Trying not to think of phenomenal sex and Blake in the same context, Darby gulped. “You’re crazy.”
Perhaps she was crazy, too. Otherwise why would she have asked him to go to Armadillo Lake? Even forgetting how she’d deal with spending a weekend in a hotel room with him, he’d tease her mercilessly over the things he’d learn about the old Darby. She’d never live down the jokes, the puns.
“We really should get our story straight before this weekend.” He took her elbow, led her into her office, pausing only long enough to caress the heart model as they passed by the shelf. “Maybe we should practice.”
“Practice?” Darby’s ears roared. Her heart thudded, pounding wildly against her ribcage and threatening to once again leap into her throat. Her gaze dropped to his lips and the desire to practice hit so hard she thought she might faint.
Then the most brilliant idea hit her. One in which she’d risk everything—but some risks were worth taking.
CHAPTER TWO
“DO YOU even like the people you went to school with?” Blake stuck a French fry in his mouth. Although he usually ate healthily, French fries were his Achilles’ heel. The hotter and saltier the better. Thanks to the hospital cafeteria ladies knowing his vice, they always put on a fresh batch just for him.
“Of course I like them,” Darby insisted, but color rose in her cheeks. “I went to high school with them.”
“Doesn’t mean you like them.” He stuck another fry in his mouth, assuring himself the five miles he ran each morning would clear out the excessive cholesterol. “I’ve never heard you mention anyone you went to school with.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I had some g
ood friends back in school.”
“So good that you’re bringing a fake date to impress them?”
She didn’t meet his eyes, took a sip of her water. “You should be flattered, since you get to be the impressive fake date.”
“There is that,” he mused, studying her, trying to get a feel for whatever it was she was hiding.
And Darby was hiding something.
He couldn’t put his finger on what, but something had her buzzing about the prospect of returning to Armadillo Lake.
“Tell me about your hometown.”
Her face pinched into a scowl. “Not much to tell.”
Right.
“I’m going to your reunion this weekend. Don’t you think I should know a little about your past?”
“Not really.” Her nose curled, as if she’d taken a sniff of something vile. “We’ve known each other for what—four years? What you don’t already know, you don’t need to know.”
“I disagree.” What did he know about her past? Not much. Just that she’d grown up in a small town in Alabama, gone to medical school in Knoxville, on full scholarship, and had decided to stay in Tennessee after he’d jokingly suggested opening a practice together. Surprisingly, since he hadn’t made up his mind on where he’d end up, when Darby had said yes, he’d known practicing with her was exactly what he wanted to do. Not once had he regretted that decision, and for the first time since his grandfather’s death he had roots.
“Oh?” She might have meant the word to be nonchalant, but the slight squeak gave away her anxiety.
A good person might have let the subject go, not put her on the spot, but Blake had never claimed to be good. Not in that sense, at any rate.
He zeroed in on the one name she’d let slip on the day the invitation had arrived. “I want to know more about Mandy Coulson.”
Darby sighed, rolling her eyes toward the hospital cafeteria’s ceiling. “You would want to know more about her, wouldn’t you?”
He shrugged. “She’s the only non-related person from your hometown I’ve ever heard you mention by name.”
Her eyes flashed blue fire and her chin lifted. “Trey Nix.”
Blake paused, fry midway to his mouth, dangling from his fingers. Trey Nix? “Who’s he?”
Why did he instantly dislike him?