bird into the pan, then glanced down at the wet spot on the front of his sweats. She followed his gaze and groaned.
“Sorry. I didn’t realize he was leaking.” She reached for a dish towel, made to approach him, then stopped and handed him the cloth.
Mark found himself wishing she’d offered to clean him up herself. He pushed the thought away as soon as it formed. No way was he going to get involved with another woman. Certainly not a neighbor. Hadn’t he learned his lesson?
He rubbed at the damp spot, then tossed the towel back to her. “How many are you planning to feed with that?”
She unzipped her jacket and hung it on the back of a light oak chair. Her kitchen table was white tile edged in oak, surrounded by four matching wood chairs. He noticed that while her kitchen was physically the mirror image of his, nothing about it looked the same. His battered cabinets were a shade of green somewhere between mold and avocado, while hers were white and looked freshly painted. A blue border print circled the walls just below the ceiling. Plants hung at the sides of the big window where lace curtains had been pulled back to let in the light. As their landlord was a hands-off kind of guy, Mark knew that Darcy had made the improvements herself.
Neither apartment had anything so modern as a dishwasher, which meant he mostly used paper and plastic, when he bothered to eat at home. Darcy had a metal dish drainer placed neatly by the sink. Several pots were stacked together, drying in the late afternoon.
He returned his attention to her only to realize she was avoiding his gaze. She shifted uncomfortably.
“There were supposed to be ten of us, including you,” she muttered, studying the toes of her boots. “It’s actually good news for Millie that she can’t make it. Her husband—soon to be ex-husband—ran off with some young girl. Millie’s been struggling ever since. Her folks invited her home for Thanksgiving. She’s hoping they can reconcile and that her parents will ask her to move home. She’s got three kids and desperately wants to finish her college degree so she can get a decent job. So it’s all for the best.”
He digested the information, wondering if he should ask who Millie was, then decided it didn’t matter. “So how many will there be now?”
She glanced at him. “Six. Millie has three kids.” She offered a bright smile. “I like having a lot of people around for the holidays. I try to find people like you—with nowhere to go, no family around. As I said before, it’s a tough time to be alone.”
Great. A table full of strays.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The movement drew his attention to her soft-looking blond curls and the way her sweater outlined a sweet pair of full breasts. He might have spent the past few months recovering from a couple of bullet wounds, but parts of him had never been injured. They chose that moment to remind him that a man had needs.
Blood flowed south with a speed and intensity that made him grit his teeth. Damn. Why did he have to notice Darcy was attractive? He’d managed to avoid that particular truth for the past couple of months they’d been neighbors.
“Where’s your family?” he asked, determined to ignore the pressure from his body. He willed away his desire.
“My folks died five years ago.”
He didn’t say anything. His parents had died, as well, but he wasn’t about to bond with her over the fact. He didn’t want anything in common with her. Was it just him, or was it hot in here?
“Can I get you something?” Darcy asked. “Tea? Cookies?”
“Made with whole-wheat flour and tofu? No thanks.”
She laughed. “While I do make the cookies myself, I promise I use very normal ingredients.”
“You probably consider tofu normal.”
“Not when I bake. Although I’ve used carob before, if that counts.”
He couldn’t begin to imagine what carob was. “I need to be getting back.”
She followed him to the door. “Thanks for helping me, Mark. I’m sure I could have wrestled Mr. Turkey inside myself but it was nice not have to mess with him.”
The top of her head didn’t even clear his shoulders. She looked innocent and wholesome. He had no business being here.
“Look, Darcy…”
He paused, not sure how to tell her he wouldn’t make it for Thanksgiving dinner. He wasn’t very social these days and he couldn’t imagine anything more torturous than eating with five people he didn’t know and didn’t want to know.
Her blue eyes stared at him, while the corners of her full mouth turned up slightly. She had perfect skin. Clear, pale and nearly luminous. But the worst of it was the complete trust in her eyes. He had a bad feeling that she’d never told a white lie, let alone a really soul-threatening one. He felt as if he was about to kick a puppy.
His shoulders slumped. “Do you want me to bring anything for Thursday? Like wine?”
“Wine would be nice. I know absolutely nothing about it.”
He nodded and left without looking at her. He didn’t want to see her smiling at him as though he’d just done something amazing.
After he entered his own apartment, he stretched his cooling muscles, then headed down the tiny hall. Once in his bathroom, he tugged off his T-shirt and the thermal shirt underneath. Bare chested, he stared into the mirror.
The scar from the bullet wound in his side was still red and thick. He probed at it, remembering how the doctors had told him he’d been lucky. A few millimeters toward the center and he would have lost a major organ or two. Sylvia had been aiming for his heart. As it was, he’d nearly bled to death. He bent down to massage his leg. That bullet wound didn’t give him nearly as much trouble as it had even a month ago.
When he’d been in the hospital, a lot of the guys from the precinct had come by to visit, most of them teasing him that bullet scars were a chick magnet. Somehow he couldn’t see a woman like Darcy cooing over his injuries. She’d probably take one look and pass out. Not that he planned on showing her anything.
He straightened and turned on the water, then pulled off the rest of his clothes. As he stepped into the steaming shower, he reminded himself that, however much he found Darcy attractive, he wasn’t about to go there. As he’d already learned the hard way, getting involved with a woman could be fatal.
Chapter Two
The great room at the Madison School was nearly forty feet square, with a huge rock fireplace in one wall. Half a dozen sofas formed conversation groups, while card tables set up around the perimeter of the room offered places to play different games. The high-beamed ceiling added to the open feel of the space. The smell of wood smoke mingled with the lingering scent of popcorn from last night’s snack.
Darcy sat on a sofa in the corner, her feet tucked under her, listening intently as her brother, Dirk, described everything he’d packed in his suitcase.
“I even remembered my brush and comb,” he said proudly.
Darcy’s heart swelled with love for him as she studied his
