Ghostwalker 09 - Ruthless Game

kit—just in case.
    He was a man who believed in preparing for emergencies. Having babies fel under that category. Beside the kit she’d put together were several books, and because he was reluctant to open the sealed plastic container and look at the contents, he browsed through the books. The titles told him a lot about Rose. She planned wel for things.
    One book was on natural childbirth, another focused on nutrition for the pregnant woman. Both books had been read many times. The pages were worn and dog-eared. Another book on parenting caught his attention. He flipped through it and found many passages underlined. There were notes in the margin Rose had made to herself, multiple reminders to find other titles on various subjects. Like Kane, Rose could kil a man with her bare hands without blinking, but diapering a baby was out of their realm of expertise.
    He closed the book slowly, the revelation hitting him hard. She had to be every bit as scared as he was over the birth of their child. She had no more experience than he did. Just because she was a woman didn’t mean that she understood any of this. She’d never had parents to give her a blueprint.
    Neither of them had the least idea of what they were doing, but at least Rose was trying. She was determined that their child would have the chance in life she never had—to grow up in a loving home.
    Kane had grown up on the streets. He didn’t know any more about parenting than Rose did, but he had a family. His team were al members of that family, GhostWalkers every one of them, intensely loyal to one another. They would extend that same loyalty to Rose and his child.
    His child. He sank into a chair a bit overwhelmed by the idea. He’d searched for Rose for months because he was tied up in knots with wanting her, but he hadn’t honestly thought too much about what it would mean if she was truly pregnant. His child. Their child together. They had created life. Both had DNA that wasn’t altogether human, and both had psychic gifts. What would that mean for their child? Rose hadn’t had the benefit of doctors for prenatal care. He rubbed his temples.
    A child was a huge responsibility. Did he want that? Hel yes. The moment he fit his palm over Rose’s bel y, swol en with his child, the baby had rocked his world. That little flutter pressing hard against his hand to let him know there was life there, a life they’d created together, had found its way into his heart. He was solidly with Rose—Whitney was not getting their son.
    He padded silently back into the bedroom, the birthing book in his hand. Rose looked at him, her expression drowsy—and sexy. He nearly groaned aloud. Was it perverted to find her incredibly sexy in her present physical condition? He should have brought the other book, the one about how her body changed during pregnancy. It had advice for husbands. He liked the way the word fit. Husband. Yeah. He could do that—with Rose.
    “I just came in to say good night,” he offered, keeping his tone low.
    “I’m glad you did. I wanted to say I’m glad you’re here. You can sleep here. It isn’t as if we haven’t shared a bed,” she added. “There’s plenty of room.”
    He wasn’t getting in a bed with her. What was she thinking? His body was already doing enough raging at him. “I think it’s best to keep a lookout.” They wouldn’t be coming until the fol owing night, he was fairly certain, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He wasn’t going to sleep and leave her vulnerable. “I think I’l catch up on my reading.”
    She flashed a smal smile. “Good choice there. But I real y don’t mind about the bed if you change your mind.”
    “Thanks. If I get too tired, I’l keep that in mind.” He turned to leave.
    “Don’t go. Not until I fal asleep. I feel ... safer with you in the room.”
    “The lamp won’t bother you?”
    She closed her eyes, settling against the pil ow. Kane walked silently across the room and pul ed the comforter closer to her chin, knowing he was using the gesture as an excuse to touch her again. Her skin was soft beyond his memories, and her hair against the pil ow looked like a fal of blue black silk.
    Her lashes were long and feathery, as midnight black as her hair. He felt at peace when he looked at her, which, considering the state of arousal she put his body in, was strange. His whole being settled in her presence.
    Asleep, she looked younger than ever and terribly innocent. She didn’t