Free Baby Love by Catherine Anderson

was making this story up, trying to keep her mind occupied so she wouldn't feel self-conscious.
    "It's a guy thing. If you don't pass Bra Clasps 101, you're flat out of luck with the girls. I practiced every night, no lie, and I still never got the hang of it. One day Mom found the bra under my mattress and told my dad. He confessed to me later he was worried sick for over a year that I was a cross-dresser. "
    "A cross what?"
    He chuckled. "Never mind. "
    To her immense relief, he didn't draw the bra cups from her breasts, which at least gave her some covering. Instead, he gave her a gentle push, and she found herself flat on her back. Before she had time to protest or feel alarmed, he drew the bedcovers over her and tucked them around her shoulders.
    "There. Completely hidden again. Now that wasn't so bad. Was it?"
    His tone reminded her of the one he'd used to cajole Jaimie into nursing from the bottle—his voice pitched low, the vibrant timber seeming to surround her with warmth. Only she wasn't quite as trusting as her son. Her bra was undone, which had to mean he planned to relieve her of it soon.
    He left her to chew on that worry while he returned to the bathroom. She heard him rustling the paper bag

    60 CATHERINE ANDERSON
    and clanking around, and she closed her eyes in dread. A moment later, the muted tread of his boots on the carpet reached her, the sounds moving closer. She didn't need to lift her lashes to know when he came to stand over her. She felt his nearness in every pore of her skin. A glass bottle made a chink on the nightstand. Then the mattress sank sharply at the outer edge as he sat down.
    She could only guess what might come next, the one certainty being that it wouldn't be pleasant. Panic welled. She knotted her hands into fists at her sides and forced herself to be calm. Pride. Maybe to some people it was only a word, but aside from her son, it was all she had left. After everything she had endured to come this far, she'd be damned if she would let a small dose of humiliation get the best of her. So far, at least, Rafe Kendrick didn't strike her as being a cruel man. Not that you could tell much about a man's nature on such short acquaintance.
    Oh, yes, she'd learned the hard way just how treacherous men could be, being kind one moment and acting like barbarians the next. Recalling those experiences now, her instincts warned her not to trust him.
    Only if he meant her harm, what was he waiting for? They were alone in a seedy motel room behind a locked door. There was no one to intervene. In short, there was nothing to stop him from being a jerk.
    "I can stack the pillows behind you so you don't have to actually sit up by yourself, " he offered. "You think that might help?"
    Maggie merely nodded. Speaking was beyond her. Afraid that her bra straps might slip off her shoulders, she clutched the covers to her chest when he slipped an arm behind her. She needn't have bothered. Once she gained a sitting posture and he released her to plump the pillows, she saw that he had been holding the bedspread over her front.
    He caught her look of surprise and gave a dry laugh. "This isn't exactly what you were expecting, I take it. "
    BABY LOVE 61
    He shrugged. "Think about it. Is there a spot on you that I could touch without hurting you?"
    Some men wouldn't care. Maggie knew that. Oh, God, she was going to bawl and make a total fool of herself. He was bound to think she was crazy, and she wouldn't blame him.
    It was just—so unexpected. A dirty drunkard in tattered cowboy garb, turning out to be the kindest man she had encountered since her father died? It made no sense. Everyone knew that practically all railroad bums were lowlifes who'd steal from a blind man if the opportunity arose. How had she been so lucky as to meet one of the few nice ones? Maybe God actually had-heard her prayers, after all, and He'd answered by sending her this man.
    He handed her the bottle of medication and a cotton ball. A strong