It occurred to Eamonn that it was the longest time he’d ever spent completely silent in a woman’s company. And it wasn’t an entirely unpleasant experience.

   Then, with a turn of his head in her direction he caught sight of her poking her fingers against an irregular bump below her crimson shirt. Her fingers circled it, pushed a little, circled again and when he looked up at her face she had her eyes closed. But she was smiling a small, secretive smile.

  His gaze back on her fingers, he asked in a low voice, “Is that a foot you’re pushing?”

  “I think so,” She opened her eyes, tilted her head forwards so that her chin rested on her chest, and looked down at her hand, smoothing the soft material around the small bump so it was more defined.

   “Doesn’t it hurt when that happens?”

    Long lashes fluttered as she raised her eyes to his, surprised by the look of fascination she saw there, “Not as much as when the precious pushes a bottom out. That can be very uncomfortable.”

   The golden flecks in his hazel eyes glowed warmly across at her, “Does he do that often?”

    Colleen smiled an amused smile, “He? What makes you so sure baby is a ‘he’?”

    “She then?” The corners of his mouth twitched, hinting at a smile being held inside. He did that a lot, she’d noticed. As if he always felt the need to keep himself in check, and controlled. It made her ache to tease the smile out, to have him soften and relax when he was around her.

     Her smile grew in return, “Haven’t the faintest. I’m a leave the presents ‘til Christmas morning kinda gal.”

     The music faded in the background, static sounded, and then the room surrendered to silence as Colleen stayed focused on Eamonn’s eyes watching the movement of her hand on her stomach. It was one of the most intimate moments she had ever shared with a man and yet it felt, almost right. Not as awkward as it should have felt, not as if they were crossing a boundary, and certainly not as if they’d spent the last fifteen years apart and were strangers.

     Everything she was holding back from him faded into the background. For a brief, fleeting moment they were just two people caught up in the miracle of an unborn child. And Colleen knew she wouldn’t forget the experience in a hurry. Didn’t want to. What she wanted was to savour it, to hold onto it like a security blanket for later reference, when she would be alone again. Because moments like this one were what she should have had. It was a sense of sharing, of companionship, that she had been denied by the one person who should naturally have shared the experience.

     His lashes brushed his tanned skin as he blinked, “Are you scared Colleen? About having a baby?”

     Her heart thundered at the husky question. She looked away from his face and down to where his hand rested over his lap, focusing on his long tapered fingers, on his neatly cut clean nails, “I guess I am. I don’t know who wouldn’t be. It’s natural to feel that way. I just hate that I am, so I try to ignore it.”

     His chin rose as she made the confession. He waited, hoping she would lift her eyes so he could look into their blue depths while she spoke. So he could try and see behind her words and into her mind. It occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, she hid behind her brave words and smart mouth.

     But although her head moved, it was away from him, her eyes focusing on her stomach as she continued, “Some days it doesn’t feel real, like someday soon I’m not actually going to have this little life that I’m totally responsible for. That’ll become the centre of mine.”

     Her breasts rose and fell as she took a breath, drawing his eyes in that direction. So he stared, mesmerized by the simple sensuality of the movement.

     While her soft voice sounded beside him, “And you can con yourself into believing that at the start,” Her mouth twitched, “When your body hasn’t changed and you haven’t put on too much weight. Until the first time they move and you realize it’s really happening. Then it hits you. And I just, well, I worry. I worry that I might not be able to give this baby everything it needs, be a good enough parent,” She paused, “Does that make any sense?”

     He managed to raise his gaze as she turned her face to his. But when her eyes flickered to his in question he froze, the air trapped in his chest. The answer suddenly terribly important to him.

     It wasn’t something he’d ever had to think about. He was man after all. Yes, somewhere in the back of his mind he’d maybe believed that he’d have kids of his own some day. But he’d never actually put a specific date on it happening, or thought about the woman that would carry his child. It had been a long way ahead; it hadn’t involved planning or thinking how he’d feel when the time came.

     Hadn’t ever involved thinking how the woman might feel in that situation. How frightening it must be for her first time out. Let alone doing it without any support from a partner or family.

     But sitting beside Colleen while she told him how she felt made him think. And he knew he would worry too if it were happening to him, if a child of his was so close to coming into the world and changing his life forever. It would be scary as all hell. Could he be a great Dad when the time came; the kind of Father a child deserved?

     Could he be a better Father than he’d been a son?

     With no firm answers to his silent questions he knew one thing. He’d try.

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From "Rescued: Mother To Be" by Trish Wylie
Mills and Boon / Harlequin Romance April 2007
ISBN: 978-0373039487   Copyright: © 2006 Trish Wylie
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A. For more romance information surf to: http://www.eHarlequin.com