by Janice Lynn
Maybe when she woke up she wouldn’t want to take up Blake’s pretend offer to head back to the hotel. Because at this moment she wanted to. For real.
If she believed he was sincere, they’d be out of there.
Having followed Blake, Mandy stepped up beside them. “Good for you, Darby. I’m glad you’ve met such a great guy and won’t die a virgin, after all.”
Heat burning her cheeks, Darby rolled her eyes, sure Mandy meant the words as some type of dig, knowing Mandy had meant her to be embarrassed in front of Blake.
Blake’s forehead wrinkled with a frown, his gaze going back and forth between Mandy and Darby. “What’s she talking about? Dying a virgin?”
“Nothing, really.” Mandy laughed, the sound sparkly. “Just one of those silly ‘most likely’predictions kids make.”
“Most likely?”
Mandy smiled. “Darby’s was…”
Darby opened her mouth, tried to speak, tried to stop Mandy from saying it out loud, but words wouldn’t come from Darby’s mouth. Mandy’s mouth had no such problems.
“Most likely to die a virgin.”
Would the ground please open up and swallow her? Or lightning strike the tree and drop a branch onto Darby, knocking her senseless? Either would work. Just so long as she didn’t have to look into Blake’s eyes and see the pity there, see the realization that she’d been a loser in high school.
Blake’s arm snaked around Darby’s waist, keeping her close. “I can put that ridiculous prediction to rest.”
“We noticed.” Mandy giggled, fanning her tanned face. Her brown eyes twinkled at Blake. “If the thermometer wasn’t reading over a hundred before, it is now. That was some kiss.”
Mandy was right. The temperature must be triple digit, because Darby was melting from Blake’s heat. His arm burned through her thin clothes, making her sweat.
“That kiss was nothing,” he promised, making her wonder if he’d read her mind. “Not compared to what Darby and I share. She’ll die a well-loved woman.” He stared down at her, his eyes sparkling like gleaming black onyx. “As long as there’s breath in my body, I’ll see to that.”
Darby stared at Blake in awe.
She could kiss him.
Not just because Mandy’s jaw had dropped, not because Trey looked at him with something akin to envy, not because he’d just single-handedly saved her face over the past humiliations she’d suffered, but because in that moment, when he looked at her, she believed him.
Which was exactly why she needed to make sure she never kissed Blake again.
Because none of this was real.
Not his kiss, his looks, or his words.
Because Blake was faking and she was the idiot who’d asked him to. The idiot who had to keep reminding herself that none of this was real, no matter how much she wished it were.
She’d set a dangerous game into play, having Blake pretend to love her. A game she wasn’t sure she could continue.
Thirty minutes later, Blake wondered if the people of Armadillo Lake were too blind to see the person Blake saw. Their lack of vision had damaged Darby’s self-confidence in ways he hadn’t realized.
But how could he have? She’d always come across as so together. So self-assured. So confident in who she was.
Only here, in a place that stripped her of the armor she’d so carefully shielded herself with, did he see the vulnerability in her eyes. The need to belong, to be accepted, to show that, despite whatever had happened in her past, she was somebody worthy, both then and now.
Darby had something to prove, and he couldn’t help but wonder if that need went far beyond making a statement with an impressive “date”.
He wanted her, caught glimpses of desire in her eyes, had felt her desire in their kiss, but did she really feel desire for him? Or just gratitude for his role this weekend?
“Blake, are you going to play softball with us?” she called, from where she stood with a couple of females who wore friendly faces and seemed to genuinely be glad to see Darby. He’d liked the women—their husbands, too.
“Maybe he doesn’t want to get his city-boy butt whooped by a bunch of country boys.”
Trey Nix he didn’t like.
Had Darby really had a relationship with that strutting buffoon? Former high school star quarterback or not, the guy was a self-absorbed loser. One who’d taken a look at present-day Darby and decided to make up for lost time.
Over Blake’s dead body.
He hadn’t played softball ever, but he’d once been a hell of a Little League baseball pitcher. Too bad they’d moved away near the end of the season, cheating him out of sure tournament victory. After his third unfinished season due to frequent moves Blake had opted not to play another organized sport, but he had played the occasional pick-up game at the fancy prep school he’d attended.
He wasn’t sure that would keep him from getting his butt whooped, but even if he’d never gripped a bat before he wouldn’t back down from the challenge in Nix’s eyes.
Five innings later Blake was thinking perhaps he should have recruited a few of his old Little League teammates. His current team was losing by two runs, and he was up to bat with a runner on base. With the right hit, he could tie the game.
Before Blake’s first pitch was thrown a loud wail had everyone’s heads turning toward the playground near the park’s pavilion.
“Bobby?” called a woman Blake had seen repeatedly with Mandy, while the other two women stared toward Darby, talking low. The woman abandoned her third base post to rush toward her crying son. “What’s wrong?”
The game forgotten, the rest of the team made their way to where the boy lay on the ground, clutching his arm.
His broken arm.
“What happened?”
“He fell when he jumped from the swing,” another boy informed them, his little face a mixture of curiosity and fear.
“Didn’t we talk about not jumping from the swings?” But even as she said the words the woman’s face paled, tears clouded her eyes, and she hugged the boy to her.
Blake started to step forward to check the boy, but when Darby bent next to the mother and son he reached for his phone to call for an ambulance.
“Someone bring a bag of ice for Bobby’s arm, pronto,” she ordered. Smiling, she placed her hand on the boy’s hand. “Hi, Bobby. My name is Darby Phillips, and I’m a doctor. Can I see your arm? I’ll be gentle.”
Obviously terrified, the boy shook his head, burying his face into his mother’s chest.
“Bobby, honey, let her check your arm.” Whatever differences were between them, the woman obviously had no problems with Darby examining her son. “She’s an old friend of Mom’s and Aunt Mandy’s.”
Nor with distorting the truth.
Although not happily, the boy let Darby check him.
While explaining to the ambulance service what had happened, Blake watched Darby assess the boy’s arm, admiring the way she spoke with him, explaining what she was doing in that calm, controlled voice.
Trey handed Darby a plastic bread sack that had been filled with ice and knotted at the end. Darby shot him a quick look of thanks and placed the bag on Bobby’s arm.
“Although the skin isn’t damaged, both the radius and the ulnar bones are broken, just proximal to the wrist.” Darby glanced at the woman. “I suspect the bones will need to be surgically pinned.”
“I could drive you.” Trey spoke up from where he stood next to her still, obviously eager to come to the rescue.
Blake opened his mouth to tell the guy to get lost, that he was on the phone with the emergency service and an ambulance should be on its way soon. But Darby took charge.
“Could you? That would be great. You drive us in Cindy’s vehicle, so she’ll have transportation at the hospital.” Darby gave him a smile that had Blake’s insides crawling. “Blake will follow us, and you can ride back with us.”
Great. Just what Blake wanted—to chauffeur Darby and her ex. Why were
they going to the hospital anyway? They couldn’t do anything except keep the arm stable. An orthopedic surgeon would be required to correct the damage to the bones.
But if Darby wanted to accompany the boy to the hospital, he wouldn’t argue. The whole weekend was about her, for her, and he’d agreed to play by her rules.
Even if he’d quickly realized he didn’t like those rules.
“I’m going, too,” Mandy piped up. “Cindy might need me.”
Darby’s expression tightened, but she didn’t say anything, just turned her attention back to Bobby.
Listening to the emergency dispatcher, Blake whistled. Darby was right. The closest emergency service was thirty miles away and wouldn’t arrive in Armadillo Lake anytime soon. They could get the boy to the hospital faster than waiting for the ambulance.
“Let’s go.”
CHAPTER SIX
FRESHLY showered, Blake sat on the hotel room bed. Humming to himself, recalling how Darby had clung to his every word the night before when he’d sung for her, he pulled on his black Italian shoes.
They’d gotten back from Pea Ridge about fifteen minutes earlier. They’d stayed at the hospital with Cindy, Mandy and Trey until Bobby had been admitted to a room on the surgery floor. He’d have surgery early the following day, to pin the broken pieces of his ulnar and radius bones.
As Darby had gone into the emergency room with Bobby and the boy’s mother, Blake had been left in the waiting area with Mandy and Trey. That hour had been one hell of a long wait.
Making Blake happier than they could have possibly realized, Mandy and Trey had stayed at the hospital, rather than ride back with them.
On the drive home, Darby had looked spent and closed her eyes. He’d encouraged her to lie down on the bed to rest while he took his shower. When he’d come out of the bathroom she’d been on the phone, not surprisingly, and was firing question after question about what was going on at Knoxville Memorial Hospital regarding their patients.
When finished, she clicked her cellular phone closed. “I called and checked in with Dr. Kingston. He discharged Evie Mayo this morning, along with both of your patients.”
His patients had been simple dehydration cases, so he wasn’t surprised they’d been released to go home. He’d expected as much. Darby didn’t sound sure about her patient.
“You don’t think he should have discharged Evie?”
“We still don’t know why her liver enzymes were so elevated. He says they’ve dropped to below a hundred and she was fine.”
Blake had reviewed the woman’s chart, examined her, and hadn’t been able to offer Darby any suggestions other than perhaps the woman had an unusual virus. Her white blood cell differential had been slightly shifted, with an increased lymphocyte count, indicating the possibility of a virus.
“Evie was okay with the discharge?”
Darby shrugged. “He says she was ready to go home.”
“He’s a good doctor.”
“Yes.” Glancing at her watch, she nodded. “I should get ready. Thank goodness we only have to go downstairs.”
She stood from the ornate chair, gathering her clothes to take into the bathroom with her.
“Darby?”
She turned, her gaze colliding with Blake’s.
“Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Mandy before we go downstairs?”
She shook her head.
“How about what happened between you and Nix?”
“We’re going to be late if I don’t get my shower.”
He sighed. He’d hoped she’d tell him last night, but she hadn’t. She’d seemingly shared everything with him except whatever her connection was to Trey and Mandy. “When you’re ready to talk, I’m here for you.”
Before turning her back on him, she smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“I know,” Darby said. Blake had always been there for her. Not that she’d needed him often, but when she had he’d been there without hesitation. Like when she’d had the flu. He’d not only covered for her in the office and at the hospital, but he’d brought her a basket full of edible goodies and stayed with her in case she’d needed anything.
Her hand on the bathroom doorknob, she paused, spun to face him. “Why are you so good to me, Blake?”
His dark eyes clouded with confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Why are you here with me this weekend? Surely you had better things to do than go to my high school reunion?”
“You blackmailed me, remember?”
Her grip tightened on the doorknob. “Blackmailed?”
“Blackmailed might be a bit strong,” he admitted, humor evident in his voice. “I owed you a favor so I’m here.”
Pretending to be in love with her, so she wouldn’t lose face with people from her past who didn’t matter anymore. Why had she thought they had? Why had she given them such power over her life? Why had she let Trey’s rejection impact her so much?
But somewhere along the way her reasons for keeping the opposite sex at bay had shifted from fear of rejection to waiting for Blake to notice that she was a woman, that they made a great team.
Only he never had, and she’d tired of waiting.
The kiss they’d shared flashed through her mind, lighting fires just at the memory of Blake’s intensity. When she’d joined him in the waiting room his gaze had dropped to her lips. Had he been remembering their kiss? Or had he been pretending for Mandy and Trey’s sakes?
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive.”
Biting into her lower lip, she sighed. She’d asked for this. Asked for him to pretend. What was that old saying about being careful what you asked for?
“I would have come anyway, Darby, if you needed me.” His gaze searched hers. “Do you regret my being here?”
He’d seen more of her than any other man, had seen the real her, and he’d stood back and let her handle Bobby’s injury this afternoon, knowing she’d needed to handle Bobby’s care, to prove something to herself and to her hometown.
Inherently, Blake knew her. Sometimes he knew her more than she knew herself. He helped her see things more clearly. Helped her to feel more confident about herself, about the woman she was, and about who she wanted to be.
He helped her to trust the opposite sex, because Blake was the only man she trusted who wasn’t blood kin.
“No, I don’t regret you being here. Far from it,” she admitted honestly. She trusted Blake more than any person she knew. With her business, her reputation, and with her past. “You’re a nice man, Blake Di Angelo.”
“Nice?” He coughed, sputtered, and snorted amidst laughter. “Don’t you believe it, Dilly.”
She rolled her eyes at the nickname he’d likely never let her live down. But, despite his antics and intentional teasing, she’d spoken the truth.
Nice? Darby thought he was nice?
Blake shook his head, picking up the remote to flip through the television stations, pausing to watch the world news, expecting any moment to see headlines flash: “Dr. Blake Di Angelo accused of being a nice guy. Truth soon to be revealed and partner to dump his sorry butt.”
Because the last thing he was feeling in regard to Darby was nice.
He’d established that first thing that morning, and nothing had happened during the day to persuade him otherwise.
Darby was a wonderful woman, the best he knew, but their relationship was a strictly no-sex one. Not that they’d ever discussed sex—they hadn’t. Not in regard to them having sex. There hadn’t been a need.
He’d done his thing, she’d done hers, and the twain had never met.
But all his thoughts currently featured Darby, and no matter how many times he told himself to quit thinking of her in sexual terms his libido refused to cooperate.
Nice? She thought he was nice?
Surely after that scorching kiss they’d shared he rated more than “nice”? That kiss had practically had smoke curling from his
fingers and toes and she called him a nice guy? What the—?
When the bathroom door opened, Blake was still fuming. He wasn’t a nice guy—didn’t want Darby to think of him in that light. Which begged the question, how did he want her to think of him? Had he wanted that kiss to start fires inside Darby? Had he wanted her to see him as more than her business partner?
Glancing toward the door, he felt his body answer his question for him. He wanted Darby to want him, hoped his kiss had curled her toes and put stars in her eyes.
He wolf-whistled. Her hair was swept up in a fancy do, exposing the graceful lines of her neck. The blue dress clung in all the right places and sent his libido into hyper-drive.
And her shoes. Had he ever seen her in heels like those? Sexy black stilettos with a wide ankle strap that begged for a man’s touch. He visually traced his way over her legs. His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. She was so tiny, but her legs went on and on. The heels pumped out the firm muscles of her calves, tightened the sliver of her quads that showed beneath the hem of her dress.
“You look amazing.”
First turning, to give him the full effect of her outfit, unknowingly hardening him to mammoth proportions, she rewarded him with a smile. One that lit her eyes to sparkling blue gems and softened the fullness of her all too kissable pink lips.
“Thank you.” Her gaze skimmed over his black pants, matching jacket, the blue shirt she’d suggested, and silver diamond-patterned tie. “You don’t look too shabby yourself, City Boy.”
Unable to drag his gaze from her, he drank in every delectable inch. “Let’s forget the reunion and stay here, so I can prove to you how not nice I am.”
Because her nice comment stung. What guy wanted to be described as nice?
Laughing, she rolled her eyes. “Be serious, Blake.”
He was serious.
He wanted her. Enough that he was tempted to push her onto the bed, push up that silky hemline, remove whatever skimpy, groan-worthy scrap of silk she was wearing, and kiss her until she begged him to take her.
Which drew him up short.
This was Darby, not some flavor of the month. Despite the fact he’d been pretending to be in love with her all weekend, he wasn’t. Acting on the sizzling attraction he was feeling toward her would ruin their business relationship, would ruin their friendship. A smart man would remember that.