by Cat Schield
Before he found out, they were being escorted into a tiny exam room. The nurse who led them there brought in a scale and a tape measure to take Grace’s measurements. Between them the nurse and Lark peeled Grace out of her fleece onesie. Not liking the cool air on her skin, Grace began to protest. In record time the stats were recorded on her chart and then the nurse left them alone to calm the baby.
Rather than dress her again, Lark wrapped Grace in a blanket and held her against her shoulder. It only took a bit of rocking for the infant to calm. Once the room was silent, Keaton spoke.
“I’ve spent the entire day thinking about you,” he said. “I think we have a connection that goes beyond taking care of Grace or simple physical attraction.” The words that had been racing through his mind all day spilled easily from his lips.
“I like you too,” she said, her voice and expression solemn. “It’s just that dating means we’re going down a path that ended badly for Jake and Skye.”
“They decided to run away from trouble rather than face it. We’re both stronger than that.”
“You might be, but then your parents are way more sensible and forgiving than mine.”
The door opened before he could respond and Keaton was left to mull her words.
“Good afternoon, Lark,” Dr. Reedy said, flashing his teeth in a boisterous grin. In his midfifties, the pediatric physician had pronounced crow’s-feet at the corners of his eyes and strong laugh lines bracketing his mouth. He stuck his hand toward Keaton. “I’m Dr. Reedy.”
“Keaton Holt.”
The doctor nodded. “Grace’s uncle. So, how is our little angel doing?”
Lark and Keaton spoke at once.
“Terrific.”
“Wonderful.”
“Fantastic,” Dr. Reedy said. “Well, her weight has increased nicely. She’s a little ahead of where we’d expect she’d be at this time.”
Keaton appreciated that bit of good news. At least when his brother showed up, Keaton could feel confident that he’d done everything possible for Grace. “And her reflux?”
“We’re still giving her the drops and that’s working great.”
“She’s sleeping okay?”
Keaton and Lark exchanged glances.
“Pretty well,” Keaton said. “At first she wanted to be held all the time, but she’s adjusted to her bouncy chair and swing really well in the last few days.”
“Sounds like everything is going nicely.”
After that Dr. Reedy began his exam. Grace hated every second of being checked and let the entire building know. He had a list of questions for Lark and Keaton as he worked and they traded off answering.
“I’d say she’s doing great,” Dr. Reedy pronounced, giving the two adults a pleased smile. “We’ll need to see her in another month. You can schedule that before you leave.”
From the way Lark’s mouth drooped, Keaton suspected she was hoping her sister would be able to bring Grace to that checkup. Keaton agreed and hoped his brother was in town to drive her. The next time Keaton attended a baby wellness visit, he wanted it to be for his own son or daughter.
Eight
After leaving the doctor’s office, Lark sat in the backseat of Keaton’s truck and pulled out Grace’s bottle.
“Do you want to skip the restaurant and do dinner at home?” Keaton offered, watching them from the front seat.
The baby was still agitated from being checked out by Dr. Reedy, but she quickly settled down. “I think she’ll be okay after she has something to eat. She’s really hungry these days. I’ve started preparing four-ounce bottles and she can almost get through the whole thing.”
“It’s amazing how much has changed in the ten days since she’s left the hospital.”
With the bottle half-consumed, Lark took it away and handed the baby and a burp cloth to Keaton.
“And who would’ve guessed you’d be so good with babies?”
“Certainly not me.”
“I think your mother was a little shocked.” As soon as Grace expelled the gas trapped in her stomach, Lark handed Keaton the bottle and let him finish the feeding.
Watching the two of them together, she noticed how her fondness for him increased a little more each day. If things kept going this way, she was going to start thinking in terms of the L word that wasn’t like. To her surprise, this didn’t give her the qualms it might have a week ago. For one thing, it wasn’t as if she could stop the inevitable from happening. Keaton was a wonderful man with everything going for him. If she wasn’t a Taylor falling for a Holt, she would feel free to revel in her happiness.
Lark executed a quick diaper change before Grace drifted off to sleep. “I think that will buy us a couple hours at least,” she said, switching back into the passenger seat.
The late afternoon sun hit Keaton’s blue eyes, making them glow. “Then we won’t have to rush.” He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and started the engine.
Finding herself oddly breathless, Lark clasped her hands together and set them in her lap. It was a good thing they were avoiding the Royal Diner’s bright interior. At least in the soft lighting at Claire’s her flushed skin and feverish gaze would be less obvious.
The hostess led them to a four-top toward the back and replaced one of the chairs with a stand that Grace’s carrier fit into. While Keaton got Grace settled, Lark slipped out of her coat and draped it over the empty chair beside her. When Keaton looked in her direction, his eyes widened.
“You look amazing,” he murmured, a hoarse note in his voice. “That dress suits you.”
“I was worried it was too much.” Lark ran her hands down the dress, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “I bought it in Houston but never had a reason to wear it.”
“It’s perfect.”
She loved the way his gaze clung to her as she sat down and dropped the napkin in her lap. His intensity heightened her confidence and made it easy to shoot him a flirtatious glance.
“I haven’t ever been here,” she said, scanning the menu. “What do you suggest?”
“That we skip dinner and go straight home.”
Her stomach executed a back flip. “But I’m hungry,” she protested.
“So am I.” And his steady regard left her no doubts about where his mind had gone.
Excited by the hot lust in his gaze, Lark surrendered to the smile tugging at her lips. Already she was on fire for him. Her nipples hardened against the silk of her bra. An ache throbbed between her thighs.
All her life she’d existed in her head. She read books and imagined faraway places she’d probably never visit. Baking cakes gave her a way to express her creative side, but it was a hobby that involved precise measuring and exact bake times. Her buttercream flowers were a work of art, but they took hours and meticulous attention to detail to get just right.
The way she felt around Keaton was so completely foreign. Her blood simmered. She grew rash and wild. They’d made love on her living room floor last night. Just ripped off their clothes and dove straight in. There’d been no preset number of dates before the event. Hell, they weren’t even dating. She wanted him naked, his strong body heavy on her while he plunged into her over and over.
“Are you okay?”
Keaton’s question broke through her sensual fog. Unclenching her hands, she discovered half-moon indents in her palms where her fingernails had dug in. Lark picked up her water and sipped it. She wanted to put the cool glass against her heated cheeks, but that would be a dead giveaway. “I’m fine. Why?”
“You were staring into space with such a fierce expression on your face. What were you thinking about?”
Well, she certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. “There’s a woman I work with. She hates me.” Lark was surprised by her own vehemence. She hadn’t told anyone about her frustration with Marsha. It wasn’t her style to complain.
“I can’t imagine anyone hating you.” Another man might have used that line to flirt. Keaton was completely serious. �
��You’re kind, thoughtful and intelligent.”
She wasn’t upset that he didn’t describe her as beautiful. She wasn’t. Her mother was right to complain that she did nothing to make herself look more attractive. Besides, the way he focused all his attention on her was so much better than a bunch of flattery she wouldn’t believe.
“I’m also efficient, hardworking and intolerant of people who don’t pull their weight.” Lark stared in fascination as Keaton’s mouth curved into a wry line. “From the minute I walked into the ICU, she’s acted like I’m the most annoying person she’s ever met.”
“So she’s intimidated.”
“Why should she be? She has seniority in the department and everyone except the head nurse defers to her.”
“Everyone except the head nurse and you,” Keaton guessed. His eyes glowed. He seemed to understand something Lark wasn’t grasping.
“She’s lazy and sloppy. I’ve tried to be nice, but I draw the line at pandering to her ego.”
“And she’s working in the ICU where your sister is. You told me you transferred from surgery to the ICU to watch over Skye. Why did you feel that was necessary?”
Lark caught her breath. Was that it? She didn’t trust Marsha to take good care of Skye, and the other nurse had picked up on that? In the days following the tornado, Lark had been frantic about her sister’s condition. She’d spent long hours at Skye’s side, overseeing her care like a fierce mama bear. Looking back, Lark realized she probably hadn’t made any of the nurses’ lives easy, but Marsha’s least of all because her level of care had been subpar in Lark’s opinion.
A week later, Lark had requested a temporary transfer to the ICU. Marsha couldn’t have been happy. No wonder she’d been so unfriendly.
“I really need to work on my people skills,” Lark muttered. “I did not connect the dots.”
“How do you feel now?”
“Better. At least I have an idea why Marsha hates me. It will make dealing with her a lot easier.”
Her father often complained about how aloof Keaton was. Said the Holt boy thought he was too good for any of them. After spending time with Keaton, Lark decided her father was wrong. Keaton didn’t believe himself superior. Rather, he was focused on his ranch and spent more time thinking than talking. Thus, when he had something to say it was worth listening to.
During dinner their conversation turned to the town’s recovery efforts and the projects Keaton had been involved in. Lark had no idea how much he’d pitched in.
“I haven’t really kept up with what’s been going on,” Lark said, pushing vegetables around her plate. “I should’ve pitched in.”
Keaton shook his head. “You’ve had your hands full taking care of Skye and watching over Grace and we haven’t been short any volunteers.”
“I feel like I should be doing something.”
“Most of what’s going on now involves demolition or construction, but I can check and see what other things might be available.”
“That would be great.”
Despite the easy flow of conversation during dinner, Lark’s tension grew. They were minutes away from heading home and she hadn’t yet figured out how to take advantage of the camaraderie they’d achieved. Her mind and body were eager for another round of lovemaking, but she didn’t know how to go about communicating that to Keaton.
It didn’t help that his relaxed manner gave no clue if his thoughts ran in the same direction. She declined dessert. Even if her mouth hadn’t been dry and her stomach in knots, she wouldn’t have enjoyed anything sweet. She was far too eager to get Keaton alone. Maybe in the privacy of her home she could tempt him to kiss her and maybe that would lead to more.
While they awaited the check, a dark-haired man clapped Keaton on the back, but the newcomer’s curious gaze was fixed on Lark.
“Keaton, good to see you out enjoying yourself for a change.”
“Hello, Gil.” Keaton stood and greeted the tall man with a hearty handshake before turning in Lark’s direction. “I’m not sure if you two have met. This is Lark Taylor.” He gestured toward the carrier beside him. “And Grace, our niece. Lark, this is Gil Addison, president of the Texas Cattleman’s Club.”
“Both Keaton and my father have spoken of you.” Lark smiled. “It’s nice to put a face with a name.”
“You’re Tyrone’s daughter?”
She nodded, seeing the way his eyes narrowed as if surprised she and Keaton were so relaxed with each other.
“Okay, date night is on.” A tall woman with shoulder-length wavy brown hair appeared at Gil’s side. “There’s no emergency at home.”
“This is my wife, Bailey,” Gil said, putting his arm around her waist before finishing the introductions.
“Nice to meet you,” Lark murmured, realizing how much she’d isolated herself these last few years.
The couples chatted for a few more minutes before Gil and Bailey returned to their own table where the waiter had just delivered their appetizer.
On the ride back to her house, Lark realized her earlier anxiety about the rest of the evening had dissipated. Gil Addison’s surprise at finding her and Keaton together reminded Lark how many obstacles stood between them. Letting herself get further wrapped up with Keaton would be asking for trouble. She was better off chalking up their single encounter as a lightning strike. Life-altering and never to be repeated.
Keaton took charge of Grace as they entered the house and pushed Lark in the direction of her bedroom. “Go get into your pajamas,” he commanded, no hint of playfulness anyway in his manner.
Her stomach clenched in reaction. “But it’s not even seven o’clock.”
“You owe me at least an hour of...what did you call it? Postcoital? You owe me an hour of postcoital snuggling.”
“What are you talking about?” Heat rushed up her neck and set fire to her cheeks.
“You ran off before I had the chance to hold you in my arms and savor how great you smell and how soft your skin is.”
Embarrassed laughter bubbled in her chest. “I ran off because you acted like an insensitive jerk.”
“Stop trying to pick a fight with me or I’ll change my mind about the pajamas and make you cuddle dressed exactly as you were when we ended.”
Unsure why he thought threatening her with snuggling naked was at all intimating, Lark decided not to argue further. What was the point when all she wanted was for him to hold her in his manly arms and kiss her breathless?
Since the pajama top she’d been wearing the night before was ruined, Lark had to find something else to put on. Most of what she wore in the winter she’d purchased to combat the cool nights, and she didn’t like the notion of her skin being so completely inaccessible.
“That’s not what you were wearing last night,” he said as he showed up in her bedroom, wearing pretty much the same pajama bottoms he’d had on the night before.
“You tore off the buttons, remember?” She glanced down at the sleeveless cotton nightgown. “It might not be pajamas, but it’s sleepwear.”
His frown told her he wasn’t fully convinced, but he held out his hand. “Do you want to do this here or on the couch?”
Although the couch’s limited space would force their snuggling to be extra close, she preferred the bed’s potential. “Here.”
“A good choice.” Lifting her off her feet as if she weighed no more than a dry leaf, Keaton placed her in the middle of the mattress and settled down beside her. He put his arm around her and pulled her against his side.
She laid her cheek against his shoulder but had a hard time relaxing. Hunger raged through her, firing her blood and awakening an insistent thrumming in her loins. While cuddling with him had sounded wonderful, what she really wanted was his hands on her skin, driving her mad with pleasure.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice deep and content.
Lark shook her head slightly and gazed up at him. His eyes were closed. She envied his tranquility.
“It just doesn’t seem like this is how we would have ended up last night.”
“Why not?”
“Something about it doesn’t feel organic.”
“Organic?” The corners of his mouth twitched. “What do you suggest?”
“I think we should get into the position we were in just after we finished last night and take it from there.”
He cracked one eye open and regarded her for a long moment. Then with a huge sigh, he sat up. “I just have one question.” He paused and let his fingers drift down her cheek. “With clothes or without.”
“Definitely without.”
And just like that they were kissing and rolling across her mattress, shedding her nightgown and his pajamas. The foreplay was feverish and focused, leaving little breath for words. And just when Lark thought she was going to explode with anticipation, Keaton sheathed himself in one of the condoms she’d squirreled away in her nightstand and slid inside her. Their breath mingled as they rode the escalating waves of pleasure. If it had been great last night, it was even better now because they were just a little bit more familiar with each other.
Lark climaxed first, her body reaching completion mere seconds before Keaton pounded to his own finish. With their energy deliciously depleted, Keaton rolled onto his back and draped Lark’s boneless body across his chest.
“You were right,” he agreed, lifting her hair aside so he could deposit a kiss on her damp cheek. “This is much more organic.”
“I knew it would be,” she murmured, convinced that she could stay like this forever. “I was feeling really awkward before because I didn’t know where to put my legs or the best place for my hands. Now I can’t feel either, so it really doesn’t matter.”
Beneath her cheek his chest lifted and fell with his chuckle. “I have a great antidote for that when you’re ready.”
