A few more weeks and the nausea would ease because it couldn’t get any worse. And once her stomach was back under control—
As if on cue, her belly lurched again.
“You okay?” her boss asked from the open doorway.
Darcy pushed to her feet, lifting a hand to let the older woman know she was fine. Except the shrinking edges of the room hazing into sepia tones warned she wasn’t.
She tried to get a hand back to the table, but too quickly everything went loose and dark and down until there was only one thought left in her head…and that was the silent plea that her baby be okay.
* * *
Darcy woke slowly, her senses coming back online one at a time as she registered the hard mattress of the hospital bed beneath her, the dimmed overhead light and the deep rumble of a voice she hadn’t been expecting. One which shouldn’t have been coming from anywhere near her.
Jeff.
“…Dehydration, fatigue, low blood pressure, weight loss… No, they say both she and the baby will be all right, but there’s no way in hell I’m leaving without—”
She shifted in the bed, remembering too late about the needle threaded into her vein and letting out a short gasp when she put weight on it.
Whatever Jeff had been about to say, she missed and now the conversation was over. Jeff was suddenly in her room, filling up the small space with his enormous presence. Dropping his phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he crossed to her bed like he was going to slide into the open chair beside her. But instead, he reached for the call button and signaled the nurse before taking a step back. Fixing her with a serious look. “Do you need anything? How are you feeling?”
“Tired still, but, Jeff, you didn’t need to come. I told Charlie, they just wanted me to get some fluids and an antinaus—”
“You told me you were fine.” It wasn’t exactly accusation she was getting off him, but the intensity was like a palpable thing. “I spoke to your doctor already and hyperemesis gravidarum can be dangerous and severe. You are not fine, Darcy.”
Guilt washed over her in a wave. She’d thought it was just morning sickness in an all-day, extended package, which she’d heard was normal, too. Though she’d planned to speak to her doctor at her next checkup about the extremity of it, she’d had no idea her body had begun turning against her, threatening what she’d been struggling to protect.
“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad. I don’t own a scale so I didn’t know how much weight I’d lost. My clothes fit a little differently, loose, but I’d heard lots of people lose weight early on.” She felt a burning pressure at the backs of her eyes and blinked to defend against the emotions trying to slip free.
She was supposed to be the one who took her responsibilities seriously and made the right decisions. She was supposed to be able to count on herself. Her child’s life depended on it.
She swallowed and looked up at Jeff.
The man who was all laughter and easy good times hadn’t shown up at her bedside. This Jeff was serious. No-nonsense. And he was here because the woman responsible for protecting his child hadn’t even realized she was at risk of failing.
This Jeff had every reason for making an appearance. If the tables were turned, she’d be looking at him the same way.
“Jeff, I’m sorry.”
He nodded, but the look in his eyes was hard. “Here’s the deal, Darcy. I know you’re tough and I know you’re independent. But I’m uncomfortable with you alone like this. From what I understand, it was a fluke your boss happened to be walking by when you passed out. You work in isolation for hours at a stretch. Take public transportation home alone to the apartment you don’t share with anyone else. You don’t have anyone here looking out for you, so what I’m asking, is does it really make sense for you to still be up here?”
She looked down at her hands, at the plastic tube snaking its way up her arm, feeling more alone in that moment than she could ever remember feeling before.
“I’ve got a job here, Jeff.”
He stepped closer to the bed, and after a pause, dropped into the chair beside her. His hand moved to her belly and rested there for a beat. “You’ve got our baby in here. And he’s kicking your butt. Come back with me and I’ll take care of you. We’ll get through this together. You don’t have to be on your own.”
Darcy couldn’t take her eyes off the sight of his hand against her stomach, couldn’t think about anything but the heat radiating from his touch and how good it felt, when nothing had felt good, since the last time—the first time—he’d put his hands on her.
Which she couldn’t think about. Not like this. Not with him touching her in a way that was so totally not about her at all, but about the child they shared together. About his concern.
Jeff cleared his throat. “We could get married.”
Darcy stiffened. “We don’t even know each other.”
“I don’t mean permanently. Just until the baby is born, so he’d be legitimate.”
The breath leaked from her lungs, as she shook her head, trying to ignore that pinch of disappointment there was no justification for. “Legitimacy isn’t any reason to get married, Jeff.”
“I know. Forget it.” Jeff let out an impatient growl, pulled his hand away and then ran it through the mess of his hair going on as if he hadn’t dropped that bomb. “You’re determined to work?”
He couldn’t understand, but he needed to accept it. “Yes.”
“Fine.” He stood, stared down at the spot where his hand had been and nodded.
Then heading for the door, he looked back with a frown. “I actually know of a position that might be the perfect fit.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“YOU LOW-DOWN, DIRTY liar,” Darcy accused, her color looking better than Jeff had seen it since Vegas.
Catching the finger she was jabbing into his chest with a gentle hand, he eased her back into the deep leather seat of the limo and clarified. “I never lied.”
Omitted, evaded and manipulated? Yes.
Definitely.
But he’d taken one look at her lying in that hospital bed, and decided the moral hit was one he’d gladly take to ensure he got Darcy out of San Francisco and down to L.A. where he could make certain she was getting what she needed.
“False pretenses, Jeff,” she hissed, her head working like a spindle as she shot nervous looks out one window after another as they rolled through the immaculately manicured upscale neighborhood of Beverly Hills.
“I told you, it was a part-time position as a personal assistant—”
“Oh,
