydney said quietly. She didn’t add that they were about to become divorce statistics as soon as she met with her lawyer.
Mrs. Argossy had to set down the cake to unlock the bank doors. She repeated the process once more before they were inside. Empty, the place looked eerie to Sydney. She trailed after Mrs. Argossy past the counters to the rear of the building. There she had to wait again while Mrs. Argossy unlocked yet another set of doors.
Sydney had never been back in this area and she stepped inside curiously. A curse rent the air.
“You said we’d be alone,” a male voice accused harshly.
Sydney came to a startled halt. A man twisted away from her, ducking to hide his features. He pulled a ski mask into place before Sydney could register the wrongness of his presence here inside the closed bank.
A second man, stuffing currency inside a large gym bag, also wore a mask over his face. The vault gaped wide open. Jerome stood beside the heavy steel door, several bundles of money in his hands.
Fear stole her vocal cords, leaving her motionless with shock.
“For heaven’s sake,” Mrs. Argossy chided behind Sydney, unaware of the danger. “Keep moving or I’ll drop this cake.”
The ski-masked stranger swore viciously. “What are you doing in here?”
Sydney managed the fleeting thought that it was a rather stupid question under the circumstances. Then Jerome started in her direction, his expression almost tortured. For a second, their eyes locked. She felt his anguish as clearly as if he’d cried out.
The door closed behind Mrs. Argossy. In slow motion, her lips formed a wide “oh” of alarm. “What on earth?”
Sydney dropped the heavy case of soda and cans spilled across the floor. Two split open, splashing their sticky contents everywhere.
Mrs. Argossy pushed past her. Feeling helplessly detached, Sydney watched the first man produce a gun in one gloved hand. Smoke and flame spit from the barrel. The bark of noise was deafening. Mrs. Argossy crumpled bonelessly to the floor at Sydney’s feet in a pool of spreading red blood. The balloons she’d been holding drifted toward the ceiling.
“No! Stop!” Jerome yelled. “You said no one would be hurt!”
Sydney came out of her panicked stupor. She heaved the gallon of ice cream at the weapon now aimed at her. The container struck, deflecting the next shot.
The room seemed to swell with noise and an acrid odor. There was no place to run. Pain seared Sydney’s hand.
The gunman took aim again. Jerome stumbled, shoving her backward. Flame spurted from the weapon.
His body jerked, once—then twice. His mouth opened for another protest that never came.
She lurched as Jerome’s full weight collapsed against her. His body jerked again as more bullets thudded into his back.
They fell amid the rain of currency fluttering from his limp hands. Her world dissolved with a blinding crack of pain and a stab of brilliant light.

CHAPTER ONE
Sydney woke to the scent of something elusive, something intriguing, something that wafted past the smell of flowers and antiseptic. In an effort to find the source, she forced open her eyes and tried to focus on the face that hovered above her.
“Sydney? That’s it, open your eyes. Can you hear me?”
The rumbly voice was comforting. She’d heard that voice in her dreams. A voice that promised safety and security from the nightmares.
Memory flooded her with violent images.
Sydney opened her mouth, a scream building from her soul. The man shook his head. His fingers pressed gently against her raw, chapped lips.
“Don’t,” he ordered. “You’re safe now. You don’t have to scream anymore.”
The tone, rather than the words, released the scream as a long shuddering sigh. Sydney trembled. Pain raced up her arm. Other pain quickly followed. She tried to lift her hand. It wouldn’t move. Something white covered it completely. Sydney fought against the incipient panic rising in her chest.
She couldn’t move!
Large hands rested against her shoulders, gently but effectively holding her in place.
“Look at me, Sydney.”
She had no choice but to do as he commanded. Still, she couldn’t stop the quaking that gripped her body.
He nodded. “That’s better. If you scream, the cop outside your door will throw me out of here.”
What was he talking about? The hands moved away from her shoulders. Ironically, she wanted that reassuring contact back.
“Don’t fade out on me, Sydney. Take a couple of deep breaths.”
She licked at her chapped lips as she stared into his ruggedly handsome face. He wore a military dress uniform, she realized. Puzzling out why this should be significant was too hard for her muzzy brain to contemplate. It was enough that he was here. She relaxed, staring up at him, drawn to him in some indefinable way.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked.
Sydney nodded, bewildered, and suddenly, terribly tired. The last thing she remembered—
“No! Don’t try to remember. Look at me, okay?”
Looking at him was the easiest thing she’d ever been asked to do. Just his presence made her feel safe and protected. He lifted a cup with a straw poking from the top. Carefully, he brought it to her lips in silent offering.
“Just a small sip,” he cautioned.
The ice water slid down her grateful throat, soothing the strained, parched dryness. Her whole body felt strained. She hurt. Everywhere.
“Listen to me.”
Dark somber eyes bored into her.
“Visiting hours don’t start for some time yet, so I don’t know how long I’ll have in here before one of the nurses comes to check on you.”
She blinked, trying to focus on those chiseled features. While he was somehow achingly familiar, she knew she’d never seen him before. How sad to have wasted all this time.
“You were shot during a bank robbery.”
The muzzle of the gun. Deafening noise. Blood. So much blood.
Jerome!
“Easy. You’re safe now,” his voice continued.
Blood had pumped from Mrs. Argossy’s fallen form to mingle with the spilled soda on the white tile floor.
“Listen to me, Sydney. You’re safe.”
His words banished the horrible images. His hand absently stroked her shoulder, calming the tremors that threatened to shake her apart.
“You’re in the hospital. You’ve been here three days. Do you understand?”
She focused on his face, trying to still the living nightmare. His somber expression helped hold the horror at bay. Since it seemed important to him that she agree, she nodded.
“Who are you?” Her voice croaked, sounding as rusty and sore as it felt.
His lips thinned. “Noah.”
The name took processing. “Jerome’s brother?”
No. Anyone but Jerome’s brother. Fate couldn’t be so unkind. But that would explain the military uniform. Jerome had often talked about his brother, the major.
“Yes. I’m Jerome’s brother.”
Deep sadness filled his brooding expression. She wanted to reach out to him, to ease that sorrow. This was Jerome’s brother!
Jerome.
She shut her eyes against the pain. In her head, the gunshots echoed, blending with the screams she’d locked inside. She smelled the sharp tang that had hung in the wisps of smoke. She felt Jerome’s full weight crashing down on her as he stumbled forward and collapsed, his body jerking repeatedly, pinning her to the floor.
She didn’t need the words, but her lips formed them anyhow. She opened her eyes. “He’s dead,” she stated. She knew it to be true.
“Yes.”
Noah responded so softly she almost didn’t hear him as the first salty tear trickled down her cheek.
“Don’t,” he said sharply. “Please. We need to talk before they toss me out of here.”
She stared at him, frustrated by her inability to wipe the wetness from her cheek. “I wasn’t planning to give in to hysterics.”
His expression softened. “Good. That would send me screaming. Do you remember everything that happened?”
If only she could forget.
She tried to sit up and found she still couldn’t move her hands. For the first time, she noticed the IV bottle on the other side of the bed. She blinked rapidly in frustration and Noah withdrew a crisp white handkerchief. He blotted her cheeks and eyes.
The elusive scent she’d noticed on awakening came from him, she realized. Probably a cologne, though it was so faint she couldn’t be certain. The distracting smell helped to calm her, for some reason.
“Mrs. Argossy?”
“Dead,” he answered quietly.
Sydney cringed.
“Take deep breaths,” Noah encouraged.
A long shudder passed through her. Once again she tried to move. “My hands—”
“They tied you down so you wouldn’t thrash around anymore. You pulled the IV out twice. They were afraid you’d injure yourself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You slammed your head against something when you fell, Sydney. You suffered a concussion. When you finally started to come to, you began to thrash around so violently that they had to sedate you.”
“I don’t remember.” Yet she could almost remember horrible screams that felt lodged deep inside her. She stared up at him, focusing on his face in a bid for control.
“My head hurts.”
He nodded. “That’s to be expected.”
“I wasn’t expecting it.” He smiled and she relaxed. “Jerome didn’t know you were coming, did he?”
Pain flashed in his dark eyes. “No. I was due for some leave next week, but I hadn’t planned to come here.”
Sydney didn’t know what to say. She knew the brothers weren’t close. And knowing her husband as well as she did now, she suspected more than age and distance had separated the men.
“Sydney, I know the timing is off, but we need to talk.”
“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m afraid I’m muzzy. What—”
“So, you’re awake at last! You aren’t supposed to be in here at this hour, Mr. Inglewood. Official visiting hours don’t start until ten.”
The anemic-looking nurse bustled inside. She frowned at Noah, and came forward so she could stand officiously over the bed. “How are you feeling?”
Sydney didn’t know how to answer the question. Mostly, she felt confused. Her gaze sought Noah. She sensed him willing her to remain in control and she swallowed hard.
“I’d like to move my hands,” she managed.
“I’ll check with the doctor. Do you know who you are?”
“Of course I know who I am.”
The nurse waited.
“Sydney Edwards.” She saw Noah’s frown. “Inglewood,” she added.
“Do you know where you are?”
“The hospital.”
“Do you know why?”
Her irritation mounted along with her headache. Sydney glared at the nurse. “I was shot. Now, I’d like to speak to the doctor, please.”
“He’ll be by to see you shortly.” The nurse planted a thermometer in her mouth.
Sydney thrust the offending object aside with her tongue. “Now!”
“Mrs. Inglewood, you really mustn’t get excited.”
Sydney stopped listening. “Will you get him for me?” she asked Noah, avoiding the thermometer.
He nodded. “I’ll be back.”
Sydney waited, but he didn’t return. And by afternoon, she knew everything.
“I’m afraid we won’t be able to determine if you’ll regain the full use of all the fingers until after the swelling goes down,” the self-important surgeon told her. “The nerve and muscle damage was extensive.”
Staring at her completely bandaged right hand, Sydney was barely able to control the fearful anxiety the doctor’s words created. Her career as a jeweler might be over. With only one usable hand, could she do the intricate work required? Her heart pounded. Her throat went dry.
Then he dropped his bombshell.
“Fortunately, the baby is fine. Your concussion had us worried at first, naturally, but it appears there’s no permanent damage done there either. You may experience some headaches and a little dizziness from the concussion….”
Baby?
He might as well have spoken in Chinese.
“I’m pregnant?” Sydney could only stare at the man. Jerome’s friend, the fertility doctor, had told them the procedure hadn’t worked! “Are you certain?”
Thrown off stride by the interruption, the doctor rubbed the pen tip against the side of his face as if bewildered. “Quite certain, Mrs. Inglewood. You appear to be about three months pregnant. When was…?”
That incompetent twit! Hadn’t she guessed she couldn’t trust Jerome’s friend? His entire clinic had done little to inspire confidence. She should have known he’d get the test results wrong.
“I got pregnant three months and nine days ago,” she told the surgeon. That date was engraved on her mind for all time.
Like a delayed electric charge, the impact of his revelation suddenly slammed home. She was going to have a baby! Jerome’s baby.
But Jerome was dead!
She’d been in the process of filing for a divorce.
She could not be pregnant! Not now! Not when this officious surgeon was implying that her hand might never function properly again and her whole career could be in jeopardy.
Panic clogged her throat while the surgeon stood beside her, calmly, arrogantly sure of himself as he continued to list her health concerns. The soft-spoken man hadn’t a clue that his words were doing more to shock her than the bullet had done.
Sydney glanced at her stomach and shook her head in denial. She didn’t look pregnant. She didn’t feel pregnant. She did not want to be pregnant. Not now. She wanted this doctor to be wrong.
A vision of a tall man in a military uniform made her close her eyes in despair. Noah. She was pregnant with his brother’s baby.
A shiver racked her entire body. This wasn’t happening. She wanted to grab her pounding head and close her eyes until the nightmare ended.
“Mrs. Inglewood, I assure you,” the surgeon continued, “the baby is fine. There’s no cause for alarm.”
Wanting to laugh, she also wanted to cry. No wonder she’d been thrashing around when she’d started to wake up. She wanted to thrash around again right now. Her entire world had just shifted one hundred eighty degrees.
She was relieved when the doctor finally left. Staring out the window, she tried to calm the insidious threat of panic welling in her chest. Pregnant! What was she going to do?
She hadn’t liked the small fertility clinic or the hyper doctor who ran it, but Jerome had insisted on using both. The man was a former schoolmate. A friend. And his brand-new clinic needed patients. Small wonder. The creep also needed to go back to medical school.
Despite his assurance that the procedure hadn’t worked, she was pregnant. She clutched the sheet covering her, wadding the material into a destructive ball. Whether the timing suited her or not, Sydney was going to have the child she’d always wanted.
The police and FBI arrived before she had time to think past the shock. Despite their effusive apologies for disturbing her, Sydney spent the bulk of the afternoon answering questions until her voice was hoarse and her head felt as if it were going to come apart in her hands.
The thieves had made off with more than three quarters of a million dollars. They hadn’t left a trace of evidence behind. They’d even been smart enough to locate and take the bank’s surveillance tapes. All the authorities had was Sydney, the only eyewitness to what had happened. Not that she was much help. Despite her best efforts, Sydney couldn’t give them anything to work with. Exhausted, she fell asleep as soon as they left.
Dreams fragmented her sleep. Real events blended with menacing nightmares that brought her to the edge of waking. She knew she was dreaming, but she couldn’t seem to force her heavy eyes open.
Fear became a writhing force in her chest as she faced the gunman all over again. In her dream, someone hovered just out of sight. The danger felt all too real. If only she could open her eyes to look.
Sydney struggled to release herself from the nightmare’s hold. Her senses screamed at her to open her eyes. A crash pierced the nightmare, jarring her free. She opened her eyes and gasped for air. A bearded man with long hair stood beside her bed.
Piercing dark eyes glared down at her, plunging icy fear straight through her veins. He withdrew his hand from inside the nightstand drawer. Fingers flexed. A subtle threat. But there was no subtlety in the stare that drilled into her. The menace was real. She drew in a ragged breath of air to scream when a voice in the hall called out sharply.
“Hey, orderly! They need your help in 413! Someone fell!”
Without a word, the man turned and strode away.
Badly shaken, Sydney struggled to sit up. Pain clawed her head with needlelike talons. Dropping her chin to her chest, she pressed her palm against her throbbing temple, so dizzy she was nearly sick. The wave of vertigo passed, leaving her weak and spent in reaction. Only when she could finally open her eyes again and everything remained still did she notice the dinner tray sitting on the tray table beside her.
The drawer of her nightstand was partially open. A vase of flowers had fallen to the floor. It must have been the crash that had penetrated her nightmare.
Hand on the call button, she hesitated. Had the threat been real, or imagined? Had the orderly merely looked angry because he’d knocked over the vase and was afraid he’d be in trouble? Or was there another, more sinister reason?
Surely the police officer who’d summoned the man wouldn’t have let anyone in her room without credentials.
But years of television cop shows said anyone could get a set of credentials. And she hadn’t noticed any around his neck. Maybe he’d brought in her dinner tray and maybe he hadn’t. For certain he’d knocked over the flowers. And his hands had been inside the drawer of her nightstand. He could have been searching for something to wipe up the mess, but the memory of his cold dark eyes sent her hand to the call light.
Minutes passed. No one came. Why wasn’t anyone responding?
Shoving back the covers, Sydney stood. Dizzy, she grabbed the tray table for support. The stand began to roll.
“Mrs. Inglewood!”
A slip of a nurse rushed inside the room, barely in time to prevent her fall.
“I almost didn’t catch you! Here sit down. There’s glass all over the floor! You knocked over a vase. You should have waited for someone to come and help you up. We had an emergency. The patient down the hall just fell out of bed. He’s a large man and it took four of us to get him back in again. The last thing we need is for you to fall down, too. Do you need to go to the bathroom?”
“No!”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“The man who was just in here, I think he brought this tray. Do you know him?”
Puzzled, the woman stared. “I don’t know what man you’re talking about. I didn’t see who delivered the trays tonight. I’m not even the nurse for this section. I just saw your light flashing and…is there a problem?”
With the pretty young nurse looking up at her, Sydney started feeling foolish. What if she’d made a mistake? They would think she was some sort of paranoid fool. But if she hadn’t made a mistake?
“Look, I know this sounds crazy, but I woke up and found him staring at me. Are you sure he really works here?”
The nurse started looking worried. “Did he say something inappropriate? Did he touch you?”
“No. No, he didn’t do anything. I mean, besides knocking over that vase. But I don’t think he was wearing identification. You know, like yours.”
The woman relaxed slightly, though she still looked concerned. “The police aren’t letting anyone in here without identification, Mrs. Inglewood.”
“I know that! Please. Humor me. Just check him out, will you? Or have the police officer on duty check him out. Please!”
“All right. Tell me what the man looked like.”
“He had long brown hair and a beard and mustache. And piercing brown eyes.”
The nurse relaxed. “Oh, him. Don’t worry. He’s the orderly that helped us get Mr. Logler off the floor. I think he’s new, but I’ll check just to make sure.”
The loudspeaker came to life before Sydney could question that statement. “Karin Stipes, call in please.”
“That’s me. I swear there’s a full moon out tonight. The whole place is going crazy. I’ll be right back. And I’ll check on that orderly for you. You just relax. You’ve been through quite an ordeal, from what I hear.”
Sydney sank back against the pillows, feeling oddly unsettled. The nurse was placating her. She wanted to argue, but her head was killing her. If only Noah would return.
The thought surprised her. Why had she automatically thought of Noah? She didn’t even know him, and that made her inutterably sad.
It must be the combination of the drugs in her system and the terrible nightmares that were throwing her thoughts into such chaos. She shouldn’t be thinking of Noah at all.
No doubt she was simply overreacting to finding that orderly standing over her.
Sydney looked at the open drawer in her nightstand. Then she regarded the dinner tray.
And maybe she wasn’t.
Despite the nurse’s assurances, there had been something frightening about the orderly. If she was paranoid, so be it. Sydney wanted to go home.
Only, where was home? Certainly not the apartment she’d so briefly shared with Jerome. She couldn’t go back there, any more than she could take back the things she’d said to him the last time they’d talked.
She had meant every word, but that only added to her guilt. Theirs had never been a normal marriage, but she’d gone into the situation with her eyes open—for the most part. Nothing could have prepared her for the changes in Jerome once they married. Yet, despite all their battles, she’d never wished him ill. They’d made a mistake. A mistake she’d been trying to rectify.
Whether by accident or design, she couldn’t forget that Jerome had saved her life.
Sydney closed her eyes, turned her face into her pillow and gave in to the grief and fear suddenly crowding her mind. Sobs finally turned to hiccups, leaving her spent and listless. She must have fallen deeply asleep because she didn’t see or hear whoever came in and took away her tray and cleaned up the broken vase of flowers.
Surprisingly, when she did wake, even her head felt better. Time passed slowly. Her eyes were closing again when someone entered the room. His scent reached her before she could turn her head to look in his direction. When she did, she had to battle another sudden wave of vertigo.
“You still look pretty bad,” Noah said.
He was a tall, powerfully built man who carried himself with an air of assurance and authority that commanded attention. Alpha male, she thought. Used to being in charge. Yet instead of being repelled by this, she was curiously drawn to Noah.
He came to a halt beside her bed. Up close, she saw that circles pouched beneath Noah’s eyes and lines of strain marred his strong features.
“Have you looked in a mirror recently?” she managed to respond, uncomfortably aware on a feminine level of how disheveled she must appear. It was crazy, this jolt of physical awareness she felt when he looked at her.
She wanted to ask him where he’d been. Why he hadn’t come back as he promised earlier. Only she was afraid the questions would sound whiny. So she lifted her chin and met his gaze without flinching and tried to ignore the unsettling feelings deep inside.
Noah regarded her solemnly. He held an offering in his hand. A small African violet, she realized. She swallowed hard to keep unexpected tears at bay. What was happening to her emotions? Those tiny, velvety blue blossoms represented peace and contentment in her world. He couldn’t have chosen anything better—or anything worse.
“Please. I want to go home.”
She’d meant to thank him. The childish request came out instead. Noah set the plant on her nightstand.
“The doctor said maybe tomorrow.”
She shook her head and immediately wished she hadn’t. Stabbing pain lanced through her skull. Sydney gritted her teeth. “Now.”
“You must be feeling better.”
That didn’t merit a response.
“Your friends are worried,” he told her. “Hannah’s new husband, Bruce, had a real battle to get her to leave on their honeymoon.”
Astounded, she gaped at him. “I forgot all about the wedding!” She was to have been one of Hannah’s bridesmaids. No wonder none of her friends had come by to see her.
Noah walked to the narrow window near her bed and looked out. “Hannah wanted to wait, but Laura and Bruce convinced her you would want her to go ahead with the ceremony.”
Sydney nipped a trace of regret. She fervently wished she could have been there, but she was honestly glad Hannah hadn’t postponed her wedding. Hannah and Bruce were so passionately in love that at times it was almost embarrassing.
“They tried to see you yesterday before the service,” Noah continued, “but the police were with you. The doctor left instructions that you weren’t to have visitors.”
Sydney stared at him, appalled. “I would have seen them! No one told me they were here.”
“No. I don’t imagine they did.” He pulled a heavy visitor’s chair closer to the bed and sat down. He wasn’t wearing his military uniform anymore, yet the formal white shirt and dark dress pants were practically a uniform when worn with such commanding elegance.
“You have loyal friends,” he said slowly. “First, Hannah wanted to postpone the wedding, then she wanted to postpone the honeymoon.”
“Oh. She didn’t—”
“No, she didn’t. She and Bruce left as scheduled.”
Sydney relaxed. “How do you know them?”
“We spent a lot of time together in the waiting room. They even invited me to the wedding. I like your friends.”
“So do I.”
“Your friend, Laura, tried to cancel her flight out this morning, but she couldn’t. She was going to try and make a last-minute swap. If she succeeds, she’ll be by in the morning.”
Laura was a flight attendant who’d complained long and hard about having to make a cross-country trip right after Hannah’s wedding. Sydney remembered how they’d teased her about restricting her champagne intake. It felt like a lifetime ago. Now Hannah was married and Jerome was dead and nothing would ever be the same again.
“Easy,” Noah said gently. He stared at her with un-blinking eyes. Why did his presence seem to offer safety in a world gone mad? She had to stop thinking like that.
“I feel like I’m living in a nightmare. Tell me something, if I wasn’t supposed to have visitors, how come they let you in?” she demanded, unsettled by her awareness of him. In truth, she suspected Noah hadn’t waited for an invitation. Pesky things like hospital rules wouldn’t stop him if he wanted something.
“I’m considered family.”
Family. Her hand rested against her stomach. His eyes followed the motion and an intense look entered his features.
“We have to talk about this situation, Sydney.”
He knew about the baby. It was there in his eyes. She thought of the new life growing inside her, of her tumultuous relationship with his brother, and she tried not to let her sudden shudder show.
“Is everything all right?” His gaze fell to her abdomen. She resisted an impulse to touch her stomach again. She was oddly embarrassed by his knowledge of her condition.
“Everything’s fine.” Her entire world had just collapsed and been reformed, but everything was fine. Realizing she was about to give in to another bout of self-pity, Sydney sat up. “Would you find my clothing, please? I want to go home.”
“We need to talk about the baby and your plans, Sydney.”
“I want to get out of here,” she repeated.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tonight!”
His brow furrowed. “You need to think of the baby.”
She closed her eyes against the pain that came from more than simply her throbbing head.
“Jerome’s baby.” As if she could think of anything else right now.
Noah’s expression darkened. She couldn’t think about him right now. Her head pounded with thoughts of the baby. She’d wanted a child badly enough to marry the wrong man just to have one. What a fool she’d been. Didn’t they always say, be careful what you wish for?
Sydney pulled back the covers, ignoring Noah’s frown, and started to swing her legs off the bed. He moved so quickly he startled her. His hand came down on her shoulder, kindly, but firmly. She couldn’t meet his eyes. They saw entirely too much.
“I want my clothes.”
“You don’t have any clothes here, Sydney. They cut them off your body to check for injuries. You were covered in blood.”
“Then I’ll go home naked.”
He half smiled. Her breath caught in her throat. Why, he was handsome. Nothing like Jerome, of course, but he would age with a depth and grace that would make him more striking with every year.
What was she thinking? She didn’t care what Noah looked like. The man was her husband’s brother!
“You won’t have to go home naked,” he was saying. “I’ll stop by your apartment first thing in the morning and get you something to wear home.”
“No!” She swallowed her instant panic and tried for a calm she was far from feeling. “I need to leave now.”
All traces of humor disappeared from his face. He misunderstood her panic and regarded her steadily. “Are you always this bossy?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t bring herself to correct his impression. As soon as he saw the apartment she’d shared with his brother, he’d know how bad things had been between them. She wasn’t ready to answer the sort of questions he would then ask. And he would demand explanations as soon as he realized how many of her belongings were gone from the apartment she’d supposedly shared with Jerome.
“You must have led Jerome around like a puppy.”
The unfairness of his words stung. They couldn’t have been farther from the truth. He knew nothing about her relationship with Jerome. And she wasn’t about to tell him any details, either. She owed Jerome that much.
“The doctor said tomorrow morning,” Noah temporized. “If you’re well enough.”
“I’m well enough right now.” It was only a small lie. She felt weaker than a day-old kitten. A mangled, day-old kitten with a headache. But she could manage. She was used to managing.
Noah tipped his head to regard her. “My father told me I should never call a lady a liar.”
“But you’ll make an exception in my case?”
He ignored her challenge completely. “Morning is only a few hours away,” he stated. “Get a good night’s sleep and then we’ll talk.”
She thought of the nightmare and controlled another shudder.
“I’ll make a few arrangements and bring you something to wear,” he finished.
“What sort of arrangements?”
“You’re going to need help.”
She shook her head. The room spun slightly, forcing her eyes closed to combat the sensation. The doctor had said the vertigo would eventually go away. She should have asked him to define “eventually.”
“I won’t need any help,” she told Noah. She kept her eyes shut to avoid looking up at him. “And if I do, that’s my problem.”
“And the baby?”
“Jerome is dead. The baby is my problem as well.”
She would never allow another man in her life who thought he could tell her what to do or how to do it.
“I’d like to help.”
That snapped her eyes open. “Why?”
His eyes flared with a tumble of emotions. He started to respond and stopped. Sydney realized she was rubbing her temples to try and ease the pounding pain in her head and dropped her hands to the sheet. Noah walked to the window. Silence stretched between them.
“Sydney, I signed the papers to have my only brother buried yesterday morning,” Noah said suddenly. “There was nothing I could do to help him. Won’t you at least let me try to help you?”
His words shocked her anew. “You already had Jerome buried?”
“Yes. We’ll hold a memorial service for him when you’re well enough.”
“You had no right!”
Noah turned back to her, sadness etched in the creases about his eyes. His expression was filled with regret and compassion. “I guess not. I’m sorry, Sydney.”
She couldn’t stand the pain in Noah’s expression. The truth was, he did have rights. Probably more than she had. His remorse disturbed her almost as much as the chaos of her thoughts. Noah wasn’t to blame for anything. He was doing his best to help, yet she was snapping at him like a rabid dog.
“Why didn’t you wait?” she asked more calmly.
“The morgue released the body. I had decisions to make—so I made them.”
His small shrug tugged at her heart. Despite his size and self-assurance, Noah was a vulnerable man.
“Your concussion had the doctors worried,” he continued. “You kept slipping in and out of consciousness. They didn’t know how soon you’d be able to make decisions.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” And she did. She would have made the same arrangements if she’d been able to. She settled back against the bed, suddenly exhausted.
He rested his hand lightly on her arm. “Thank you.”
“No. I’m the one who should be thanking you. For the plant and…for everything else.” His touch disturbed her.
Who was she trying to kid? Everything about him disturbed her. He was a kind, caring sort of man.
He was also Jerome’s brother.
“Did you know Jerome saved my life?” she asked, wanting to erase some of the hurt he must be feeling.
“The investigators told me.” A muscle, clenched too tightly, twitched in Noah’s stern jaw. “He must have loved you very much.”
Oh, God. The truth lay bitterly in her mind. Could Noah read that truth in her eyes? She closed them against his invasive stare.
“I’d like to take care of you, Sydney. At least make sure you and the baby are settled and have everything you need.”
She turned away and shoved a hand through her hair. Noah was Jerome’s brother, but he was also a stranger. She’d learned a long time ago that the only one she could depend on was herself. “I appreciate the offer, but—”
He stopped her words with an outstretched palm. “Please. Just stay here and rest until morning like the doctor ordered. Then I’ll see about getting you sprung. When you’re feeling stronger, you can tell me to go if that’s what you want. In the meantime—”
“And will you?” Or would he be like Jerome, turning possessive, demanding, insistent that things had to be his way or no way?
Noah’s lips gave a wry twist. “Will I go? Well, maybe not right away, but I’d rather have this battle when you don’t look like a puff of wind could blow you over. If you’ll give me the keys to your apartment…”
Sydney pointed at the nightstand as lethargy settled over her. Sooner or later he was going to learn the truth. Did it really make any difference if he went to the apartment now?
Noah reached into the drawer next to her bed and withdrew her purse. Sydney found her gaze riveted on the dark stains that marred the white leather surface. As he fished out her keys, images flashed before her eyes. Soda and blood. The bank enclosure had run with both.
She slumped back against the pillow. Bile rose in her throat.
“Hey. What is it? Are you feeling sick? Should I call for the nurse?”
“No.” She choked out the word and shut her eyes. “Could you…would you take the purse away with you?”
Her blood, Mrs. Argossy’s or Jerome’s? Did it matter? She never wanted to see that handbag again.
Without a word, he emptied the contents into the open drawer. “I’ll bring you another purse tomorrow. Is there a particular outfit you’d like?” he asked.
Sydney shook her head.
Once again, his hand rested lightly on her shoulder. The gesture offered both friendship and concern.
“Get some rest tonight. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“I’m not your responsibility.” She had to say it even though part of her was selfishly glad he cared. She was so tired of always being strong.
“I know. I’ll be back. Call if you need anything. I left the hotel number under your telephone.”
“Thank you.”
She watched him disappear through the doorway and reaffirmed the decision she’d made when she’d faced the investigators. Jerome was the father of her baby. The man who had saved her life. He’d been Noah’s only family, and in the eyes of the world, Jerome had died a hero.
No one would ever learn what she suspected.

THEY WOKE HER again to give her a sleeping pill. She couldn’t believe they actually did that. Groggily, she accepted the pill, put it in her mouth and swallowed the water. As soon as the nurse left, Sydney spit the pill out. She didn’t need drugs that would make her fuzzy. She needed a clear head in the morning so they’d let her go home. She rolled over and went back to sleep.
It could have been minutes or hours later when she roused from another disturbing cycle of dreams. Her heart was beating much too fast and her breath came in short pants. She struggled to focus on yet another person entering her room. How was she supposed to get any rest when they kept waking her every time she fell asleep?
Darkness shadowed the room. Restlessly, she watched the person close the door to the hallway without a sound. The empty bed next to hers took on a ghostly appearance in the dim light filtering in through the solitary window. Maybe that was why the figure’s approach appeared almost stealthy.
Sydney’s heart began thumping more quickly.
The person was too silent. He’d closed the door. A nurse who’d come to check on her wouldn’t close the door. Instantly, she pictured the bearded orderly.
Slowly, she inched her fingers toward the call light, afraid to let him know she was awake. The impression of danger grew stronger as the person neared the bed. There was something wrong with his face. Her vision shouldn’t be blurry. She hadn’t swallowed the sleeping pill. Yet she couldn’t make out any features.
Her fingers found the call button. Sydney pressed it as the man suddenly rushed forward, knocking the button from her hand.
Sydney screamed. A rubber-glove-encased hand clamped over her mouth, choking off the sound. The other hand circled her throat in a breath-stealing grip.
In that instant, she realized he wore a ski mask over his head.
Desperately, she threw herself to one side. Pain radiated down her arm as her bandaged hand struck the bed rail.
“Where is it?”
The waft of garlic was sickening. She clawed at those short, blunt fingers pressing into her throat. He was incredibly strong. She couldn’t breathe!
She beat at his face while his voice continued to demand. Didn’t he realize she couldn’t answer? If she could just reach his eyes!
Blackness dimmed her vision. Her head swam with vertigo.
Noah had been wrong. Following the doctor’s orders had been a terrible idea. In fact, it was about to get her killed.

CHAPTER TWO
The telephone pulled him out of a restless sleep. Noah glanced at the clock and saw it was only 5:56 in the morning. He sat up, tensing as he reached for the phone. He fully expected the message to be a call to duty. Instead, a prissy feminine voice filled his ear.
“Major Inglewood? This is Jennifer Comsilt. I’m a nursing supervisor at—”
“Sydney?”
“She’s going to be all right,” the professional voice hastened to assure him. “However, she did indicate that she would like me to call you.”
Fully alert, Noah swung his legs over the side of the bed. “She indicated? She didn’t ask?”
“Her…ah…that is, there was an incident early this morning.”
He was reaching for his pants, the receiver tucked under his chin. “What sort of incident, Ms. Comsilt?”
Was she okay? The baby!
Noah sorted through the horrible possibilities running through his head while fear feasted on his stomach. He dressed rapidly, by rote.
“Let me reiterate,” the woman’s voice continued, “Mrs. Inglewood will be fine, but…well, someone entered her room sometime after four o’clock this morning and…that is, they attempted…to strangle her.”
Coldness seeped into his chest. She’d wanted to leave and he’d left her there. “I’m on my way.”
“That isn’t—”
Noah disconnected. The woman had said Sydney was all right but he needed to see for himself.
He dug through his duffel bag and pulled out the only items of clothing he had that might work for her. Bundling them together, he reached for his key card, stuffed his feet into his shoes and was out the door and into the early-morning heat of what would no doubt prove to be another humid summer day in Washington, D.C. His hotel was only a ten-minute drive from the hospital, yet the cab ride seemed interminable.
He kept remembering that Sydney hadn’t wanted to stay. He should have listened to her. How had the attacker gotten inside her room? What had happened to the armed officer stationed outside her door?
Less than twenty minutes after the phone call woke him, Noah was stepping off the elevator onto Sydney’s floor. People milled about the nurses’ station. Coffee and breakfast scents mingled with the normal hospital smells. Carts bearing breakfast trays were being rolled along at the far end of the hall.
A different uniformed police officer now stood, rather than sat, outside the door to Sydney’s room. A second plainclothes officer was positioned at the desk, talking with an agitated nurse. An assortment of other people clustered around. Noah recognized the FBI agent as soon as the man turned in his direction.
“Major Inglewood? I’m Agent Wickowski. We met—”
“I remember. You’re FBI, investigating the bank robbery.”
“That’s correct. The police called me this morning to tell me what had transpired.”
“What exactly did transpire, Agent Wickowski?”
The man hurried to catch up as Noah strode toward Sydney’s door without waiting for an answer. “Major—”
“How did anyone get past the police officer?”
A flush crept up his neck. “There was a miscommunication between our office and the police department. Apparently it was…er…necessary to pull the officer last night. The police felt since we’d already taken her statement…”
Noah eyed him coldly, stopping the words in the man’s throat. “She’s the only eyewitness to what happened.”
“Yes, but her whereabouts weren’t reported. They didn’t think—”
“Obviously.”
The uniformed officer stepped forward to block the door at Noah’s approach.
“Do I go through him, or around him?” Noah asked mildly.
The agent inclined his head and the uniformed man stepped away with a tight look. Noah would have welcomed a scuffle, if only to work off some of the tension humming through his body.
Sydney perched on the edge of the bed, the shapeless hospital gown drooping off one shoulder. Her hair hung in lank strands past her shoulders, surrounding a face pale enough for Halloween. Her china-blue eyes were large as saucers. But she appeared extraordinarily calm for someone who’d just been attacked. Her expression brightened instantly when she saw him.
“Sorry, Sydney,” he told her without preamble. “Are you okay?”
She gave a small nod. He noted the new bruises and his jaw set.
“Want to leave?”
In answer, she tried to scoot off the bed. He caught her before she pitched forward, tangled in the sheet. “Easy. I’ve got you.”
His arm came to rest across her chest, supporting the lush curve of one breast. Sydney was a tall, shapely woman. How shapely, he shouldn’t be noticing.
“Okay?”
She nodded.
“You’re not thinking of taking her out of here?” Wickowski demanded.
“Thinking, no. I am taking her out of here.”
“Look, Major—”
“No, Wickowski, you look. She was almost killed. I assume the guy wasn’t caught?”
His ruddy cheeks grew ruddier.
Sydney laid a hand against Noah’s chest. “Please.” Her voice was low and hoarse. “Fight later. I’d like to leave now.”
“Right away,” he agreed.
“I could hold her as a material witness,” Wickowski threatened.
“You can try.” Noah met the agent’s anger with his own. They’d nearly let her be killed!
Wickowski looked away first.
More people crowded into the room, blocking their path to the door. A rotund, pinch-faced woman with faded red hair stepped forward importantly. “Major Inglewood, I’m Jennifer Comsilt. We spoke on the telephone. This is Dr. Messinger.”
Jennifer Comsilt pushed at a prim pair of glasses sitting on her nose while the doctor fussed with a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Noah dismissed them with a glance.
“I’d like to use the bathroom,” Sydney whispered.
“You want to help her, Ms. Comsilt?”
“Oh.” The supervisor gazed frantically past him as if looking for someone else. “Er…ah, yes. Of course.” Obviously, she wasn’t used to making personal contact with the patients.
“I can manage,” Sydney told him.
He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I don’t doubt it for a minute, but I think getting dressed will be easier with some help, don’t you? Here.” He thrust the bundle of clothing into Mrs. Comsilt’s free hand. “These won’t be a great fit, but they’re the best I could come up with on such short notice.”
“Not mine?” Sydney asked in a whispery voice.
“Mine, I’m afraid. I didn’t get to your place last night.”
She paused, surveying him from head to toe. A spark of amusement glinted in her eyes. “Should be a great fit.”
Noah found himself smiling wryly. “The jogging shorts have a drawstring,” he offered.
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t worry. The T-shirt will probably cover them completely.”
“No doubt.”
Her easy acceptance surprised him. He expected Sydney to be weak and needy. Her unexpected grit kept amazing him.
Messinger stepped forward. “Just a moment. Mrs. Inglewood suffered a trauma to her throat this morning.” Messinger’s grating voice had a nasal whine. “While I don’t believe any permanent harm was done, I’d like a specialist to have a look at her.”
“I’ll see to it. We’re leaving in five minutes. You want to get the release forms?”
“Mr. Inglewood, this hospital cannot be responsible—”
“Save it, Doctor. I am not in the mood. We’ll need the release papers right away or we’re leaving without signing them.”
“Major Inglewood,” the agent tried to cut in.
Noah spun toward the man. “Wickowski, my brother is dead. My sister-in-law just came too close to joining him for my peace of mind. She’s…”
“We’ll keep someone at her door.”
“…getting out of here right now. You’ve got her statement. Two days’ worth, as a matter of fact.”
“I realize that. But in an investigation like this one, questions come up. The FBI—”
“Doesn’t have to talk to her here in the hospital. Cut her some slack, Wickowski. I’m taking her someplace safe.”
“Police protection—”
“Isn’t very reliable, wouldn’t you say?”
The doctor interrupted. “Mrs. Inglewood is pregnant!” he protested.
The last thing Noah needed was a reminder of the child growing inside his brother’s wife. He’d thought about little else since he learned that fact. The ramifications were staggering. He leveled his coldest gaze on the man.
“I am aware of that, Doctor,” he said with such quiet steel that anyone who knew him would have beaten a hasty retreat. “And I’m going to see that she lives to deliver that child. Three minutes, Doctor.”
The bathroom door opened. While no doubt the drawstring on the shorts had been cinched around her narrow waist as tightly as possible, the material hung in ridiculous fashion against long, shapely legs. The baggy T-shirt draped over the full swell of her generous breasts, making it all too obvious Sydney wasn’t wearing a bra beneath the thin cotton. Noah decided he’d deck the first man who ogled her.
Sydney leaned on the nurse, but she straightened the moment she saw him. In that unguarded moment, he glimpsed a vulnerability that arced straight for his gut. She was shaken to the core and doing everything she knew to keep it from showing.
“Sydney, Agent Wickowski is offering you police protection.”
“No!”
“Mrs. Inglewood, this time we’ll use our own people. I promise you we’ll see that you’re protected.”
“Am I under arrest?”
Her voice was stronger, though it still had a hoarse, raspy edge.
Wickowski shook his head. “Of course not.”
“Then I’d like to leave.”
“That’s it, Wickowski. We’re out of here.” Noah’s own instincts clamored for him to get her away as quickly as possible.
“Mrs. Inglewood,” the doctor interjected, “this isn’t a good idea. You’ve suffered a severe trauma to your head and you’ve just had surgery on your hand. You’re taking a big risk leaving here.”
“Bigger risk…staying,” she croaked out as her voice broke down in a hoarse whisper.
“Don’t strain your vocal cords,” Noah chastised, reaching inside her closet for the bag of torn, stained clothing. “We’re leaving.”
He liked the way she stood up to the doctor. She was no cringing wimp, that was for sure. He went back to her drawer and collected the contents of her purse.
Sydney got discharge papers and lectures, but Noah had her in a wheelchair and out front before her breakfast tray arrived.
“Impressive,” Sydney whispered. “I can see why you’re a major.”
In one hand, she clutched the African violet. He felt ridiculously pleased. She’d left behind the large sprays of flowers from her friends and coworkers.
Long sooty lashes fluttered closed when she leaned back against the cab’s upholstery. Noah resisted an urge to smooth away the dark smudges of fatigue beneath the fall of lashes. He had to keep reminding himself that this was his brother’s wife.
Staring at her profile, he decided Jerome’s photographs hadn’t done her justice. Sydney Edwards Inglewood had flawless skin over the sort of bone structure that gave her a clean, natural beauty.
“Thank you for getting me out of there.”
“I should have listened to you last night. I didn’t know they were going to pull the guard at your door.”
Her shoulders lifted and fell in a small shrug. “They didn’t know I was in danger.”
“You’d think they’d protect a material witness better than that. Can you tell me what happened without straining your voice?”
In a husky whisper, Sydney told him what little she’d seen. “He wanted something, but he was so afraid I’d scream again he kept holding on to my throat so I couldn’t answer even if I’d wanted to. I wonder if it could have been that orderly who scared me earlier.”
“What orderly?”
Sydney’s explanation fed his anger.
“You mean to tell me that no one checked this out?”
Sydney shrugged. “The nurse never came back. Or if she did, I was already asleep. Maybe the orderly was just weird, but in retrospect, I think he was going through the drawer on the nightstand.”
Noah was coldly furious. “Is anything missing?”
“I never looked.”
“We’ll do that when we get to the hotel.”
“I didn’t have anything worth taking, Noah. Maybe ten dollars and some change. And I could be wrong about what he was doing.”
“Did you tell Wickowski about this?”
She shook her head.
“We’ll call him later.”
He helped her from the cab in front of his hotel and she stumbled over the curb, forcing him to reach for her.
“Lean on me,” he told her quietly. “We don’t need you falling down in front of half the visiting businessmen in the city.”
Men and women in power suits, sporting briefcases and newspapers, moved busily about the lobby. There were even a few early-morning tourists scurrying about.
Sydney stiffened. “I won’t fall.”
“Good. I hate scenes first thing in the morning.”
“Then move your hand or you’re going to get a doozy.”
He realized that in avoiding her bad arm, his hand had pressed against the soft round curve of her breast. Instantly, he released her. Sydney moved forward with quiet dignity.
“Why are we here?”
“This is where I’m staying.” He reached for the elevator button.
She raised her eyebrows expressively.
“I didn’t think you wanted to answer any more questions for a while.”
After a second she gave a delicate shudder and looked away. “I don’t.”
As a crush of people jostled their way out of the elevator, Sydney was pressed up against him. He steadied her lightly, careful of his hands this time. But that only reinforced his awareness of her body. A very nice body. She was a good height for a woman, almost at eye level with him.
The sudden flare of awareness in her eyes caught him off guard. Her lips parted. A lacy sweep of pink brightened her cheeks. His answering response came as another surprise. As soon as they entered the elevator away from prying eyes, he stepped away from her.
“My room has two double beds, Sydney,” he said to reassure her as well as himself. “You can use the second one to try for a little sleep while I make other arrangements.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Who put you—?”
“In charge? I did.” Her whispery voice only added fuel to the unwanted kindling of awareness. “You’d better stop trying to talk. You’re losing what little voice you have left.”
Her eyes narrowed and she lifted her head. “I realize you haven’t seen any proof of this so far, but I am quite capable of taking care of myself, Major.” Her voice dropped even lower as it cracked and broke. “I’ve been doing so for a number of years.”
“I know. Jerome told me you were an orphan.”
It had only confirmed his conviction that Jerome was a fool who’d let himself be trapped by a needy older woman with a biological clock ticking away.
On the other hand, Jerome had always liked to get his own way, so Noah figured it was the woman who would come to regret the decision. Jerome was a handsome charmer. He was also totally self-centered and used to being catered to.
Still, Noah had found himself studying Sydney’s photograph at odd moments, baffled by the woman Jerome had selected for his wife. While pretty, she wasn’t the flashy adornment Noah had expected Jerome to pick.
“I’m sorry I didn’t make your wedding,” Noah told her. “I was out of the country at the time.”
“He would have liked you to be there,” she said without looking at him.
Privately, Noah doubted that.
“It was a simple service. We didn’t even use a church.”
Was that a trace of regret? Noah couldn’t tell. The last assignment had left Noah taking a hard look at the choices he’d made in his own life. He’d experienced a tug of envy over the life his brother had planned. Talk about irony. Noah risked his life every time he went on a mission, yet it was Jerome who’d died protecting someone else, leaving Noah the living hostages to fortune.
Noah was relieved when the elevator doors opened and he could abandon that train of thought. He led Sydney down the hall.
“How did you come to be an orphan?” he asked abruptly, curious about the woman his brother had married.
“My parents and older brothers were killed in an avalanche on a skiing vacation in Austria when I was seven.”
“That’s rough.”
Remembered grief reflected in her eyes. “I was supposed to go with them, but I came down with chicken pox the day before the trip so I stayed with my grandmother.”
“So you weren’t a total orphan?”
With an impatient toss of her hair she shook her head. “She died of a massive heart attack when I was sixteen. Do you really want my life history?”
He unlocked the door to his room. “Maybe later. Does it bother you to talk about the past?”
“No.”
He gestured her inside the room and she entered cautiously, almost as if she expected someone to jump out at her.
“Have a seat,” he said brusquely.
“You must scare the heck out of young recruits.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re good at giving orders and intimidating people.”
He found himself wanting to smile again. “I don’t scare you.”
She arched her eyebrows again. “Remember that.”
He suppressed an urge to chuckle. He hadn’t expected to like Sydney so much. He laid a finger over her cracked lips. “Save your voice. You can yell at me later. Right now you look done in.”
She studied him through eyes semiglazed by pain and fatigue. He sensed both grief and fear hiding beneath the surface and held up a hand to stave off any further protests. “I’ll try to stop giving orders. In the meantime, let’s not argue until you’re back to fighting form. Do you want to eat or sleep first? You’ll be safe here, Sydney.”
Her eyes spoke volumes, but she turned without a word and set the plant on the nightstand. She moved stiffly to the far bed with its undisturbed cover.
“It’s silly, but I’m so tired I can’t even think straight anymore,” she murmured.
“It’s not silly at all.” He stripped down the covers and let her climb into bed, still clothed in his running outfit. Sydney wasn’t the sort to lean on anyone if she could help it. That she let him help her and didn’t even protest when he smoothed the blanket over her told him a great deal about how bad she was feeling. He’d been right not to initiate a serious discussion right away. There’d be time later.
He’d meant to keep his actions strictly impersonal, but as her eyes fluttered closed, his hand reached out and gently stroked the hair back from her face. She twitched, but that was all. He would have sworn she was asleep in seconds.
Noah sat at the table and watched the steady rise and fall of her breathing and tried to control the unexpected spike from his libido. Sydney would be shocked if she knew the sort of urges she was stirring in him. He was feeling a little shocked himself.
No other woman had provoked this raw need to protect and cherish. Why Sydney of all people? Unless it had something to do with the baby she carried. He’d shied away from thoughts of the child ever since she’d uttered those damning words. Jerome’s baby.
He ran unsteady fingers through his hair. What a mess. His brain knew she was his brother’s wife, but his body didn’t seem to care.
He stared at her hand, lying protectively curled across her chin. She had long, graceful fingers and short, unpolished nails, but it was her ring finger that captured his attention. She wore a simple, wide gold wedding band and an ordinary diamond solitaire on her left hand.
Glad to have a focus—any focus that would keep him from looking at her—he studied her ring. She designed jewelry for a living. He would have expected something different on her finger—something unique. Obviously, he would have been wrong. Still, that jarring note was one more in a growing list of inconsistencies he’d noticed since he arrived.
Finally convinced that it would take the entire Army marching band to wake her, Noah made a couple of phone calls to get his mind off the bewitching woman. The last one was to Agent Wickowski, who expressed anger at not being told about the orderly. He wanted to come over and talk with Sydney right away. Noah convinced him to wait and suggested Wickowski talk with the nurse and the police officer first.
For a long time after that, Noah watched Sydney sleep, sorting through his options. He didn’t have many, he acknowledged glumly. He couldn’t simply walk away from her or the situation. He and Jerome had a blood tie he couldn’t deny. And now Noah was irrevocably bound to Sydney. The thought was nearly as disturbing as the woman herself.
She looked almost ethereal in sleep. How would she look when she grew round with the baby she carried?
Following that line of thought would lead to disaster, Noah told himself. Impatiently, he stood and put out the Do Not Disturb sign. Then he called the desk to ask them to hold all calls. Disgruntled, he lay down on the other bed and willed himself back to sleep. Questions loomed in his mind. He tried to picture Sydney and Jerome together and the image made him angry and restless.
When she sat up hours later, he was still awake, still trying to figure out how to initiate the discussion they needed to have.
She rolled over and looked at him, her eyes misty with sleep. “Hi.”
“Feel better?”
“I think so. Why are we whispering?”
“So we don’t strain your voice?”
“Oh.” She moistened her dry lips. “What have you been doing?”
“Watching you sleep.”
She blinked in surprise. “You do lead an eventful life, don’t you?” and she yawned, stretching away the kinks.
Noah’s attention riveted on the material of the T-shirt where it tightened over the gentle swell of her breasts. She caught him looking and color suffused her face.
Heat stole up his neck as well. When was the last time he’d been caught staring at a woman like some randy schoolboy?
Sydney rolled off the other side of the bed before he could apologize. “Bathroom,” she whispered without looking at him.
Well, at least she was steadier on her feet now. Noah sat up, frowning when the shower started.
She was too weak and dizzy. She could fall, hit her head. Anything might happen. Bathrooms were dangerous places. There was also the cast on her hand to consider. He didn’t know if she was supposed to get it wet or not but it would definitely hamper her in the bathtub.
Noah suspected it wouldn’t do him much good to point out either of those facts to her. Sydney Edwards—Inglewood, he tacked on sternly—definitely had a mind of her own.
Running a hand through his hair, he decided it would be much better for both of them if he didn’t dwell on the image of her standing on the other side of that flimsy door taking a shower.
“I needed a nap more than she did,” he muttered to himself as he reached for the telephone to call room service.
Sydney stepped from the steamy bathroom a few minutes later, a towel wrapped loosely around her head. She’d donned his T-shirt again, but the shorts had obviously proved too much for her. She gripped the drooping shorts firmly around her waist. He wished she looked ridiculous—instead of sexy as hell.
“Quite a fashion statement,” he told her with what he hoped was an easy smile.
She looked down at the shirt where it clung a bit damply to the tops of her breasts and made a face. “I couldn’t retie the drawstring with only one hand.” Her embarrassment was tempered by annoyance.
Noah forced his eyes up and away, disturbed by his instant reaction. “I should have thought of that. I’ll help you.”
He could be detached. Of course he could.
“Come here.”
Sydney hesitated.
Remembering her earlier comment about the way he gave orders he added, “Please.”
Her expression lightened in a sudden burst of humor. “I’ll bet that didn’t hurt a bit.”
“What didn’t?”
“Saying please.”
“Anybody ever tell you that you have a sassy mouth?”
She grinned. “No one dares. Have you been in the military a long time?”
She was stalling. He didn’t mind the delaying tactics a bit. Touching her so intimately was going to be uncomfortable for both of them, especially since he knew she wasn’t wearing a thing under those bits of cloth.
“I got a military scholarship in high school.”
“ROTC?”
He nodded and perched on the edge of the bed so he could reach for the string.
“You know, we could call the front desk,” she said suddenly, backing up. “They might have a gift shop. Maybe I could have them send up a dress or something.”
He could just envision trying to help her into a dress. “I don’t think so, but picking up your clothing will be our first priority.” His sanity might depend on it. “Come here.”
With an air of resignation, she approached. “I feel like a little kid,” she said with endearing nervousness.
“Trust me, you don’t look anything at all like a kid.” And that was a pity. He wouldn’t have thought twice about helping a kid.
He’d never felt such intense physical awareness of a woman before. He had to keep telling himself she was his brother’s wife. Surely he could do this without embarrassing both of them.
But sitting on the bed had been a mistake. It put him just above eye level of the rounded curves his T-shirt strove to conceal. Her nipples contracted into tiny hard points. Noah tried not to stare and reminded himself once more that this was his sister-in-law, not some woman he was trying to take to bed.
“Sorry,” she said. “I feel foolish.”
He knew the feeling.
“Is this the spot where I’m supposed to close my eyes and think of God and country?”
She surprised a chuckle out of him. He liked the way she turned to humor in difficult situations. “I thought it was queen and country.”
“Only if you’re British.”
“Ah. Well, c’mere darlin’,” he said with a drawl.
Her expression flashed with mild alarm that immediately turned to an answering grin. “Go for it, Tex.”
She released her one-hand death grip on the scrunched-up shirt and lost her hold on the jogging shorts underneath. They slid dangerously down her slim hips.
“Oops!”
Noah stopped their descent at her hips, which placed his face only inches from her navel beneath the thin bit of cotton. He inhaled the pleasant scent of the soap she’d used all over her body.
This had been a very bad idea.
“Here,” he said a bit gruffly. “You hold the shorts. I’ll get the drawstring.”
Their hands connected. Noah drew in a sharp breath and reminded himself once more that this was his sister-in-law. Calling on every bit of discipline he’d ever known, he tugged up the hem of the T-shirt and reached for her waistband.
“I think I’d better tell you that I’m ticklish.”
Noah stopped, his fingers barely touching her smooth marble skin. “Ticklish?”
“Very ticklish. And I always get even.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m not ticklish.”
“There are better ways of getting even.”
“I think I like the sound of that.” He slid a finger beneath the edge of the waistband searching for the drawstring. He tried not to acknowledge the silky feel of her skin as he brushed against the indentation that was her belly button. Her tummy contracted in instant reaction to his touch. His groin tightened in answer.
“Noah…”
“Don’t move. Don’t even breathe,” he warned.
He tugged the drawstring loose, tied it and sat back, breathing as though he’d just run a marathon.
Sydney jumped back like a scalded cat. The towel on her head tilted to one side and she pulled it free.
“Well. Now. That wasn’t so bad.”
“Speak for yourself,” he muttered under his breath.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
He stood and walked to his duffel bag so she wouldn’t notice the effect that little encounter had had on him. He needn’t have worried. Sydney was looking everywhere but at him. He pulled items randomly from his kit.
“I need to borrow your comb, if you don’t mind.”
“Use anything you need.”
Just don’t tell me about it, he almost added. The intimacy of this situation was taking a high toll on his good intentions. “I’m going to grab a quick shower myself. If room service comes before I’m done, check the peephole before you open the door. If you aren’t certain, wait for me. Okay?”
Her eyebrows raised mockingly. “Were you a drill instructor by any chance?”
He managed a lopsided smile, relieved she’d found a way to cut the tension between them. “Sorry again. I’m used to giving orders.”
“I can tell.”
“I just don’t want you to take any chances.”
“Yes, sir, Major, sir. Go take your shower.”
Sydney watched him go with a mixture of relief and regret. Her reaction to that little scene had been juvenile, to say the least. She tried to tell herself that there had been nothing sensual in Noah’s touch except in her own warped mind, but the truth was, for a minute or two there, they’d been a man and a woman who were attracted to each other. She didn’t want to know what he must be thinking of her.
Noah was much nicer than she’d expected from the things Jerome had told her. Oh, Noah could be every bit as bossy as his much younger brother, but he took her refusal to obey in stride.
Noah wasn’t Jerome. He’d gone out of his way to put her at ease despite his dominating tendencies. And if she could still feel the touch of his fingers against her bare skin, well, she’d just have to find ways to become more independent while her hand was in a cast—especially when it came to the awkward process of getting dressed.
Most of her belongings were at Laura’s apartment and that was going to require an explanation. Noah was bound to think it odd that she and Jerome had separate bedrooms. She should just tell him the truth and be done with it, but she was embarrassed. She didn’t want to see disdain in Noah’s expression. Or pity. Jerome had been his brother. What would Noah think when he discovered their marriage had been a total sham from the start?
Her gaze fell on the deep blue African violet. She thought of the plant stand in her bedroom where a dozen more violets sat beneath the window. She’d planned to move them all to Laura’s place this week.
She ran her finger gently over a soft round leaf. Noah couldn’t possibly know how much she loved the delicate plants. Unless he’d already been inside the apartment. Or Jerome had told him. The brothers had been doing a lot of talking in recent months. Jerome was excited by that fact.
In fact, Noah had called during her final battle with Jerome. While the two were on the phone, she’d packed her bags and left the apartment. The decision hadn’t been easy. She wasn’t a quitter by nature, but she also wasn’t going to become a victim in a relationship that was becoming more and more turbulent.
She and Jerome had married because they seemed to like each other and wanted to raise a family. It had been that simple and that complicated. She’d accepted that they would never have a normal physical relationship. She’d thought having a child was all that mattered. She thought of her reaction to Noah and shook her head. It was hard to believe her sheer stupidity.
Sydney stared at the rings on her finger. How had it come to this? She hated knowing Jerome had died while bitter words lay between them. And her guilt was compounded by her bizarre attraction to Noah.
Her gaze slid to the bathroom door. Noah had left it slightly ajar, probably so he’d hear her if she called out. She was touched by his unexpected kindness, yet disturbed by the way her body responded to him. She wasn’t sure how to act around this stranger who was suddenly her self-proclaimed protector.
The scent she’d come to associate with Noah wafted out on wisps of steam. It amazed her to realize that, despite her mix of feelings, she felt safe with Noah.
When he finally stepped into the room, her gaze was instantly drawn to his broad chest, still damp from his shower. She drew in a breath as he pulled on a crisp white shirt, completely at ease with himself, and thankfully unaware of the jittery effect the sight of his bare chest had on her pulses.
Sydney jumped as someone rapped sharply on the door.
“It’s okay,” Noah said soothingly. “That will be the food. Stay there. I’ll get it.”
He returned with a wheeled cart and she sniffed appreciatively as he set out the meal. She would have preferred to do her own ordering, but she was too hungry to argue.
She did, however, eye the pot of tea in surprise.
“Not coffee?”
“My mother believed tea was a cure-all,” he explained. “When I was a kid, tea appeared every time I had a sniffle. I made out okay so I figured it couldn’t hurt in case your throat was still sore.”
She pulled the tea bag from the water. “I thought chicken soup was supposed to be the cure-all.”
When he turned that full smile on her, she forgot all the reasons she should be wary of Noah. The planes of his face softened into a devastatingly potent charm that was far more captivating than blatant good looks.
“I’ve heard that myth, too,” he agreed.
When Noah smiled like that a woman better be heavily grounded in reality, Sydney decided, or she’d find herself in a helpless puddle at his feet.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about the attacker,” she told Noah after a time, breaking their comfortable silence and shoving the remains of her lunch to one side. “I don’t think the attacker meant to choke me like that. I think he was trying to keep me from screaming and applied too much pressure. But I wish I knew what it was he wanted from me.”
Noah reached out and stroked her arm. He had rough, coarse hands with strangely long, graceful fingers. There was strength in those hands.
“You showed amazing presence of mind pressing that call button, Syd. That action probably saved your life.”
“You know, I hate being called Syd.”
He smiled, another slow smile she felt clear to her toes.
“I’ll try to remember that. What do you say we go over to your apartment and get you something to wear?”
“I’d rather not,” she said quickly.
“What’s wrong?”
How could she explain? “I’m not ready to go back to the apartment. Not just yet.”
“You’re going to have to face the place sooner or later, Syd.”
“I vote for later,” she told him firmly. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t her apartment. That it had never been her apartment. All she’d brought to her marriage were her clothes and her plants—and her dreams. The only thing left was the plants.
Noah studied her with eyes that saw far more than she wanted to reveal. “I have clothes at my…at the apartment I used to share with Laura and Hannah. It’s closer.”
“All right.”
She closed her eyes against the questions she could almost hear. Without warning, memories sprang from ambush, catching her unaware. She tried to push them aside and couldn’t.
If the nurse hadn’t come in response to her call…if she hadn’t started screaming right away…
Sydney shuddered. She felt Noah touch her arm, but her mind had suddenly shifted, drawing her back inside the bank where bright red blood had stained the white tile floor.
So much blood.
The shots echoed over and over again. She could feel the weight of Jerome’s body pressing against hers as they fell, felt her head snap back….
“Sydney! Hey, easy. Take it easy.”
“Sorry.” She couldn’t see his face. Her eyes filled with pools of tears despite her best efforts to hold them at bay. “There was so much blood.”
Noah swore softly. “How did we get from clothes to blood? Never mind. It’s okay. It’s just reaction. Everything’s all over.”
She tried to tell him that she knew it was okay. That she didn’t want to cry. But her throat was clogged with unshed tears, pushing for release.
“I should have done something.”
Noah shook his head. “There was nothing you could have done.”
He didn’t understand. He didn’t know how it had been. Jerome telling her how to dress, how to act. Her words bouncing off his anger without impact. Attempts to communicate that failed repeatedly.
She shook her head from side to side. The kaleidoscope of images was becoming all twisted and confused. Noah’s hand rested kindly on her shoulder, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. Couldn’t bear to see his pity.
Jerome was dead, but she was pregnant and someone wanted to hurt her. What was she going to do?
She didn’t remember moving, but she found herself sitting on the bed, her face pressed against Noah’s hard chest while tears matted his clean white shirt. Fear and horror mingled with hopeless regret. They spilled into racking sobs she couldn’t contain.
She cried forever, unable to stop. Only when a teardrop brushed her forehead did she manage to rein in the tide of emotions. Noah was crying, too? The idea that this strong man could shed a tear for his brother finally stemmed her own grief.
How Jerome would have loved this scene.
Sydney brushed at her wet face, unable to look at Noah. He stroked her hair then stood and strode into the bathroom. She’d embarrassed him as well as herself.
Water ran in the basin. When he returned, he handed her a damp washcloth. Gratefully, she wiped her face, aware that her damp hair was plastered around it.
“Excuse me.” She fled into the bathroom without looking at him.
Noah didn’t move as she disappeared. He was as shaken by his own grief as he was by hers.
The hair dryer started and he wondered how she was going to dry her hair with only one hand. Then he decided he didn’t care as long as she didn’t ask him for help.
He’d thought he had complete control of his emotions—until Sydney came apart in his arms. Her helpless anguish had finally released the grief he had buried right along with his parents, and now his only brother. It was as if Sydney had given him a conduit to his own emotions.
Noah had deliberately fostered the distance between himself and his brother when he was younger. He’d been unable and unwilling to accept Jerome, because it meant accepting his father’s infidelity. Noah would live with that regret for the rest of his life.
He couldn’t go back, but he could move forward. And forward meant Sydney and the child she carried. She didn’t seem to realize that the baby was an unbreakable connection between them. A biological link that meant he would never be able to walk away from his brother’s wife.
Part of him was selfishly glad.
Noah expelled a sigh and repacked his bag. He checked the room for loose articles and called the front desk to check out. All he needed was his shaving gear and he’d be ready to go.
The telephone rang.
Noah eyed the instrument with suspicion. “Hello?”
“Major Inglewood? Agent Wickowski. I’m sorry to bother you, but we need to come up and talk with Sydney right away.”
“This isn’t a go—”
“They fished a man out of the Potomac River a little while ago.”
“So?”
“Long hair? Beard? Mustache? Ring a few bells, Major?”
Noah sucked in his breath.
“He was wearing hospital scrubs and carrying Sydney’s wallet. Someone shot him in the head at point-blank range.”

CHAPTER THREE
Noah gripped the receiver. “Sydney’s in the bathroom drying her hair. Why don’t we come downstairs? Give us about five—better make it ten minutes.”
“Let’s make it five, Major.”
Noah disconnected and found Sydney watching him warily from the doorway.
“I gather Agent Wickowski wants to ask more questions.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.”
Her chin lifted. “How much more complicated?”
Noah explained.
Her mouth opened, then closed silently.
“Are you okay?”
“Wonderful.” She walked back into the bathroom and the hair dryer started up again. He shouldn’t have told her so bluntly. She’d had one shock after another for the past several days. But then, so had he, and she seemed to be handling things just fine.
She came out a few minutes later reinserting her arm into its sling. Her soft brown hair was still damp, but swinging neatly around her shoulders.
Noah stepped past her and added his shaving gear to his duffel bag.
“Better bring the plant,” he told her.
“We’re leaving?”
“Changing hotels. With the FBI and the police downstairs, I don’t think we’re going to be anonymous anymore.” He didn’t add that he’d planned to make the switch even before they arrived. He was operating on instinct here. And his instincts were on full alert. Someone was coming after Sydney.

SITTING INSIDE an empty conference room the hotel had lent them, Agent Wickowski showed them a picture of a man whom Sydney immediately identified as the orderly.
“Could he have been one of the men inside that bank, Mrs. Inglewood?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I just don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“He had this in his pocket.” Wickowski smoothed out a crumpled, torn copy of her wedding picture. Jerome’s half had been ripped away, leaving only the smiling bride.
Noah made a noise that sounded like a growl.
“Your fake orderly has a long police record, but unless he recently moved into the big time, bank robbery and murder are out of his league. He’s always stuck with petty larceny until now.”
“Then he was only in my room to steal?” Sydney asked.
“We’re operating on the assumption he was hired to identify your location,” Wickowski said. “Several of the local hospitals, including yours, have had a rash of small thefts in the past few days. We recovered most of the stolen items from his apartment, but this picture makes us think you were a specific target. Unless you were carrying this in your purse and he took it for some reason?”
Sydney shook her head, trying to control the fear welling inside her.
“That’s what we thought. Since the medical examiner puts his time of death around one this morning, he wasn’t your attacker. But he could have been killed right after he met with your attacker, who then went to the hospital.”
“Pleasant thought,” she said, trying to sound cool and in control. She felt pathetically grateful when Noah touched her arm in silent support.
“You said he was shot?” she asked.
Wickowski inclined his head apologetically. “At close range. Ballistics will tell us if it was one of the guns used in the bank robbery, but I’d say the odds are pretty good. We’d like to take you to a safe house, Mrs. Inglewood.”
Sydney had seen a television program about people who had been in police protection and she quickly shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be locked up somewhere surrounded by strangers.” They would keep her a virtual prisoner.
“We’ll assign a female operative—”
“Police protection didn’t do me any good at the hospital.”
“This time we’ll use FBI personnel.”
“No.” Sydney shook her head, thinking hard. “You said you think my attacker paid this man to find out where I was and then shot him. But my attacker didn’t have a gun.”
Wickowski frowned at her abrupt change in direction. “How do you know that?”
“Because he didn’t shoot me. If he wanted me dead, why didn’t he shoot me?”

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