Because of the Baby...

by Cat Schield

  Suddenly he was glad she’d spent her entire life building a defense of invisibility. If she’d let more people see who she really was, she might have gotten married before Keaton wised up.

  But despite the soul-stirring kisses they’d shared and her acknowledging a case of proximity lust, Keaton wasn’t sure she wanted him to stick around once Skye and/or Jake claimed Grace.

  And not for the first time that uncertainty was accompanied by a heaviness in his chest and a weighty sense of dread.

  * * *

  Lark felt sluggish and dull as she left her car parked in the hospital’s employee lot and leaned into the chilly January wind on her way to the entrance. Grace had developed a case of the hiccups after her four o’clock feeding, and Lark hadn’t been able to get her back to sleep until almost six. By then it was only an hour until she had to get ready for work, so she’d decided to bake a batch of cinnamon rolls to share with her fellow nurses since Marsha wasn’t on duty and couldn’t complain about the treat.

  It was her first day back since bringing Grace home, and already Lark could feel anxiety getting the better of her. Keaton would be annoyed if he suspected how she was feeling. They’d had several tense conversations regarding her reluctance to let him be fully in control. Well, today she didn’t have much choice.

  Lark swung by the surgical floor to drop off half the cinnamon rolls for her former coworkers. Even if her stint in the ICU hadn’t been difficult and lonely, she would have missed the camaraderie she shared with Julie, Yvonne, Hazel and Penny. They were smart, hardworking women who functioned like a team and had little interest in hospital gossip.

  Julie was in her office when Lark stopped by. Although she hadn’t known the pretty brunette more than a couple months, Lark felt a real connection with her. Born in South Africa, Julie had traveled extensively around the world before coming to Royal to work with Dr. Lucas Wakefield, the brilliant surgeon who’d saved Skye and Grace.

  “I brought treats,” Lark announced, setting the pan of rolls on Julie’s desk.

  “Isn’t that just like you to think about everyone but yourself? You look half-dead on your feet.” Julie’s brown eyes narrowed in concern. “How are things going with Grace?”

  “Better, but it’s something new every day. Last night she had the hiccups.”

  “Oh dear.” Julie popped the lid on the rolls and inhaled deeply. “They’re still warm. How did you find time to bake?”

  Lark covered a yawn with one hand while waving away Julie’s concern with the other. “I had a free hour this morning.”

  “You are amazing. How is living with Keaton going?”

  “Fine. We had the talk.”

  “The one where you told him nothing was going to happen between you two?”

  Lark thought back a few days. Had she spelled it out that succinctly? “I’m not sure. I told him your theory of proximity lust.” She paused. Had she actually said there would be no more kissing? “I know I mentioned how bad it would be if we were caught...” She trailed off.

  “But you didn’t actually tell him to keep his lips to himself.”

  “I don’t think I did.”

  “Because you don’t want him to?”

  “I guess.” Was it lack of sleep that was making her ambivalent or something else? “I mean, no.”

  “You’re not sounding very clear.” Julie grinned at her. “I think you like him and are afraid of the repercussions because of what happened with your sister.”

  “I do like him. He’s intelligent and a huge help with Grace. He’s been a strong advocate for his brother even though none of us understand why Jake hasn’t been in contact.”

  “Not to mention he’s incredibly sexy in an intense, silent way.”

  Goose bumps rose on Lark’s skin as she recalled the heat of his kiss and the way he’d watched her afterward. “He’s tall. I actually have to look up at him.”

  “And he’s built like he could wrestle calves all day and never break a sweat.”

  Lark laughed. “What do you know about wrestling calves?”

  “Only what I’ve seen on TV, but it’s enough to know you need to be tough.”

  “Okay, he’s definitely on the rugged side and that’s very appealing, but I would be crazy to think of him as anything but the one man in Royal that my father would never forgive me for getting involved with.”

  “Except that you’re already involved with him. He’s living in your house.”

  “To help me take care of Grace.” Lark cringed when she thought of her father’s inevitable reaction when he found out. “It would be so much worse if he thought we were sleeping together.”

  “So you’re just going to ignore the chemistry between you?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Good luck.”

  Waving goodbye to Julie, Lark headed toward the ICU. Her nerves were a tangled mess. She’d been gone from the house, leaving Keaton in charge for a whopping half hour, and already she wanted badly to call and see how things were going. What bothered her was that only part of her wanted an update on Grace; she mainly desired contact with Keaton. He’d gotten under her skin in a very short period of time.

  As a compromise between instinct and logic, she sent him a text instead of calling. This way she satisfied her need to connect with him but maintained her distance. It was going to be a balancing act until she got her emotions under control. It would be hard—living in close proximity, desiring his hands against her skin, quelling the urge to press her body against his while maintaining a casual, unaffected demeanor. Lark shuddered in dismay.

  The ICU nurses’ station was slammed when Lark arrived. Apparently Marsha had gone home with a headache halfway through her shift and one of the surgical patients who had undergone a routine knee replacement had developed a blood clot that had moved into his lungs.

  This meant Lark wouldn’t have the opportunity to ease back into her job and wouldn’t have more than five minutes to stop by Skye’s bedside. With time running short before her shift started, Lark pulled out her phone for one last thing. She set it on Skye’s chest, right over her sister’s heart, and hit the play button.

  “I brought you a video of Grace doing this weird grunting thing that is typical of preemies. She’s lying in the infant gym that Keaton bought her and playing with the monkey. It’s her favorite animal. I know you can’t watch her yet, but I hope her voice reaches you.” Lark started the video and watched Skye’s face for some reaction. She had no idea if her sister was aware but if anything could reach a new mother, it was adorable baby noises, and Grace made more of those each day.

  “Keaton bought a sixty-inch flat-screen and put it in my great room,” Lark complained, cuing up the video to play again. “Apparently he can’t live without football. The thing is monstrous. He insisted we watch a show on the Discovery Channel. It was interesting, but the programing on the History Channel was more to my taste. And then there’s this show about women in search of the perfect wedding dress.” Lark had found that one on her own. The gorgeous wedding dresses had left her contemplating what sort of bridal gown Skye would choose.

  Lark surveyed her sister’s bare hand. Surely when she’d gotten pregnant, Jake would have proposed. He’d want to make sure Grace had his name. Lark shied away from considering that Keaton’s brother wasn’t the honorable sort. Had Skye been the one who’d balked? Why, when she’d adored Jake for so long?

  After she’d connected with her sister, the rest of Lark’s day bordered on frantic. At least being busy kept her from worrying how Grace and Keaton were doing. Halfway through her shift, she was able to take a twenty-minute break to grab lunch and check her messages. Her inbox was filled with pictures of Grace sleeping peacefully in her bassinet or the mechanical swing Keaton had bought. Her relief was instantaneous. Why had she worried? Grace was in good hands.

  Six

  Keaton kept his ear tuned to the swing in the living room where Grace slept while he checked out the job the painter
s had done on what would become the nursery. He’d bought odorless paint, but until it was completely dry and the fumes had cleared, he didn’t want Grace in here.

  He hoped Lark would be pleasantly surprised. After seeing her weariness this morning, he’d determined the best thing for her would be moving Grace into her own room so Lark could sleep through the nights she had to work the following day.

  “Looks great,” he told the artist he’d hired to decorate the newly painted walls with images plucked from the crib bedding.

  “Thanks.” Tracey had placed a monkey above where the changing table would go and a smattering of jungle creatures on the wall opposite the crib. “I hope your wife likes it.”

  Keaton didn’t correct her. To explain the complicated relationship between him and Lark would take too much of his energy. Better that he say nothing. “Monkeys are Grace’s favorite, so I’m sure Lark will approve.”

  Although Lark hadn’t been overjoyed that Keaton had hired painters, her scowl carried less punch than when he’d first brought up the idea of hiring Jen to clean house and prepare meals a couple times a week. He’d wanted her full-time, but Lark refused. She hadn’t quite given up her determination to do more than was physically possible, but Keaton had his own streak of stubbornness. Grace needed her aunt to be in tiptop shape, and Lark needed to be at full strength to support Skye. He intended to do whatever necessary to see that she was.

  From the living room, his satellite phone beeped, announcing a call. Cell coverage had been disrupted at the ranch since the tornado damaged the equipment on the nearby tower. Keaton had picked up a couple satellite phones that he and the foreman used to keep in touch with the various contractors they had working on repairs.

  Grace slept peacefully despite the phone ringing nearby, but Keaton decided to take the call in the kitchen. It was close to her feeding time, so he might as well get a bottle ready.

  “Keaton, how are you?” His mother sounded relaxed and happy. “How are things at the ranch?”

  “Fine, Mom. Everything’s fine. How are you and Dad?” His parents were shopping for retirement property on the Alabama gulf coast.

  “We’re enjoying the beach, but your father is frustrated with the real estate market here.” His mother sounded amused. With Keaton in charge of the family ranch, David Holt had been free to throw his abundant energy into finding his wife the perfect home.

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “And I think he’s anxious about the ranch. So we’re coming home in a few days.”

  “I hope he’s not disappointed with the progress.”

  “Do you think Lark would mind if we came over there and spent time with Grace when we get back to town?”

  Keaton was pleased his mother no longer sounded suspicious when she spoke of Lark. Initially his parents had had a very negative reaction to his announcement that he was moving into Lark’s house, but they trusted his judgment and he’d plied them with stories of Lark’s earnestness and devotion to her sister and Baby Grace until they’d come around.

  “I think she’d be glad to have you. Let me check with her when she comes home tonight.”

  In truth, he wasn’t sure how Lark would react to his mother’s request. She’d yet to receive an answer to the invitation she’d extended to her parents despite having called twice since Grace had come home from the hospital. The lack of contact agitated her. Keaton hated seeing her distress. As angry as his parents had been when they found out that Jake had been secretly seeing Skye through high school and college, as the years had gone by without contact with their son, their attitude toward Skye and, by extension, the rest of the Taylors had mellowed.

  If only the Taylors felt the same way.

  “I’ll give you a call later tonight and let you know what Lark says,” he told his mother before ending the call.

  No more than five minutes later Grace began to fuss. Pleased that he was developing a sixth sense where she was concerned, Keaton headed for the swing before she had a chance to let out her first wail.

  * * *

  Lark let herself into the kitchen and pushed the button that would close the garage door. All the way home she’d been dreading what sort of chaotic mess she’d find her house in. To her delight, there were a neat row of drying bottles lined up on the countertop and a delicious smell wafting from the oven. Soothing music poured from her stereo speakers. Keaton had found her collection of interpretive piano CDs.

  Before she shrugged out of her coat, Keaton appeared at her side with a glass of white wine. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes if you want to grab a quick shower.”

  “You did all this?”

  “I had a very smooth day with Grace. That left me with enough free time to stay caught up.” He took her coat and handed her the wine. “How was your first day back?”

  “Awful.” She sipped the wine and sighed. “Is there really time for me to take a shower?” The thought of letting hot water wash away her stressful day sounded blissfully perfect.

  “There’s time.” He gave her a little shove in the direction of her bedroom. “Just don’t fall asleep in there.”

  Drifting in a fog of pleasure, Lark sipped her wine and peeled off her scrubs. Leaving them in a pile on her bathroom floor, she started the water running in her shower and blinked to restore moisture to her dry eyes. The last twelve hours were beginning to feel like a bad dream. She took another sip of wine and felt the knots in her shoulders begin to unravel. She’d never imagined how wonderful it would be to have a family to come home to after a long day.

  Ten minutes later, wrapped in a thick terry robe, her hair still damp, Lark reentered her bedroom and stopped when she realized Grace’s crib and changing table were no longer in the little sitting area. She and Keaton had talked about moving Grace into the third bedroom, but Lark wasn’t ready to have the baby so far away. Instead of respecting her decision, he’d gone ahead and done what he believed was best.

  Lark stalked out of her bedroom and headed for the kitchen, where Keaton was sliding a cookie sheet covered with dinner rolls into the oven. “I thought you understood that I wasn’t ready to have Grace move.”

  Keaton closed the oven door and turned to face her. His eyebrows drew together as he took in her damp hair, robe and bare feet.

  “Grace will be fine in her own room. You need to be able to sleep the nights you work, and this way I have freer access.”

  His calm explanation had the opposite effect on Lark. “This is my house,” she reminded him, her temper flaring. “I should be the one who decides what happens here. You’ve already insisted on hiring a housekeeper and brought in a huge TV. Now you’ve moved Grace.”

  “Look, it’s going to be okay.” He took her upper arms in a strong grip and gave her a little shake. “You just need to let me help.”

  All the fight went out of Lark as her body became immediately aroused by Keaton’s touch. Despite the thickness of the terry cloth, Lark could feel his heat. It flowed into her in a rush, igniting the desire she’d worked so hard these past few days to ignore.

  “Keaton.” Her voice cracked on his name. She had no idea how to verbalize what she needed. Her skin longed for the imprint of his hands. The ache between her thighs flared, demanding relief from the endless hours of anticipation. Her instincts took over. “Kiss me.”

  His body stiffened at her plea...demand...whatever it had been. Concerned that she’d been too bold and embarrassed by his inaction, she was on the verge of explaining that she’d been kidding when he growled.

  “Damn it, Lark.” His lips dipped toward hers but hovered before he made contact.

  “What are you waiting for?”

  His grip on her arms tightened. The corner of his mouth jerked. “You Taylor girls are nothing but trouble.”

  Stung, she pulled back. Keaton’s long fingers held her prisoner. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just what I said. You’re trouble.”

  “I’m not the one who dema
nded we share responsibility for Grace or suggested you move in. That’s all on you.”

  His fingers refused to relax their grip and she couldn’t risk struggling to free herself or he would get an eyeful of her bare form. As if he read her thoughts, Keaton’s gaze raked down her body.

  “You have gorgeous breasts,” he murmured. “Why do you insist on hiding them?”

  The awe in his voice was such a contrast to his annoyance a moment earlier that Lark was at a loss. “How do you know what my breasts look like?”

  “There’s a great lake for swimming on the edge of Taylor land. When it was hot, you used to ride there and go swimming on the days you weren’t working at the mall.”

  As soon as Lark had been old enough to get a part-time job, she started working a minimum of twenty hours a week. The income allowed her to buy her first car and limited the amount of time she was at home, enduring her mother’s nonstop criticism.

  “How did you know that?” Then she realized what he hadn’t said. “You watched me?”

  “Are you kidding? I was a horny college student and you wore a tiny yellow bikini.”

  Her skin burned as she thought back to those days. Believing herself alone, she’d shed her inhibitions and reveled in being sensual and free.

  “But that was my family’s land.”

  “And it pissed me off that you had the best swimming hole for miles around. So I trespassed.” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “A lot.”

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me you were there?”

  “Because as long as you thought you were alone, you were like some wild water nymph. If you’d had any idea I was there, you’d have chased me off with that shotgun you always carried with you.”

  “I needed it to keep the predators at bay,” she replied. “Looks like it worked.”

  “Now that you understand that I’ve been crazy about your beautiful body for a long time, will you please go get dressed.” Keaton gently shoved her an arm’s length away and set her free. “And hurry. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”