What a Woman Wants

by Tori Carrington

  Lyle’s black grin never wavered. “My brother and I wanted to escape the abuse we were suffering at your lockup, sheriff. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

  “Too much information,” Darby whispered, knowing that it was true. Somehow the two convicts had heard the rumor about Violet Jenkins’s estate and had scouted it out.

  “Didn’t find anything, did you?” John asked.

  The grin turned into more of a scowl, and his grip on Darby became painful.

  “That’s because there is nothing to find.” John’s gaze latched on to Darby’s for the first time since he’d accosted Lyle. In the hazel depths Darby saw fear, anxiety and so much love she suddenly found it difficult to swallow. He seemed to be trying to tell her something.

  “Mommy!”

  Oh, God, no!

  Darby watched the twins being spit from the front of the barn and rushing toward them, apparently thinking everything was okay with the arrival of the cavalry.

  Later, Darby would mentally work out what happened, but that moment she couldn’t have said who made the first move. John grabbed her as he threw a kick to the back of Lyle’s legs. A gunshot sounded and Darby felt the grip on her arm release. But all she could think of was getting to her girls. She ran in their direction, trying to shield them with her body, then dropped to her knees, her eyes widening suddenly as scorching fire ripped through her side. The same side that Lyle had had the gun pressed to.

  Lindy and Erin catapulted into her arms. She caught them just before she fell backward onto the ground.

  “Anything yet?”

  John grabbed an intern hurrying through the doors of the emergency room. The young woman shook her head. “No. No word yet, Sheriff. Sorry.”

  John jammed his fingers into his hair and resumed pacing the hospital hall.

  Two hours had passed since the ambulance attendants had wheeled Darby behind those cold metal doors. Two hours of sheer torture. Of thinking the worst. Praying for the best. And being left completely in the dark as to her condition.

  Damn it to hell, she’d looked like death itself lying against the sheets, blood soaking through the gauze the paramedics kept pressed to her side. He remembered thinking that no one could lose that much blood and survive.

  She’d been so still.

  “Here, John. Drink this.”

  It took him a moment to realize someone had said something, then another to register who it was. He blinked to where Jolie was gently pressing a bottle of vending-machine orange juice into his hand, closing his fingers around it as if they were incapable of the movement without her help. He looked beyond her to where Darby’s mother, Adelia, sat with the twins and Ellie in the glass-enclosed waiting area to his right.

  “You’re just getting in the way out here,” Jolie said, steering him toward the room. “Come on. Wait with us in here.”

  John dug in his heels, staring at the twins’ tear-streaked cheeks as they stared back at him. Their faces were white with fear. For the second time in their young lives they were faced with the prospect of losing a parent. And he felt he was to blame.

  But Jolie Conrad hadn’t been a firefighter for seven years, now chief, without knowing a few strength maneuvers. John was forced to enter the stale-smelling room. Jolie released him and he dropped into the plastic molded chair closest to the door, with a dead-on view of those cold metal doors at the end of the hall.

  What had he done?

  He dropped his head into his hands, his fingers biting into his closed eyes as he warded off a flood of emotion so strong he was dizzy with it.

  One moment, he’d seen the outcome of an iffy situation gone bad, then the next, things had gotten even worse. He rocked slightly. He hadn’t even known Darby had been shot until one of the twins, Lindy he thought, had cried out, blood staining her hands.

  How could he not have known? How could he have done something he thought would help Darby, only to hurt her?

  Please, God, let her make it through this.

  He realized that in all his thoughts since arriving at the hospital, he hadn’t thought about the baby she was carrying once. All he could think about was her. His love for Darby. His need that she be all right.

  He felt a small, cold hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. It’s going to be all right.”

  John slowly slid his hands down his face and blinked into Erin’s somber, angelic features.

  Lindy appeared next to her sister and began patting his knee, her dark eyes wide. “You’ll see. The doctor will make her all better. I know he will. Then we can all go home.”

  Home.

  The reversal of their roles struck John. He, the adult, falling apart in an emergency room chair; they, the children who should be in need of comfort, instead comforting him.

  He was so filled with gratitude that he nearly wept. He gathered both girls into his arms, then buried his face in their sweet-smelling hair. They felt so good, so right, cradled in his arms. He’d loved them from the day they were born. But as an uncle. Until now. Now he couldn’t imagine loving them more had they been born his own children. And how very, very much he loved their mother. How he loved the baby she carried.

  So much rested on what was happening in the other room it took his breath away.

  He didn’t know what he would do if he lost her. He refused even to consider the possibility. She had to pull through. She had to. For him. For the twins. For their baby.

  “Shh,” Lindy said, softly patting his shoulder. “Don’t cry. Erin and me are here for you.”

  John pulled back, cupping both of their precious faces in his hands. He tried for a smile. “God, how I’ve missed you two.”

  This time when he hugged them, they hugged him back. John found himself thinking that Darby would have been happy about that. His eyes shut. Correction. She would be happy about that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Darby’s mouth felt like someone had stuffed a roll of cotton into it. She tried to swallow, but got nothing but air.

  “She’s coming to,” a soft female voice said. “Here, sweetheart. Open your mouth.”

  Darby did as asked and was rewarded with something cold and wet. Ice, she realized, as she tried but failed to open her eyes. It felt as though ten-pound weights rested on her eyelids.

  “You’re going to be okay. Right as rain,” the female voice continued. “And so is your baby.”

  Darby seemed to be drifting on a fluffy white cloud, buoyed by the woman’s words, yet unable to thank her.

  “Darby?”

  Even if her mind hadn’t registered the sound of John’s voice, the leap of her heart would have told her. Darby tried for a smile, then licked her lips. So dry.

  Finally she pried her eyes open, but it took her a moment to focus. The instant she did, she gazed on the man who was not just the focal point of her eyes, but of her life.

  She already knew that somewhere down the line, while fighting for exactly the opposite, she had fallen in love with Sheriff John Sparks. She just hadn’t realized how deeply. So deeply she was afraid she no longer knew where she ended and he began. She felt him in her bones. In every breath she took. And every reason she’d conjured up to prevent them from taking their relationship to the next natural level fell away, leaving her with a knowing that nearly overwhelmed her.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, taking her hand and lifting it to his mouth. He dragged his lips across her skin, leaving a trail of shivers in their wake. “I’m so very, very sorry.”

  She didn’t know what he was apologizing for. Even without the nurse telling her, she knew her baby, their baby, was okay. She felt the baby’s life force emanate from within, only reinforcing her love for the man looking more broken than she felt.

  “Mommy!”

  Darby swung her gaze from John’s face to the twins, who bounded into the room, freeing themselves from Jolie’s grip and racing for the bed. John caught them. “Careful. Mommy has to heal a bit before she’s up for any jumping on the bed.”


  He easily hoisted them into his arms, both girls looking at him with gratitude, then at Darby.

  Lindy leaned forward so that she could gently touch Darby’s arm. “Are you okay, Mommy?”

  Darby smiled. She caught Lindy’s fingers and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I’m going to be fine, baby. Just fine. You wait and see.”

  Darby took in their beautiful faces, then looked at John again. Along with the baby in her womb, these were the most important people in her life. And she would never, ever, forget that.

  “What’s say we go get Mommy some ice cream?” Jolie’s voice sounded behind John.

  Darby looked at her dear friend gratefully. Jolie gave her a smile and a wink.

  “That’s sounds like a great idea,” John said confidently, although his expression looked anything but confident.

  Darby braced herself, expecting the girls to argue with him, to say they hated ice cream, anything to prevent their removal from the room. But instead, the twins grinned at him and nodded. “Okay,” Erin said, allowing John to put her down. “Do you want some, too?”

  John grinned. “Yeah. Ice cream sounds pretty good right now. I could go for some chocolate.”

  “Chocolate.” Lindy nodded. “My favorite, too.”

  Jolie steered the girls through the door. Darby waved languidly at them, waiting until the door closed to look back at John.

  “Am I imagining things, or did something happen while I was out?” she asked, her voice sounding reedy to her own ears.

  John’s grin warmed her to her toes. “Let’s just say that I think we’ve declared a truce.”

  Darby sank back a little more comfortably against the pillows and gingerly smoothed her hand over the part of her belly that wasn’t throbbing. She could feel the thick bandage on her left side covering her from just below her ribs to her hip. “Good. That means that everything’s perfect, then.”

  John’s grin vanished. “How can you say that?” he whispered. “I nearly got you—and our baby—killed.”

  She shook her head, love burgeoning in her heart. “Oh, no, John. You saved our lives.”

  He averted his gaze and she reached out to take his hands, refusing him escape.

  “You can’t have known what Smythe would have done if you hadn’t moved when you did.”

  “It couldn’t be worse than what he did do.”

  She ran her fingertips over his hands. Such strong, powerful hands. Capable of so much. And that he was unaware of their strength only added to his appeal. “Yes, it could have. I could be dead.”

  The stricken look on his face nearly made her smile.

  “John,” she said, tugging on his hands and forcing him to look at her. Really look at her. “I’m going to be okay. Our baby’s going to be okay.” She swallowed. “We’re all going to be okay.”

  He squinted at her as if trying to read her thoughts.

  She smiled and cleared her throat. “May I have some more ice, please?”

  “Ice? Yes, ice,” he said, appearing anxious as he grabbed for the plastic pitcher next to the bed. He lifted a few ice shavings to her mouth, his own opening as he did. She smiled and sucked the ice chips in.

  “Thanks.” She swallowed. “I don’t know that I’m up for ice cream. You may have to help me out there.”

  “I’ll help you with anything.”

  “I know.”

  Again that puzzled expression flickered across his face. His handsome, wonderful, unforgettable face.

  She tried to smooth back her hair, imagining that she looked a mess. But somehow she couldn’t make herself care.

  She tried to choose her words carefully. Such an occasion deserved her best attention. When John reached for the pitcher again, she caught sight of the bandage at the back of his head.

  “Oh, John, you were really hurt!” she whispered, reaching out to pull him closer.

  He grimaced and caught her hand in his. “Compared to you, what happened to me was nothing.”

  “No. I know you were knocked unconscious by those men, and—”

  He appeared suddenly agitated. “Damn it, woman, will you forget how I am? This isn’t about me. You’re the one lying in a hospital bed with a hole in her side.”

  She shook her head slowly, holding his gaze captive. “This isn’t about me, either, John. It’s about us.”

  John was two seconds away from moistening Darby’s lips with his tongue and kissing her until she stopped skirting around what she was trying to say and just said it.

  “There she is,” Dr. Tucker O’Neill said as he breezed into the room, clipboard in hand.

  John bit back the desire to ask the young doctor where else he expected Darby to be.

  Tuck seemed completely oblivious to John as he stepped to the other side of the bed and checked Darby’s pulse, then smiled his infamous Tuck smile at her. John had always hated Tuck. Well, okay, not hated. But he had always envied his blond good looks and his easy way with people. Especially women. All the guys did.

  “How do you feel?” Tuck asked Darby.

  “I think I’m going to live.” She smiled back at him, and John felt a spark of jealousy. Which was dumb. He knew in his gut that he had nothing to fear. Yet when Tuck reached out and placed his hand on her abdomen, John had to use every shred of self-control he possessed to keep from launching himself across the bed.

  “She’s fine,” John ground out.

  Tuck met his gaze, looked startled, then removed his hand. “Good. Very good.” He returned his attention to Darby, who was now smiling at John. “You had us all scared there for a while.”

  “What, with the best doctor in all of Ohio looking after me? Death never stood a chance.”

  Tuck’s lips twisted. “Yes, well, just so long as you’re okay.”

  John shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Is that all, Tuck?”

  “All?” The doctor looked from John to Darby, then back to John, finally seeming to catch on that he’d walked in on something private. “Oh!” He flipped his chart closed and tucked it under his arm. “Guess I’ll just go now,” he said, and turned toward the door. “I’ll check back later, okay?”

  “Okay,” Darby said.

  “Fine. Great,” John practically growled.

  As soon as the door shut behind Tuck, Darby laughed softly. “What was all that about?”

  John waved toward the hall distractedly. “Would you forget him? I want to know what you were about to say.”

  “Say?” she asked, looking far too innocent.

  “Yes, say. You referred to everything being perfect. That this moment wasn’t about you or me, but us,” he prompted.

  “Right,” she said then made a production out of straightening the bed covers.

  “So…?”

  She lifted her gaze. “I have only one word to say to you, John.”

  He suddenly found it difficult to swallow. Uh-oh. Here it was. She was going to give it to him but good for having played the hotshot today and gotten her injured, putting her through a prolonged operation and what were sure to be endless weeks of recuperation.

  “What?” he forced himself to ask.

  She licked her lips, looking beyond him to the door. The same door the girls would be bouncing through any second.

  “Darby…” he said, his voice holding a warning.

  The smile she bestowed on him was so bright he nearly had to blink against it. “Yes.”

  He didn’t get it. That was the one word she had for him? Yes? Yes, as in what? Yes, he was to blame for everything that had happened today? Yes, the girls would be returning any minute? Yes, he was an idiot for ever thinking himself deserving of her?

  She didn’t offer more. Merely lay there looking like an angel and smiling at him as if waiting for him to get the point.

  “Yes, what?”

  Again she laughed softly. “The answer to your question. You know, the one you were waiting for?” She searched his eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

  His question…
>
  John’s heart skipped a beat as he remembered what question she was talking about. The only question still outstanding between the two of them. A question he’d asked repeatedly, receiving the same answer, until the morning they’d made love for the first time in her bed and she hadn’t answered at all.

  Until now.

  She was saying yes to his marriage proposal.

  “Oh, baby,” he murmured, carefully sliding his fingertips over her cheekbones, then into the tangle of soft brown hair. He pressed his lips gingerly against hers, drinking in everything that was Darby Parker Conrad, soon to be Sparks.

  She moved her hand to the back of his head, feeling the bandage there, then lowered her fingers to his neck, pulling him closer. “I got shot in the side, you moron, not the head. Kiss me like you mean it.”

  He grinned and did exactly as she asked.

  Epilogue

  Six months later

  A girl. They’d been blessed with a baby girl.

  John stood back from Darby’s hospital bed in the special suite in the hospital birthing unit and gaped at his wife and new daughter, at a loss for words. Hell, at a loss for much of anything. All he could do was just stand there and stare.

  That that pink, wrinkled, wriggling little package had his blood running through her veins seemed incredible. And incredibly magical.

  “Daddy?” Darby said softly.

  “Huh?” He looked into her face, finding it even more remarkable that the woman holding his baby, their baby, was his wife.

  “Do you want to hold her?”

  John’s eyebrows hiked up to his hairline. “Hold…her?” He motioned helplessly and took a step back. Then another. “You don’t think I’ll hurt her? She’s so tiny. So fragile.” So female.

  John scrubbed the back of his neck with his hand. At some point this morning, as family and friends poured into the birthing suite bearing little pink booties, frilly dresses and dolls—lots of dolls—John was overwhelmed by the odds lengthening against him. Four to one is how it now stood. Darby, the twins and now their latest addition. Four females to his one male.