That Wild Night: Waking Up Pregnant / The Best Mistake of Her Life. Aimee Carson
house and if she was going to be bullheaded about the damn job thing, accepting the make-believe position of his mother’s assistant.
Which meant getting her to settle down in the next thirty seconds before they reached the turnoff for his house.
“Couple things we need to get straight, Darcy. Here’s what I know. You’ve got your G.E.D., have a clean credit history, no criminal record, pay your own rent on time every time and until the past three months when you ran into some unexpected health issues, have had an exemplary work record. You don’t fool around with customers…except that once, and you don’t appear to do much dating. None of which is going to matter to my mother at all. The only thing she cares about is you are going to have her grandchild. That and someone else is going to be confirming the floral arrangements for her luncheon next week.”
When she just stared at him, he stared right back. “You’re the mother of my child. So yeah, I did a web search on you.”
“All that came up?” she asked quietly, her brows inching up in a way that had the corners of his mouth twitching.
“No. It didn’t. Now, stop putting yourself down. I don’t like it.”
The car pulled to a stop at the foot of the flared stone stairs leading to the front door.
Darcy shot a tentative look toward the house. “It’s not like that’s the way I see myself,” she said quietly. “But I just don’t know how someone who hasn’t even met me yet could see anything else. And I don’t want—If I’m living under the same roof—”
Jeff reached across the car and took her hand. “It won’t be.”
And the reason why, had just flung open the front door.
* * *
Darcy’s heart began to thump, as Mrs. Norton, decked out in formfitting yoga gear and a disheveled ponytail, jogged down the stairs with a beaming smile and wide wave.
“Older?” she asked Jeff incredulously, wondering whether his father should have served time for taking a child bride. The woman couldn’t be fifty.
Helping her out of the car, he answered, “She’s older than we are.”
“Jeffrey! Darling, it’s so good to see you,” Mrs. Norton said, opening her arms wide to pull her six-foot-something son into her diminutive embrace. Then just as quickly as she’d pulled him in, she pushed him back, redirecting her focus on Darcy. Eyes that were the same warm hazel as Jeff’s met hers as she held out a hand in welcome. “Darcy, thank God you’ve agreed to help me. This couldn’t be more ideal. I was absolutely desperate and now we have the perfect opportunity to get to know each other. Ooh, I want to throw my arms around you, but Jeff would probably dive between us to protect you from my overzealous embrace. He’s twitchy about you. If you haven’t figured it out already.”
Darcy shot a surprised look over at Jeff, standing there, hands hooked into his pockets, totally at ease in this bizarre situation.
“Mrs. Norton, thank you very much for opening up your home to me.” She wanted to stress she wouldn’t be staying long, but there was something in the open, welcoming smile on her face that made Darcy feel to do so would somehow be an insult.
“Oh, please, not Mrs. Norton. It’s Gail. Believe me, five years from now when you’re hearing Mrs. Norton every time one of this little guy’s friends looks up at you, you’ll know what I mean.”
Darcy blanched at the reference to nuptials, but it was Jeff who jumped in to make the clarification. “Not Mrs. Norton, Mom. Ms. Penn.”
Gail’s cheeks went pink and her eyes squinched shut, but then she just laughed. “Oh, hell.”
With a deep breath she waved her hand about dismissively. “I know. It’s just the idea of having a little grandbaby— And as to Ms. Penn?” She shook her head conspiratorially. “In five years. Not a chance.”
“Mom.” This time Jeff’s voice was more serious. “Don’t—”
“Don’t worry, darling I won’t be pushing anyone in front of her until I’ve gotten to know her better. Why waste time with bad matches. Okay, come along now, kids. We’ll get Darcy settled and then after a bit of rest, give her the tour.”
“Honestly, Mrs. Nor—”
The arch look sailing over Jeff’s mother’s shoulder had her in place in a beat.
“Gail. You don’t need to go to any trouble for me.”
“Thank you, dear. But it’s no trouble at all. Honestly, I couldn’t be happier to have you here and just want you settled and comfortable as soon as possible.”
“All right. Then thank you.”
Gail nodded, her brisk steps taking her up the wide curving stairs to the still open front door. “I’m putting her in Connor’s old room.”
Darcy coughed, her eyes going wide as she looked over at Jeff. “Wow, Connor had a room to himself, huh.”
Jeff was walking beside her, the strap of one bag slung across his chest. The handles from the other duffel hanging from his hand. “He spent a lot of time here when we had breaks from school.” He answered distractedly, looking a bit tense all of the sudden. Was he having second thoughts about her being here? Or more likely he simply didn’t remember the line he’d used to pick her up. The joke about his ego named Connor. But in truth, it was probably better there not be some collection of inside jokes between them.
The connection she felt to this man was dangerous enough without the added intimacy.
CHAPTER NINE
UP IN CONNOR’S old room, a space Jeff knew nearly as well as his own, he looked around wondering at what Darcy would make of it. The walls were still sage-green. The trim the same white that ran through the rest of the house. But somehow every bit of lingering high school boy and college man had been stripped from the space within the past day. The shelves emptied of all but a few items—and those last few he was certain remained just to ensure Darcy didn’t walk into a space that felt barren and stark.
A gesture he appreciated after seeing how few belongings she actually owned.
He set the bags on the bed Darcy would be sleeping in. He’d never paid much attention before, but now, couldn’t help but notice it was king-size. Huge for a single woman sleeping alone.
Which despite his mother’s apparent desire to marry her off to someone—Darcy would be.
Mrs. Norton.
Not going to happen. Slip of the tongue or Freudian slip… His mother had been completely off base with that.
Darcy Norton.
He didn’t know her middle name.
He blinked. What the hell was he thinking? He didn’t need her middle name. Didn’t want to know it.
Because even if there was some lingering bit of attraction between them, it wasn’t the stuff Mrs. Nortons were made of.
Yeah, she was beautiful, and fun, and having his baby. But Darcy was one giant no trespassing sign. And not in some sexual sense—but, damn, he needed his head to stop going there, too.
She was just so unavailable. Different than he’d believed that first night.
“It’s bigger than my apartment.”
He turned to where Darcy stood in the doorway, her arms wrapped across her belly signaling her stomach wasn’t doing well, but hadn’t reached critical levels yet.
“And it comes furnished, too. You’ll have this room. The bathroom connects through there and you’ve got a sitting room with desk and computer on the other side.”
“Okay,