by Donna Fasano
She was avoiding him. Dakota didn’t have a single doubt about it. Lyssa had taken to staying late at the office in order to escape spending time with him in the evenings.
He grinned as he dipped the brush into the bucket of pastel paint.
The scene in the exam room this past week continued to run through his head. He’d been bowled over at the time by Lyssa’s surprising self-assuredness. What sass! She’d boldly announced her claim on him as his new wife and then approached him so intimately. She’d kissed him right there in front of Desiree Washington.
His chuckle echoed off the bare walls of the freshly painted room and he shook his head in amazement. Lyssa was remarkable. This wasn’t the first time he’d come to that conclusion. And he had an idea it wouldn’t be the last, either.
She just had a way about her. A special… way.
He had no other words to describe her.
You’re attracted to her, a small voice accused from the back of his brain.
A slight scowl drew his eyebrows together. What he was feeling was not attraction. He liked Lyssa, sure. But he refused to allow his feelings to grow to anything more than the mere affection that currently flooded his being when he thought of her.
She’s a gorgeous woman, the voice mocked. You’ll never resist those striking golden-brown eyes of hers. If given the chance, you’d happily surrender once again to her luscious-tasting lips.
His head shook in a firm, dissenting response. The jerky motion sent a drip of paint spattering on the carpet. He heaved a noisy exhalation of disgust and immediately grabbed for the wet cloth he had on hand for just such messes.
As he dabbed at the spot, Dakota gave himself a good talking-to.
“You are not interested in a relationship here,” he muttered, his words grating with resolve. “It doesn’t matter that she’s beautiful. It doesn’t matter that her eyes flash with quick wit. It doesn’t matter that her mouth tastes like sweet wine.”
The deepest part of him stirred and warmth snaked through his body in languid, coiling tendrils. Dakota closed his eyes, wanting to shun the glorious agony winding through him, yet also wanting to savor it, get lost in it. Finally, he let out a growl, tossing the rag aside, clearing his mind and dipping his brush again into the pale green paint.
Why don’t you just admit it? The question reverberated jeeringly. You’re attracted to her.
Desperately.
“I am not!”
So why had he spent the last three evenings preparing this surprise for her? Why had he gone out of his way to keep his work a secret in order to spring the project on her once it was finished?
Because she’d had a rough time of it, that was why. She was on the run. From what must have been a very bad situation. She could use a little joy. Those were the only reasons he was doing what he was doing.
He was determined not to get intimately involved. Dakota had his fill of the hurt that came with loving relationships. He’d been betrayed. Rose Marie had taken the love he’d offered and twisted it up until it had become unrecognizable even to him. When Dakota had arrived home to Misty Glen, his emotions had been in such a state that he hadn’t thought he’d even survive the experience.
And the betrayal he’d encountered involved another woman he’d loved, and it reached far back into his past. His mother had treated him treacherously. Her disloyalty continued to affect him every day of his life. Why, he was forced to confront it every single time he looked into a mirror….
The black cloud that descended on him was frightening in the dire emotion it carried along with it, so Dakota shoved and pushed his way out of it.
Focus on the work at hand, he told himself calmly.
And the work at hand was being done for the sole purpose of bringing a smile to the face of one extraordinary woman for whom Dakota merely felt a friendly affection.
He sighed with an easy satisfaction. With his motivation now clearly defined, he felt better.
After one last brush stroke, he stood and inspected his efforts, feeling both pleased with himself and certain that Lyssa was in for a grand surprise.
~oOo~
She was avoiding him. There was no doubt about that.
For the past three days, she’d spent hours reorganizing the office. She’d cleaned out the supply closet. She’d even figured out how to integrate phone numbers into the new texting system that would alert patients to the dates and times of their appointments.
Lyssa stifled a yawn. She was tired. She’d been on her feet all day, and the extra hours she was putting in during the evenings were taking their toll on her pregnant body. She looked at the clock on the wall.
If she could just stay for twenty more minutes, she could arrive at home and head straight for a hot bath. After that she could climb directly into bed, and there would be no need for her to have too much conversation with Dakota.
Ever since she’d instigated that kiss, her feelings had become nothing short of anarchic where her new husband was concerned. She found herself thinking about him constantly. He’d made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t interested in becoming involved in a relationship. He’d been hurt, lied to, used in the past.
What on earth was wrong with her?
She’d just left a horrible relationship. She’d traveled clear across the country in order to find her freedom. In order to find herself. What was she doing yearning for another man?
Truth be told, the kind of yearning she felt for Dakota was different than anything she’d felt for Rodney.
It had been many months since she’d actually longed for a close bond with her ex. And thinking she could conjure up one with that mean-spirited man had been a mistake, especially since she’d married him under those now-regretful circumstances. Still, Rodney had made promises that had lured her into thinking things might be different.
So many promises…
Sadness threatened to tumble down on her, but she shrugged it off. She was through feeling badly over her first marriage. Granted, all those sour feelings were her own fault. But she was done with that, nonetheless.
Right now, she had to deal with her emotions regarding Dakota, or rather her physical responses to the man. She’d never been treated with the kind of gentleness and respect with which he treated her.
Her chin tipped up. Surely that was the root of her response to him. He was kind and caring. A wonderful man. Any woman would feel attracted to that. And she was dealing with a body raging with hormones. So it was no wonder that he triggered feelings in her—sensuous consequences to his kind overtures.
That was it, she decided. Now all she had to do was restrain herself.
A rude snort gushed from her lips, and she covered her grin with her fingers. Oh, if only it were as easy as it sounded. Now, avoiding Dakota altogether, that was something she was becoming adept at.
Rising from the desk chair, Lyssa shut down the laptop, then crossed the room and flipped off the light. It was time to go home, take a bath, and crawl into bed.
Dakota’s office sat right next to his home. In fact, the two structures were connected by a hallway. For the past two nights that Lyssa had come in, the house had been dark and quiet. But tonight there seemed to be lights on in every room.
Fearing that something was wrong, Lyssa went in search of Dakota, and she found him in the small laundry room just off the kitchen.
“Hello,” he greeted brightly as he tucked the ironing board into the linen closet.
“Is everything all right?”
“Sure is. I’m just tidying up a bit. I was pressing some curtains.”
“Pressing curtains?” Automatically, she glanced at her watch. He normally retired to his room pretty early. “But… isn’t it awfully late for that?”
Excitement danced in his green eyes, and Lyssa found it so enchanting that she forced herself to look away.
“It’s not that late,” he told her. “I’m glad you’re home. I’ve got a surprise for you.”
Lyssa hated sur
prises. Surprises meant gifts. And gifts meant that the giver was looking for something in return. During her marriage, she’d quickly come to realize that anytime she was given a present, she was expected to reciprocate a favor. And the payback was never pleasant.
Her hesitance must have tipped Dakota off regarding her uncertainty. He laughed.
“Come on now,” he said. “It’s a good surprise. I promise.”
He took her hand and propelled her toward the back of the house.
His skin felt so warm against her own, his hold on her secure, and Lyssa was left wondering how any woman could give up a man like this once she’d captured his heart. Poor Rose Marie, the errant thought of Dakota’s ex floated through Lyssa’s mind, unbidden. The woman had been an idiot to let him go.
Dakota walked past his bedroom door, and then hers. He stopped at the third bedroom.
“Go ahead,” he urged her softly. “Go in.”
Lyssa looked at him, tentativeness making her feel quavery inside. Dakota was not Rodney, she silently reminded herself. Dakota was honorable. He was kind. He wouldn’t be looking for any kind of turnabout.
Slowly, she turned the doorknob and gently pushed open the door. Dakota reached around her and flicked on the light switch.
Lyssa inhaled audibly. And her heart melted.
“Oh, my,” she breathed. “B-but—”
“You’ve never mentioned whether or not you know the sex of the baby,” he said in a rush, nudging her farther inside the nursery. “So I opted for celery green and yellow. That’ll work for a girl or a boy, don’t you think?”
She couldn’t answer. She couldn’t think straight. Emotions swam and collided.
The freshly painted walls were green with white trim. Lemon-yellow curtains fluttered in the autumn breeze coming in through the window.
“A crib!” She moved to stand beside the bed, running her fingertips along the top of the railing. A colorful mobile hung at the head. The mattress was covered with a downy sheet, a fluffy teddy bear nestled in one corner. She glanced at the white rocking chair sitting next to the crib. “How did you do all this without my knowing?”
He grinned. “You’ve been awfully busy the past few evenings.” His smile broadened. “And so have I.”
She picked up the furry brown teddy bear and hugged it to her chest. Her eyes blurred with hot tears.
“Hold on now. You’re not going to cry on me, are you? I did all this to make you happy.”
“I am happy.”
His tone softened to a croon as he came up behind her, his hands sliding onto her shoulders. “So why the tears?”
“I don’t know.” She sniffed, then blurted, “I’m a pregnant woman,” as if that could explain everything.
In reality, Lyssa had never been so moved, so stirred with… with…
She couldn’t put a name to what she was feeling. No one had ever done something this wonderful for her. Ever.
Finally, she whispered, “Dakota, my baby’s not due for five months. Do you really think I’ll still be here then? ”
She couldn’t see his face, but sensed he was surprised by her question.
“I know we never talked about just how long our marriage would last, but it never entered my head that you’d leave before the baby arrived.”
She was quite shaky now, a condition she found herself in frequently when she was in Dakota’s company. The man was always doing something or other that stole her breath away. Whether it was simply looking devastatingly handsome, or saying something kind and reassuring, or creating a nursery for her child, the man was just too wonderful for words.
As she stood by the lovely crib, he slipped his arms around her until he held her securely. He rested his chin on her shoulder and gently ruffled the teddy bear’s fur.
“We had a deal,” he told her. “You’ve helped me immensely. Women like Desiree Washington are much less of an issue in my life. And word has gotten around that I’m a married man now. My problems are well on their way to being solved.”
He pulled her more securely against him and she didn’t resist.
“Now,” he whispered, “I think our goal is to see that the remainder of your pregnancy is as stress-free as possible.”
Lyssa had never really been in love before, never lost her heart to a man. She’d found herself married to her first husband for all the wrong reasons. And she’d thought—up until that very second, at least— that her marriage to Dakota had been based on some pretty mixed-up reasons, too.
But if she were to hazard a guess, she’d feel safe saying that if someone were to x-ray her chest right at this moment, it would be empty. And her heart? Well, her heart was in the palm of Dakota’s hand.
Chapter Five
“What is that delicious smell?”
The appreciative tone of Dakota’s voice made Lyssa smile. Ever since he’d surprised her with the nursery, she’d decided to do what she could to repay him. Over the past few days, she cleaned the house, did the shopping, and cooked nice dinners for him. These small offers of appreciation, she felt, were the least she could do. He’d given her so much. A job. A safe place to live. Compassion. Concern. Respect.
She wasn’t motivated by feelings of obligation; in no way was this situation anything like what her ex had forced on her. No, she did these things because she wanted to do them. She enjoyed seeing Dakota’s enthusiastic smile when he found his shirts had been freshly laundered and hung in his closet. She especially enjoyed hearing his compliments when they sat down to eat together each evening.
Lyssa had stopped the silly practice of avoiding Dakota. She’d realized that, since he had been honorable enough to tell her honestly that he wasn’t interested in a relationship, she could be mature enough to respect that. The attraction she felt for him continued, but that didn’t mean she had to act on those feelings.
She’d been so moved by what he’d done. The nursery had been an amazing surprise. An overwhelming gift. Even now just thinking about it made her go tingly all over.
“It’s gumbo,” she told him. “New Orleans style.”
His eyes lit up. “Spicy?”
She grinned. “Very.”
Their gazes caught and held. The air hummed and vibrated. Yet Lyssa made herself turn away from the moment. She focused her attention on lifting the pot lid and giving the contents a thorough stir.
She served the gumbo over steaming white rice. Crusty bread and a nice sparkling grape juice rounded out the meal.
“This is wonderful,” Dakota said. “Delicious.”
A blush warmed her cheeks. “Thanks.” She picked up her glass and took a sip.
“Your mother did a good job.”
Lyssa nearly choked at the mention of her mother. “I beg your pardon?”
He chuckled, seemingly unaware of her strangled reaction. “I can image the two of you cooking marvelous dinners together as she taught you all about slicing, dicing, and secret spices.”
Now it was her turn to laugh, but hers held a hint of nervousness. Talking about her mother always made her edgy. Lyssa forced herself to smile, confident that she could hide her anxiety. It was a task she’d practiced well over the years.
“My mother never cooked a meal in her life. She was too busy working. Or sleeping.” Her humor faded as she added, “Eating together wasn’t something we did much of.”
“Oh.” He looked discomfited by the sudden change in her demeanor. “I’m sorry.”
“I learned to cook from the best chefs on public television.” She grinned, hoping to recoup the easy atmosphere that had been between them. “I watched a lot of TV as a kid—that happens when you don’t have much parental supervision—and cooking shows were my favorite.”
He grew quiet. Then he set down his spoon, his green gaze intense. Softly, he asked, “You don’t like talking about your mother?”
She averted her eyes to her place setting. She straightened the butter knife that sat next to her bowl, moved her glass a fraction of an inch
, playing for time as she tried to decide just how—or even if—she wanted to risk a response.
Finally, she tipped up her chin. “It’s true she and I didn’t have the best of relationships. But I am happy to say that we were able to work out our differences.” She steeled herself. “She spent her final six months living with me.”
“Oh, Lyssa,” he said, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sad topic.”
Having her childhood memories stirred was unsettling, so she remained silent. An awkwardness tumbled upon them. But she did realize, though, she found the roving of Dakota’s thumb over her wrist to be very comforting.
“Isn’t it amazing,” he said, his words downy soft, “how all of us carry around baggage from the past?” He slid his fingers up along her forearm, his touch causing a wave of shivery heat to course across every inch of her skin.
“Take me, for instance,” he continued. “I’m still trying to heal from the hurt Rose Marie inflicted on me. Never in my life had I thought I’d end up being a trophy. Wanted, not because of who I am, but for what I am.”
He rambled on about himself, about his past, giving her time to recover from the melancholy she’d fallen headfirst into. It was almost as if he was apologetic about having caused this stiffness to come between them. Clearly, he didn’t like it. And neither did she, so she pushed the past and all her bad feelings connected to it far away from them.
“Do you still hear from her?” she asked. “Rose Marie, I mean.”
Dakota shook his head. “I don’t. But I do stay in contact with friends we made together while we were married. And from what I hear, Rose Marie is still using my last name. Getting all she can from her affiliation with me—or rather, my race—even if our marriage was short-lived.”
Commiseration welled up in her and she released it in a deep sigh.
“I hate lies.” The words burst from him as if he had no control over them. “Deceit. Manipulations. They make me sick.”
Self-consciousness invaded Lyssa like an army of stinging ants. He abhorred lies and Lyssa couldn’t blame him. Yet here she was, taking advantage of his good nature, all the while keeping secrets from him. Secrets that could affect his career. That could very well affect even his safety.
