or something from having to rush away for my stomach, she always has some fantastic story about you to make me feel better.”
Jeff’s brow shot up, his ego taking a stretch and pulling him forward to hear more. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, like the time you got into the caterer’s stash of dessert toppers and then got sick in the pool.”
He slumped back. “No.”
Not exactly the tales of heroism and maternal adoration he’d been banking on.
Darcy pointed the freshly cleaned tines at him. “Yeah. Her thinking is, it’s only fair you share in the humiliation once in a while, too.”
“I’m almost afraid to ask, but how often are you still getting sick?”
There was a wicked glint in Darcy’s eyes as she answered. “Often.”
Jeff reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Then I can say with the utmost sincerity, I hope you get past this soon.”
She looked him up and down and then closed her eyes, laughing. “I’ll bet you do.”
* * *
She was so glad he’d come. Glad to the point where there was no choice but to acknowledge Jeff’s little baby had been working her over good with the hormones.
Twice she’d felt the inexplicable push of tears at the back of her eyes. The first, when she realized halfway through her third slice of cake she was too full to eat any more, and the second when, at her request, Jeff had pulled his favorite trophy down and told her he had absolutely no idea why he favored it, and then after a shrug, stuck it back on the shelf.
Yes, the hormones were having their way with her for sure. Which was reassuring in that it gave her something to blame for other inexplicable reactions. Like every time she got within breathing distance of Jeff. All it took was the barest hint of his clean masculine scent and everything within her started to whir. He smelled better than box mix, but thankfully she’d exercised more restraint with the man than she had with the butter recipe.
As a result they’d been talking comfortably on the back terrace by the pool for more than an hour, Jeff answering whatever questions he could for her. Occasionally asking one himself—though in truth, Darcy didn’t have very much to share about her own youth. If he asked whether she’d participated in some traditional all-American kind of activity, the answer was typically no. The explanation always the same. They hadn’t had the money for team sports, camps or after school programs. Of course there had been more to it, but Jeff didn’t need to know about those details. All that mattered was their child’s life would be more like his than hers. This baby would be happy, loved and wanted.
They’d hit on the topic of school a few moments ago, and now Jeff leaned back in the terrace chair that looked more like it belonged in a showroom than outside by the pool. His long legs were extended out in front of him, his ankles crossed, hands folded behind his head as he stared up into the night sky.
“I don’t know, Darcy. The boarding school thing was something both my parents agreed on. It’s an experience I value. But with you barely halfway through the pregnancy, I don’t really know whether it’s something I’d want for him or her or not. To me this little guy’s personality, drive and temperament will play pretty heavily into my position.” His gaze locked with hers. “But whatever we decide, we’ll decide together.”
It had been the unofficial theme of their discussion for the night. That they were in this together. Not in a relationship way, but as far as working at keeping communication between them strong.
She nodded, letting him see the gratitude and appreciation in her eyes. “I believe you.”
A breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees around the grounds and then caught a few loose strands of Darcy’s hair, blowing them across her face. Tucking them behind her ear, she glanced up to find Jeff watching her with a look she couldn’t read.
Suddenly self-conscious, she asked, “What?”
He waved her off.
“Nothing. It’s late is all.” He braced his hands on the armrests of his chair and pushed to stand. “You ought to get some rest and I’ve got to drive back.”
Taking her hand, he helped her to her feet.
They walked back toward the house and, reaching the door, Jeff stopped. “I’ll say good night here. Sleep in tomorrow, will you?”
At Darcy’s rolled eyes, he flashed her one of those devastating grins that ought to require a special license the way he wielded it. “Come on, so I don’t worry about you.”
No question, this guy knew how to get what he wanted. “I’ll do my best.”
Satisfied, he leaned in—probably to drop a kiss on her cheek—only as he neared, the rich masculine scent that had been playing with her senses and control all night caught her off guard. Her eyes closed and her head turned toward him as she drew a deep breath through her nose.
Whoa—what the heck was she doing?
Her eyes popped wide, and there was Jeff, inches away, a darkening scowl underscoring his confusion.
Immediately, she took a step away to put more distance between them, but caught a heel on the edge of the walk.
Jeff’s hand was there in an instant, guiding her back the way she’d come. Then closer. Until she was looking up into his face, their bodies only a breath away from contact.
This close there was no getting away from how good he smelled. Her heart was pounding, her breath coming too fast.
“Darcy?”
She shook her head. Trying to figure out exactly what to say when the truth—that she’d lost control and he’d, yes, just caught her going in for a whiff of him or whatever the cheap-feel equivalent would be for smelling someone up. This was so low.
“Honey?” His hold tightened as concern put an urgent edge to his voice. “Are you okay?”
She blinked. Okay? And then realization…she had an out here. Only her conscience pricked at the idea of passing off blame on her baby for her moment of weakness.
No, on second thought, she could definitely live with herself.
Raising a hand to her temple, she offered a weak shrug. “I think maybe I’m a little more worn-out than I realized. A little light-headed is all.”
The muscles of Jeff’s throat worked up and down… and then before she realized what was happening, the man had her scooped into his arms.
“Jeff!” she squeaked, gripping his shirt as he shouldered his way in through the terrace door.
“I’ll get you into bed and call Grant to come over.”
“Jeff, no,” she started and he stopped midstride to look down at her.
“Is it bad?” But before she could answer his attention seemed to have shifted inward and then he turned around, ready to carry her back out the door they’d just come through. “We’ll
