She reached over and gently squeezed David’s forearm. “I’m not angry at you. I even understand why your mom feels the way she does. She’s just trying to protect her baby. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not.” Unfortunately, after his initial defense of Casey, his mother had made a point of not saying anything overtly nasty in front of him, thereby denying him the opportunity to really tell her off.
He switched off the ignition and pressed the remote again, saying nothing while overhead door hummed, enclosing them in the garage. “I promise I won’t ever ask you to do anything like that again.” He climbed out of the car and jogged around the vehicle to open the passenger door she’d already swung wide.
“Please, just forget about it,” she pleaded as he helped her out of the car. “I don’t want to be accused of coming between you and your parents, too.”
“What do you mean, too?” He closed the door and followed her as she stomped into the house.
“Well, that’s why your mother hates me. She thinks I’m a home wrecker, and now that I’ve gotten Brianna out of the way, I’m trying to get my hooks into you.”
“You? The other woman?” His chuckle ended in a soft snort. “You’re hardly the femme fatale type.”
The crushed expression on her face said he’d chosen the absolute worst time to laugh.
“Tell me about it.” She flopped onto the comfy family room sofa and glared at her belly. “The idea a man would prefer me over my sister is pretty hilarious, isn’t it?”
“No, Tinkerbelle. That’s not why I thought it was funny.” He dropped to his knees next to the couch and held her hand in his. “You’re very pretty. It’s just....you’re so friendly and helpful it’s ludicrous for anyone to consider you a man-eater.”
“Right.” Her mouth curved in a half-hearted smile. “Even so, I’d better go look for an apartment tomorrow. I don’t want to cause a rift between you and your paren—”
“No!” The vehemence in his reaction surprised him and, judging from the shock in Casey’s eyes, startled her as well. He lowered his tone. “To hell with what my mother believes. I want you to stay.”
The sour taste in his throat baffled him. Even Brianna’s departure hadn’t evoked this kind of panic in him. Somehow he had to find a way to keep Casey and his baby in his home. Maybe if he appealed to her artistic streak, he could change her mind. “You haven’t drawn the mural for the nursery yet.”
She dismissed his excuse with a flip of her hand. “That won’t take more than a few afternoons. I can come do that while you’re at work.”
He needed a bigger project. “Look—Brianna told me you helped her decorate in here,” he said, sweeping his hand around the room. “The living and dining room still need to be done. I was hoping you’d pick out furniture and have those rooms decorated this summer.”
“You want me to choose everything?”
Seeing the excitement sparkling in her blue eyes ignited a warm flutter in his gut like a mutant form of indigestion.
“Why not? You have great taste. I need someone here to deal with the painting contractors.”
“I don’t know.” The way she chewed on her lip and her longing gaze traveled over the walls and ceiling testified to a tug-of-war between her obvious yearning to decorate the house and her resolve to appease his mother’s paranoia.
“I have a terrible sense of color. If I deck the place out myself, it’ll end up looking like a big old Mardi Gras float.”
A reluctant smile curled her mouth. “I’ll make you a deal. I still owe Paul a home cooked dinner, but he wants me to invite Andy. She’ll never agree to come if she thinks I’m setting her up. If you let me hold a dinner party here once the furniture arrives, I could invite my entire staff with their spouses and dates without Andy getting suspicious.”
“You’ve got it. It sounds like fun.” He scooted up off the floor onto the sofa next to her.
“So what style of furniture do you have in mind?”
“I’m not particular. Just don’t buy any chairs with spindly legs that look like they’ll snap off if I sit on them.”
“In other words, you want a manly-man’s house.”
“No. Decorate it however you’d like. My only preference is no skinny legs or big flowers. Consider my home yours.” Please. Just don’t take my baby away.
The eager light in her eyes said his bait had tempted her better than a fly luring a trout in a fishing tournament. Now, all he had to do was reel her in. “You’re planning to invite Mrs. Berger to the party, too, right?”
“Definitely. I owe her more than anyone else.”
“She’s a nice lady. If she’s as lonely as you say, why don’t you ask her to go with you when you shop for the furniture and stuff?”
“That’s a great idea. I want to hold the party as soon as possible, so some help would speed things up.”
Not too much, he hoped. Casey’s fruity scent teased his nose, stirring him in a way that made his thoughts about her the night before seem G-rated. Maybe it was this unexpected attraction to her that his mother’s radar had picked up on. No doubt dealing with the pain of his divorce, coupled with his sudden feelings of protectiveness for his baby and its mother, had simply left him feeling vulnerable.
“Take her someplace nice for lunch—like the Riverview, where we went today. My treat.”
“David, you don’t have to pay—”
“I insist. It’s the least I can do in lieu of a decorator’s fee.”
“What?” She poked him in the ribs. “You mean I’m not getting a percentage off the top?”
“No.” He laughed and fished his wallet out of his back pocket. “All you get is lunch and the chance to create a child-friendly home for our baby.”
“Darn.” She snapped her fingers and chuckled. “I was planning to jack up my commission by buying an original Picasso.” She twisted her back toward him, teasing, “Hmmm....maybe I should rethink this.”
He might need a bigger hook, but sooner or later he’d have her squirming in his net.
“Okay. I’ve thought it over.” She turned back to face him and snatched the ATM card he extended to her. “I’ll stay and spend your money. Except, don’t blame me if your mom refuses to visit you.”
“Blame you?” he sputtered. “If you’re effective as mother repellant, my friends will be begging to rent you.”
His gazed dropped to her puffy lower lip that she’d been chomping on all afternoon. He plastered his restless tongue to the roof of his mouth, quelling the urge to kiss her.
Maybe his desperation to stop her from leaving wasn’t just about keeping his baby under his roof.
He refused to examine his other motives too closely. He only knew he wanted her feeling so comfortable in his house she’d find it impossible to leave.
~*~
“Mother repellant,” Casey muttered several hours later, yanking a pale yellow nightshirt over her freshly shampooed head. David wouldn’t think it was so funny when his mom really did boycott his home—especially on holidays.
After listening to them during dinner, and seeing his reluctance to tell his parents about his divorce, it was as clear as glass David ached for their approval. In fact, he seemed more concerned about disappointing them than he was over the failure of his marriage.
Swiping at her teary eyes, she scooped the tube of body lotion off the heavy oak dresser and padded across the plush carpet to the king-size sleigh bed. The last thing she wanted was him hating her for ruining his relationship with his mother and father.
She hitched the hem of her nightie up under her armpits and plopped onto the edge of the mattress. Squirting a dollop of moisturizer on her stomach, she flinched at a sharp rap on the six-panel door.
“Tinkerbelle, are you decent?”
“Yes?” she answered simultaneously.
Only when the door swung open did she realize David had understood her yes to be more than just an acknowledgement that she’d heard him.
“W
ell, almost.” She shrugged, glancing up from her bare belly to his rippling abs. At least as decent as he was.
He gaped at her from the threshold, wearing a pair of knit nylon jogging shorts. Sweat glistened on his pumped muscles, telling her he’d been working out in the gym he’d set up in the finished basement. “I’m sorry. I thought you said come in. I realized I’d forgotten to tell you the access code for the ATM is Brianna’s birthday, backwards.”
“Seeing as it’s mine, too”—she sniffed—“it should be easy enough to remember.”
As he turned to leave, he stopped short and frowned. “Hey, are you crying?” He strode across the room and peered at her face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Don’t give me that.” He dried her cheeks with his fingers. “You’re upset about something.” He sat on the mattress next to her and laid his hand over her abdomen, stopping the stream of lotion making a run for the waistband of her bikini panties. “You’re makin’ a mess.”
“I’ve got it.” She swallowed hard, trying to push his hand aside.
His arm refused to budge. “No, let me do it. I’d like to say goodnight to the little guy.” His slick palm glided over her stomach in sensual circles while his other hand tenderly brushed the damp hair back from her face. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
The tenderness in his voice simply made the tears come faster. “I don’t know. My hormones are probably just making me blow things way out of proportion.”
He continued to stroke her belly and pulled her closer to his side, pressing his lips to her forehead. “Shhh....that may well be, but something turned on your waterworks. What was it?”
The musky scent of his fresh sweat was a powerful aphrodisiac. She trembled, staring into his eyes. “I-I just....I don’t want to cause problems. You say you don’t care what your parents think, but I know you do. It’s obvious how much they mean to you.”
“Casey, it’s true I owe my mom and dad a great deal. I don’t know many other doctors who’ve finished med school debt free.”
“Exactly.” She sniffled and shivered from the delicious feel of his slippery caress.
“That still doesn’t mean they can dictate who I can or can’t have live in my home.”
Her chest shuddered as she drew in a breath, attempting to compose herself. “Maybe not, but it hurts that your mother thinks I’m the kind of woman who would betray her own sister.”
“Why are you letting her overactive imagination bother you? We both know there’s never been anything improper between us.”
Physically, maybe—but there was probably an element of truth in his mother’s accusation. The recent sexual attraction between them suggested maybe they had been engaging in what Judy called verbal foreplay all along.
Perhaps subconsciously, Casey really had been flirting with her sister’s husband.
Except in her own defense, even if she had been guilty of suppressing some latent desire for David, she never would’ve expressed it or acted upon it. Wanting a piece of candy was very different from actually putting one’s hand into someone else’s trick-or-treat bag and pilfering one.
“What my mother thinks isn’t important,” David rasped in a husky whisper. He stared at her mouth as if he were a chocoholic and her lips were covered in fudge. “You’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”
Yet.
Her heart’s tempo stepped up from a slow waltz to an energetic polka while he silently gazed at her. Heat flared in his heavy-lidded eyes while his fingers continued stroking her half-dressed body.
Gradually, the mattress sucked them down like a pool of quicksand.
His breath caught as she pressed her palms against his warm flesh to shove him away. Somehow, though, instead of pushing, her hands developed a mind of their own and embarked on a leisurely journey exploring his shoulders and chest.
She brushed her fingers over his flat nipples, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. He toppled onto the bed alongside her, his mouth swooping down on hers in a series of tender kisses that elicited a soft whimper from her. “I can’t—”
His tongue flicked at her lips, cutting off her objection and teasing them apart. Merging his mouth with hers, he drew her body against his, their tongues engaging in a frenetic game of tag.
She gasped into his mouth when his thick erection pressed into her belly, leaving no doubt how much he wanted her. His hands cupped her fanny and pulled her tighter to him while his mouth eagerly nibbled its way to her throat.
“Oh, David.” She arched her back, clutching his shoulders and reveling in his touch. “We shouldn’t.”
“I know,” he murmured, but his lips slid right back to hers and resumed their sensual assault. His fingers twined in her wet hair as he rolled over her and aligned their bodies, leaving only the thin fabric of her panties and his shorts as a barrier between hard flesh and damp heat.
Flames of desire licked through her. He ground himself urgently against her, slipping his hands under her nightshirt. Her breasts, hypersensitive from her pregnancy, swelled into his palms. He gently squeezed them and grazed her taut nipples with his thumbs.
A violent shiver rippled through her. He pinched her crests lightly and brought her as close to a climax as she’d ever been. Tears seeped from her eyes and rolled back into her hair.
She couldn’t do this. It would simply prove his mother was right.
“Please don’t,” she whimpered, struggling to stop herself from tumbling headlong into the freefall of pleasure his caress promised. “Remember how much you love Brianna?” she reminded him.
Shaking, he drew back and stared down at her. Anguish twisted his features when it evidently dawned on him what they’d almost allowed to happen. “Oh, dear God.” He squeezed his eyes shut, hiding the tortured regret in them. “I didn’t mean....please forgive me.” He scooted off her and loomed over the bed, his chest heaving like a blacksmith’s bellows. “I’m sorry. I only came to tell you the ATM code, and that I have a hospital committee meeting tomorrow night, so I won’t be home for dinner.”
Before she could respond, he whispered, “Goodnight, Tinkerbelle,” and dashed out of the suite.
For several moments, she stared at the door he’d closed behind him, and his words from the night before echoed in her head. It’s not a good idea to tell a guy who’s been celibate as long as I have that you’re ripe for the picking. That kind of information could make a man forget you used to be family.
She buried her face in the pillow, feeling exactly like the Jezebel his mother had painted her as—a temptress luring a sex-deprived man into her bed against his will.
Lord help her, despite her guilt and remorse, she still ached for him and wanted a lot more than just his kisses. Heaven forbid he ever touched her that intimately again. If he did, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop him.
~*~
“I’m not gonna die, I’m not gonna die,” Brianna murmured as a mantra, trembling while the nurses transferred her from the gurney onto the operating table early Monday morning.
“At least, not today,” Dr. Huntley reassured from beneath his mask as he stepped to her side. “Or anytime soon.” The blue cap over his light brown hair and the mask covering his lower face simply accentuated his green eyes. She’d never known a man with such long eyelashes. He glanced around at his surgical team. “Are we all set?”
The anesthesiologist nodded. “Ms. McIntyre, I want you to start counting backward from a hundred.”
She didn’t even glance at the woman who’d spoken. Her gaze remained glued to Dr. Huntley’s. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “What if I never wake up?”
“Hey, you have nothing to worry about,” he answered with comforting conviction. “My bedside manner may stink, but I’m still the top neurosurgeon in the Midwest, and all the nurses are fighting to work with me,” he repeated what she’d said about him. “I’ll make you a deal. If you don’t wake up, you don’t have to pay my bill. Okay?”
> “You bet I won’t, pal.”
“Okay,” the anesthesiologist coached, “one hundred, ninety-nine....”
Wait a minute. Brianna struggled to resist the drug sucking her under. Dead people couldn’t pay their—
~*~
“Casey?” David hollered up the stairs Monday afternoon as he shut the front door. His stomach tightened at the dead silence that answered. Had she left? After the sleazy way he’d behaved last night, he wouldn’t blame her.
He wandered to the back of the house, through the family room, and into his study to retrieve the binder with revisions for the new policy and procedure manual. He shook his head as he tucked it under his arm. These days, he’d forget his ass if it weren’t screwed on. Of course, it was highly possible that leaving the report behind had been an unconscious attempt to give himself an excuse to come home before his meeting. All day he’d been distracted, remembering how incredible Casey had felt in his arms and how he’d ached for her all night.
What started out as a simple desire to feel their baby move again had somehow morphed into a burning compulsion to touch her.
Right. He snorted. Who the hell was he kidding? He hadn’t just yearned to put his hands on her. His mouth had insisted on jumping into the game, too. When her lips had parted for his tongue, his eyeballs had done backward somersaults in his head, and all he’d been able to think about was burying himself deep inside her. He’d never lost control over his libido that way before.
During the entire drive home, he’d mentally composed an apology for taking advantage of her vulnerable state.
Not that he deserved Casey’s forgiveness.
She’d poured her heart out to him, and instead of comforting her, he’d groped her like a horny teenager in the back seat of his father’s car—not less than two minutes after she’d made it clear she considered a relationship with him taboo.
The fact her body had responded to his touch like a Stradivarius to a virtuoso was no excuse—particularly after she’d admitted her raging hormones had made her extra susceptible to seduction.
His stomach rolled as he recalled the revulsion in Casey’s eyes when she’d begged him to stop. The heartbroken sobs that drifted through the door after he’d left proved he’d made her feel ten times cheaper than his mother’s paranoid finger-pointing ever could.
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