Brooke’s pulse was racing. When she’d awakened to Cole pulling his shirt on, she realized he’d been without it during the night when he’d had his arm around her. The last thing she needed was that image in her head, but it was there. Embedded a mile deep. Maybe two.
“You have to promise you won’t do anything else to tempt me,” she told him, using the firmest tone she could muster.
Though both of them had admitted to a physical attraction, Cole hadn’t been concerned about it. She’d had to convince him they needed to squelch those urges. For her, it was crucial, because her emotional attraction seemed to grow along with the physical one. Obviously, Cole didn’t have that problem.
“Okay. I’ll be good.”
That was a little too easy.
“Promise me.”
He raised his hand as if he was swearing an oath. “I promise.”
A buzzing sound at her elbow drew her attention. On the bedside table, the mechanical hand moved, all on its own. She yelped, scrambling away.
“What’s wrong?” Cole asked.
“Oh my gosh! I swear I just saw Shrek’s fingers moving! Is that normal?”
“Are you sure it wasn’t your imagination?”
She heard the noise again. This time she was watching closely.
“There! It happened again!” She pointed, still not getting too close. “Look… his fingers are crossed.”
She heard peals of laughter. Cole was rolling on the floor.
“Were you making the arm move?” she accused.
“Your face… That was priceless!” He spoke between chuckles. “I crossed Shrek’s fingers when I made the promise. But then, you squealed like it was going to crawl off the table and attack you.”
In a flash, she grabbed her pillow and flung it at him, hitting him on the shoulder. He only laughed harder. She threw another one, this time connecting with his face. By the time she lifted the next pillow, he was scrambling to his feet.
“This isn’t fair. I can’t defend myself with one hand.”
“Ha! I’m not falling for that, Mr. Blackbelt.” She launched her pillow. His arm shot up and batted it away, as he loomed closer, a threatening look under the smirk on his face.
“Be careful what you start…”
She sat up and grappled behind her for another pillow, but he snatched it away from her. Giggling, she raised her hands to protect herself, but the force of the pillow’s blow sent her toppling to the mattress. Before she could pick it up, another pillow came flying at her, connecting with her face. She was laughing so hard, all she could do was hug the pillow to protect herself. Over and over, she was pummeled with a soft weapon.
“Uncle! Uncle!” she yelled.
The barrage ceased, and she lay still beneath her fluffy protection until she caught her breath. When she pulled the pillow away, a triumphantly-grinning Cole was attaching the prosthetic arm to his implant.
“How did you make Shrek move like that?” she asked.
“It has a wireless receiver that responds to surgically implanted sensors.”
“I had no idea.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” He smirked.
She climbed out of bed and put her hands on her hips. “You may have won the pillow fight, but I’m holding you to your promise. No more tempting me. And crossing your fingers doesn’t count, no matter where your hand is.”
“I was only kidding. I plan to keep my shirt on.”
He stretched both arms to the side and moved them around in slow circles, his chest muscles straining against the thin cotton.
She swallowed a gulp.
Shirt or no shirt… he’s still tempting.
The visit with Cole’s parents went by without another hitch, aided by the fact that Cole made a pallet on the floor the second night. Brooke felt so guilty about it, she told him he could take off his shirt when the lights were out.
On their way back to Houston, Cole told her she must’ve worked some kind of magic on his folks, because they’d been so easy-going. She wondered how upset his mother would be when they divorced but kept the thought to herself.
Two weeks passed, and they fell into a comfortable routine. The news reporters appeared to have lost interest in their relationship, though the same couldn’t be said for her coworkers or clients. It seemed she spent much of each counseling session turning the conversation away from questions about Cole, and she was beginning to doubt her effectiveness.
That Friday, on their way home from work, she was brooding about the problem, when Cole broke into her thoughts.
“You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”
“I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”
“Your hands are on your belly, so it must be about the baby, right?”
