Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell (5 page)

“About?”

“What it must have been like growing up at your house.”

Huh?
She rolled onto her side, staring at his barely perceptible silhouette through the darkness. “Why would you think about that?”

She felt his shrug more than saw it.

“I liked your family.”

He did? Why did that cause happy bubbles to dance in her belly? Until that moment she hadn't admitted to herself how much she'd hoped Blake had liked her family.

“They liked you, too. Even if my brothers didn't know quite what to think of me bringing home a city boy.”

He shifted, and she expected him to roll over and go to sleep. Instead his hand clasped hers, lacing their fingers in a warm hold that she guessed was supposed to be friendly.
Friendly
didn't cover the excited tingles working their way through her body, starting somewhere in the pit
of her belly and radiating outward, sensitizing every cell along the way.

“Tell me about them.”

“My brothers?” She didn't move, just lay in the bed, acutely aware of his presence, acutely aware of the fact that for the dozenth time that day he held her hand and each time he'd thrown her heart into a tailspin of longing.

“Yes.”

Her brothers. Where did she start? “John and I were always the closest when I lived at home. Probably because he's the youngest of the boys and only a year older than me,” she began, tugging her pillow down a bit with her free hand. “But since Jim and Rosy married, I see them most often. They usually come up twice a year to go to a football game, and they never miss the Tennessee/Alabama game.”

Long into the night, they talked. She told him about her family, life on the farm, about her favorite pets while growing up. At any point she grew silent he'd ask another question, and Darby would let more of her life spill into the darkness, thinking perhaps Blake had really hypnotized her with his music. Or maybe the darkness made her feel safe in sharing so much. Otherwise she'd never be lying in bed with the sexiest man she'd ever known, holding his hand and telling him all about her crazy but lovable family, and her rather ordinary childhood, growing up on a farm, that seemed to fascinate him.

 

Mmm, something smelled good. Still half-asleep, Blake breathed in a deeper inhalation.

Soft, flowery, elegant, feminine.

Something felt good, too.

He shifted slightly against the warm body curled spoon-fashion with his.

In the way one does when first awakening, he became aware of his body, of the way the soft body melted against him, her legs curled against his, of the way his arm snaked around her waist, her arm lying over his, of how his palm cupped her breast through too much material.

Her head was tucked beneath his chin and the alluring scent he'd smelled was a mixture of her shampoo and her own seductive fragrance.

She fit perfectly against him, his much larger body framing hers protectively, possessively.

Not opening his eyes, he kissed the top of her head, worked his way down to nuzzle her neck, her ears. Damn, she tasted good.

Better than French fries.

Better than Darby's mom's banana pudding.

Darby.

He was nibbling on Darby's earlobe.

He opened his eyes, expecting her to be awake, expecting her to lash into him and tell him exactly where he could go for taking advantage of her.

He couldn't see her face, but could tell she was still asleep by her even breathing.

But even in sleep she wasn't immune to what he'd been doing. When he stopped, she snuggled into him, tightened her buttocks against him, making him bite back a groan of pleasure and need, making him want to strip off her pajama bottoms and feel her silky skin glide against him, her female to his male in all the wonders of what made the world go round.

Which was all wrong.

He shouldn't want Darby.

Only he did, naked and beneath him, moaning his name in pleasure, wrapping her legs around his waist and meeting each thrust of his body into hers with an enthusiasm that matched his own.

He tried to tell himself that his desire was due purely to circumstances—that he'd want any attractive woman he woke up wrapped around, especially one who smelled so seductive.

He laid his head back on his pillow. A man's subconscious was hell. It caused him to ignore things he didn't want to acknowledge, like what he'd wanted to do since seeing her drop those naughty undies into the drawer. But it was more than sexy lingerie. It was the woman next to him. He liked her, enjoyed her company, her wit, her intelligence, her smile, the way she challenged him to be a better man, a better doctor.

All reasons why he wouldn't seduce her. Their relationship was more special to him than giving in to sexual need. Even sexual need as paramount as what currently ailed him.

Stirring, she turned, snuggled closer, tucking her head into the crook of his shoulder, wrapping her arm over his waist and running her fingers along his belly to settle just above the waistband of his boxers.

Ah,
hell
. He should get up, take a shower—a cold shower—anything to remove himself from the tempting lair he lay in.

But he didn't want to climb out of bed. Not yet.

Without moving his head, so as not to disturb her, he glanced toward the clock. It was still early. They'd talked way into the night and would have another late night with
her reunion. He'd just let her sleep for a while longer—would pretend she wasn't who she was and that it was okay that he'd liked waking next to her more than he should have.

If not for his raging arousal that wouldn't—couldn't—be acted upon, waking next to Darby, lying with her like this, was nice.

Closing his eyes, breathing in her intoxicating fragrance, he lay next to her, willing his body under control and telling himself that any man who woke next to a beautiful woman would be reacting exactly the same way.

His mind and heart didn't race because the woman he held was Darby.

 

Without opening her eyes, Darby knew she was in trouble. She was wrapped around Blake like the candy shell coating on her favorite chocolate treat.

How had that happened? Obviously she'd gotten cold during the night and her body had gone in search of heat.

And Blake was heat of the hottest kind.

He was lying on his back with her cradled against him, and delicious heat radiated from the smooth skin of his chest.

And her hand.

Dear Lord, her hand was at his waist.

Not on
him
, but darn near close!

Hoping he was sound asleep, she lifted one eyelid and glanced into dark-as-sin eyes.

He was awake, and staring at her as if he wanted to see inside her head.

He
knew
she'd virtually attacked his body during the night.

“Um, sorry.” Was that croaking noise really her voice? “Apparently I got cold.” Trying not to appear as rattled as
she was, she attempted to disentangle herself. “You make a good heater.”

You make a good heater?
What kind of stupid comment was that? Could she please just pull the covers over her head and never come out?

“Glad to be of service,” he teased, sounding quite normal and as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, that he hadn't just wakened with her body trying to be the icing on his cake.

He wasn't going to make a big deal out of her
faux pas
. Thank goodness. Then again, he probably woke with women wrapped around his fine body all the time.

Darby didn't. Hadn't ever. Despite the fact she'd had a few boyfriends, she didn't do sleepovers. Ever. Each time she got close, old doubts stopped her, making her question motives, making her lose all desire to risk her heart.

But who could blame her body for getting as close as possible to a six-foot-two hunk in the flesh? Especially when that flesh held the soul of a man she was willing to risk giving her heart to?

“Do you want the bathroom first?” she offered, hoping she sounded casual. She glanced toward the clock. Almost ten. They'd slept much later than she usually did. Much later than Blake slept too, since he usually went for a run in the mornings prior to his hospital rounds.

The picnic started at eleven.

In an hour she'd face her high school nemesis and the boy she'd once planned to give her virginity to. She'd be alongside a man pretending to love her and doing such a great job he'd thrown her internal circuits off kilter and was
feeding her dreams of what it would be like to really be loved by him, both physically and emotionally.

Enough so that she'd almost throw caution to the wind and take whatever kind of relationship Blake would give.

A quickie relationship would cause everything between them to sour. But what if he really could fall in love with her? What if they could be both business partners and lovers?

“Let me go, real quick, then the bathroom is all yours.”

Quick. Quickie. Heat burned her face. Had he really just said “quick”?

She tried not to look as he slid out from beneath the sheet. More and more of his flawless chest and abdomen were exposed. She tried to tear her eyes away from the arrow of dark hair that disappeared beneath his boxers.

Boxer briefs. She'd thought his waistband had been to pajama bottoms or shorts. “You wore underwear to bed?”

She'd slept with Blake. In his underwear. When she'd awakened she'd known there weren't many barriers between their bodies, had felt his hairy legs tangled with her smoothly shaven ones, but she'd thought he'd been wearing more than his underwear.

Stretching his arms over his head, drawing attention to the lean planes of his body, he lifted a dark brow. “Is that a problem?”

How dared he look so hot first thing in the morning? She'd wanted to see him ruffled, but she hadn't meant like this, with sleep softening his expression, his hair sexily tousled, his body barely covered with brief cotton boxers that left little to her imagination.

“Yes, it's a problem! You're not wearing underwear to
bed tonight. Not if you expect me to be in that bed with you. Got it?”

His lips twitched with amusement. “Okay. If you insist. I wouldn't have last night if I'd known how you felt.”

Scowling, Darby crossed her arms over her breasts, trying to hide her body's reaction to his stretch, to his near nakedness, to his comment that she knew was only his usual teasing.

“That's not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Hey.” He put his hands up in mock surrender. “I was just trying to follow orders. You know I like it when you're all Darby bossy.”

“Fine, let's see how you do with
this
Darby bossy. Hurry up in the bathroom, because as you can tell—” she gestured to her make-up-free face and sleep-mussed hair “—I've a lot of work to do before we go to that picnic, and I don't want to be late.”

Why miss a single moment of reminiscing over the most humiliating time of her life, with the man of her dreams there to watch?

M
ANDY
C
OULSON
wasn't what Blake had expected.

She was petite, blonde, curvy, brown-eyed, and had a friendly smile that appeared genuine.

From the way Darby acted each time her name was mentioned, he'd been looking for horns and a pitchfork.

However, when she glanced toward Darby something did shift in her gaze. Something Blake couldn't completely read. Guilt? Regret? Anger? Resentment? Or maybe Mandy wasn't looking at Darby at all, but rather the man chatting with her.

Trey Nix.

Blake stood a little taller, held his head a little higher. And attempted not to spy on where Darby talked to the man whom she blushed at with every other word he said.

Damn it.
Blake
was the only man she blushed for. Didn't she know that?

He hadn't realized until that moment, but it was true.
Darby didn't blush at any time except when he teased her as he had this morning.

She'd blushed like crazy when he'd climbed out of bed.

But she was also blushing right now, while smiling at something a man from her past said while he looked at her as if he'd like to take a big bite of her future.

Who was the guy, and what had their relationship been?

Based on what little Darby had said, on what her family had alluded to the night before, he'd guess they'd been romantically involved and Darby had been hurt.

“How long have you and Darby been together?” Mandy asked, glancing toward where Darby spoke with Trey. Her brown eyes narrowed at the talking couple.

No doubt about it. There had been a love triangle between the three of them.

Also glancing toward where the tall man flirted with Darby, Blake didn't like the direction his brain was taking him, nor the fact that looking at her blushing for another man made him feel caught up in a triangle of his own.

Which was crazy.

He and Darby didn't feel that way about each other. Even if going to sleep holding her hand and waking next to her had been unexpected pleasures.

“We met in medical school. The moment I saw her I wanted her.”

He said the words as part of his madly-in-love-with-her role, but hearing the confession out loud sent cold chills over his body.

He
had
wanted Darby the moment he saw her.

He had been denying that want for years, because she wanted different things from life than he did, but the want
was there all the same. It had definitely been front and center this morning, when he'd awakened holding her, wanting to do much more than that.

“She's a lucky girl.”

Mandy's words had Blake's gaze returning to the woman, but only for a second. He didn't like how Nix had backed Darby against the widest tree Blake had ever seen, how his hand rested above her shoulder and he leaned in while talking to her.

More than that, he hated how Darby looked at the man, with rosy color high on her cheeks. Had she forgotten she'd arrived with him? That they were supposed to be together?

Pretending to be in love or not, no woman he arrived with was going to flirt with another man during their date. Hell, no.

“Excuse me.”

Without waiting for Mandy's response, he went to interrupt Darby's tête-à-tête with the past.

 

Darby leaned back against the wide base of the oldest oak tree in Armadillo Lake. The rough bark digging through her clothing, she regarded the man who'd once devastated her teenaged heart.

“You grew up to be one fine-looking woman.” Trey grinned at her, his green eyes twinkling just as they always had.

He hadn't gained fifty pounds, lost his sandy-blond hair, nor lost the good-looks that had won more hearts than just her naïve teenaged one. Other than the more pronounced crinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, he looked like the same old Trey, sounded like the same old Trey. The only
thing that had changed was that he didn't elicit the same old heart-fluttering meltdown in her chest that he once had.

She didn't feel anything for him except anger that he'd treated her so shabbily all those years ago. Anger that burned her cheeks, made her curl her fingers into her palms to keep from slugging his grinning face.

His grin was all wrong, and it didn't reach his eyes—eyes that were the wrong color. His grin didn't lift his laugh lines just so, didn't make her want to smile back.

Not like the man she'd awakened with this morning—the man who did put her fluttering heart into meltdown in ways Trey never had, not even during the heyday of her high school crush.

Not like the man who was now chatting up Mandy.
How could he?

She smiled up at Trey with more enthusiasm than she felt. “Um, thanks.”

“Everyone was wondering if you'd be here.” He rubbed his knuckles across her cheek.

“They were?” Nothing. He was touching her and nothing was happening. No flutters. No silly schoolgirl giggles in response to his attention. No desire to have him take her into his arms and kiss the fire out of her. No desire to hold his hand and talk long into the night.
What was Blake talking with Mandy about? Why was Mandy smiling?

“Yeah.” He grinned again. “They were taking bets down at the Piggly Wiggly.”

Heat flooding her cheeks, Darby's gaze shot to Trey. She blinked. “Bets?”

“On whether or not you'd show. High school doesn't exactly have good memories for you.”

He'd played the star role in those bad memories. For years she'd carried a crush for him, had dreamed of him noticing her, and when he had his attention had merely been to get back at Mandy.

“High school was a long time ago.” Just look how much smarter she was these days. Then again, considering who her heart pitter-pattered for these days, maybe she wasn't nearly as smart as she'd like to think. “Besides—” she forced a smile to her face “—the reunion was an excuse to bring Blake home to meet my parents.”

His eyes momentarily darkening, Trey's grin kicked up a notch. “You could invite
me
to visit with your folks sometime. It's been a while since I've seen them. Your Mom still the best cook in town?”

“Yes, she is—and perhaps you've forgotten, but the last time I invited you it didn't go so well.”

“I was young.” He laughed, as if his explanation made everything okay. He reached out, cupped her jaw, and stared down at her. “If I'd been half as smart as you were, I'd have held on to you.”

“Obviously you weren't that smart—but I am.” Blake took Darby's hand. Unmindful of how close Trey stood, he pulled her to him, knocking the other man's arm away with the force of his tug.

Darby blinked at the menacing way Blake glared at Trey, at the possessiveness in his dark eyes when they shifted to her.

It took her a moment to recall he was just playing a role, that he was fulfilling his “crazy about her” part. That he wasn't really jealous.

With that, Blake's head lowered, his mouth brushing over hers in what could only be called a staking-his-claim kiss.

His kiss wasn't gentle, wasn't a caress.

His kiss was a branding of his mouth against hers—a kiss meant to say she belonged to him and none other.

Darby's heart pitter-pattered.

No, that wasn't a pitter-patter. That wild beat was a thunderstorm, a horrendous onslaught on her senses, complete with lightning and thunder and raindrops that pierced her soul.

She let her fingers thread into his hair, tangle in the silky locks, pulling him closer, loving the solid strength of his body against hers. Her mouth opened and his tongue thrust inside, imprinting her with his kiss, stamping her as belonging to him.

Dear sweet heaven, she'd never been kissed so thoroughly and completely and all-consumingly. Blake kissed her as if she really was his, as if he really was ticked that another man had been making moves on her. As if he'd fight to keep her at his side. He was kissing her as if he wanted her, loved her.

The way she'd dreamed of being kissed by him.

Only he was faking.

She knew it, and so did he.

That knowledge gave her the power to pull away, the power to smile at Trey and give Blake an annoyed look.

“Blake, please, we're at a family picnic.” Unsteady, she placed her palm against his chest, surprised to find his heart doing a rapid pitter-patter of its own. Still, she pushed against him, trying to establish space between their bodies.

His gaze narrowed, his thumb raked across his lips, removing the last trace of her lipstick. His eyes never left hers, never lost their steely possessiveness, never lost the
dark swirls of desire that looked so real they took her breath away.

“Let's ditch the picnic and go back to the hotel, Darby.”

“Just for the record,” Trey drawled, leaning against the tree and watching them, “I'm a lot smarter these days.”

Darby's gaze cut to him. She hadn't even remembered he was there. She blinked, sure she must still be asleep and having some weird dream.

Maybe when she woke up she wouldn't want to take up Blake's pretend offer to head back to the hotel. Because at this moment she wanted to. For real.

If she believed he was sincere, they'd be out of there.

Having followed Blake, Mandy stepped up beside them. “Good for you, Darby. I'm glad you've met such a great guy and won't die a virgin, after all.”

Heat burning her cheeks, Darby rolled her eyes, sure Mandy meant the words as some type of dig, knowing Mandy had meant her to be embarrassed in front of Blake.

Blake's forehead wrinkled with a frown, his gaze going back and forth between Mandy and Darby. “What's she talking about? Dying a virgin?”

“Nothing, really.” Mandy laughed, the sound sparkly. “Just one of those silly ‘most likely'predictions kids make.”

“Most likely?”

Mandy smiled. “Darby's was…”

Darby opened her mouth, tried to speak, tried to stop Mandy from saying it out loud, but words wouldn't come from Darby's mouth. Mandy's mouth had no such problems.

“Most likely to die a virgin.”

Would the ground please open up and swallow her? Or lightning strike the tree and drop a branch onto Darby,
knocking her senseless? Either would work. Just so long as she didn't have to look into Blake's eyes and see the pity there, see the realization that she'd been a loser in high school.

Blake's arm snaked around Darby's waist, keeping her close. “I can put that ridiculous prediction to rest.”

“We noticed.” Mandy giggled, fanning her tanned face. Her brown eyes twinkled at Blake. “If the thermometer wasn't reading over a hundred before, it is now. That was some kiss.”

Mandy was right. The temperature must be triple digit, because Darby was melting from Blake's heat. His arm burned through her thin clothes, making her sweat.

“That kiss was nothing,” he promised, making her wonder if he'd read her mind. “Not compared to what Darby and I share. She'll die a well-loved woman.” He stared down at her, his eyes sparkling like gleaming black onyx. “As long as there's breath in my body, I'll see to that.”

Darby stared at Blake in awe.

She could kiss him.

Not just because Mandy's jaw had dropped, not because Trey looked at him with something akin to envy, not because he'd just single-handedly saved her face over the past humiliations she'd suffered, but because in that moment, when he looked at her, she believed him.

Which was exactly why she needed to make sure she never kissed Blake again.

Because none of this was real.

Not his kiss, his looks, or his words.

Because Blake was faking and she was the idiot who'd asked him to. The idiot who had to keep reminding her
self that none of this was real, no matter how much she wished it were.

She'd set a dangerous game into play, having Blake pretend to love her. A game she wasn't sure she could continue.

 

Thirty minutes later, Blake wondered if the people of Armadillo Lake were too blind to see the person Blake saw. Their lack of vision had damaged Darby's self-confidence in ways he hadn't realized.

But how could he have? She'd always come across as so together. So self-assured. So confident in who she was.

Only here, in a place that stripped her of the armor she'd so carefully shielded herself with, did he see the vulnerability in her eyes. The need to belong, to be accepted, to show that, despite whatever had happened in her past, she was somebody worthy, both then and now.

Darby had something to prove, and he couldn't help but wonder if that need went far beyond making a statement with an impressive “date”.

He wanted her, caught glimpses of desire in her eyes, had felt her desire in their kiss, but did she really feel desire for him? Or just gratitude for his role this weekend?

“Blake, are you going to play softball with us?” she called, from where she stood with a couple of females who wore friendly faces and seemed to genuinely be glad to see Darby. He'd liked the women—their husbands, too.

“Maybe he doesn't want to get his city-boy butt whooped by a bunch of country boys.”

Trey Nix he didn't like.

Had Darby really had a relationship with that strutting
buffoon? Former high school star quarterback or not, the guy was a self-absorbed loser. One who'd taken a look at present-day Darby and decided to make up for lost time.

Over Blake's dead body.

He hadn't played softball ever, but he'd once been a hell of a Little League baseball pitcher. Too bad they'd moved away near the end of the season, cheating him out of sure tournament victory. After his third unfinished season due to frequent moves Blake had opted not to play another organized sport, but he had played the occasional pick-up game at the fancy prep school he'd attended.

He wasn't sure that would keep him from getting his butt whooped, but even if he'd never gripped a bat before he wouldn't back down from the challenge in Nix's eyes.