And she’d wanted to press her lips to his throat and kiss him. All over.
For real.
When she’d finally been able to drag her gaze from Blake’s, her mother
had been smiling. Not just smiling, but smiling smiling.
No doubt her mother was pulling out her grandmother’s veil this very moment, envisioning how the simple pearl and gauzy netting would look on her daughter’s head. “Finally,” she’d be saying to her daughters-in-law.
Her mother would be heartbroken if she knew the truth.
“I’m definitely going to strangle you.”
“You want to strangle me?” He checked for oncoming traffic prior to pulling onto the main highway that would take them the ten miles back into Armadillo Lake. “I’m disappointed. I was sure you’d be pleased and relinquish the entire top side of the bed as reward for my good behavior.”
“Good behavior? Are you kidding? Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” How could she look at him and not long for what they’d pretended this weekend? Not want him to want her for real? Having tasted the sweetness of his affections—even knowing they were pretend—she just couldn’t envision going back into the desolate wasteland that had made up her personal life. She covered her face with her hands. “This is horrible. They’re expecting us to be married by Christmas, and are no doubt at this very moment discussing what they’re going to wear to our wedding.”
“Why? Do they try to marry you off to every man you bring home?” He chuckled. Chuckled. As if he hadn’t turned her life upside down with his hot looks and incessant touches. As if he hadn’t just waved her parents’ fondest dream in front of them—Darby married and back in Armadillo Lake.
As if he hadn’t just waved her fondest dream in front of her—him.
“If I gave them the opportunity.” She wiped her face, knowing she’d pay for tonight’s show for months to come. For years. She wouldn’t live tonight down until she brought home a man for real. And how she’d live this down in her heart she had no idea. Regardless of the outcome, this weekend would forever haunt her heart, her dreams. “I’ve never brought a man home.”
That got his attention, causing him to slow down the vehicle and glance toward her. “Never? Not even Trey Nix?”
Darby sucked in air. “Trey doesn’t count.”
“Why not?”
She shook her head. “He just doesn’t.”
Technically, neither Trey nor Blake counted.
After all, they’d both only been faking their feelings for her.
Darby had washed her face, moisturized, brushed her teeth, flossed, and combed her hair. She’d put on the modest pajamas the sales clerk had assured her were sexy without looking like she was trying to be sexy.
Time to face the music. Or, more aptly, Blake in a hotel room bed. Why was she acting so crazy? It wasn’t as if he were lying there waiting for her to come to him like a virginal bride. It wasn’t as if anything was going to happen between them just because he’d looked at her with desire earlier, then pretended to love her all evening.
It wasn’t as if anything was going to happen between them just because she hoped with all her heart that he’d someday really want her the way she wanted him.
She gulped back her nervousness and opened the bathroom door.
Light from the television illuminated the hotel room, casting shadows and short bursts of brightness across Blake’s face. He sat in the bed, all the pillows, including hers from home, propped behind his bare back.
Where was his shirt?
Where had he gotten all those muscles?
She’d known he had a nice body, but, oh my, she hadn’t known he’d been hiding all those beautifully sculpted lines and planes. If business ever got bad, they could run an ad of Blake wearing low-slung jeans, no shirt, and his stethoscope dangling from his neck. Business would be through the roof in no time.
Her pulse was already there.
Her gaze lowered. Pajama bottoms rode low on his narrow hips. The comforter bunched at his waist, hiding everything beneath the dark navy waistband.
“I thought you’d decided to sleep in the tub,” he teased, thankfully unaware of her thoughts.
“Not likely.” But if a functioning spine wasn’t necessary for the following day, she might grab her pillow and give the tub a shot. How could she not have known what an awesome six-pack Blake sported?