Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell

This trip might prove to be educational.

He tossed the invitation on his desk and waggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Okay, darling, I’ll be your boy toy.”

Boy toy? As if. Darby rolled her eyes before meeting her partner’s black-as-sin gaze. As attractive as she found Blake, the man went through women as if he were competing for a world record. That didn’t mean she wasn’t crazy about him—just that she knew better than to feed his oversized ego.

“Keep that up and you’ll leave me no choice but to call Rodney,” she threatened, knowing Blake had never liked her recent attempt at dating. “If I pander to his ego a little—” a lot “—and tell him how rotten you are—” Rodney had been jealous of the “Italian Stallion”, Rodney’s label for Blake, not Darby’s “—he’s sure to go with me.”

Although they’d only gone out for a couple of months, he was still calling her, trying to convince her they could make things work if only she’d have sex with him. Yeah, right. Not during this lifetime.

There was only one man she wanted to sleep with, and he had no clue that was how she felt.

“The hell you say,” Blake growled. “He was the most suspicious man I’ve ever met—dropping by here all hours of the night.” His strong jaw clenched, emphasizing the slight cleft in his chin. “What did he expect? To catch me with my pants down?”

For the first time since she’d stormed into his office her lips twitched. “Actually, that is what he expected.”

And then some. She hadn’t been able to convince Rodney that Blake was nothing more than her business partner. Maybe because from the time they’d met she’d hoped Blake would see her for more than her brain and medical skills. After four years of his treating her much as one of her brothers did, she’d decided she didn’t register on Blake’s female radar. Just as well. None of the women he was interested in ever lasted long. Blake’s love-life consisted of a revolving door and multiple women. She wanted him forever, not just for a few weekends.

So she’d waited, hoped, become more and more frustrated.

“He thought you were getting lucky.” Since Rodney hadn’t been getting lucky, he’d automatically assumed Blake, being the only other man in her life, must be. Men.

Blake waggled his brows again. “Well, you can’t blame the guy for thinking I’d get lucky. I am irresistible.”

“And so modest, too.” She snorted at his mock-innocent expression. “Luck has nothing to do with how you get women.”

His lips twitched. “Enlighten me. How do I get women?”

Any way he wanted them.

“With that jet-black hair and those dark-as-midnight eyes you don’t have to get women, they get you.” The laughter in those black eyes had her feet wanting to shift—or run for the closest exit. How had the conversation even taken this turn? Her face grew hot and her skin clammy.

“At least, women try to get you,” she rushed on, hoping he didn’t notice how uncomfortable talking about his love-life made her. “You’re oblivious to most, yet they keep chasing you. So, like I said, you don’t have to get women, they get you.”

“And, like I said—” he rocked back in his chair and blatantly eyed her with amusement “—I’m irresistible.”

Dimples cut into his cheeks, making her think perhaps he was right. Certainly she’d always wanted him. Then again, with so little experience when it came to men, how could she be expected not to fall for someone so skilled in the ways of the opposite sex?

Because if Blake’s love-life was a revolving door, Darby’s was a vault that had rusted shut long ago from lack of use.

“For example,” he continued, “I was recently propositioned to spend the weekend with a beautiful woman.” His black eyes twinkled. “I even get to pretend to be in love with her. How much luckier can a guy get?”

Picking up a spongy ball—a stress-reliever advertising a pharmaceutical firm—she tossed it at him. “I wouldn’t count on getting lucky that particular weekend if I were you. You’re not that irresistible.”

At least not that she’d ever admit. But if she thought there was the slightest chance Blake could love her, she’d throw caution to the wind and make him notice she was a woman the weekend of the reunion.

He caught the stress ball with ease. “Come to think of it, my luck’s never been that good. Just look at the last female who found me.” He cringed with revulsion and gave an exaggerated shudder.

Darby bit back a smile.

So the foolish physical therapist he’d been dating on and off for a few months had thought Blake was taking her out of town to pop the question. Instead, the Yankees had been in Atlanta, and a friend had given him Braves tickets. Blake’s proposal had consisted of, “Do you want mustard or ketchup on your hot dog?” When the game had ended, with no highlighted proposal on the scoreboard, Kristi had issued an ultimatum she’d regretted the moment Blake had waved goodbye.

He interrupted her thoughts. “But you have to admit I am better than Rodney.”

True, but Rodney had been an okay boyfriend—a good start to her late-in-life attempt to develop dating skills. Well, an okay boyfriend except for his jealousy of Blake and how he’d pushed for sex. After Blake had dumped Kristi in Atlanta, Rodney’s possessiveness had suffocated Darby. He would view going to her high school reunion as moving their relationship into another realm. A realm where she didn’t want to go, as she had no intention of having sex with him. Ever.

Blake was right. He was the better choice in so many ways.

No one from her past would expect to see her with a man like Blake. With him at her side she could pretend she wasn’t still the geeky girl who’d left Armadillo Lake with big dreams and stars in her eyes.