“Yeah, so I just lie in bed and snore while you pass out in agony. In your dreams! I’m not completely without feeling. We need some cream. Moisturizer or something.”

“There’s cream in my bag. In the bathroom.”

“Coming right up.” And he left her, diving for the bathroom to search her toiletries.

This felt wrong, he thought as he lifted her toothpaste and hairbrush and rifled through lipstick, cosmetics, toiletries. It was strangely intimate, as if they really were married.

That’s what it felt like, he realized. He felt married, and he wasn’t at all sure he liked the sensation. He’d been alone for so long, and now the woman out there needed him and he was responsible. This was taking him someplace he wasn’t all that sure he wanted to be.

But this was no time for regrets. Decisions had been made, for better or for worse, and he had to live with them. He found what he was looking for and headed back to Jenny.

To his wife.

SHE SHOULDN’T let him do this, Jenny thought as she struggled against the pain. She shouldn’t let him near. She’d tried so hard to be quiet, not to wake him.

Because she didn’t need him. She didn’t!

But the last few months had been so long and so lonely, and to know that he was here and was prepared to stand by her…

The thought was infinitely comforting.

She didn’t love him, but she needed him. Dear heaven, she didn’t have the strength to hold him away. Even Michael was better than the bleak future she’d faced two days ago.

Even Michael?

Maybe…maybe especially Michael.

MICHAEL TOOK all the time in the world. It was almost an hour before the cramps eased, and the entire time he sat at the end of the bed and massaged her calves as if he wasn’t tired-as if the most important thing in the world was to use his big hands to gently soothe the aching hurt in her legs. He applied moisturizer to soften the skin, gently working his fingers into each knot, one after another, over and over again.

He could feel how much pain she must have been in. She’d only made that one tiny groan, which had woken him, but for her legs to be in this mess, she must have been awake for hours. He swore into the night as he worked, thinking over the past few months. She’d put in long hours at the office for him, and he hadn’t granted one concession to her pregnancy. In fact he’d hardly noticed his secretary had been pregnant. And each night, she must have gone home to this.

Alone.

“Let’s forget about driving tomorrow,” he told her. “I want you checked by a doctor first.” Hell, had he caused problems by driving all the way to El Paso in one shot? He should have stopped often. Made her walk. Hired a larger car than the Corvette.

“I’M FINE,” she whispered. In fact, it was as much as she could do to get her voice to work at all. She felt wonderful. The pain had eased to almost nothing, and to lie here with her head on the pillows while Michael’s fingers worked their magic… While his hands eased the pain, taking away the desolation and loneliness of the last few awful months… She was feeling so grateful she could almost burst.

She was feeling as though she could almost reach out and take him to her, take him as her true husband.

Which was really, really stupid. She was eight months pregnant with another man’s baby. Peter. Her husband.

No! Not her husband. Peter was her first husband, and that was over. Her husband now was the man massaging her legs with such infinite gentleness that she wanted to weep.

Michael was being kind. Nothing more. Heavens, he’d done enough for her without her placing emotional obligations on him. Somehow she forced herself to lie still and she pushed her errant heart into order.

You’ve got yourself a marriage of convenience, she thought. A green card marriage. That’s what you need, so don’t you dare mess it up by letting your heart get involved.

FINALLY SHE SLEPT, and Michael went back to bed. But he lay awake staring at the darkened ceiling, wondering just what he’d let himself in for.

For better or for worse, he was married, and he was starting to realize this wasn’t just the solution to one problem at all. It was the start of a whole heap more.

And it was the beginning of a brand-new dimension to his existence.

THEY TOOK the entire day to drive home, with Michael insisting on so many stops that Jenny was starting to go nuts.

“I don’t need this.”

“I don’t want you cramping again tonight.”

“At least I won’t be waking you up.”

“That’s another thing. You’re not staying in that lousy apartment.”

“It’s where I live, Michael,” she said stolidly. “They said they’ll give us warning if they check, so I’m staying there.”

“We have to act married. Besides, it’s a dump.”

“Dump or not, it’s my home,” she snapped. “It’s nothing to do with you. You’ve offered me marriage and I’m incredibly grateful, but I have no intention of interfering with your life. Or of you interfering with mine.”

“It’s not sensible. They’ll check.”

She shook her head, her curls flying in the wind. “They won’t check yet, and it’s not sensible to be anything but independent. You’re my boss, Michael, and I’m one of your employees, who from now on happens to be on leave to have a baby. We have a green card marriage. Nothing more.”

Michael glanced at her set face, and his head told him she was partly right. He’d offered marriage on the spur of the moment, and she’d accepted with gratitude. She was asking nothing more, and there was nothing more he wanted to give.

Was there?

Maybe not, but living together… It wasn’t negotiable. Whether he wanted it or not, they had no choice. Immigration officials weren’t stupid.

“Give me a day to clean out the spare room,” he told her grudgingly. In truth, his spare room was fine, but maybe she needed space, and maybe he could do with a day or two to get used to the idea of her living with him. “But you need to move in with me if we’re going to make this work.”

“No.”

“Don’t be stubborn,” he accused, but she shook her head and looked away.

Maybe it would take the warning of an immigration visit to make her see sense, Michael thought. Meanwhile, he could hardly cart her to his place screaming. And did he really want to?

HER APARTMENT looked exactly the same as he’d left it-somewhere between dreary and awful. Michael carried her baggage up the three flights of stairs-the elevator was out of order-and stared around with distaste. He wanted her out of there.

“You can’t stay here.”

“Of course I can.” She smiled as he put her bag on the bed. There wasn’t anywhere else to put it. “I’ve been living here for months and haven’t been mugged yet. I told you- I like it. There are nice people here. Would you like some coffee before you go?”

“I…no.” His brow furrowed. “This is only for a couple of days at the most. Do you have coffee?”

“Hey, I’m not exactly starving in an attic,” she told him, exasperated. “I live simply because I need savings to support myself while I can’t work, but I know how to look after myself. And I’ll stay here until we hear from immigration. You don’t need to worry. I’ve eaten every vitamin and done every exercise Dr. Maitland’s given me.”

“You’re seeing Abby?”

“Of course I’m seeing Abby.” She flushed defensively. “Obstetric care is one of the perks of working at Maitland Maternity. There’s no way Ellie would employ me unless I was looked after by the Maitland obstetric staff, and my baby’s too important for me to take stupid risks.”

“Yeah, right.” He tried to make his voice sound as if he hadn’t been worrying, but it didn’t come out right. Okay, he had been anxious. He’d had visions of her without health insurance, and not having seen a doctor since she’d left England.

But why on earth was he worrying now, when he hadn’t so much as thought of her pregnancy since the day he employed her?

For one reason and one reason only, he told himself grimly. Then she was his secretary.

Now she was his wife.

The realization slammed home hard, and with it came an overwhelming sense of responsibility. It was a feeling so vast it almost knocked him sideways. He hadn’t expected this. He hadn’t asked for it and he’d never dreamed he’d feel like it. Now, though, it was as much as he could do not to pick up her bag and haul her out of there. Carry her out in a fireman’s hold if he had to.

But she was asking him to leave.

“Thank you, Michael.” She was smiling. “You’ve been wonderful.” Her voice trailed off, but the look she gave him was direct and honest. “I was in a mess, and you’ve rescued me in true hero style. You don’t know how much it means to me, but… Well, thank you.” And she took two steps forward, reached up and kissed him very lightly on the lips.

It was a feather kiss, a kiss of gratitude and relief, no more, and there was no reason in the world it should pack any charge at all.

But pack a charge it did, a million volts slamming through his body, leaving it seared and shaken to its core.

It was the shock, he told himself, dazed, as she drew back-the shock of acknowledging responsibility. He took a step away from her, and she was still smiling with her lovely green eyes, as though she hadn’t felt the charge at all. He figured he’d better get out of there fast. It was their second kiss-and he didn’t dare risk a third.

“I…well…I’ll be off.”

“Yes. You’d best leave. You’ll have things to do.”

“I’ll see you Monday.” His voice sounded lame. Spineless.

“No, Michael, I won’t see you Monday,” she reminded him gently. “There’s only four weeks before the baby’s due. Abby told me to quit. Ellie’s hired you a new secretary. You met her last Wednesday, remember?”

That’s right. This had all been organized. He knew it-sort of. So why the heck was his head fogging up like soup?