been fighting with Carol for years about Maddie not being old enough to have her ears pierced. Even his mother and sister had taken his ex’s side on that one.
“I was five when I had my ears pierced,” Sophia had argued.
And she’d been eighteen when she left home.
Nick cringed at his line of thinking. Okay, not even he could make a direct correlation between ear piercing and taking off for parts unknown without admitting he sounded nuts, but still, the idea reinforced his plan to find a solid, wholesome influence for Maddie’s life. Someone who could see his side of things and understand that his daughter belonged with him in Clearville.
Darcy was not that woman. Her decision to move to her mother’s hometown, to make her mother’s dream come true was admirable and touching … and misguided. But she’d have to learn that the hard way. Just as he had when he finally admitted getting married and raising a family in Clearville might have been his dream, but it hadn’t been Carol’s. Her dreams were bigger than small-town living, and Nick was sure Darcy’s were, as well. Once reality set in, she’d figure that out.
Nick caught the scent of something fruity drifting over his shoulder. Was it one of her moisturizers or mud-mask thingies that made Darcy smell like a tropical, sun-kissed beach? If Darcy knew what she was talking about, women loved that kind of stuff. Somehow, though, he didn’t think the explanation was that simple. He’d never had the desire to seek out the scent on any other woman’s skin, to see if she tasted as good as she smelled.…
He knew better than to turn around, feeling her presence there even before he heard her soft gasp.
“Oh, my—They’re so tiny. Are they—?”
“They’re fine. Perfectly healthy and good sized. Two boys and two girls.” The boys took after mom with her blue merle coloring, but the girls must take after dear old dad with their smooth black coats. It was too soon to tell what the mix was, but Nick thought lab might be a good guess.
“Four,” she breathed, and even though it wasn’t possible, Nick swore he could feel her sigh drift like a caress over the exposed skin at the back of his neck. Chills raced down his spine, but he blamed the recent trip he’d made out into the storm. He’d ducked the rain as best he could, but clearly the collar of his shirt had gotten damp. It was the only reason why goose bumps were rising along every inch of skin.
“Better than eight,” he answered, his tone more wry than he’d have liked.
“I can’t even imagine. So what do you think?”
He tried keeping his gaze on the small family on the blanket in front of him, but he couldn’t resist turning in Darcy’s direction. He saw immediately the reason why she’d left the kitchen earlier. She’d changed out of the green shirt and jeans she’d worn into a pink softer-than-soft-looking jogging suit with a zippered jacket and drawstring bottoms. The potential ease of removal for both items was enough to run his mouth dry. To make matters worse, instead of being confined in a ponytail that kept the long strands away from her face, her hair now tumbled in voluptuous waves over her shoulders.
“What do I think about what?”
“What do you think we should name them?”
“I think that’s up to you.”
“But you delivered them. You were here when she needed you.”
Her voice was soft as she gazed at him, and he had a hard time remembering she was talking about the dog. The warmth and gratitude in her gaze made Nick feel like puffing up his chest with pride. He didn’t think he’d moved from his crouched position, but he would have sworn she was suddenly closer. Close enough for him to see her eyelashes were surprisingly, and naturally, darker than her hair. Close enough to see the faintest spray of freckles across her nose. Close enough for him to watch every movement of her tongue sliding across her pale pink lips.
The low rumble of thunder sounded from outside, and Nick jerked his attention away from Darcy’s mouth and back to the request she’d made. “Stormy,” he blurted out. “For one of the girls.”
“Oh, how fitting. You said the girls were the little black ones?” At Nick’s nod, Darcy said, “Then how about Cloud for the one of the gray boys?”
He suggested Rain for the other girl. “Which leaves one boy left.”
Darcy’s smile was full of mischievous laughter simply waiting to be unleashed, and Nick paused with an almost helpless feeling of anticipation to hear whatever she’d come up with.
“Bo,” she announced suddenly.
He shook his head as if the word hadn’t quite penetrated his brain. “Stormy, Rain, Cloud and … Bo?”
This time he had no doubt Darcy had leaned closer as she lowered her voice to share a secret. “It’s short for Rainbow, but don’t tell the other kids. They might make fun of him.”
Rainbow. It was as silly and ridiculous as Nick had feared, still he couldn’t help but give into laughter. Darcy’s joined his, the masculine and feminine sound combining until, at once, all other sounds faded away. So, too, did the lighthearted energy in the tiny room, replaced by a growing awareness of how close they were, how isolated, with only the dogs inside and the lingering storm out.
“I should go.” The statement, if not the words, were firm and decisive and utterly meaningless as Nick still didn’t move.
Darcy swallowed. “You don’t have to. It’s still raining outside. I could fix some coffee.”
But it wasn’t coffee he was craving. Her scent called to him again, and this time Nick thought he recognized the summery mix of coconut and pineapple. He wondered if her skin would taste like piña colada if he kissed her.
He heard the faint catch in her breathing and the quicker rhythm that followed. He was less than a sigh away from claiming her lips with his own when the overhead bulb flickered. The light wasn’t out for more than a split second, but when it came back on, the glare was like a flash of clarity illuminating the huge mistake he was about to make.
He didn’t know if it was the storm, faulty wiring or fate stepping in to save him, but he jerked abruptly to his feet. The unexpected movement almost knocked Darcy back on her heels. He bent halfway—the gentleman his mother had taught him to be insisting he give her a hand, battling the survivor Carol had forced him to be warning him to stay far, far away. In the end he did nothing as Darcy pushed herself to her feet.
“I have to—This can’t—” His mind formed the words, but his tongue tripped over them in his haste to say the exact opposite of what his body was feeling. “Look, I’m not interested in a fling or an affair or—”
Darcy’s eyes widened, at first in shock, then in a growing realization and finally anger. “I offered you a cup of coffee, Dr. Pirelli, not a roll in the hay. You might be right and I don’t know much about small towns, but where I come from coffee means coffee. If I was offering you sex, I would have said sex.” The chill in her voice and fire in her eyes told him sex was nowhere near in the offering. “You can let yourself out when you’re done here.”
She brushed by him on her way through the kitchen and moments later, he heard a door slam somewhere from the back of the house. Nick exhaled a humiliated sigh of regret. Yes, he was definitely done here.
Nick stood in the middle of Darcy’s kitchen feeling like he’d dodged a bullet, but guilty for winding up unscathed all the same. He was positive—almost positive—he hadn’t imagined the heat and invitation in Darcy’s gaze. She’d wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t she? Hell, he’d been out of the game so long, he wasn’t sure he still could read the signs. And damned if he didn’t know if maybe all he saw was his own desire reflected in her eyes. But no matter what he saw or thought he saw, that didn’t give him the right to hurt her with his clumsy rejection.
Yet what else could he have said? That she was a beautiful, sexy woman and he’d sleep with her in a heartbeat