Burned Hearts by Calista Fox Page A

wait to see our son’s first identifying quality before we can make a sound decision. I have no intuition when it comes to this. No name seems extraordinary enough. I mean, he’ll never be a Jack or a Bill. I like Samuel, but still, not right. I want unique, but not bizarre-unique. Nothing related to fish or fruit or colors. No colors.”
    â€œHmm … Pewter Bax.” Dane gave me an amused nod.
    â€œNot.” Shifting on the sofa so that I could cuddle deeper against him, I rested my cheek in the crook of Dane’s neck. My happy spot. I said, “You haven’t exactly been throwing out any bones to chew on.”
    â€œLet’s see … Vaughn? Cagney? Something international?”
    â€œCagney.” I let it roll off my tongue. “Interesting. Definitely unique. Manly. Strong.”
    â€œCagney Bax,” Dane said.
    â€œJust shot to the top of my list.”
    â€œYou don’t have a list,” he quipped.
    â€œTrue. But I should have a list. We should have a list. Keep at it.”
    He kissed my forehead. “Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”
    â€œThat’s a no-brainer.” I flashed him a lascivious grin.
    My palm skated over his abs. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt, not even upon Ethan’s arrival. Not that that would be out of the ordinary. Ethan had apparently been a regular ringside fan when Dane had boxed in college. And I certainly wasn’t complaining that he strutted around with nothing more on than loose dark-gray or black pants.
    As my fingertips teased his skin, Dane’s emerald eyes glowed suggestively. “Why don’t we take this into the bedroom?”
    I kissed him, then said, “There’s nothing I’d rather do than get naked with you. Except that you’re seriously injured.”
    â€œAnd seriously wanting you.”
    His words and heated gaze sent a tickle along my clit, making me squirm. “Mm. Tempting.”
    â€œThen get a little closer.” His arm shifted to my waist and he hauled me onto his lap, so my legs straddled him.
    â€œDane,” I reluctantly protested. Weakly protested—because I wanted him just as much. “According to Dr. Forrester, you’re supposed to be relaxing while hooked up to that sophisticated water-chilling contraption he brought for you to keep the swelling down.”
    The pad was to be placed over Dane’s shoulder. Tubes connected to the pad and the box churned out frigid water to keep the pad icy cold.
    He gave me a devilish look. “I promise to spend the rest of the night in bed.”
    â€œWith your cold pack.”
    â€œWith my wife.”
    He kissed me. His arm around my waist held me firmly and he stood in one graceful motion. He shifted me to his hip on his good side and I encircled his neck with one arm and clasped my hands together so I was nowhere near his injured shoulder. I gripped him with my legs.
    â€œHey,” I said. “Let’s not get all Tarzan-like. You don’t have anything to prove to me.”
    â€œAri, you’re doing most of the work.”
    True, I clung to him, holding myself up. But still. “I’m a bit heavier than I used to be.”
    â€œActually,” he said, “it seems like you should weigh much more. You’re five months pregnant, after all.”
    I hadn’t “popped” yet. I could still pass for needing to lay off the Doritos and take a few extra laps in the pool.
    â€œRegardless,” I told him, “you shouldn’t be straining yourself like this.”
    â€œLet it go.”
    I had no choice. I couldn’t press the issue without insulting his manliness. I also suspected he liked demonstrating his virility because I spent way too much time with Kyle.
    Dane and I made it stealthily down the long, winding corridor, me not the least bit worried I’d end up dropped on the stone flooring along the way. My major concern was Dane exerting