Megan stared into the fire, listening to Jack’s breathing slowly even out again. How was she going to get him past this foolish notion? He said he loved her, so by God, he needed to prove it! Besides, she liked making love; she was a healthy woman who appreciated an athletic romp in bed with a sexy man, especially when that man was unequivocally into her.

And for the first time in five months, Megan was beginning to believe Jack truly did love her. Didn’t he realize a sweet bout of lovemaking was just what she needed?

He was so clueless.

She smiled despite herself. Surely he was trainable. Her mistake tonight had been asking him to make love. He was a guy, wasn’t he? And didn’t guys have sex on the brain 24/7? She should have just quietly pulled down his long johns and climbed on top. He wouldn’t have felt the baby in that position, and by the time he’d realized what was happening he would have been way too involved.

She grinned. He was sleeping now, wasn’t he?

Megan decided she better give him another few minutes, just to make sure he was in deep dream sleep. She became almost giddy with anticipation. Was Jack about to have the best damn erotic dream of his life, or what?

Five minutes later she carefully removed his arm from around her, got up on her knees facing him, and was pleasantly surprised to discover that he hadn’t bothered to put his long johns back on. Talk about a blatant invitation!

She crawled to the woodpile and tossed a few sticks on the fire, watching to see if Jack woke up. The fact that he didn’t gave her hope. She crawled back over to him, peeled the edge of the sleeping bag off his hip, and softly sucked in her breath.

He was so beautiful, so perfectly, ruggedly male. He had a series of raised scars crossing the left side of his ribs, which he’d told her were from an encounter with a young bear when he was twelve. And the ugly mark on the right side of his stomach just above his hip bone he’d said was a souvenir from his military days. Megan suspected it was a bullet wound, since she knew there was an even more wicked scar on his back, implying the bullet had gone clean through. There were several other gouges and nicks on his beautiful body—some substantial, some not—that spoke of a hard and at times death-defying life.

She was finding it harder and harder to stay angry at him for breaking her heart. After all, what would she have done if their roles had been reversed in Canada? How brutal might she have gotten if she thought Jack’s life was in danger?

Honestly? She would have done anything, said anything, to protect him because she had loved him that much.

“You look like you can’t decide whether to castrate me or jump my bones.”

Megan’s gaze snapped to his, and she had to smile. “I don’t want to castrate you.”

“That’s good.” He lifted a brow in inquiry. “So does that mean you were going to take advantage of me in my sleep?”

She nodded.

“I’m sorry for panicking earlier. Now that I’ve thought about it, I seem to recall my parents making love while my mother was carrying me. It got a bit bumpy on occasion, but I remember having this warm, fuzzy sense of being totally immersed in their love.”

Megan put her hands on her hips. “You can’t possibly remember something like that. You weren’t even born yet. Nobody can remember anything that happens before three or four years old.”

He propped his head up on his hand. “I think we remember quite a lot, only it becomes so ingrained in us that we simply don’t retain much of the details. I can still hear my mother singing to me. I remember how she smelled of cinnamon and vanilla, how she used to rock me for hours when I was sick, how she constantly flipped her hair behind her shoulder when it got in her way, since she wouldn’t braid it when Dad was around because he liked it loose. I remember every minute of my life from conception to nine years old like it was yesterday.”

Megan’s heart broke all over again, this time for a little boy who’d had his mother ripped from his life far too soon. She instinctively hugged her belly.

Jack suddenly flopped onto his back, throwing his arms wide. “You might as well have your wicked way with me. I promise not to wake up until it’s over,” he said, closing his eyes and letting out a loud snore.

Now? He expected them to make love now, after practically bringing her to tears? Megan crawled back into bed and snuggled up against him with a sigh. She was going to have to sit this man down for a good talk one of these days, and explain that sad tales of his childhood were not exactly a turn-on.

He gently pushed her shoulder. “Hey, I thought we were going to make love.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

He pushed her again, a little harder this time. “You can’t just change your mind for no reason.” His pushing hand started caressing her arm. “I thought you were horny.”

“I was, until you started talking about your childhood.”

He was silent for several seconds; then she yelped in surprise when he gently spun her around, picked her up, and sat her straddling his hips. “I’ve had a wonderful life, Megan. And now it’s time we start making our baby’s childhood just as memorable,” he said, kissing her deeply.

Oh, what the heck. They were both naked, they were in a cozy little nest in front of a roaring fire, and Jack was obviously ready. So why not?

He started chuckling—while he was kissing her!—and Megan sat up with a growl. “Now what?” she snapped.

“I was just thinking this has got to be the longest foreplay in the history of our relationship.”

“Foreplay? You call the last hour foreplay?” She wanted to smack him, but she pointed her finger at his face instead. “You are one second away from taking another swim in the lake, buster. Do you think you can possibly stay focused for ten minutes so we can actually do this?”

“Ten?” he repeated in surprise. “All this work for ten measly minutes?” He grabbed her pointing finger, gently bucking her off him and turning so he was looming over her. “I’ll tell you what. You can have your ten minutes, but then I’m taking another…” He cocked his head in thought. “Another thirty minutes for myself.” He lowered his mouth to within inches of hers. “You want to go first, or shall I?” he whispered, inching even closer but not quite touching her lips, apparently waiting for her answer.

Megan reached down and wrapped her fingers intimately around him, grinning when he jerked in surprise. “I’ll go first.” She used her other hand to push his shoulder, sending him onto his back, and rolled with him until she was once again straddling his thighs. “Pay attention and see if you can’t learn a little something about foreplay, will you?”

“Yes ma’am!” he said in a half-shout when she started fondling him in earnest.

She lovingly tortured him for several minutes, until she could see beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead and the cords in his neck bulging. Deciding he was one second away from losing control when his hands balled into fists at his sides, Megan finally took pity. She wiggled forward until she was directly over him, braced her hands on his sweating chest, then gently lowered herself down over his shaft.

They both moaned, the sound mingling with the crackling fire to drift off into the stillness of the night. “Oh God, that feels good,” she whispered, moving slowly as she adjusted to the fullness, then quickening the tempo. “It’s been way, way too long,” she ended with another moan.

His hands went to her hips, his fingers gently kneading her flesh as he slowed her motions, moving his own hips to alter his angle and depth. His actions increased her pleasure, and Megan tilted back her head and closed her eyes, savoring the feel of him moving inside her. He brought one hand to her feminine center and used his thumb to caress her sensitive bud while he continued to guide her gentle rocking.