by Nina Croft
She followed him up the driveway, with Lulu watching her over his shoulder. She was fighting to keep her eyes open. Darcy sensed there was an element of possession there. Lulu was seeing her as competition for Matt’s attention, and clearly the little girl doted on her uncle. Darcy wanted to tell her she was welcome to him but didn’t think Lulu would believe her.
Lulu tugged on his ear. “Lulu want a wolfy.”
While she’d loved the zoo, the wolves had been her favorites—she’d thought they were big dogs and wanted to take one home. Matt had warned Darcy of Lulu’s fascination with all things canine. And apparently a puppy was not on the agenda.
“Wolves aren’t pets, sweetheart,” Matt said as he shuffled Lulu and the bag into one hand, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. “They’re not like…” He trailed off as if realizing he was digging a hole for himself.
“Puppies?” Lulu finished for him. “Woof.”
“We don’t need a puppy,” he said. “We’ve got you.” He tickled her so she giggled, then yawned and hid her face in his shoulder.
Darcy trailed behind him. He paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Why don’t you go wait in the kitchen? There are beers in the fridge. I’ll call you when she’s down.”
She nodded. Beer sounded like a great idea. She hadn’t been this knackered since—hell, she couldn’t remember when. A big part of it was mental, not physical. Just trying to stay one step ahead of Lulu had kept her brain shifting all day. She grabbed a bottle of beer from the fridge and rolled the cold glass over her forehead. Then she collapsed into one of the chairs at the table and took a long gulp. So good. She downed the rest of the bottle, thought about getting another, but couldn’t get herself to move.
How could something that “normal” women found so easy be so goddamn hard?
Was she missing some basic component?
She rested her chin on her hand as a wave of depression washed over her. She’d wanted this so badly, and she’d failed. Maybe she would be doing Lulu a favor if she backed out now. It would hurt, but perhaps it’d be better for everyone in the long run. She was sure Matt was wondering how he could limit her involvement. She could just help him out and walk away.
But she couldn’t do it.
She had no clue why Lulu pulled at her heart so much. Was it just stubbornness?
The door opened and Matt appeared. She’d hardly noticed him all day, her attention taken up by Lulu. He was…smiling. He didn’t speak but gestured for her to follow him. She did, trying not to admire his ass as he climbed the stairs ahead of her. He pushed open a door at the top and stood to the side, signaling her to move past him.
She stepped into the room. The light was dim, but she could see the small cot bed. Lulu’s eyes were closed at last. And yes, she was sweet when she was asleep. Hard to believe. She made to turn away, but then looked back. Lulu was wearing the judo outfit she’d bought her, and the little fighter doll was clasped in her arms.
“She insisted,” Matt murmured from behind her.
Her eyes pricked and she resisted the urge to go hug the little girl—not a good idea. “Aw.”
They both tiptoed out of the room, and Matt pulled the door closed behind them. “She also asked me if she could have a nose stud, like Aunty Darcy. I said not yet.”
Oh my God, she was going to get all mushy and cry. She didn’t cry. Not ever. She got angry or sarcastic or something. Just not weepy. But for the first time, she thought that maybe things were going to be okay. Perhaps Lulu didn’t hate her, after all. She sniffed. “I think I’ll go home now.”
“I’ll call a cab.”
“No need. I’d like to walk.”
She needed to get herself under control before she got home. Just in case Regan or Summer was in residence. Otherwise she would never hear the end of this.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Next week?”
“Yeah. I should be recovered by then.”
Chapter Nine
“Lulu wants to be a bridesmaid,” Darcy said.
“She does?” Matt appeared a little bemused.
Three weeks had passed since that first less-than-successful day. This was the second time she’d taken Lulu out alone. And while she was quite convinced she was never going to get any awards for her childcare skills, things were going better. Today had been the best so far. But then, she’d had support from Summer and Regan, and Lulu had clearly enjoyed being the center of attention for not just one aunt, but two extra surrogate aunts.
They’d been shopping.
It was something Darcy had resisted for as long as possible. But Summer was getting married in two weeks, and Darcy and Regan were bridesmaids. They needed dresses. Darcy had stated right from the start that no way was she wearing anything even remotely like a traditional bridesmaid’s dress. Certainly nothing pink and nothing flouncy.
The wedding wasn’t going to be a big one, and Summer had said she was welcome to wear whatever she liked as long as she was there. It was Regan who insisted they get something vaguely matching and suitable—she was probably setting a precedent for her own wedding, which wasn’t too far away.
Darcy didn’t think Lulu understood the concept of a wedding, but she did know something was happening and wanted to be part of it.
“I think she wants to come to Summer’s wedding,” she said to Matt, and gave a shrug. “She’ll probably forget it.”
“And Summer is…?”
“My other flatmate. She’s getting married in a couple of weeks. We went shopping today for dresses.”
Lulu held out her arms, and Matt took her from Darcy. “Come in,” he said.
They’d got into the habit of Darcy coming in, waiting until Lulu was in bed, and saying good night. It was all very civilized…if you ignored the undercurrents.
“So did you get a dress?” he asked.
“Aunty Darcy pretty,” Lulu said.
“It took a while for us to find something everyone was happy with, but we got there in the end.”
The dresses they’d finally agreed on were pale purple, almost gray, strappy and unstructured, floor length. They’d gotten matching flat sandals—she’d refused heels, point-blank. Regan had looked beautiful in hers. Darcy wasn’t sure the dress was quite her.
“Go through,” Matt said, nodding to the kitchen, “I opened a bottle of wine.”
“You did?”
“I thought you might appreciate it.”
“Thanks.”
He carried Lulu up the stairs, whispering something in her ear, so she giggled. Darcy watched until they disappeared—she was starting to recognize the little tight feeling she got around her heart when she saw the two of them together—then made her way to the kitchen. It was spotless, as always. If he cooked here, there was no evidence of it. But an open bottle of red wine sat in the middle of the table, with two crystal glasses beside it.
She sat herself down and poured a glass, then took a sip. It was good, full of flavor, and for a minute she relaxed. Things were going well. The gym was doing great. She’d added some classes since she had gotten out. Some specifically aimed at women; self-defense classes. If she had her way, every woman would be able to defend themselves. Sam had also talked her into a fight, though she wasn’t sure that was where she wanted to go. The only way to succeed was to want it with all your heart. But she’d see how the fight went and then decide if she wanted to take it further. She had to have some sort of aim for her life. Now that she’d gotten what she wanted with Lulu, everything else seemed a little pointless.
Regan and Summer were both moving on. They were so in love, and while it wasn’t what she wanted for herself, she couldn’t help but feel a little as though she was missing out on something.
Regan had told her today that even if she didn’t want to fall in love, she needed to get laid. And maybe she was right. She spent way too much time thinking about sex. And not just any sex. Completely inappropriate sex. With the one man she’d told herself was totall
y off-limits.
Keep everything impersonal. That was the only way this would work. That didn’t stop her from remembering what it had felt like to have his hands on her, in her. She squirmed on her seat as heat coursed through her system, then jumped guiltily as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
No way was she going to let him know the effect he had on her.
She pushed herself up as Matt entered the room. “I’ll go say good night to Lulu and be off,” she said.
“Sit down. She’s fast asleep. You can go up later.” He crossed the room and poured himself a glass of wine. “You’ve exhausted her. She was asleep before she was down. You deserve a drink. Christ, you deserve a whole bottle—that’s no easy feat.”
“Oh. Okay.” She sank back down slowly. He made her feel like a teenager. All twitchy and hot and bothered. A little voice told her she should get out of there. Go have one last look at Lulu and take herself off. Out of temptation’s way.
Instead, she took a sip of wine and cast him a quick glance. He was in jeans today—more casual than she’d ever seen him—and a white T-shirt that hugged his broad chest, with a flannel shirt over the top, open at the front. She could see the shape of his nipples beneath the thin cotton of the T-shirt. She was ogling him like a pervert, and she looked away quickly, drinking some more wine.
He leaned across and refilled her glass. “Do you want something to eat? I could order a takeaway. I thought we might talk.”
She glanced at him suspiciously. Was he going to say this wasn’t working? That she needed to back out of Lulu’s life? But would he offer her food and then do that? “I’d love something to eat.”
“Chinese?”
She nodded, and then waited while he phoned in an order without asking what she wanted. She tried not to let that wind her up. He clearly liked making decisions. And she ate just about everything, so why make waves merely to make a point? Hey, say hello to the new reasonable Darcy.
“What do you want to talk about?” she asked when he ended the call.
“Nothing bad.”
That didn’t mean it was something good. What could they have to talk about? She went over the possibilities. But really, apart from Lulu, they had nothing else in common. “Go ahead…” she said cautiously.
He pushed his chair out, put his hands behind his head, and did this sort of stretch thing. The movement raised the hem of his T-shirt, revealing a strip of tanned skin. Her gaze fixed on it, quite unable to tear away. He cleared his throat, and she jumped. Was he doing it on purpose, sexually tempting a desperate woman? Did he know she was desperate?
She finally managed to drag her gaze away, focused inward, concentrated on her breathing, and plastered a pleasant smile on her face. It didn’t feel in any way natural.
“I think it’s going well,” Matt said, and she nearly fell off her seat.
“Really?” Her glass was empty again, and she reached across and filled it herself, topping his off at the same time.
“For the first time since Steven died, I feel like I have some sort of control over my life.”
“You do?”
“Diana is working out extremely well.”
Ugh. The nanny. Lulu adored her. Matt clearly liked her. Darcy didn’t know her. She’d only met the woman once, on her first day, when Matt had mistaken her for the nanny. Other than that, all she knew was what she’d heard from the other two. All praise. She sounded like a female version of Matt. Little Ms. Perfect.
That was no reason the dislike the woman.
“I’m pleased.” She got the words out somehow.
“She’s agreed to move in.”
“She has?” And why didn’t she like the idea of that? Not one little bit.
“Just Monday to Friday—she’ll go home weekends—for now at least. We’ll see how it works out.”
“That’s nice.”
He dropped his arms and shifted his chair closer to the table, then picked up his glass and swirled the wine. Took a sip. “You don’t sound happy,” he said, scrutinizing her. Looking for signs of…what?
“I’m supremely indifferent,” she said with a sniff.
His lips twitched. Didn’t he believe her? Had he caught her ogling him earlier?
“It was always in the cards,” he said. “The agency just felt there needed to be a probationary period to make sure it was going to work.”
Something occurred to her. “Can you afford it?”
“I’ll manage.”
“I can help. I have savings.”
“I don’t need your money.”
Or want it, she guessed. That would be letting her in too far.
“Sorry,” he said, almost making her fall off her chair again. “That came out a little harsh. But we’re fine. I spend almost nothing. The army pays the rent on this place, and there are childcare funds I can get as a single parent. We’re doing okay.”
“So why do you need a live-in nanny?”
“We’ve never talked about my work. I’m not really allowed to.”
“Oooh, super secret?” she asked, more as a joke than anything else.
“A little.”
“Really?” She studied him some more. “I never imagined you fighting or anything. You always look so…tidy. I just can’t see you getting all messy and… Anyway, I thought you were one of those soldiers who…” She shook her head; she had no clue what she was talking about. “Stand around and look pretty.”
He gave a full-on grin then—it made him look younger and…nicer. “You think I’m pretty?”
What was she supposed to say to that? Hell, yeah. But she was trying not to think about it too much. Trying to remind herself that he looked like Steven, the man she hated most in the world. But in fact, the more she saw him, the less he reminded her of her brother-in-law. His eyes were bluer, his face thinner, all lean, hard lines. His lips were fuller. She found herself staring at that mouth as his tongue swiped across his lower lip.
Shit, get a grip.
“Yeah, total pretty boy.” She tried to make the words come out as a sneer, but it was ineffective. “Anyway, my point was—I somehow can’t see you getting in anything as messy as a fight.”
“Really?”
She shrugged. Was she getting to him? She hoped so.
His chair scraped across the tiled floor as he pushed it back. He rose to his feet. Had she upset him? Was he walking out in a flounce? She placed her palms on the table and pushed herself up so she was facing him. She wasn’t sure why—maybe she needed to be ready for a quick getaway. Or maybe to chase him down…
But he didn’t move away. Instead, he remained, feet planted, while he shrugged out of the flannel shirt then tossed it onto the back of the chair behind him.
“What…” The words dried up in her throat as his fingers gripped the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head, bunching it in his hand.
Oh. My. God.
She couldn’t look away. His skin was tinted dark from the summer just gone. Golden skin, taut over the swell of hard muscle. A light smattering of hair, thickening as it disappeared into the low waistband of his jeans. And he had a tattoo. She would have sworn he wasn’t the tattoo type. But maybe it was an army thing. Some sort of dagger and wings.
What was he doing?
Maybe now was the time for that quick getaway.
As she stared, he turned slightly and pointed to his left arm. There was a mark close to his shoulder, a sort of indentation.
“Sniper bullet in Afghanistan,” he said. “Luckily, I moved just at the right moment, as I’m guessing he was aiming for my head.”
He turned around completely so his broad back was facing her. Wide shoulders tapered to lean hips and a tight ass. Though she was sure that wasn’t what she was supposed to be staring at. She took a step closer, moving around the edge of the table, and her hand reached out, of its own accord. As she trailed her finger down the scar running from his right shoulder diagonally to his spine, his skin shivered under her touch.
“Knife—also in Afghanistan.” He turned back to face her, and her hand dropped to her side. His fingers went to his belt. She could do nothing but watch, dry-mouthed, as he tugged open the buckle, then flicked open the top button of his jeans, then the next so they slipped just a little.
What the hell is he doing?
He was naked from the waist up, except for a set of dog tags on a dark green nylon cord around his throat, and they just made him look sexier. And she had no clue why.
I do not fancy soldiers.
She swallowed, considering a strategic retreat, but stood rooted to the spot.
“This one’s my favorite,” he murmured. Taking a step closer, he picked up her limp hand from her side and placed her palm against the ridged muscles of his belly. So freaking hot. With his hand on top of hers, he pushed it inside the waistband of his jeans. What the hell…? Then she felt the sudden roughness of his skin under her fingers. Of course, he was just showing off his scars. There was absolutely nothing sexual about this. Except for the fact that there was something moving down there, and it wasn’t her hand.
“Shrapnel from a road bomb in Iran.” His voice had a husky edge.
Darcy had been staring straight ahead, but now she raised her gaze to his face. His eyes were half closed, his lips parted.
Time for that strategic withdrawal. Except his hand was still over hers, holding her in place.
“Er, very impressive.”
“My point is,” he murmured, “that you know nothing about how…messy my life has been.” He pushed up closer, so her hand was caught between their bodies. “In fact, I can feel it getting a whole lot messier right now.”
What she could feel was the hardness of his erection pressing against the side of her hand. If she just shifted a little bit, she could wrap her fingers around him. She had an almost overwhelming urge to see Captain Matt losing control. Coming apart for her.
There were a whole load of reasons why that was a bad idea, but at this moment, every single one of them eluded her. The kitchen suddenly got super hot, and her insides were melting, a little pulse throbbing between her thighs.
