What a Woman Wants

by Tori Carrington

  Whether as town bad boy or county sheriff, John Sparks had always had the type of looks that made her knees go weak. But in his jet-black pants and the gray short-sleeved shirt of his uniform, he made her forget what she was thinking about. Aside from his mile-wide grin and his neatly trimmed dark hair, authority and strength seemed to emanate from him. And she knew it was more than just the uniform. He had the same effect on her in jeans and a T-shirt.

  “Morning, Darby,” George called from behind the counter.

  Darby tried for a smile, but failed. “Morning, George.” Then to John, “I need to talk to you.”

  How was that for subtle?

  John’s grin vanished. Darby curled her fingers into her palms. But oddly it wasn’t her hands that dampened but her feet. So much so, she nearly slid out of her shoes.

  “Oh.” John’s simple response might have been meant as a question, but came out as a statement.

  Darby nodded. “Can I, um, borrow you for a minute?”

  The expression on his face was curious, panicked and all too wary. He gestured toward the counter. “George and I are taking care of some important business. Can it wait?”

  Darby looked at the bare counter, considered the relaxed stance both men were in when she’d entered and decided she was being put off.

  Oh, indeed.

  She raised her brows, surprised and stung. John had never put her off before. The possibility that he might hadn’t even remotely crossed her mind during the drive into town. She caught herself absently tugging on her dress strap and stopped.

  “It’s important.”

  John opened his mouth, but it was George’s words that sounded. “Looks like the lady means business. You should hear what she’s gotta say, Sparky.”

  John’s grimace didn’t detract from his handsomeness, Darby would’ve thought if she hadn’t been so nervous. He gestured to the glass-enclosed office behind him. “You want to go in there?”

  Darby glanced toward the truck parked on the street. “The girls are outside. I’d really like to stay where I can keep an eye on them.”

  John’s gaze strayed from hers to the truck. He gave a halfhearted wave, and she guessed the twins waved back, judging by John’s smile.

  “You want to go outside, then?”

  She nodded. “Outside. Outside’s good.”

  He got that curious/panicked/wary look again. She turned and led the way out onto the sidewalk.

  It was nearly April, but the ground had yet to catch up with the new warmth of the air, leaving the mornings chilly. Darby pulled her jacket a little more tightly around her midsection and looked around the relatively quiet street. Shops were opening, the church bell began to chime off the hour, and a couple of blocks up kids were heading off to school. She waited for John to follow her out. The closing of the door told her he had.

  Along with the commotion from the direction of the truck.

  “Uncle Sparky!” the twins shouted in unison.

  Darby briefly closed her eyes, then opened them to watch two small bodies catapult toward John’s legs, clutching him as if they hadn’t seen him in months, instead of a week.

  John looked startled, then grinned and bent down to talk to the two animated girls.

  Darby stood tensely through a hectic version of “The Life and Times of Erin and Lindy Conrad,” then before John could ask a follow-up question, she gripped two skinny shoulders and turned the twins toward where the door to the truck gaped open from their joint escape. “Back to the truck, you guys.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Erin objected, digging her heels in. “Uncle Sparky is our friend, too.”

  “He’s also working,” she reminded them.

  “Yeah,” Lindy supported her mother.

  Erin elbowed her sister, then shrugged Darby off when she attempted to hoist her into the truck cab. Instead, after much scrambling and inventive positioning, the six-year-old made it inside and claimed the portion of the seat nearer the passenger window. Darby looked down at Lindy, who raised her arms up as if on cue. She sighed and lifted her inside, then secured their safety belts. “Not a peep, you hear? Or else I take you straight to school with no breakfast.”

  Lindy made a zipping motion with her hand while Erin grimaced at the unconvincing threat.

  Darby closed the door and stood for a brief moment to gather her wits. Judging herself ready, she turned to face John. Then found she wasn’t ready at all. He looked so handsome with his hair tousled from where the twins had given him one of their full-head hugs, his grin tugging at something deep inside her.

  She finally found her voice.

  “Look, John—”

  “Darby, I thought—”

  They spoke at the same time. Darby smiled and glanced away. Had it really only been a week since she’d last seen him? It felt like several weeks. Months, even. The revelation in and of itself surprised her. When she’d lost Erick…well, she’d never expected to feel attracted to anyone again, ever. Much less such a short time after his death. But what she felt for John transcended mere attraction.

  Of course, standing there on Main Street, facing John Sparks, sparked some memories she’d long since buried. Only, back then he’d been a rebellious teen, riding his dirt bike up and down the road, his tight jeans and plain white T-shirt drawing the attention of every female, no matter what her age. He’d been James Dean reincarnated. Well, with dark hair, anyway. And she, along with half the girls her age, had comically sighed after him.

  Only there was nothing comical about right now.

  “You go first,” John finally said.

  “No, really, that’s okay. I think you should say what you have to say first.” Because what I have to say is going to prevent any further conversation.

  “Okay.” He slid his hands into his pants pockets. “What I was going to say is that I thought we decided to, um, let things cool off a bit. You know, after…”

  After… Darby was well aware of what he was referring to. But like the “then” quotient, three months ago, neither one of them had seen this particular “after” coming.

  She nodded. “We did. Agree, I mean.”

  “So do you think it’s a good idea, then, for you to be coming into town like this and asking to talk to me in front of a motormouth like George?”

  Darby glanced into the station to see that George’s mouth was indeed running like a well-oiled motor as he spoke on the phone. She looked skyward. “Oh, no.”

  John’s eyes narrowed, but rather than the suspicion such an action would imply, concern warmed the mercurial depths. His eyes seemed to be ever changing. One time green, another time blue. But it was the depth that made her feel she might fall right into them and disappear as she caught him gazing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking. Just as he was looking at her now. Or with the flame of passion that had gotten them both into so much trouble and completely threatened a good, no, great friendship.

  “Darby? Are you all right?”

  He appeared about to touch her. For a moment she wished he would. She’d spent countless nights longing for his touch. Wishing they could go back to that day in the barn and start over again.

  In the beginning she’d convinced herself that it was Erick’s touch she missed. Erick’s grin. Erick’s amusing wisecracks. It was only when she gave herself over to her dreams that she realized that somewhere over the past eleven and a half months she had stopped mourning her late husband…and begun lusting after his best friend.

  “Darby?’

  She looked at him, then said, “John, brace yourself. I’m pregnant with your baby.”

  Chapter Two

  John had faced many events in his life. As a firefighter, he’d willingly stood in harm’s way to put out dangerous fires. As sheriff for the past four years, he’d faced countless criminals and had even been shot in the thigh—although, he wasn’t certain the shooting counted, because it had been an accident. All the same, he had been shot. And he had found himself in numerous precarious situation
s that set his heart to hammering.

  But all of those events combined didn’t hold a candle to the shock he felt at Darby’s quick, quiet words.

  She gazed at him expectantly as the sun rose over the brick two-story buildings across the street and illuminated her in a warm glow, setting her auburn-kissed brown hair afire.

  This couldn’t be happening…. It wasn’t possible…. There was no way….

  Darby was Erick’s girl. She’d always been Erick’s girl. Then his wife. The mother of his twin girls. Now Erick’s widow.

  There was no way he’d gotten her pregnant.

  Darby held her hand up between them, as if to ward off his words, though he hadn’t spoken a single one aloud. He noticed that her slender fingers shook, even as he seemed to be looking at her from some faraway place.

  “Don’t say anything. I don’t want you to. I just…well, I thought you should know.”

  She began to turn toward her truck.

  John squinted after her. That’s it? She drives into town, makes him forget every last reason he shouldn’t lust after her, tells him she’s pregnant, then leaves?

  He watched his hand reach out and grasp her arm, halting her, though he had no knowledge of sending the command. “That’s not possible.”

  Darby slowly turned her head to look at him, her large green eyes filled with disappointment. “Trust me, John. It is.”

  His grip tightened. “I didn’t mean…well, you know, that it’s not possible. What I meant to say is…” What had he meant to say? That it wasn’t possible because he didn’t want it to be? That she was Erick’s girl, always had been? That now she was Erick’s widow and it wasn’t possible that he had gotten her pregnant? Or maybe he should tell her that fatherhood was down so low on his priority list it was almost nonexistent?

  Given the expression on her face, he suspected it would have been better if he hadn’t said anything at all. And he certainly wasn’t about to voice the rest of the thought fragments trailing through his mind.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Darby blinked at him, as if his question was the last she expected to hear. The disappointment eased from her face, although he wasn’t certain he was happier with its replacement. She looked…well, as confused as he felt. “I’m fine. Or as well as can be expected, I guess.”

  Good. That was good. Right? “How?” he asked.

  Her brow furrowed.

  He swallowed hard. “I don’t mean how did it happen. I mean how do you know? Have you been to a doctor?”

  She shook her head. “No. I did a couple of those home pregnancy tests. Both came up positive.” She glanced down to where his hand still lay against her jacket. “I guess I should have warned you that I have a tendency to get pregnant at the mere mention of sex.”

  John’s gaze moved beyond her to the twins, who sat in the truck cab watching them curiously. He remembered when Darby had been pregnant with them. Her condition had been the reason her and Erick’s wedding had been moved up six months. Rumor even had it that it was the reason the twosome had married at all.

  “I was on birth control, you know, until…”

  Until Erick died. She didn’t need to complete the sentence. They both knew all too well why when there was no reason for her to be on birth control. Or should have been no reason. And he…well, he hadn’t exactly thought, hey, I’m going out to Darby’s, I’d better take some protection. Somehow he’d always thought that if it came down to it, he’d have enough self-control to protect them both.

  “Are they reliable? The tests?” he asked, his voice sounding unfamiliar to his own ears.

  “As reliable as can be expected, I guess.” Darby cleared her throat. “But they only confirmed what I already suspected.” She offered up a small smile. “I’ve been pregnant before. I know the signs.”

  John’s hand slid from her sleeve, almost as if on its own accord, as the news slowly seeped through his shock.

  “Look, John,” Darby said quietly. “I didn’t come here asking for anything. When I verified the results this morning, I just thought you should be the first to know. I really…um, haven’t thought things out beyond that. Not yet.”

  He scanned her face, trying to make sense out of her words.

  “Do the twins know?”

  “Oh, dear God, no,” she whispered.

  The blare of the truck horn made her jump. John swung his gaze to the giggling girls.

  Darby blew out a long breath, obviously as anxious about her news as he was. She tucked her hair behind her ear and gestured toward the truck. “The only thing I told the twins was that I’d take them to breakfast this morning.” Hope backlit her eyes. “Would you like to join us?”

  John took an automatic step backward. The idea of sitting with Darby and her girls for any amount of time knowing she was pregnant with his baby…well, scared him absolutely spitless. “I, um, don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I…” He glanced over his shoulder, almost surprised to find they were standing outside his office. He supposed he expected to be in some parallel, other reality. A place he was unfamiliar with that would take as much getting used to as the situation he was trying to absorb.

  “Okay,” Darby said. “I understand.”

  John squinted at her. Could she really be that understanding? Her expression was anxious but soft, no hint of accusation in her eyes, no expectation in her shaky smile. Which made him hate himself all the more.

  He laughed humorlessly. “This doesn’t seem real somehow, you know? I keep feeling like someone should jump from the shadows and cry, ‘Candid Camera!’”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  Only, if anyone leaped from the shadows right now, John was convinced he’d draw his gun and shoot him.

  He winced, his thoughts only dancing along the edge of what would happen when the town found out what he’d done.

  He glanced first one way, then the other, down the street. Everything moved along much as it should on a weekday in Old Orchard. The shops and buildings that had been destroyed by the Devil’s Night fires last October had been rebuilt to their former, old-style glory and warmly reflected the morning sun. People went about their business as much as they normally did, a wave here, a greeting there. No one had a clue that Darby had just ripped the rug of John’s life out from under him.

  The veracity of his position slammed home when he spotted old Mrs. Noonan slowly crossing the two-lane avenue, heading their way. And if she wasn’t bad enough, next to her walked the new pastor, Jonas Noble.

  “Good morning, Sheriff Sparks. Morning, Darby,” Mrs. Noonan said, drawing to a stop beside them, a gnarled hand tucked into Jonas’s arm.

  “Hello, Mrs. Noonan. Pastor,” John said, reaching up to tip a hat that he’d left inside. He eyed the other man, thinking of the gossip swirling around town about Old Orchard’s newest addition. As sheriff, he’d had no fewer than three requests that he check into Noble’s background, and he’d refused all of them. As far as he was concerned, keeping to oneself was no crime. Even if there was a somber, almost dangerous look to the pastor, a demeanor his pure black garb and longish dark hair only added to.

  “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Jonas said now, his voice low and even.

  Darby smiled but didn’t answer. Mrs. Noonan homed in on her. “Is everything all right, Darby?”

  Darby blinked. “Pardon me?”

  “The girls? The farm? I trust all is well?”

  If Darby’s nod seemed a little too emphatic, John prayed he was the only one who noticed. “Oh, yes. Everything’s fine. Thanks for asking.”

  Mrs. Noonan smiled. “That’s reassuring. Seeing as you’re in town so early and standing in front of the sheriff’s office talking to our young sheriff…well, I was afraid something might be amiss.”

  Amiss. Now there was a word, John thought. Something was amiss. But if he had his way, Mrs. Noonan, Pastor Noble and George Johnson would be the last three to know about it.

  Darby started
backing up toward her truck. “Well, I’d better be going. You know, before the twins decide to leave without me.”

  John lifted a stiff hand in a wave. “I’ll talk to you later, Darby.”

  She avoided his gaze, concentrating, instead, on Mrs. Noonan and the pastor. “It was good to see you both. Give my best to the women’s club, Mrs. Noonan.”

  “I will, dear.”

  “Good. Good.” Darby backed straight into the truck bed, then turned around and virtually ran to the driver’s door. Within moments, the truck was rolling away, a short beep signaling a farewell.

  Mrs. Noonan sighed and pulled on the ends of her crocheted sweater. “Pretty girl, our Widow Conrad. Wouldn’t you say, Sheriff Sparks?”

  John tugged his gaze from the truck’s disappearing taillights. “Huh?”

  The old woman smiled at him, then bid him a nice day and continued on down the sidewalk, Pastor Jonas Noble at her side.

  Darby didn’t even have to close her eyes to envision John’s reaction to her news. His face seemed to be etched into her corneas, coloring everything she looked at. The sizzling heat his eyes held whenever he looked at her. The way he tilted his head just so in a teasing, cautious way. His full-on grin when he forgot what they were supposed to be and, instead, enjoyed what they were.

  Given the sharp turn their lives had taken, what were they?

  Over the past three months she’d been trying to come to terms with her ability to feel attracted to another man so soon after she’d lost Erick, much less wanting one as much as she had John that day in the barn. She’d scrambled for every possible excuse to explain her aberrant behavior. There was the fact that she craved human contact with someone, anyone, capable of carrying on adult conversation. That she missed her husband’s touch and yearned for a man to touch her as he once had. Then throw temporary insanity into the mix, and she figured she had all the bases covered.