Billy’s back was to her, and he must not have heard her drive in over the noise of the chain saw, for he didn’t stop. Darcy didn’t mind at all. The longer it took him to look up, the longer she’d have to watch.
And wonder what it would be like to be involved with this man for real.
Darcy moistened her lips and swallowed.
He must have been working there all day. His skin shone with moisture, and though already bronzed by prior time in the sun, his shoulders shone pink from new exposure. His hair was moist and curled around his face. Darcy smiled as she noticed dirt on his cheek.
Bill turned off the saw and lowered it to the ground, the muscles in his back flexing and contracting. His motions were fluid and graceful, but sparse, as though he’d done this many times without having to think. He must have finally noticed her, for he stopped short. He looked in her direction, squinting at first, then shading his eyes against the bright afternoon sun.
Darcy forced herself to act as though she had just arrived. “Hi,” she called brightly, hoping he wouldn’t realize that she’d been watching. “You look like you’ve made a day of it,” she said, instantly realizing that she must sound really lame. After all, he’d mentioned that morning that he was going to work on the brush. Had she just thought that he was going to trim the azalea bushes in front?
Maybe she had, but it was clear that he hadn’t been doing anything as simple as yard work.
“Yeah,” he grunted, wiping his forehead again and leaving a grimy smudge in his hand’s wake. “I figure I’ve got another good day at this. Tomorrow I’ll bush hog the area behind the sheds.”
“Bush hog?” Darcy was an educated woman, but she had no idea what Bill was talking about.
“I hook an attachment to the back of the tractor, and it drags along the ground and roots up any low shrubs and stuff that could be a fire hazard. Works like a real hog, I guess.” Bill stood there, arms hanging loose at his side as if he were waiting for her to make the next move.
Darcy didn’t quite know what to say. She had to say something, if only to let him know that he could go back to what he was doing. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work, then,” she said, finally.
Bill shrugged. “I’m done for now. Don’t have time to start bush-hogging this evening, and I’m gonna have to help with supper anyway.”
“No,” Darcy said, horrified. “You’ve worked out in the sun all day. You go take a bath or a shower and relax for a few minutes while I get supper ready.”
“But you’ve been working all day, too. You must be beat.”
“Piece of cake,” Darcy said, grinning. “After my hospital practicals, this was no stretch at all. I fed myself every day while I was in school, and that was so much harder than today was. There’s no reason why I can’t now.” She reached for her bag, left on the hood of the car, then turned toward the house.
Cooking dinner in an unfamiliar kitchen would be a challenge, but infinitely easier than trying to keep from staring at Bill as he stood in front of her in all his masculine glory. Darcy blew out a puff of breath, then pushed open the door.
BILL SAT ALONE in the swing on the front porch as the cicadas began to hum, the night birds began to call, and the june bugs began their evening suicide missions into the light bulbs. City people often talked about how quiet it was in the country, but they’d obviously never sat and listened to the sounds of a warm, summer evening.
He looked in through the kitchen window to where Darcy was finishing up the supper dishes. He’d offered to help, but she’d shooed him off, saying that he’d worked plenty hard today, and she’d just sat around Doctor Williamson’s office, pretending to look efficient. It was an argument he wasn’t likely to win, so he’d respected Darcy’s wishes and gone out to the swing.
As she had the past couple of nights, Momma had gone to bed early, leaving them alone. Bill didn’t know whether it was because his mother was tired or trying to allow him more privacy with Darcy that he’d just as soon he didn’t have.
He knew that his mother usually enjoyed watching television in the evenings. But when he’d said something to her about it, she’d brushed him off, saying that all her programs were in reruns, and she was too tired to watch them anyway. That worried him. How much energy did it take to watch television? But rather than nag her about staying up—to chaperon?—he’d let her go to bed.
So now he just sat in the swing and felt about as useful as training wheels on a tricycle. He leaned back and listened to the creak of the swing and breathed in the sweet scents of summer.
He must have dozed, for the next thing he knew, Darcy was speaking to him. He woke with a jerk. “What?”
Darcy smiled. “I asked if there was room for me on that swing. Or is this a private party?” She made a scooting motion with her hands, and Bill obliged.
“Dishes all done?” he asked, knowing that she wouldn’t be out here if they weren’t.
“Yep. Washed, dried, and put away,” Darcy said as she settled down beside him. She leaned back against the seat and uttered a contented moan.
There seemed no need to comment, and if Darcy knew what he’d been thinking, she’d be more likely to smack him than appreciate it. Bill couldn’t help thinking that he’d like to hear that moan coming from her as he pleasured her into releasing beneath him. He fought a tightening in his groin and tried to think of something less dangerous.
Not an easy thing to do with Darcy sitting so close beside him.
“I talked to Doctor Williamson about your mother’s condition,” Darcy said, breaking the awkward silence. “Do you mind?”
Bill sat up straight and looked at her. “Why should I?”
“Well, patients’ histories are confidential,” she said, but Bill shrugged and waited for her to go on. “If I’m going to be keeping an eye on her condition, I thought it best if I knew exactly what it is.”
“And now you know,” Bill answered grimly. There had been a time when Momma probably could have been helped, but poverty and lack of insurance had cut her options. Now, it was just a waiting game.
Darcy sighed. “Yes,” was all she said. She rested her arm on the back of the swing and drew in a long, deep breath of the fragrant summer air.
Bill couldn’t help wishing that he’d thought of that. That he could put his arm on the back of the swing, cup her shoulder in his hand and draw her to him, but he couldn’t. It might be proper for a real engaged couple to sit out on the front porch and kiss, but they weren’t a real engaged couple.
But, vow to remain single notwithstanding, Bill wanted more than anything to kiss Darcy. No, that wasn’t true. The aching tautness in his groin told him more. If he kissed her now, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop with just a kiss.
AFTER A COUPLE of days, Darcy and Bill settled into a routine. Darcy would go to work at the doctor’s office in Pittsville, and Bill would spend his day doing labor at his mother’s house, then Darcy would come home, and they would pretend to be in love. Darcy wondered if Nettie knew how lucky she was to have a son like Bill Hays.
She was standing at the sink rinsing the last of the supper dishes when Nettie surprised her by coming in and sitting at the table.
“You know, you and our Billy don’t have to hide your affection from me,” Nettie said quietly.
Darcy stopped, a wet plate poised in mid-air halfway between the sink and the counter. “Oh?” she responded cautiously. What could she say?
“I know what it’s like to be young and in love.” Nettie chuckled softly. “It may have happened back in the days of covered wagons, but I do recall what it feels like when you can’t keep your hands off each other.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Darcy managed in a strangled voice as she finally lowered the plate to the countertop.
“Just think about it,” Nettie said. “I won’t faint from shock if I catch you two kissing.”
Darcy swallowed and turned to look at Nettie. “No, ma’am,” was all she could manage. “I’ll keep
that in mind.”
“You do that.” Nettie pushed herself up. “I’ll just get me a glass of water to take my pills with, and I’ll head to my room to leave you and Billy alone.” She filled one of the glasses Darcy had just washed and headed for her room. As she reached the kitchen door, she turned. “Just wanted you to know,” she said quietly as Bill came in.
“What’s that, Momma?” Bill said as Nettie patted him on the shoulder and brushed past him.
“I reckon your intended can fill you in. I’ll just leave you two alone so you can talk.” Nettie turned and blew a kiss their way, then made her way slowly to her room.
“What was that all about?” Bill asked, getting a beer from the refrigerator. He held the long-neck bottle up. “You want one?”
Darcy shook her head. “No.” Grateful for the brief change of subject and a possible reprieve, she went back to work and tried not to think about the strange conversation she’d just had with Nettie.
Instead of going back outside to the porch swing as had been his habit, Bill stationed himself to her right, leaning comfortably against the counter. His closeness was unnerving, and Darcy tried not to look as Bill lifted the sweating bottle of beer to his lips and drank thirstily.
Maybe if she ignored him long enough, he’d go away. Darcy forced herself to turn back to the task at hand.
She had underestimated Bill’s determination. Soon she’d washed all the dishes, but he was still there. She reached for a towel and started to dry a tumbler, but Bill took the glass out of her hand and set it carefully down on the counter. It was obvious that he was not going away.
“I think I’ve gotten to know you well enough in the past few days that I can tell when something is on your mind. Did my mother say something that upset you?”
Darcy shook her head, but she couldn’t look Bill in the eye. She picked up another glass and started to dry.
Bill took it out of her hand and placed it on the counter next to the first. “I’m not going to let you finish until you tell me what’s wrong,” he said in a firm tone that brooked no argument.
Darcy swallowed, then moistened her lips. “Really. It’s nothing.”
“Then why won’t you look at me?” Bill took Darcy by the upper arms and turned her around to face him.
Darcy looked down at the damp dish towel, shook her head then sighed. “It isn’t important.”
“It is important. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t be avoiding the subject like this. Tell me.” He tipped her chin up to look into her face.
Letting out a breath, Darcy closed her eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard if she couldn’t see him. “Okay,” she said in a rush. “Your mother said she wouldn’t mind if she caught us kissing now and then.” There, once she’d blurted it out, it didn’t seem so bad.
Bill looked at her as he digested what she’d just said, then muttered a one-word curse. “She said that?” Before Darcy could answer, he burst out laughing.
He laughed and laughed and laughed.
“I don’t see what’s so darn funny,” Darcy protested primly. “What are we going to do?”
Bill swallowed a chuckle. “Well, darlin’, I reckon we are just going to have to oblige her and put on a good show.” Wagging his tawny eyebrows suggestively, he reached for Darcy. “We might need some practice.”
She sidled quickly away. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He just looked at her and grinned. He crooked a finger and beckoned. “Come here.”
She retreated farther. “No.”
“Listen here. We have to make it look good if we’re gonna convince Momma.” He moved toward her.
Darcy was less worried about convincing Nettie than she was about not convincing herself. The last time she’d kissed Bill, she’d almost forgotten that this ridiculous situation wasn’t real. If they kept practicing, she wasn’t sure she could continue to draw the line. Her brain might want her to stop, but her body had definitely been rooting for her to go. “I think that kiss from the other night was perfectly authentic,” she said, backing farther away.
Bill stopped. “That it was, Darcy, my girl. That it was.”
The homey kitchen that had always seemed so large seemed to shrink as Bill advanced on her. There was no place to hide. Darcy glanced around, but Bill had effectively backed her into a corner. She took one more step back and found herself wedged into the right angle between the counter and the stove.
Bill stepped forward, then stopped close enough so that one deep breath would bring them together. Darcy felt him tower above her. She breathed in the floral scent of his mother’s Cashmere Bouquet soap from his shower as well as the tantalizing male scent the floral fragrance couldn’t disguise.
Why was she shrinking from him?
Hadn’t she spent the better part of the last couple of nights dreaming about this and more? Hadn’t she, deep in the untamed recesses of her mind, wanted this to happen? She swallowed, then moistened lips gone as dry as a desert.
Suddenly, the beer Bill had left on the counter looked awfully good. She drew in a deep breath. “I need a sip of your drink,” she said, hoping to create a diversion.
Bill reached for the bottle, hooked a finger around the neck and dangled it in front of her. “You want some of this?” He held the bottle just out of her reach.
Throat too dry to speak, Darcy swallowed and nodded.
“And what will you give me for it?”
“Give you?” she squeaked, her heart beating too fast.
“Surely you don’t think I’d give it away for free?” Bill cocked his head and looked at her, one eyebrow arched questioningly. “I think this whole thing started with the mention of a kiss.”
Darcy shrank deeper into her corner. She hadn’t counted on that, but why was she playing coy? She’d agreed to pretend to be this man’s fiancée for his mother’s sake. She certainly should have expected that an occasional kiss would be part of the package. Why couldn’t she just kiss him and get it over with?
It wasn’t as if she’d never kissed a man before.
Because she wasn’t sure it would stop with one kiss. Considering she was still one of the walking wounded after escaping from her aborted wedding to Dick, the last thing she needed was to get involved with anyone else until she had her head on straight.
And after kissing Bill Hays the other night, she knew that kissing him was the last thing she needed for head-straightening.
She was caught between a rock and a hard place, and for the life of her, she wasn’t sure which was the rock and what was the hard place: Bill or…what?
“I’m waiting,” Bill teased, one hand propped against the kitchen cabinet, the other still hooked around the neck of the bottle. His hips were pressed against her, and Darcy could feel his desire. “Beer’s getting warm,” he reminded her, his voice sultry as the summer night outside.
Darcy drew in a deep breath, and she could feel his need pulse against her. She swallowed. She could do this, she told herself. It wasn’t that she wanted the beer that badly, she just wanted to find a way to slide out of Bill’s seductive trap.
If she stayed there, if she let him kiss her, she didn’t know whether she could keep from following through with what her aching body was begging her to do.
She rose quickly up on her toes and delivered a quick peck to Bill’s cheek.
“Oh, no, darlin’,” he said slowly and grabbed her arm. “That ain’t gonna do it.” He touched the mouth of the bottle against his lips. “Here,” he said. “One quick, little kiss right here. That’s all.”
That was all? Darcy didn’t think so, but her heart was pounding like a jungle drum. Her breath caught in her throat, and something inside her fluttered like a bird trying to escape a cage. Holding her breath to see what Bill would do, Darcy stretched on her toes and quickly pressed her lips to his.
In a blink it was over, and Darcy leaned against the counter, her breath coming in quick gasps. Since Bill had done nothing, except tie her in knots, the kiss
was almost anticlimactic.
“See, it wasn’t so bad, Darcy.” Bill offered the beer to her. “Just one little kiss for Momma’s sake,” he said, stepping back to allow her to take the bottle.
This was the opening Darcy needed. She pushed the bottle aside and, laughing, darted under Bill’s arm. No sooner had she thought she could breathe, than a strong, calloused hand caught her elbow.
Her laughter died in her throat.
“That little kiss might have been for Momma,” Bill said, his voice low, seductive, as he reeled her in like a spent fish. “But I need something for me.” He drew Darcy to him and all she could see was the hunger in his eyes.
Chapter Six
He wanted Darcy, and it had nothing to do with the part they were playing for his mother.
Bill knew he shouldn’t push her, knew that kissing Darcy would be a huge mistake, but he couldn’t help it. He might not be able to follow through to the satisfaction his body craved, but maybe one good kiss would quell some of his cravings. At least, for now.
Darcy had gone completely motionless, but still Bill drew her closer. He could feel the frantic beating of her heart as he pressed her against his chest. He could see the frightened, doe-like look in her dark-brown eyes. But he wanted her, and nothing would assuage that need except to have her. At least, her lips.
He lowered his mouth toward hers, and Darcy’s lids fluttered downward. He closed in and took what he could.
Her lips were soft and firm, but as he pressed his mouth against hers, he felt a subtle yielding. He persisted and Darcy’s tender lips parted, allowing him access to her sweet depths. She relaxed against him, and Bill knew it was all right.
He probed and plundered and tasted and explored. Time seemed to stand still as he satisfied his desire for her. He knew he had to stop it, that he couldn’t take this further, but for now it seemed right.
Darcy moaned softly, a sound so sweet, so intimate that he almost lost it. He deepened the kiss.
He didn’t know where this was going, but for now Darcy was his.
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