"I am."

 Adam nodded, but his gaze burnt into her as his hands inched their way back up her legs. What was before an examination, a comfort, quickly became a caress. He fought the feelings of desire rising in him, the ones that spiraled as his fingers rotated slowly over her ankles. 

He tried to remember why he was here. He reminded himself that Lauren was purposely hurting his friend, that she was callously keeping her son away from his father. That Jason would end up suffering just like his own siblings had. But as his fingers massaged her calf muscles, his thoughts jumbled, became incoherent. 

Slowly, he trailed his hands up to her thighs, resting his palms on them as he searched her eyes. What he saw there was a reflection of his own need. Still, with one last effort, he struggled to match the woman in front of him with the woman painted by Frank. It was useless. The woman he knew was loving and patient with Jason, fiercely protective of her children, witty and gentle, kind and compassionate.

 Adam stared into clouded eyes and saw the desire mixed with something that looked like doubt. He dropped his eyes and raised his hands to her stomach again. 

Lauren pushed them away and pulled her overalls over the protrusion. "Don't." Her voice cracked when she spoke. "Don't touch me. You don't want to touch me." Her tears streamed down her face. Using one hand to hold her overalls up, she wiped her cheeks with the other.

 Although surprised by her words he immediately withdrew his hands and let them fall to his sides. "Why?" he asked. "Why don't I want to touch you?"

 The eyes that met his were filled with sadness and insecurity, leaving Adam with a gut wrenching need to relieve her pain.

 "That should be obvious." Her gaze fell to her abdomen.

 "No, it's not obvious. Is it your husband?" He paused, wondering if she could still love Frank. Hoping she'd say yes, which would give him enough will power to stop himself from kissing her. Yet hoping she'd say no, because he couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted a woman this badly. 

"Listen. If you're still in love with the guy, I won't touch you again. I'm not into stealing another man's woman." 

Meeting his gaze, Lauren responded, "No. I'm not in love with him. I don't think I've been in love with him for a long time. The divorce was only a formality."

 Not giving up, Adam asked, "Then why don't I want to touch you?"

 Lauren dropped her eyes from his as if embarrassed. "I'm...I'm pregnant."

 "And?" Adam cupped her chin with his palm, forcing her eyes to meet his. "Lauren, you're a beautiful, desirable woman. Any man would be a fool to not want you."

 She shook her head as if not believing him. "You don't have to say that. I know what men think about pregnant women."

 Adam moved his hand up to her cheek and with his thumb caught a tear drop as it slid down her face. Trailing his hand farther back until it reached the hair above her ear, he weaved his fingers into its silkiness and asked huskily, "What is it that men think about pregnant women?"

 She raised her eyes to look into his, then dropped them, as if searching for the right answer. A full minute passed before she answered. A full minute in which Adam watched her wring her fingers together as if they were a cloth. A full minute, he studied the way the breeze feathered strands of her hair against her cheek. "I've been told that pregnant women are repulsive."

 The shock her statement caused held him immobilized for several seconds. Was that why he saw doubt in her eyes? Was that why they were often laced with pain, she'd unsuccessfully tried to hide? "What kind of bastard would tell you something so stupid?" He didn't have to ask, and although he didn't want to believe it, he knew instinctually, it was Frank. "It was your husband, wasn't it?"

 Her nod was almost imperceivable as she continued to study her hands clenched tightly in her lap. 

Adam leaned forward until his face was only inches from hers, then sank his hand deeper into her hair. He was angry that Frank would tell any woman such lies, but especially Lauren. And he didn't want to analyze the distinction. Instead, he let her hair, soft as silk, slide between his callused fingers. He let his desire for Lauren overshadow his anger. 

Her breath soft on his face, he said, "He couldn't be more wrong." Drawing even closer until his lips barely touched hers, he whispered, "You're beautiful." 

When their lips touched, she froze. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kiss him.