Monroe, Marla - The Edge of Night [The Protectors 3](Siren Publishing Classic) by Marla Monroe Page B

catching, because she grinned back despite the tears in her eyes.
    “Deal?” he asked, holding out his hand.
    “Deal.” She took his hand and shook it.
    “Now, we need to eat. You haven’t had anything since the peanut butter and crackers back at lunchtime. I’m supposed to be feeding you better than that.” He swung her off his lap to the floor. He kept one hand on her waist to assure she had her footing before he let go.
    “There’s a steak house about a block over. Do you feel like walking?” he asked as he stood up.
    “Yeah, I need all the exercise I can get,” she assured him.
    He checked the door and then led her down the street to the corner, where they turned and walked another half block to a rustic-looking building with a sign advertising the best fish and steak in the state. That had yet to be determined, she figured. The closer they walked, the less appetizing it smelt to her. Great, her stomach was going to rebel. Well, she refused to let it. She breathed through her mouth until they got inside and found the smell was less noticeable in the restaurant.
    “What looks good to you?” Morgan asked as he looked over the two-page menu.
    “I think the chicken fingers,” she said.
    “That’s a child’s plate,” he fussed.
    “I’m not really hungry. I can’t stomach a steak or fish, so chicken is the best that I can come up with.” She closed her menu and waited for him to argue.
    “Okay, but you’re getting the adult size, and we’ll take the rest back to the room, and you can nibble on them when you get hungry again,” he told her.
    “What makes you think I’m going to want something later?” He really knew too much about pregnancy.
    “Because most pregnant women can only eat small amounts at a time and then are hungry again in thirty minutes, meaning the husband has to go out in the middle of the night to pick up something like a Big Mac or Baskin-Robbins ice cream.”
    “Are you married, Morgan?” she asked, suddenly scared she’d slept with a married man.
    His mouth worked, and he turned and looked away for a second. “No. I’m not. I’m a widower.”
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I…” She didn’t know what to say, so she just shut up and picked up her water to take a sip she didn’t want.

    * * * *

    Morgan cursed himself for handling that wrong. He should have just come out and explained to her what happened so she would understand, but he couldn’t for the life of him talk about her right then. Maybe later he would be able to. Yes, it had been over a year, and yes, he had lost some of the bitterness over it, but he wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else right then.
    Thankfully the waitress chose that moment to show up and take their orders. He ordered a porterhouse steak medium in deference to her, in case the blood made her sick, and a baked potato. She ordered the chicken tenders, adult size, and French fries. Once the waitress was gone, the silence stretched between them. He felt like he should fill it with something, but couldn’t think of anything to talk about. As it was, she had something on her mind.
    “Tell me about your friends we are going to be riding with.”
    “Basically, they’re good guys. Some of them are a little rough around the edges, but you’ll get used to them. Just stay close to me. Um, they’re used to sharing,” he explained.
    “Sharing? Like women?” she asked, wide-eyed.
    “Yeah.”
    “Have you shared women with them before?” she asked.
    “Yeah, I have,” he admitted.
    She didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then shook her head. “Well, I’m not going to be shared, so don’t even think about it.”
    “Hell no, you’re not. You keep well away from everyone.” Just the idea of her talking to some of those guys bothered him. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to ride with them.
    “So, do you trust them?” she asked, oblivious to his second thoughts.
    “Yeah, for the most part. I’ll