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Ian was well aware of what he had said when Xander asked him two summers ago if Ian had any designs on his landlady. Ian’s “Are you out of your tree?” had been equal parts She’s involved with someone else and I just got dumped by my fiancée, dumbass.
“Yeah, well, that was then. This is now.”
Darcy set Cady on the ground, straightened, then reached around his back and hooked her thumb ever-so-casually in the waistband of his jeans. His pulse spiked. Oh, hell.
She tilted her head to rest against his shoulder. “I didn’t have a lot of experience with babies, and Ian had helped with his niece so he kind of taught me what to do, and I started relying on him more and more, and the next thing you know he was spending more time in the house with me than in his apartment over the garage. And then it was like— Well, I guess I don’t need to spell it all out.”
All true, but damn. When she said it with that little laugh in her voice he could almost believe it himself.
“Yeah. I guess so.” Xander shook his head. “Look, it’s been a hell of a day, and I’ve already been here longer than I planned.”
That’s right, Xander. Leave. Now.
“But I...” Xander glanced at Ian and Darcy once more, and then shifted his focus to Cady pulling herself upright on Ian’s leg.
“Could I hold her?”
Ian glanced at Darcy, who bit her lip but gave a quick nod.
Damn it. Why did Xander have to come back and put her through this?
“If she fusses don’t take it personally,” she said as Ian pried Cady from his calf and handed her to Xander. “She doesn’t meet too many new people, so she’s kind of shy with strangers.”
Xander held Cady at arm’s length for a breath or two before pulling her closer. His elbows stuck out at an awkward angle, his knees seemed frozen in position and his face held a mix of terror and reverence.
“But I’m not a stranger,” he said, directing the words to Cady. “I’m your dad.”
Ian reached for Darcy’s hand, lacing his fingers through her clammy ones. Her smile was determined but he saw the fear in her eyes.
Cady reared back, staring at Xander’s face without blinking. A hint of a smile lit his face.
“You look like my little sister,” he said softly. “Bethie. I guess she’s your aunt Bethie.”
Ian hid his wince. Darcy—no doubt motivated by her own status as a lonely only child—had mentioned more than once that she wished Cady had a big extended family to dote on her and shower her with frilly pink things and make her feel as though she was the most amazing thing on the planet. Still, he was pretty sure this wasn’t the way she would have chosen to add to Cady’s relative count.
“So, does she talk?” Xander asked. “Or walk or...? I don’t know much about babies, either. Nothing, really.” His laugh was a little stronger, if rueful. “Maybe you’ll need to teach me, too, Ian.”
Darcy opened her mouth, but no words came out. Ian rubbed the small of her back. This had to be killing her.
Ian had been still digging himself out of the mess his own life had become when he’d realized she was pregnant. He hadn’t had a lot left over to focus on anyone else’s problems.
But then it had become obvious that Jonathan—the supposed father—wasn’t in the picture. And Darcy’s own mother had reluctantly agreed that pregnancy and a baby were not compatible with the work she needed Darcy to do. Darcy had put on a brave front while slowly developing a crease in her forehead that had rivaled her belly for size.
Still, it wasn’t until after Cady’s birth that he’d put it all together. He’d come home from work one hot afternoon in late June and found Darcy huddled under the umbrella he’d installed, shaking with silent sobs while Cady slept in her arms. For the first time it had hit him how alone she was, how lost and scared she must have felt.
He had taken the baby and ordered Darcy to get some sleep. And somewhere in the year that followed, he’d figured out that Darcy wasn’t the only one who had benefited from his involvement.
His issues didn’t matter at this moment. Right now his job was to step up and get them through this. The rest could wait.
“Oh, Cady isn’t shy about letting anyone know what she can do,” he said to Xander. “She doesn’t walk by herself yet, but she pulls up on furniture—”
“And legs,” Darcy added softly.
“And then she cruises. You know, pulls herself sideways,” he added in response to Xander’s blank look. “She can crawl faster than Lulu can run, though she’s letting up on that.”
“She has a couple of words.” Darcy’s voice shook a little, but there was an underlying determination that made him want to cheer for her. “She says Mum mum, and Eeeee, which I—we—think means Ian. And Ru for Lulu, though we don’t know if she’s trying to say her name or imitate the sound of barking.”
“You sound like a smart one, Cadence Joy.”
The pride and wonder in Xander’s voice made Ian pull Darcy tighter against his side. She molded herself to him. He was pretty sure that this time she wasn’t seeking to deceive Xander as much as to hold herself up. Didn’t matter to him. As long as he was helping he didn’t much care about the details.
But he couldn’t help but notice how perfectly she fit against him.
Absolutely normal. Proof you’re over Taylor. Biology reminding you that you’re still alive.
It had been hard enough to make himself swallow that line the past few months, noticing Darcy from a distance. Now, with her warmth and softness glued to his side, he was almost grateful for Xander’s presence. At least with an audience Ian was less likely to throw caution to the wind and do something really stupid.
Cady let out a whimper that he recognized as the prelude to a lungful of protest. Darcy moved out of his embrace. The places where she had pressed against him seemed to blink in shock.
“Here.” She scooped Cady from Xander and cuddled the child tight against her chest. “Don’t want her getting scared off at the first meeting, right?”
Everyday words, but he could only guess what they had cost her. He wasn’t sure if he was more amazed by the casual way she tossed them out or by the fact that she returned to his side. He needed no prompting to nestle her against him once again.
Ah, that’s better.
He pushed the traitorous thought aside. Time to convince Xander to leave so he and Darcy could go inside and figure out what to do next. Especially about this fake relationship they had just invented. The one he had to remember was only that—fake.
“So, Xander. What’s next for you? Are you staying here in Stratford?” Say no. Say no.
Xander’s usual confidence switched to uncertainty. “I— Jeez. I have something lined up, a job in cottage country, but...” He ran one finger gently down Cady’s arm. “Things have changed.”
Yeah, they had. Ian could give him that one. Maybe even a few points for rethinking his plans now that those changes had hit him.
But Ian wasn’t backing off until Darcy gave the word.
Cady whimpered and burrowed her head into the cleft between his shoulder and Darcy’s. Xander’s hand dropped away. Ian wasn’t sure if he should feel guilty, victorious or ashamed, so he settled for giving thanks that—for the moment, at least—he was still in the picture.
Darcy spoke up. “She’s getting tired. Xander, why don’t you give me your number and we’ll set up a time to get together again. Let’s see, today is Tuesday, so maybe—”
“Tomorrow?” Xander had never sounded so excited about anything for as long as Ian had known him.
Darcy stiffened a little in Ian’s embrace. “I’ve got a lot going on over the next couple days. How about the end of the week?”
A lot going on? Darcy worked from home and had no appointments other than delivering Cady to and from her mornings at day care. He knew for a fact that she had kept the next few days open, because he was her usual hairdresser-and-dentist babysitter, and he was heading to Comeback Cove Thursday morning.
If Darcy was putting Xander off, it meant she wanted time. For what, he didn’t know. But he’d be damned if he would let her set up something for the days he wasn’t going to be around.
Unless, of course, that was what she wanted...
But no. He hadn’t imagined that wariness that had come over her. Until he knew she felt safe, he was going to stick to her like the snap pea vines clinging to Lulu’s coat as she slinked out of the garden.
“Hang on, honey.” He thought fast. “Did you forget that we’re leaving in the morning?”
“I—”
He turned to Xander, watching them with way too much curiosity. “We’re going up to see my folks, spend Father’s Day with my dad. So it’ll be next Monday, Tuesday, before we get back.”
“Oh, right.” Darcy laughed and elbowed him in the ribs while adjusting Cady. Accidentally? “How could I forget? Like I said, teething, not enough sleep.” She shrugged. “It does a number on me.”
Xander studied them, skepticism apparent in his crossed arms and narrowed eyes. Ian’s stomach clenched. The truth would have to come out at some point, but damn it, he didn’t want that to happen until he’d had a chance to talk to Darcy and find out what she needed.
He slipped sideways, turning to slide his hands around a droopy, half-asleep Cady. “Here. I’ll take her in while you get Xander’s number.”
Darcy nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
He paused, considered and then—before he could talk himself out of it—brushed a quick kiss against her mouth.
He kept it light. Fast. Barely long enough to register the hint of ginger on her breath, nowhere near hot enough to account for the rush of God, yes that hit him even as he reminded himself that it was all for show. It was clumsy, so awkward that if Xander had been taking notes, he probably would have seen through them in a heartbeat.
But, damn, she tasted good.
And, whoa damn, when her lips parted—purely from shock, he knew—he had to drag himself away.
And, hot damn, but if this was a mistake, it was the best one he’d made in a long time.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_6ac0ce84-c533-5550-b493-4c6a36dab660)
TEN MINUTES AFTER saying goodbye to Xander, fifteen minutes after Ian had bestowed the third surprise in her hat trick of shocks for the day, Darcy pulled down the shade in Cady’s room and started the recording of acoustic covers that passed for lullabies chez Maguire. With all the routines accounted for, she turned on the monitor and tiptoed out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaning against it while she breathed.
“Dear God, Maguire, when you mess up, you don’t hold back, do you?”
So much for her carefully organized life. So much for those daily affirmations reminding herself that she was strong, she was independent, she could handle whatever the universe threw her way. In a little over an hour, that had all been blown to hell.
Xander was back.
Which she had been dealing with until she’d found out he’d been in freakin’ jail.
And then Ian had kissed her.
Her fingers rose to her lips and she gave a shaky laugh. Yes, everything else was crumbling around her, but her brain kept tugging her back to that moment in the yard when Ian’s mouth had brushed hers. For one second, maybe two or three, her worries about Xander and custody agreements and criminal acts had been banished by the soft play of warm lips against hers. It had been reassuring and comforting, a welcome reminder that she wasn’t alone, which was, she was sure, the only reason he had done it. And she really hoped that was the only reason she kept coming back to it. It was nothing more than her touchstone, a moment of peace and sanity when everything else was whirling.
A nice story. Too bad her treasonous brain also insisted on reminding her of the infrequent but oh-so-vivid dreams she’d had over the past few months. Dreams in which Ian played a highly significant and usually shirtless role.
Every time she woke from one of those dreams, she spent the next few days staring at the ground or at Lulu or praying that his work would take him out of town for an extended period. Because, seriously, lusting after her best friend?
At least she’d pulled away from the kiss before her long-denied hormones had kicked in. She could not, would not, upset the balance of their lives more than had already been done. Especially not at a time such as this when she could really use a friend.
But how was she supposed to look at him now?
Not that she had a choice. He was in her kitchen waiting for her, as he’d done so many times over the past year. She had to tell him the truth about Xander and find out what kind of criminal DNA was swimming in Cady’s genes, all while feeling as if she’d been plugged into an outlet and was being hit by bolts of electricity at random times and in the worst possible places.
And what kind of parent was she that of all the things that had happened, she continued to fixate on the one that had made her feel better for a minute, the three seconds that had served her?
Dear Lord, she was turning into her mother after all.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook away the thought. She would get through this. She would talk to Ian—talk, Maguire—and send him to his apartment. She would sit at the computer and come up with a strategy. Later, if she was still this...unsettled, she would put Cady to bed and have herself a private film festival. One featuring Harrison Ford in his prime, fully whipped. Tomorrow, she could wake with a clear head and focus on what mattered—getting Cady through this change without turning her childhood into the same kind of convoluted mess Darcy’s had been.
All she had to do was get through the next hour.
* * *
LOOKING IAN IN the eye as she descended the stairs took about as much intestinal fortitude as telling Xander that he had hit the conception jackpot, but Darcy made herself do it. She was rewarded with a glimmer of his usual smile.
Crap. She had forgotten the hurt she’d spotted in his face right after Xander’s arrival. The conversation ahead was shaping up to be as complicated as the ones she’d just navigated.
She rubbed her temples. Couldn’t anything ever be simple?
“Headache?”
It was as good an explanation as any. “Yeah.”
“Need anything?”
This was the Ian she knew—helpful and supportive. The caregiver. The trusted friend, not the Lust Igniter.
“I’ll be okay after I grab something to eat. Thanks.” She glanced around. “Lulu?”
“I think she’s worn-out. Last time I saw her she was heading for her basket.”
“I’m jealous.”
There was nothing but the usual amount of concern on his face when he studied her. The inner caveman that had shown up while they were outside must have departed with Xander. Thank heaven.
“We should talk,” he said slowly. “But if you’re not up for it right now...”
“No. I mean, yes.” She blinked and dredged up a smile. “I’m fine. But I think, maybe, this calls for a beer. Want one?”
“God, yes.”
She pulled bottles from the refrigerator, grabbed a jar of salsa while she was there. “Can you get the chips?”
He didn’t hesitate before opening the correct cupboard and snagging a bag of tortilla chips from the top shelf, where she stored them out of her everyday reach. It hit her as he moved with easy confidence around her kitchen how thoroughly entrenched he was in her life. He knew his way around her kitchen, he dragged the trash to the curb every Thursday, he changed her daughter’s diapers, all without asking how or where or when.
She really couldn’t blow this.
“Let’s go out on the porch,” she said when he pulled a chair from the table. The front porch. Public. Less chance of her breaking down. Or, worse, reliving that kiss and feeling tempted to do something truly stupid.
He raised an eyebrow but picked up the monitor and followed her outside.
