Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell. Janice Lynn
before.”
“Apparently I’m still a city boy at heart,” he admitted unashamedly. “From the car is as up close and personal as I want to get to a barn of any type. Especially one as foul as what we smelt earlier.”
“Foul?” Shaking her head at his double entendre, Darby laughed again. Just as well she wasn’t planning to take him with her when she dropped in on her folks tonight.
Her stomach jerked again. No doubt her brothers and their wives would start pushing for her to move home. They always did. Her family hadn’t been able to understand why she’d been so driven to leave Armadillo Lake, to get her degree and make something of herself, to see the world. They especially hadn’t understood when her plans to join a traveling medical program had taken a one-eighty turn and she’d stayed in Knoxville.
Then again, they’d never met Blake.
“What were you thinking about that made you scowl?”
She should have known he wouldn’t let her change the subject. He rarely did.
“About the reunion.”
He glanced away from the road just long enough for her gaze to meet the mirrored lenses that hid his eyes. He shook his head in confusion. “Most people look forward to high school reunions, to catching up with their old classmates, seeing who married who, who has the most kids, who gained forty pounds, who still has their hair.”
“Yeah, well.” She turned to stare out the window at the growing all too familiar landscape, her belly lurching. “I’m not most people, City Boy.”
“That you’re not.” He chuckled, then surprised her by reaching across the gap between their seats and taking her hand into his.
Clasping their fingers together, he squeezed.
Her belly gave another jolt, a much larger one than before, and she faced him.
“No worries, Darby. Whatever it is that has you wound so tightly about this weekend, everything is going to be fine. You’re going to dazzle all your old classmates with your intelligence, success, beauty, and especially with your impressive date.” Smiling, he briefly dipped his head, glancing at her from above the rim of his shades. His black eyes bored into her. “I promise.”
The warmth emanating from Blake’s hand to hers almost made her believe everything would be all right concerning the reunion—that every fantasy she’d ever had of returning to Armadillo Lake and making everyone eat armadillo…er…crow, would come true.
Regarding the way every single cell in her body surged to life at how his hand still held hers, at how much she liked his hand holding hers, at how many hopes she had pinned to their spending the weekend together—well, that was another matter altogether.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR the dozenth time since they’d arrived at the Armadillo Lake Lodge, Darby stared at the queen-sized bed monopolizing the standard hotel room.
“Forget it,” Blake warned, stepping next to her. His hands rested on his lean hips as he stared at the bed, too. “I’m not sleeping in a chair.”
He thought she wanted him out of the bed? What would he say if she admitted to having been imagining the two of them there? To wondering what it would be like to spend the entire weekend in bed with him? Laughing, playing…something more…?
He’d probably laugh and tell her to be serious.
She sighed, shaking the bottle of fruity disinfectant she’d sprayed onto the top of the gaudy brown and orange comforter that likely had been in use since the lodge had first opened.
“I didn’t say you had to sleep in a chair.”
If they didn’t share the bed, news would spread like wildfire. This was Armadillo Lake. Everyone knew everyone’s business. After cleaning the room, Gertrude Johnson would no doubt spill the juicy tidbit to anyone who’d listen. The Johnsons had run the only hotel within a thirty-mile radius for as long as Darby could remember. If not for the tearoom that served as the town’s only “nice” restaurant, and the large ballroom that hosted all major town events, the place would likely have gone out of business years ago. Armadillo Lake didn’t attract many tourists.
Just unsuspecting women returning for their high school reunion while trying to convince the man of her dreams that she was the woman of his dreams. No biggie.
She turned to look at him. Despite their six-hour drive, he looked crisp. Not a wrinkle on the gorgeous man’s khaki shorts that fell to just above his knees, nor on his expensive polo shirt. Just once she’d like to see him rumpled.
Her gaze shot back to the bed.
Okay, so she wanted to rumple him and rumple him thoroughly. More than once. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?
She swallowed.
She had to quit this fantasy stuff. Blake was here to help her. If their near proximity helped him see her as a female, then so be it—but she didn’t plan to throw herself at him. Either Blake wanted a relationship with her or he didn’t.
Her gaze fell on the bed again.
“The bed’s plenty big for the both of us. We’ll share.” She narrowed her eyes to what she hoped were menacing slits. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”
“Dibs on the top side.”
“Fine, you can have that top side, and I’ll take this top side.” She pointed to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom for herself.
“That wasn’t exactly what I meant.” He laughed, watching her lift the comforter and spray disinfectant between the sheets and on the underside of the comforter. “You’re the only person I know who disinfects hotel room beds.”
Darby shrugged. She wasn’t exactly a germ-a-phobe. But she’d seen one too many television specials about what crawled around in hotel room beds not to come prepared, and she always brought her own pillow.
“Here.” She tossed the spray bottle to him. “You’re a big boy. Disinfect your own side.”
Catching the bottle, he grinned. She turned to unpacking her clothes. Holding her breath, she pulled a black lacy number from her suitcase and dropped it into the drawer she’d also disinfected.
She glanced up in time to see Blake’s gaze following her movements as she dropped another pair of tiny panties into the drawer.
His feet shifted. He swallowed. He tugged on the collar of his polo shirt.
When his gaze met hers, Darby had no doubts.
If this weekend accomplished nothing else, Blake had just realized she was a woman.
A woman who had a predilection for fancy undergarments.
In that moment, Blake wanted her.
She’d wanted him always.
Now what? Could her fantasies become realities, or would her hopes only lead to disaster?
Still fighting his reaction to the skimpy silk scraps Darby had pulled from her suitcase, Blake hung his clothes in the hotel room’s tiny closet.
All these years he’d never known she had a penchant for sexy lingerie.
But why would he have known? They didn’t have that type of relationship. Not one where they discussed boxers or briefs, granny whites or spidery webs of black silk. They were business partners—and he’d be a wise man to remember that instead of wondering how that tangled lace would look hugging her bottom.
The sound of something falling to the bathroom floor was followed by Darby mumbling something he couldn’t make out through the closed door.
Pausing at the closet, he eyed his suit, hanging side-by-side