What a Woman Wants

by Tori Carrington

  Oh, boy.

  “Trust me, you won’t break her,” Darby said, holding the little pink bundle out to him.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

  It wasn’t all that long ago that he’d “broken” Darby by pulling a fast one on Smythe that ended up in her being shot.

  He took a hesitant step forward. Then another. Until with shaking hands he reached for the oh-so-quiet baby.

  “She’s so light,” he remarked softly, staring in wonder at the small human being in his hands. He moved to lay her first one way, then the other in his arms, then gave up and rested her against his shoulder. So tiny. So warm. He stroked a finger down one of her cheeks. So very, very soft.

  Darby laid her hand against his, her wedding ring throwing off shafts of light. No matter how much water she retained, she’d refused to take the ring off. At one point Tuck had threatened to have it cut off. She’d told him he’d have to take her finger with it if he even got near her with a saw.

  “So, Sheriff Sparks, what are we going to name our new addition?” Darby asked softly.

  They’d batted around several names for either sex for months. But now that John held this precious little girl in his arms, none of the names they’d come up with seemed to fit. Except for one.

  He met Darby’s gaze. “I don’t know.”

  She smiled. “Why don’t we let her tell us, then?”

  “Can you do that? I thought we had to decide on a name now—you know, for the birth certificate.”

  Darby waved her hand. “Let me worry about that.”

  He narrowed his gaze on her. “You’re not suggesting we break the law, are you?”

  She shook her head. “No. Merely bend it a little.” She smoothed the blanket across her abdomen, looking spectacularly sexy even in her cotton nightgown. Especially in her cotton nightgown, her breasts full. “Besides, you won’t be sheriff for much longer.”

  John waited for the shock of that statement to hit him, but standing there looking at his beautiful wife and holding his new beautiful daughter, the prospect of hanging up his sheriff’s cap seemed insignificant, indeed.

  Truth was, he was happy to be moving on. To be handing over the reins to Cole, who was sure to win against the opportunist Bully Wentworth. John planned to throw his full support behind his colleague. And considering his herolike status after apprehending the escaped fugitives, the preelection polls already showed Cole holding a 2-1 lead.

  Sometime after the same incident that had earned him hero status, John had come to realize that some things were more important. Like his family. He and Darby had expanded The Promised Land farm, secured grants for the running of it, and he was studying to become a full-time farmer. He didn’t kid himself into thinking it would be smooth sailing. And Darby had agreed to his being an alternate firefighter, but he felt the rightness of his decisions clear down to his bones.

  The little bundle in his arms coughed a couple of times, then let out a wail that nearly broke his eardrums. John held her out, staring at her in horror, without a clue of what to do.

  Darby laughed softly. “That’ll work.”

  John looked beyond his crying daughter. “I think you should take her.”

  Darby shook her head. “I think she’s just fine where she is. Try holding her close again. In the crook of your arm so she can see you.”

  How was he supposed to do that when the kid was wailing like a banshee? He awkwardly did as Darby demonstrated, then almost immediately the newborn stopped crying, instead, staring up at him with apparently as much wonder as he was staring at her.

  “There you go,” Darby whispered. “Why do I get the feeling that this one’s going to be Daddy’s little girl?”

  John grinned, suddenly feeling ten feet tall and more important than he’d ever felt as sheriff.

  “You can go faster than five miles an hour, John.”

  He looked at Darby where she sat in the passenger seat of the Jeep smiling at him, then glanced back to where their daughter was experiencing her first car ride. Home. He could barely make her out with the infant seat facing toward the back seat.

  He cleared his throat. “This will only happen one time. I intend to enjoy every minute of it.”

  He noticed Darby’s shiver. She was likely remembering another time when he’d set out to thoroughly enjoy a moment out of time. Their wedding night.

  Neither of them could think of a single place they’d rather be than at the farmhouse alone together. And he’d taken advantage of every precious moment alone with this new wife. And welcomed the return of the twins early the next morning. But rather than glaring at them from their bedside, the twins had crawled into bed with them, one on either side.

  Good thing one of their wedding presents had been a pair of pajamas for him.

  The baby gave a couple of soft coughs, then started crying.

  “Should I pull over to the side of the road?” he asked. “See what’s the matter?”

  Darby laughed. “You can’t stop the car every time she cries, John.”

  He tightened his hands on the wheel and accelerated. Slightly. While he’d grown a little more accustomed to hearing his daughter cry, the sound never failed to flip some sort of protection switch within him that made him want to ban all pain from her young life.

  “Sharon,” Darby said.

  John nodded, knowing she was continuing the name debate. They still hadn’t decided on one. And since the newborn couldn’t speak, she couldn’t tell them what she preferred.

  He quietly cleared his throat, wondering if now was the time to tell her what he had in mind.

  “You don’t like it?” Darby asked.

  “Yes. Yes, it’s nice.” He paused. “But…well, I don’t know. There’s one name I keep coming back to.”

  Darby glanced at him. “I didn’t know you had a favorite.”

  He swallowed. “Yes, well, I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure. I didn’t want to upset you.”

  “Why would a suggestion for a name upset me?”

  He glanced at her. “Because the name is Erica.”

  Erica. He didn’t have to say anything more.

  In the back seat, the baby abruptly stopped crying and made a soft cooing sound, instead.

  “I, um, understand if you don’t want to, you know, name her that,” he said when Darby remained silent.

  He shifted uncomfortably, waiting for her response.

  Ever since they’d first begun tossing around baby names, the name Eric for a boy or Erica for a girl had topped his list. But he wasn’t sure how Darby would feel about naming their baby after her late husband. But Erick had been more than just her late husband to him. He had been his best friend. Closer to him than a brother. And he couldn’t help wondering sometimes, late in the night when a breeze stirred the white sheers on their bedroom window, if Erick not only had a hand in his and Darby’s getting together, but approved wholeheartedly of their union.

  Naming their daughter Erica would bring everything full circle.

  “Erica,” Darby whispered. “Erica.”

  Finally she smiled. “I like it.” She slid her hand across the seat and squeezed his thigh. “I like it a lot.”

  John experienced such intense gratitude he nearly pulled off the road to kiss her.

  He settled for holding her hand. For now.

  The farm appeared on the horizon.

  Darby turned in her seat and tucked a blanket more tightly around the baby’s chubby legs. “We’re almost home, Erica. What do you think of that?”

  John leaned forward. The nearer they drew to the farm, the more he sensed something different. “Who’s going to be at the house besides your mom with the twins?”

  Darby shrugged and looked out her window as if she wasn’t concerned one way or the other. “I don’t know.” But John sensed that she did know. He caught her smile before she could completely turn away.

  “Uh-huh.”

  John could make out at least five cars in t
he driveway. For all he knew, there were more parked next to the house, out of sight. He picked out several of his family members’ cars, Cole’s sheriff’s vehicle and Dusty’s truck.

  “What in hell are they doing?” he asked under his breath, staring at where a large tarp had been draped across the side of the barn. And the remainder of the barn he could see was no longer gray, but a deep red.

  “Can’t say as I know,” Darby said, not even trying to hide her smile now.

  John pulled into the drive, forced to stop behind the line of other vehicles. He switched off the engine and climbed out, staring at the gathering of people near the barn.

  “John! John!” Erin cried, covered from head to toe in what looked like white paint. Lindy followed on her heels.

  The seven-year-olds launched themselves at him, and he crouched and caught them up in his arms. He turned toward where Darby was getting Erica out of her car seat, Jolie and a couple of his sisters helping her.

  “Come over here, John,” Lindy said, her face full of excitement. “Hurry.”

  John narrowed his gaze. “What have you two been up to since I left this morning?”

  “You’ll see,” Erin said, tugging on his hand.

  John allowed himself to be led to what he gathered was the predetermined stopping point. Dusty came up to stand beside him. “Congratulations, Sparky.”

  John grinned. “Yeah. Thanks.”

  Dusty grinned back, not needing to say anything more. As Erick’s brother, Dusty knew better than anyone what all of them had gone through. And, black eye aside, had been one hell of a support.

  Darby and the baby were crossed to John’s other side. He draped his arm over her shoulders and placed his free hand on Erin’s soft head, where she stood with Lindy in front of him.

  “Okay, guys, guess this is it,” Dusty called out to John’s brothers, who stood off to one side of the barn.

  “No, no, no!” Erin cried. “The countdown, Uncle Dusty. You forgot the countdown.”

  John lifted his brows at his friend.

  Dusty chuckled. “Okay. On the count of three, everyone.”

  “One…” everyone present said in unison, the girls’ voices ringing out.

  “Two…”

  “Three!”

  His older brother Ben pulled on a cord. Nothing.

  John laughed, only to earn an elbow from Darby. “What?” he asked.

  She nodded her head toward the barn.

  When he hadn’t been looking, the tarp had drifted to the ground to reveal the words THE SPARKS FAMILY spelled out in white letters as tall as his Jeep.

  John gazed at his wife, feeling more love for her at that moment than he ever thought himself capable of feeling.

  “I love you,” she murmured.

  He kissed her, reminding himself not to squash the baby still in her arms. He felt a hand tugging on his shirt.

  “Us, too!” Lindy said.

  John hiked them both up, then pulled Darby close again, holding all of his girls safely in his arms.

  ISBN: 978-1-4592-3674-5

  WHAT A WOMAN WANTS

  Copyright © 2002 by Lori and Tony Karayianni

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