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“I’ve been taking care of myself since I was sixteen. I don’t like…help. I don’t like…needing things from other people. It makes me feel…trapped.”
Her voice broke the smallest extent on that last word, twisting something deep in his chest.
Leaning back just far enough to catch the side of her face and bring it up so she was looking into his eyes, he promised, “Don’t. Don’t feel that way about this. About being here. About anything.”
Their eyes were locked. Hers so vulnerable as she looked up at him, it made him ache to make it better. Made him ache to give her back all the things he’d seen in those eyes before. Steel, mirth, resolve, confidence…heat.
Hell.
Scratch that last. He didn’t want to think about what she’d looked like when it was heat filling her eyes. Desire. Need.
Not when she was standing within the circle of his arms as he told her everything was going to be fine. When she needed reassurance. Not the muscle memory of some residual attraction she wouldn’t be able to ignore springing to life between them.
But, she was so soft and warm and lush and…all the things he didn’t want to notice. Shouldn’t remember about the last time he felt her against his body, beneath his fingertips.
Setting her back a step, he walked to the door, not meeting her eyes as he spoke over his shoulder. “Why don’t you take a few minutes and then meet us downstairs? Get that tour underway.”
* * *
It wasn’t as though Darcy had thought Jeff would be moving in, too. She’d known he was simply dropping her off and then returning to the life he led in the city. They weren’t together. They weren’t a team. They weren’t going to get through all this together.
They were two people, who were going to be sharing a child.
She understood it and had every intention of adhering to those mutually agreed upon limits.
It was just that in a day filled with so much uncertainty and upheaval, he’d made her feel safe. A little less alone.
And for a few minutes, she’d clung to that.
But now, Jeff was leaning in to kiss his mother’s cheek. He’d already made certain Darcy had a list of two dozen phone numbers to use in case of emergency. And after a moment’s hesitation when he didn’t seem sure of whether to hug her or pat her arm, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, too. And then he left.
And Darcy stood staring at the closed door he’d walked out of, next to a woman she didn’t know, in a house she didn’t belong in.
Gail rested a hand at her elbow, offering a sympathetic look. “Are you all right with Jeffery gone?”
“I’ll be fine. Honestly.” It was so difficult to know what to say, circumstances being what they were. But meeting Gail’s eyes she got the sense Jeff’s mother was someone who appreciated the truth. “We hardly know each other.”
Gail looked toward the door. “Give it time. You’ll get to know each other, and figure out how exactly you fit into each other’s lives.”
The way the older woman said it, Darcy wondered if she was holding out hope for a more traditional outcome for their relationship.
“Until then, you can take my totally unbiased opinion as gospel. Jeffrey is a wonderful man, who is going to make as wonderful a father as his was to him. And in case you haven’t figured it out already, he’ll do just about anything to make sure his child has a stable, happy home. You’ll have everything you need. He’ll see to it. And so will I. So…” She leaned in with a conspiratorial wink that was so very Jeff, Darcy almost did a double take. “Would it help even the playing field a bit if I started telling you stories about all the times Jeffery lost his lunch as a boy?”
* * *
“In what universe are we living that you, a guy who makes me look like a pauper, would move your pregnant non-girlfriend into your parents’ spare room? You could buy the building next door to your office tomorrow. With cash. What the hell, man?”
Jeff gripped the wheel with fingers long gone white at the knuckles. “Give me a break, Connor. She’s staying in your old room, so it’s not like we’re talking about some hole down in the basement with a moldy futon. She’s got the entire west wing of the house to herself. She doesn’t even have to use the same door.”
“Glad to hear you aren’t trying to smuggle her in and out through the basement window, but seriously, your mom?”
Connor chuckled from across the miles, his voice going muffled as he invariably filled in his new wife, Megan, on the details. Then he said, “Megan wants to know if your mom is making her pizza puffs on demand.”
“Ha-ha. Megan’s a laugh a minute.”
“Man, I know it. She’s great.” Then quieter, as though there were a hand almost covering the phone, Connor said, “Come here, sweetheart… Great, see you in a few hours, gorgeous.”
When Connor’s attention was returned to the call, Jeff let out a tight breath. “It was the first thing I thought of. She wasn’t going to budge on the job thing. So I found her a job.”
“Working for your mom? And Darcy’s okay with it?”
“Not really. But for now, she’s agreed. So it’s a start.”
“So what happens once she realizes Gail doesn’t actually need any help with anything, from anyone—that if she wanted, she could probably add your job and mine to her mix of charitable foundations without breaking a sweat.”
Jeff stared out the windshield, toward a sea of congested taillights. “I’m hoping Mom can keep her highly efficient tendencies under wraps for at least a couple of months. Long enough to give Darcy a chance to get some rest and me a chance to come up with my next game plan.”
CHAPTER TEN
DARCY WOKE TO the unfamiliar and yet totally identifiable sound of lawn mowers from beyond her window. The sun shone in through the shades she’d neglected to close the night before, casting the room in a warm, golden glow she might have lingered in if not for her standing appointment with morning sickness.
Once taken care of, she showered, and then slipped into a pair of yoga pants and a thin, long sleeve T-shirt before heading downstairs. Gail had been gone when she woke up yesterday and only stopped in for a few minutes around late afternoon before disappearing through most of the evening, which had given Darcy the bulk of the day to familiarize herself with the house. She’d met the two housekeepers, Nancy and Viv, who had been incredibly warm and welcoming, right up to the minute she’d asked if she might help them out with anything. At which point those warm smiles had turned stern and she’d been pointed toward the couch and handed a glass of juice. Apparently, Jeff had spoken with them.
The break had been nice, but so much free time left her at loose ends, and she was looking forward to sitting down with Gail and finding out what her temporary position would entail and how quickly she could get her hands into something. Anything.
Stepping into the kitchen she found Gail standing at the farmhouse-style table a china cup in one hand, a tablet in the other. Stacks of folders spread out in front of her.
She looked up at Darcy’s entrance and smiled her son’s genuine smile. “Wonderful, you’re up! Sleep okay?”
“I did, thank you. How about yourself?”
Gail nodded, quickly, then flapped her hand at the air as if to brush aside the morning pleasantries. “I’d like us to be friends, Darcy. Real friends.”
“That would be nice,” she answered.
“It would. So in the interest of friendship, I suggest we make a pact to be honest with each other. Truthful. Up-front. So we always know where we stand.”
Nervous tension began to creep through her, because honesty had pretty much been the plan from the start. But maybe Gail wasn’t as okay with having her here as she’d sounded when Jeff was around. “All right.”
“Great! So I’ll start. Now honestly, do you want to dive right into your made-up, fake job this morning or—” she clutched her hands in front of her, like she was making a plea “—go shopping for baby clothes.”
* * *
Six hours later, Darcy was on the phone with the caterer, confirming Tuesday’s menu modification when Gail walked into the small office Darcy had made of her sitting room. Setting three binders on the edge of the small desk, she dropped into the chair on the opposite side. When Darcy wrapped up the call, Gail scanned the desk.
“For a fake job, we’ve actually scrounged up quite a bit to keep you busy.”
Darcy let out a short laugh. There’d been a candid discussion between them earlier about the motivation behind this manufactured position. Gail had asked Darcy to put a pin in her frustration toward Jeff and consider the opportunity before her. If Darcy was serious about continuing to work—and she was—this was an opportunity to expand her skill set and open up avenues in the employment market that wouldn’t have otherwise been available.
It was an offer Darcy realized she would be crazy not to take. And within the hour she’d been on the job with Gail only huffing the smallest amount over the decision not to go baby clothes shopping.
Darcy reached for the top binder, only to have her fingers swatted away.
“Part-time, fake job. You agreed to take it easy for a few weeks, so this one will have to wait. For now, Jeff’s got a friend of his—a doctor—stopping over in about an hour to check on you. Which leaves you some time for a phone call if you were planning to make one.”
* * *
Jeff stared down at the phone in his hand, not sure what shocked him most. That his mother—his supposed number one fan and most staunch supporter—had completely, unequivocally thrown him under the bus in favor of his pregnant non-girlfriend. Or that Darcy had thanked him for what he’d done.
Definitely the latter.
And she’d sounded genuine. Excited even. Enough so the piece of her mind she’d given him about scheduling a doctor’s appointment without consulting her first hardly stung at all. And in truth, he’d meant to call her about it, but then had ended up speaking to his mother and passing the message along, which had probably sounded more like a dictate, than the on condition she didn’t object, he’d assumed would be implied.
She was going to stay with his mom.
She was going to take it easy with the work thing.
And for the first time since he’d found out she was pregnant, Jeff breathed an almost easy breath.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“IF YOU DON’T give me that file,” Darcy warned, leaning over her small desk toward the pilfering grandmother-in-the-making/woman-of-steel who happened to be Jeff’s mother, “I’m—I’m—I’m not going baby clothes shopping with you this weekend.”
Gail looked down at the manila folder she’d swiped from Darcy’s hold and then looked back. “You said fifteen more minutes. That was over an hour ago.”
She had. But after two weeks of taking it easy, Darcy’s energy was back up. She’d regained a few pounds. And she’d found a satisfaction and meaning in the work she was doing she’d never had before. So on days like today, when the hormones ran rampant and her mood was a bit off, the work was her best distraction. And she didn’t want to give it up. Besides, there was a benefit coming up to raise funds for a series of summer programs for at-risk youth. She wasn’t ready to call it a day. Which meant she’d have to play hardball with Gail. “That little boutique we drove by Sunday…with the Frog Prince–themed window… I know you know the one. I know you want to go.”
Gail got a sort of fevered look in her eyes. Baby clothes were this Superwoman’s Kryptonite, and while Darcy mostly didn’t like to exploit the weakness…she knew Gail would respect her for it in the end.
The file flopped back onto her desk.
“Fine. You win. But I was hoping to talk you into joining me for dinner with the girls tonight.”
The invitation wasn’t totally unexpected. Gail had offered to include her in her plans more than a handful of times over the past few weeks, but Darcy had yet to take her up on it. And when she made her excuse tonight, Gail didn’t push but left with her usual, friendly “next time, then.”
By the time Darcy found a good stopping place and turned off her desk lamp, the house was empty, the sky beyond the window glass already dark. Picking at a dinner her stomach wasn’t interested in, she finished her book on pregnancy and motherhood. She watched five minutes worth of drivel on TV before turning it off in an impatient huff and setting out to walk the halls of the house, again.
When she reached the second floor, she turned toward her rooms but stopped instead at the first door on the left. Jeff’s room. Normally she kept walking but tonight, she was at a loose end. As always, the door was open. And as always she experienced a tug of curiosity about the space within, and what it might tell her about the man who’d called it his.
Scanning the room, her eyes snared on the built-in shelves behind a desk. The rows of trophies and medals: baseball, tennis, swimming, football, track. The evidence of Jeff’s achievements. It made her smile to think what he must have been like as a kid.
Gail had told her he’d been into mischief almost as much as he’d been out of it, but never in a way that was hurtful or destructive. She’d called him a rule bender. A perpetual charmer.
Traits apparently carried over into adulthood.
And if ever there was a man who made a bit of trouble look like fun, it was Jeff.
Pushing back from the doorframe she returned to her room. But her ping-ponging thoughts wouldn’t still. Would she have a little boy or a girl? Was Jeff hoping for one over the other? What would labor feel like? Would Jeff be there? Would he stay cool? Hold her hand? Tell her not to be scared?
One question after another, and they kept circling back to Jeff.
How often would she see him? What would he do if they disagreed?
What kind of father would he be? She thought about the trophies and ribbons, and how nothing short of first place earned a spot on his wall of fame. Would he be as successful in parenting as he was in what appeared to be every other area of his life? Would he go it alone or hire in help? Marry in help?
Not the woman he’d been dating when she first came to him. Gail had mentioned they’d broken the relationship off already. But a man like Jeff—she closed her eyes trying to stop her train of thought, but already her mind had found the deep rumble of his laugh, the heavy cut of his jaw and the feel of his untamed hair between her fingers.
The weight of his body over hers.
The heat of his kiss.
Her eyes popped open. Because closed, well, obviously that wasn’t helping. And as tempting as it was to recall their night together in exacting, vivid detail—it was a mistake. When she thought about Jeff now, it should be in the context of his role as co-parent to their child. Nothing else.
Which was fine. She was realistic enough to understand the enormity of the gulf between their worlds. She was okay with it.
Like she’d be okay when Jeff found the next woman to get serious about. Mostly. Though even as she thought it, some little piece of her rejected the idea of him with another woman. Not because she wanted him for herself.
No.
Just because…well…well…an irritated growl left her throat. It didn’t matter why and she didn’t need to justify anything.
What was wrong with her today?
Turning to happier thoughts, she tried to imagine Jeff’s youth, wondering whether he would describe himself the same way his mother had? What he thought life would be like for their child—if he’d want to do things the way his parents had done with him, or if he’d like to see things happen differently for his own son or daughter.
She glanced at the phone and, experiencing a pull even greater than the one outside Jeff’s room, wondered if they talked, if he’d make her laugh again, the way no one else seemed capable of doing.
* * *
Jeff met Charlie’s knowing eyes across the table where the two of them had set up for the call in his office. It was time for a break.
“Why don’t we take thirty so everyone can grab a bite,” Jeff suggested, pushing back from the table himself. “And we’ll pick up here when we get back.”
Charlie went to grab a few files from his desk and Jeff was left in the quiet of his office alone. Shoulder propped at his favorite window, he was scrolling through his messages, rereading the one line updates from his mom when the little black-and-white, fifteen-week ultrasound image popped up on his screen signaling a call from the very woman all his extra hours at work were supposed to keep him from thinking about—but weren’t.
“Hi, Jeff. I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Not at all. What’s going on?” He closed his eyes. “Everything okay with the baby?”
His baby. Their baby.
The little troublemaker wreaking havoc on his mother’s system and scaring the living hell out Jeff with the fragility of his existence alone.
“Oh, yes. Sorry, I should probably text before I call so you know not to worry,” she said, the words sounding almost amused. Playful.
He liked it, and found himself relaxing.
“What’s up?”
