Harlequin Desire March 2018--Box Set 1 of 2 by Sheri WhiteFeather

Author:Sheri WhiteFeather
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781488092497
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2018-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SEVEN

Naomi woke, blinked, confused for a moment about her surroundings. The warm weight of a masculine arm over her stomach grounded her, the stream of acknowledgments flooding back as an information wave.

She was with Royce. Her father was in the hospital. Careful not to wake Royce, she eased out from under his muscled arm to retrieve her cell phone from the bedside table. She thumbed the screen…and no messages, no signal.

Sighing in frustration, she smacked the phone down onto the comforter. The snow was so thick she couldn’t even see the sky anymore.

She turned her head on the pillow to look at Royce. He’d been so much calmer than she’d expected when she’d told him everything. Although it was clear he was angry, and she’d almost certainly blown any chance of getting him to join her family’s company, he’d still offered his compassion and protection. He’d still insisted on taking care of her. She should have tried to talk to him more, but…

She’d just fallen asleep. Out like a light so fast. She’d read that pregnancy would make her sleepy, but she suspected her exhaustion had more to do with the emotional outlay of her fears for her father and her confrontation with Royce.

The hell of it all? She’d really enjoyed her time with him—and the amazing sex—and she wished she could lose herself in that now. But her fear for her dad had her heart in a vise. Only the comfort of Royce’s arm around her, the warmth of his body beside her, kept her from bursting into tears altogether.

Tears were something she’d always had trouble setting free, a facet of her personality forever linked to her teenage years. To holding back her grief over losing her mother and sister because everyone else was hurting so much. To battling cancer and trying to spare her father more pain.

Those circumstances grated on Naomi, made her internalize her fear into a decisive, deadly logical blade. It was what made her a damn good lawyer. Fear of losing pushed her to assemble a facade of brick in the courtroom. As a teenager facing down the likelihood that her disease just might beat her, she had chosen to emulate the wild abandon of her environment.

She’d done it for her family’s sake, even though every fiber of her being shook test after test, treatment after treatment. For her brothers, sister and dad, she learned to bury the urge to cry or to express fear. Instead, she adopted a carefree air.

There had been one time she’d really let the reality of her treatment get to her and it had been the last time she’d given herself permission to lose her resolve in front of her family. A moment etched forever in her memory. The day her hair had started to fall out as a reaction to the chemo.

Naomi’s hair had always been a point of pride—something that connected her to the mother she’d lost as a preteen. Naomi’s mother had spoken of the

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