Walking in from the kitchen with two steaming mugs in his hands, Nick looked born to the rugged setting. He’d changed clothes as well, into a pair of jeans a little more worn and faded than the last and a long-sleeved green
T-shirt.
“I like your place. It suits you.”
“Thanks. Drew and I built it together from the ground up.”
“That’s amazing,” she said, looking around with an even greater sense of appreciation, knowing now that Nick had done so much of the work himself. With his own hands.
Darcy swallowed as she thought of Nick’s hands on her, and her pulse picked up speed as he drew closer. The awareness of the two of them all alone in this out-of-the-way cabin seemed to fill the split second of silence between every word they spoke.
Handing her one of the mugs, he warned, “Careful. It’s hot.”
As she wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic, she couldn’t help smiling at the unexpected beverage. Hot chocolate with miniature marshmallows bobbing on the creamy surface. Glancing up from beneath her lashes, she caught Nick in a moment of indecision as he eyed the cushion beside her and the recliner a room away.
“Now I get it,” she murmured.
“Get what?”
After taking a sip, she lifted the mug in a silent toast. “Wrong drink. Maybe if I’d offered you hot chocolate instead of coffee, you wouldn’t have turned me down.”
The memory played across his expression like a movie at an old-time drive-in, and he made up his mind. Dropping a knee onto the cushion beside her, he lowered his body until he was nearly blocking her into her little corner of the couch. “I didn’t turn you down.”
“‘I’m not interested’ didn’t come across as a resounding yes to me.”
Reaching past her, he set his mug on the end table over her shoulder. He was close enough for Darcy to breathe in the rainwater-fresh scent of his damp hair. Close enough to see the long lashes that framed his espresso-dark eyes and the shadow of an afternoon beard lining his rugged jawline and framing the perfection of his lips. He took the mug from her motionless hand to set it aside as well before he murmured her name in a rough whisper. “You’ve caught my interest now.”
Memories of their kiss played along her nerve endings, every reminder striking a longing for so much more. “I have?”
“I can’t wait to find out,” he said as he leaned in, “what you were doing out at the Whiteside farmhouse.”
“What?” The word exploded from her in a rush of frustrated desire as Nick leaned back against the couch cushions, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Annoyed, she stared back at him. She had to give him credit, though, for playing her better than she’d played him. She could have argued that it was none of his business, could have held her silence. But he had come to her rescue—again—and for that alone, he deserved an explanation. “My grandmother was a Whiteside before she married a Dawson. That was my grandparents’ farm. It’s where my mother grew up.”
Darcy didn’t know what she’d expected to find—some piece of her mother, some nostalgic memory of her past. Whatever she’d been looking for, though, she hadn’t found it in the run-down, decrepit house that was all that remained of her mother’s childhood home. A fallen tree branch had torn through a section of the roof, storm damage had shattered most of the windows and the whole place looked one breath away from blowing down.
She’d tried telling herself it was just a building. A building that held no memories for her. Certainly it no longer held any memories of her mother. But finding it in that condition—broken, abandoned—a feeling of emptiness and loneliness had swept over Darcy.
“It was stupid,” she told Nick now. “It’s been thirty years since my mother lived in that house. I don’t even know what I was looking for.”
But Nick seemed to know. His gaze traced over her features, sympathy and understanding written in his dark eyes. “You were looking for a part of your past, trying to connect with your family’s history.”
And maybe that was why seeing the farmhouse had hurt so much, driving home the painful truth that history—and her memories—were all she had left of her family.
Or at least all she had left of the family she’d been a part of.
The rest of the family—the wealthy businessman who’d never acknowledged her and the siblings who didn’t know she existed—they were alive and well. After the way Lawrence Fairchild had abandoned her mother after she became pregnant, Darcy wanted nothing to do with the man. But she’d often wondered about her brother and sister. Make that half brother and half sister, the children her father gladly embraced and posed with for pictures taken at celebrity golf tournaments and charity balls.
How would they react if they found out about her? Given time, would they accept her? Or would they see her only as living proof of their father’s infidelity? Contacting them was a risk she’d never taken. After the way Aaron had reacted when he learned she was her family’s dirty little secret, she was glad she hadn’t found the courage.
She’d been wrong when she thought she could trust Aaron with her most painful secret, and she would think long and hard before opening up like that again.
She stared unblinking into the wavering flames in the fireplace as she willed her tears away, not wanting Nick to see her cry. She was stronger than this. Tougher than this. She wasn’t the weak city girl he thought she was, ready to turn tail at the first sign of trouble.
“I keep looking around town, trying to picture her here.”
But she couldn’t. And yet her mother had talked for years about coming back to Clearville. Owning the boutique was Alanna’s dream and Darcy felt so disloyal to her mother’s memory for doubting she would have made that dream a reality.
Looking up, she met Nick’s knowing gaze. “You don’t think I belong here, either, do you?”
He hesitated, and her heart skipped a beat, eager to believe she’d changed his mind about her—about them. But then Nick shook his head, his jaw tightening to a stubborn and familiar angle. “It doesn’t matter what I think.”
Oh, but it did! Far more than Darcy wanted to admit. Her desire to settle down, to find a place to call home was changing, growing and expanding right along with the depth of her feelings for the man beside her. It was more than a feel-it-in-her-bones attraction. It was the devotion he showed to his daughter, the love in his voice when he talked about his mother and sister. Even the restraint he’d shown as he kept his eyes on the road when she’d taken off her shirt in the seat next to him, careful not to look though part of her wished he would.
The same needy part of her longed for him to kiss her now. She was wrapped in his scent, the fresh-laundry smell woven into the clothes she’d borrowed, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to be wrapped in his arms, breathing in the scent from his skin.
“It matters to me,” she told him softly. The vulnerability of her confession opened her heart and practically begged him to stomp on it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out any more than she could stop her feelings for this man.
“Darcy.”
He nearly groaned her name, the tension spreading to the rest of his body, and her heart started to pound. She felt balanced on a razor’s edge, knowing no matter what Nick decided, one way or the other, she was headed for a fall.
Tucking her trembling legs beneath her on the cushion, she rose up on her knees and turned his face toward her. Shivers raced up her arm at the faint scrape of his afternoon beard, scattering goose bumps across her chest. “I might not have been born in Clearville, but I was meant to be here.”
Meant to be in Clearville. Meant to be here with Nick.
She couldn’t explain the certainty that had woven her mother’s dream of moving back home and opening the boutique into her own dreams of being with Nick. All she knew was what felt right in her heart. Being with Nick, kissing him, making love with him, all felt inevitable with every moment leading to this one, and she refused to let it slip by.
/> Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face because Nick’s expression changed. For half a second, she expected him to bolt like he had before. A battle raged, written in his tense features, and Darcy nearly wilted in relief, knowing she’d won when he reached out and pulled her into his arms.
She gasped as she lost her balance, but Nick caught her as she tumbled into his lap. “You’re here now,” he murmured between quick, arousing kisses.
“Yes,” she gasped as she fisted her hands in the cotton of his shirt.
“That’s all that matters.”
“Yes.”
He pulled her closer, the heat and arousal of his body beneath hers already sending shivers of pleasure through her. “This is all that matters.”
Pinpricks of doubt threatened that pleasure, but Darcy ignored them. If she admitted she was the one who wanted more, Nick would pull away, and she’d be left with nothing. She’d miss her chance to show him how perfect they would be together. And hadn’t she learned to focus on today rather than pinning her hopes on dreams of tomorrow?
Heart pounding in anticipation, she murmured her agreement, hoping she could convince Nick and herself the words were true.
* * *
A distant buzz slowly perforated the sensual fog surrounding Nick, breaking through the I-must-be-dreaming daze of making love to Darcy and waking him to the reality of holding her in his arms.
Staring up at the beamed ceiling of his living room, even with the proof of her head resting on his chest, her long red hair trailing over his arm, he could hardly believe what had happened. He’d spent the afternoon making love with Darcy Dawson.
Irresistible. That was how she’d described the attraction between them, not that he’d tried too damn hard to resist. But for a brief second when he’d caught her in his arms, he’d seen something in her green gaze—an uncertainty and vulnerability—and disappointment had slammed into him when he feared she might pull away.
That instant, an almost overwhelming sense of loss had him questioning his own words that the chemistry between them was all that mattered. Darcy mattered. Her longing to hold on to the memory of her family. Her determination to make her mother’s dream come true. Her laughter, her courage, her compassion, all of that got under his skin, going far deeper than sexual attraction.
But then she’d whispered her answer against his lips, and he’d allowed the surge of desire to silence any lingering doubts.
He didn’t know how they stripped away most of their clothes without leaving the couch, but they’d managed amid frantic kisses and hungry caresses. The shirt he’d loaned her was easy enough to remove, and the plain white cotton became the sexiest thing he ever saw as each loosened button revealed more and more fair skin and the inner curves of her breasts.
He groaned, realizing she was naked beneath his clothes, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted her naked beneath him. With the shirt still covering her, he reached inside and cupped her soft flesh. She arched her back, seeking more of his touch as his thumbs circled the hard points of her nipples. Her breath came in gasps as she rocked against him, the arousing motion spurring him on.
The flush on her skin and the heat in her eyes beckoned him, and he turned with her on the oversize cushions of the couch. He’d wanted a piece of furniture long enough for him to kick back and stretch out on, but he’d never imagined stretching out with a gorgeous woman beneath him.
He stripped away the drawstring pants and found the feminine heat waiting for him. Her open-mouthed kiss and the faint taste of hot chocolate on her tongue nearly drove him over the edge, but at the last minute, he remembered the condoms he’d bought with Darcy in mind.
She smiled when he returned, protection in hand, a sight sexy enough to stop his heart. “Irresistible,” he reminded her when she welcomed him back.
“Yes,” she whispered, and then again as he sank inside her. He tried holding back, wanting to prolong the pleasure, feeling it was all too much, too soon. But as Darcy’s hips rose and fell with his thrusts and she cried out his name, tremors racking her body, he followed her into an almost unimaginable release.
Irresistible, they’d both agreed. But already it felt like it was so much more...
Gradually Nick’s thoughts came back to the present, and he realized the faint tremor wasn’t aftershocks from the most amazing sex of his life, but the vibration of his cell phone. A sound he belatedly realized had been going on for some time.
Darcy made a soft sound of protest as he eased away, making it that much harder to leave, but he had to answer his phone. Hell, he had to find his phone, he thought as he picked up his jeans off the floor and found the pockets empty. Swearing beneath his breath, he quickly pulled the jeans on before heading to his bedroom and the damp clothes he’d stripped off earlier.
The phone had stopped vibrating by the time he fished it out of the back pocket, but a much stronger reverberation slammed into his chest when he looked at the screen.
Five missed calls. All from Maddie’s summer camp.
Pulse pounding, he redialed the number, immediately talking over the counselor’s cheery greeting. “This is Nick Pirelli. Someone’s been trying to reach me about my daughter.”
“Oh, yes, Dr. Pirelli. Hi. With the bad weather, our field trip to the beach was canceled. Some of the parents picked up their children early, including MaryAnne Martin. Maddie wanted to go with Rachel—you know what good friends they are—but since we weren’t able to reach you for permission, we couldn’t allow Maddie to go. She’s...rather upset.”
A canceled field trip. Not an emergency. Not anything to get worked up over unless you were an eight-year-old girl stuck at camp without your best friend. But that didn’t change the load of guilt that dropped down on Nick when he first saw those messages.
“I’m sorry about all the calls,” the counselor was saying. “I thought you might be in the middle of some kind of emergency, but up until now, you’ve always been so good about letting us know who to contact in those situations.”
Up until now, he’d never been in this kind of situation. Never spent an afternoon making love to a woman he couldn’t get out of his head.
Shoving aside that thought, he told the young woman on the phone, “Let Maddie know I’ll be there to pick her up in a half hour.” Then slammed shut his phone.
“Is everything okay?”
The quiet question sounded from the doorway, and he couldn’t stop himself from turning. Hair rumpled and lips swollen from his kisses, Darcy stood in the hallway wearing the shirt he’d given her. The long sleeves fell to her fingertips and its tails covered her to her knees, longer than a lot of dresses, but the sight lit his blood to a slow boil. Because it was his shirt? Because he’d already taken it off her once? Or because he now knew what was beneath?
“It’s fine. Maddie’s fine. Camp was cut short due to the storm. I have to go pick her up.” He dug through a dresser drawer for another shirt as he spoke. After dragging it on, he searched for his keys and wallet in the jeans he’d worn earlier and transferred them to his pockets.
“Nick.” Darcy stepped closer, the soft touch on his arm slowing his movements. The same touch that had aroused him to such heights minutes ago now had the power to soothe him, to comfort him—if he let her. “Relax. You said everything’s okay, right?”
Not even close to okay, he thought as he met the caring and concern in her gaze and finally admitted what he’d refused to see. Darcy wasn’t just a city girl with a gorgeous face, amazing body and sexy laugh who could turn his head. She was a smart, strong, sensitive woman who could twist his heart. He hadn’t felt so strongly about a woman—ever.
Not even Carol had him this tied into knots.
The memory of his wife walking out on him, the devastation she left behind and the pity he’d seen in her eyes when he asked—hell, begged—her to give their marriage a second chance hit him in the gut like a kick from one of Jarrett Deeks’s horses. And the thought of seeing that same pi
ty in Darcy’s eyes...
“I can’t do this.”
She took half a step back, her face paling, as she crossed her arms over her chest as if trying to ward off a chill...or maybe to block out the cold bite of his words. Still, though, she didn’t look away as she asked, “Can’t do what?”
She was going to make him say it, and he owed her, if not the whole truth, then at least an explanation. But everything he thought to say sounded like lame excuses even in his own head. Finally, he blurted out, “Most days, I can barely figure out how to be a single dad. I don’t know how to do that and try to handle any kind of relationship.”
“Funny, you seemed to be handling it just fine a half hour ago.” Fire sparked in her green eyes, but her anger wasn’t enough to burn away the sheen of tears.
Another emotion slammed into his chest at the sight. “Darcy...I’m sorry. This never should have happened.”
“Your idea of an apology still needs work. And your timing stinks. The next time you decide you can’t handle a relationship, you might share that information before having sex.”
Chapter Eight
“It’s not fair!”
Standing one row over in the local drugstore, Darcy paused as she overheard the unmistakable sound of a female in distress. The complaint was one she could have echoed in that same almost-in-tears tone over the past several days.
She’d taken a chance, betting the attraction between her and Nick would somehow make him see they were meant to be together. But even though their lovemaking had been more amazing than she could have imagined, even though she’d surrendered wholeheartedly to her desire for Nick, what they’d shared hadn’t breached the wall he’d built up around him. At least not beyond a few moments when he’d given into physical need.
And it really wasn’t fair.
Darcy had been ready to take her frozen dinner and bottle of pain pills to the checkout when the young girl’s protest from one aisle over had made her pause. The poor thing sounded so devastated, the weight of the world—or her world at least—filling her words. Darcy’s heart went out to the girl only to boomerang back into her chest with a sudden thud when she heard a deep, familiar voice respond.
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