Lauren stretched and rolled to her back. She’d forgotten how uncomfortable the sofa was. She and Monty avoided it like the plague; they wouldn’t even allow guests to sleep on it. “Owe,” she groaned, her joints bundles of overstressed knots that coiled the tightest at the base of her spine down through the back of her thighs. But that wasn’t her waking agony. A day and night filled with tears cost her big. Her head pounded from the center of her skull to the middle of her brow. She felt drugged, hung-over, worn thin, and soul-weary. Straining against fatigue that weighted the lids to her eyes she blinked until focus returned and she could see the lumpy detailing around the patterned ceiling. She frowned as the night, and days events returned to the front of her consciousness. With it came the bottomless pain. Muffin. She inhaled a deep smothering breath and exhaled slow. Lauren put her hands to her face to not compound her headache worse with another crying fit. She sobered, accepted the reality. Her life had been nothing but accepting hard truths. Muffin’s fate would be no different.

Lauren lowered her hands, and her eyes. Dylan was there. Slowly she eased back against the arm of the sofa. He’d slept slouched down in Monty’s chair, minus a shirt, socks and shoes. No man but Monty had ever stayed the night with her. No man other than Monty had ever been a comfort to her. She forgot how good that felt. She stared at him. It all came back. The safety she felt in his arms, the desire she felt when they kissed, and then…

Lauren dropped her eyes away in shame. She tingled between her legs just from memory of his hand there. Dylan McGuire of all people? Had she lost her mind? She cut her eyes his way again. He had felt beautiful to her last night, all of him. There was no denying that fact. After jumping up in her bed over such suffering for her baby, she couldn’t run to his arms fast enough. She’d not given the propriety much thought. In his arms all her inhibitions melted away. It was like being marooned on a glacier, the cold empty bone-chilling fear moving through her. Then suddenly with him, she’s wrapped up in warmth, security. His arousal stirring and his kisses made of undiluted passion. It was pure, untainted, just real in a moment when reality seemed so unforgiving. What was it for him? Pity? Merciful God! She made a fool of herself. She validated every sexist idea he had of an independent woman in distress. She cringed inwardly realizing the shameful way she enjoyed pressing against his hardness, enjoyed feeling a man want her. The other part of her could take no solace in his affections. All she truly desired in her heart of hearts was for Muffin to be okay.

“Dylan?”

His head jerked forward, his eyes stretched liked a bug. She almost laughed at how comical he was waking. “WHAT! What is it? You okay?” he barked.

Awe, how sweet. Lauren swallowed her smile. “Yes. But you look like you had a rough night. Did you sleep over there—all night?”

“Where? Here? Who? Me?”

“Dylan are you awake? You’re acting goofy.”