Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell (4 page)

A real doctor. What was she? A pretend one?

Darby sighed.

Might as well be, since she was faking everything else this weekend.

 

Blake didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see that Darby was irritated with most of her family.

As the youngest of five children, and the only girl, her family treated her as if she were incapable of doing anything for herself. At each point Darby attempted to do something, even if it was only to refill her glass of tea, someone jumped in and did the task for her. Couldn't they see what a talented young woman she'd grown into? How much their attitude annoyed her?

Another part of him envied her the camaraderie, the loudness, the interactions that came with having a large family who so obviously adored her.

As a little boy he'd heard his grandfather talk about huge family gatherings back in Malta, but only Vic Di Angelo had come to the States to make his fortune. He'd met a lovely young New Yorker who'd died giving birth to their only child—Blake's mother. Victoria Di Angelo had gotten pregnant while a teenager and, although she'd married numerous times, she had never had more children, leaving Blake an only child. Since his grandfather's death family dinners had consisted of Blake and his mother in a nice restaurant in whatever city she currently lived in, making small talk while sipping on wine and pretending they had something in common other than memories of the gruff old man they'd both loved.

“More banana pudding, Dr. Di Angelo?” asked one of Darby's sisters-in-law. He couldn't recall which one of her brothers the tall redhead was married to, but she was obviously the mother of the three red-headed kids who ran in and out of the dining room every so often.

He was a tad jealous of the freedom the Phillips kids enjoyed. How exciting growing up in a place like this must be when compared to the fancy downtown apartments and condos he'd always lived in.

“Call me Blake—and no thanks on the pudding.” He patted his flat stomach, thinking perhaps French fries had been knocked down a notch from the top of his food chain. “Wish I could, but I'm stuffed.”

“Did he just say he's buff?” Another sister-in-law, giggled from across the table, fanning her face.

Blake grinned. Yeah, he liked Darby's family. A lot.

“I'd second that,” another said, cradling her three-month-old daughter in her arms so she could nurse her.

When at the last minute she threw a baby blanket over her shoulder and soon-to-be-exposed breast, Blake felt Darby's relief much louder than he heard the soft sigh. Hoping to reassure her, he caught her eye, winked.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered, leaning close to his ear.

Her warm breath tickled his ear, goosebumping his flesh, hyper-driving his heart rate.

“What for?” he asked, wondering if she'd apologized for making him so aware of her, for the fact that despite the table still being laden with delicious food all he could smell was her delicate floral scent. Or the fact that every time he looked at her he wanted to peel away her clothes to see what she wore beneath. And then he wanted to peel those away, too.

“For making you eat chicken, of course,” she teased, but he read the truth in her eyes. Her worries centered around her assumption that he was enduring her family for her and was barely able to do so.

He would endure any unpleasantness for Darby—after all, they were business partners. But he was enjoying her family.

Well, except for the way her brothers kept glaring and asking leading questions about his intentions regarding their little sister.

That he could have lived without.

Then again, he'd never had a sister. If he had, he'd have been just as tough on any guy she brought home. Actually, knowing what he usually did with women, he'd have been tougher. If they knew what he wanted to do to Darby, her brothers should take him out behind one of those long barns.

“I think it's so romantic, you two working together and falling in love,” the redheaded sister-in-law sighed dreamily, pulling a carrot-topped toddler into her lap.

“We worked together at the Co-Op during high school. I don't hear you calling
that
romantic,” her husband pointed out, reminding Blake which brother she belonged with. Best as Blake could recall, Jim was Darby's oldest brother, and the only one to share his sister's deep blue eyes.

“'Cause folks fall in love down at the Co-Op all the time. I think it's the hormones they put in the feed. You just don't hear about two doctors falling in love.” She sighed again, accepting wet kisses from the little boy who had his palms smashed against her cheeks. She laughed at her son's antics, then said to no one in particular, “It's like something you'd see on television.”

“What she means,” explained the brunette sister-in-law nursing her baby, “is that Armadillo Lake doesn't have a doctor, much less two. That's why they haven't heard of doctors falling in love except on T.V.”

Blake blinked. “Armadillo Lake doesn't have a doctor?”

“Closest one is in Pea Ridge, a clear thirty miles away. That's the closest hospital, too.” She gestured to the blanket covering her nursing baby. “I thought I was going to have to deliver this one here in the calfing barn.”

The calfing barn? Did he really want to know? He turned to Darby, who conspicuously stared at her empty plate.

“I'm surprised you didn't set up a clinic here.”

A wince crinkled Darby's forehead.

“We all hoped she'd settle down near Armadillo Lake—the actual lake and not just in town. She always loved that old plantation house down there,” another sister-in-law explained. “Course that was before the mess with Trey.”

Although she'd been sitting quietly, toying with her shirt hem, Darby's head shot up. She made a slashing
motion across her throat to the pretty brunette who was ignoring her.

“He's single again, you know. That girl from up near Gadsden and him got divorced last fall,” another added. “He moved back earlier this year and opened a plumbing repair shop. Business has been real good, I hear. He bought the old Jenson farm and is considered quite the catch.”

“What mess?” Blake asked, wondering why a knot had formed in his stomach at the news Trey Nix was single and “quite the catch”. Wondering why Darby's family waved Trey in front of Darby like a carrot. Was she supposed to be lured home?

She
had
a home. In Knoxville. With him.

“When Trey broke her heart, of course. High school quarterbacks are notorious for stealing girls' hearts around these parts.” The brunette looked at her husband, who grinned back at her. Obviously Darby's youngest brother had been a quarterback who'd stolen
her
heart.

“Hello? I'm sitting right here,” Darby reminded them, clanging her silverware against her plate. “Blake does not want to hear about Trey.”

Actually, he did. But he took pity on the desperation in her eyes, knowing that before the weekend was over he'd learn what had transpired between his lovely partner and her high school quarterback.

But for now he'd play his role.

“Darby's right. I don't want to hear about men from her past, because they don't matter.” He took her hand in his, laced their fingers for all to see. “She's mine now, and I plan to keep her.”

Darby's mother beamed. A collective sigh came from
the sisters-in-law. Her brothers exchanged looks. Her father shrugged.

Blake smothered a grin. He liked Darby's family. All of them. Why hadn't she introduced them in the past?

Next to him, she audibly caught her breath, and her eyes flashed with question. “Are you sure you don't want more dessert?”

He winked, letting her know he had this under control. She could thank him later for rescuing her from conversations about old heartbreaks.

Turning to Darby's mother, he flashed his most brilliant smile. “What I'd really like is to see Darby's baby photos. Got any you'd just love to show me?”

 

Darby tried to ignore the fact that Blake's arm was around her, his hand pressing possessively into her lower back. She tried to ignore the fact that her sisters-in-law kept smiling at each other, that her brothers kept sizing Blake up, not quite sure what to make of him, that her parents were falling over themselves in hopes that he would save their baby girl from the follies of her youth by choosing medicine over marriage and children.

She was failing miserably, of course, and couldn't ignore any of those things, much less all of them.

No wonder. She and Blake sat squished next to each other on the same sofa she'd sat on when she'd still worn diapers. Her mother was on the opposite side of Blake, flipping through a family photo album and ecstatically pointing out various embarrassing pictures from Darby's youth.

She shook her head as Blake enthused over shot after shot—especially her “Dilly” photos.

Had he really asked to see her baby pictures? Had her family really not had an
aha!
moment and seen that this couldn't possibly be real? What man asked to see a woman's baby photos?

“The boys just hauled her with them wherever they went. She drove the tractor, helped haul hay—whatever they were doing, she was right in the middle. It's no wonder she was such a tomboy.”

Dimples dug into Blake's cheeks, his eyes dancing with interest when he glanced toward Darby. “You were a tomboy?”

She shrugged. “For a while.”

“Then she discovered books, and would hide in her room reading instead of doing her chores,” Jim said.

“I think she read every book in the Armadillo Lake library. Never did see someone who liked to read so much.” Darby's mother shook her head in confusion. “I kept telling her that reading books didn't put food on the table.”

“Guess all that book-reading paid off in the long run. Look at her now—a doctor,” Rosy said, smiling at Darby. “We're all so proud of her accomplishments, aren't we?”

“Sure thing,” Jim grunted, at his wife's elbow jabbing his ribs.

Darby sent Rosy a grateful smile. Not that she bought her claim. Her parents would have been proud if she'd married a good ole boy straight out of school, had a half-dozen babies and farmed for a living. Becoming a doctor and living six hours away didn't even register on their “proud” radar.

They hadn't come to her graduation ceremony.

Or to the opening of her and Blake's clinic.

To give them credit, Rosy had given birth that same weekend—which she'd apologized for time and again. As if she'd had any control over when her son entered the world. But Darby had never been convinced her parents would have come regardless. To her knowledge, they'd never left sweet home Alabama.

“She is an amazing woman, isn't she?” Blake turned toward her, brushed her hair away from her face, and gave her a look that turned her to melted goo right then and there on her mother's sofa.

“I can't imagine not having her in my life,” he continued, his voice low, seductive. He pulled her hand to his mouth and pressed the softest of kisses to her fingers.

Her breath hung in her throat, threatening to choke her. She couldn't pull her gaze from his dark one.

He'd been overdoing the lovey-dovey stuff all night, constantly touching her, smiling at her, looking at her as if he was visually stripping off her clothes and liking what he found.

Looking at her as if she was his whole world.

As he was doing at the moment.

Even though she knew he was role-playing, her body perked up to heights that made her mind feel a little numb and her body tingle in places she had no business to be tingling while sitting on her mother's sofa.

She'd wanted him to notice her, to be aware she was a woman, but was she really prepared to face the consequences of what she'd set into motion this weekend? Was she ready to lose what they had in hopes of winning love's jackpot?

“H
EY
,
sis, can I talk with you a moment?”

Darby turned toward her brother, alarmed at the concern in his voice. He knew, didn't he?

“What is it, Jim?”

If any of her brothers was going to realize her relationship with Blake was phony, she'd have guessed Jim. He'd always been able to see right through her.

“I'm worried about Mom.”

Both relief and concern filled Darby. “What about her?”

“She's not been herself for the past few days.”

“Because of her shingles, you mean?”

Jim scratched his blond head. “Maybe. I'm not a doctor, but I think something more is going on than her rash.”

“What makes you think that?”

“She hasn't acted right.”

“In what way?”

“I've seen her pressing her hand to her chest and wincing.”

His words caused Darby to wince. Her mother was having chest pain? “What does she say?”

“That she's fine, and I should mind my own business.”

Sounded just like Nellie Phillips.

“I'll talk to her and see if I can convince her to go in for a check-up on Monday.”

“I'd appreciate it. Dad doesn't say much, but I can tell he's concerned, too. Yesterday she had to come inside and lay down for a while.”

“Really?”

“Yep, and she's been snapping at him.”

Her mother didn't snap. She gave orders, expected them to be obeyed, and tolerated no disobeying.

“I'll corner her before Blake and I leave and find out what's going on as best as I can.”

“What's going on with you and this guy, sis? I like him, but there's something about him that doesn't sit well.”

“It's probably just because he's dating your baby sister.”

“Possibly.” Jim glanced toward where Blake sat, surrounded by the Phillips womenfolk. “Are you serious about him?”

How did she answer? She couldn't lie to Jim. Not directly. “He's my business partner. Would I risk messing up our partnership if I wasn't serious about him?”

Her brother's mouth twisted and his gaze went back to Blake. “Possibly,” he repeated. “With what happened with Trey, I don't want to see you hurt.”

Darby swallowed. Her whole life wasn't measured by what had happened with Trey. Sure, she hadn't trusted a man until Blake, and that had taken years, but that was because she'd learned a valuable lesson, not because she'd
been traumatized by Trey's betrayal. “That was over ten years ago.”

“Ten years in which I've not seen you with another guy.”

She'd dated. Rarely, and never for long enough to get close to any of them, but she had dated.

“We live in different states. You don't know how many guys I've been with.” At Jim's scowl, she added, “Besides, Blake's a good guy. The best.”

Her oldest brother shot another uneasy glance toward where Blake sat with the Phillips women. “He seems crazy about you.”

Crazy being the key word.

 

Darby snapped her seatbelt and kept her smile pasted onto her face. No doubt lots of eyeballs stared out the front windows. She'd wait until they were out of sight before she tore into Blake, possibly dismembering him and tossing him into one of the chicken barns for what he'd done.

“That went well.”

Darby inwardly scowled at the pleased-with-himself man pulling out of her parents' driveway. Was he insane?

Her entire family now expected her to announce that Blake was “the one”, they were getting hitched, planned to buy the old Donahue place down near the lake, set up practice, and raise a family of their own.

She glanced into the side mirror to make sure her brothers hadn't jumped into a pick-up and followed them. Not only were there no headlights, but she could barely see the house or the four long barns off in the distance.

“I'm going to strangle you,” she warned, curling her fingers into tight fists.

“I thought I did better than that.”

“Better? There was no reason to put on a show in front of my parents, my family. You acted like a lovesick puppy. Now they think something's going on between us.”

His brows knit together and he cast an odd look toward her. “Wasn't that the idea? For me to make them think I was crazy about you? To pretend that you were my whole world?”

“No. Yes. Oh, I don't know.” Clearly she hadn't thought through the consequences of bringing Blake to Armadillo Lake for the weekend. She should have made peace with Rodney rather than hope to open Blake's eyes. Rodney was easy enough to explain away, and would have been bored to tears with her family. And would have bored her family to tears with his polished exterior.

Blake was not so easily explained away.

As her business partner, he was a part of her everyday life. After tonight's performance, her parents probably thought something had been going on between them for years.

No wonder. He'd been the perfect date—had he really been her date, that was. He'd been attentive, considerate, affectionate, had blatantly stared her brothers in the eyes, daring them to deny his right to date their sister, earned their grudging approval before the evening had ended, wooed her sisters-in-law, charmed her parents. He'd played his role too well. Way too well.

When he'd pulled her fingers to his lips and kissed them, in front of God and the entire Phillips clan, she'd had a momentary mental and physical lapse and wanted him to kiss more than just her fingers.

She'd wanted him to kiss her all over.

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?

No wonder women flocked to him, were devastated when he moved on to the next beauty who caught his eye. Four years and she'd never seen the man's naked torso. Now she'd never be able to forget—never be able to look at him and not know what he hid beneath those tailored shirts.

Lord help her.

Lord help him. Because she really wanted to just tell him how beautiful she thought his body was, how beautiful she found his heart and soul, his sense of humor, everything about him.

As if sleeping in the same bed with him was no big deal, she climbed in and tugged her pillow out from behind him. “Give me that.”

As if sleeping with her were no big deal, he grinned at her. “I was warming it up for you. Say thanks”

“Thanks.” What he'd done was make her pillow smell of his musky scent, all spice, sandalwood, and Blake.

“I turned the air down. That okay? I sleep better when the room is a little cool.”

“Fine.” She didn't need a play-by-play of his sleeping habits. Really. Just knowing they were going to be in the same bed, sharing the same blankets, that her pillow smelled of him, was already playing havoc with her imagination and her will power not to roll over and jump him.

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of mind over matter. She could do this. She
soooo
didn't want to run her fingers over those indentions on his stomach. She didn't want to trace each outline of that six-pack. With her hands. Her mouth. Nope, she was immune to Blake's charms if all he wanted from her was sex.

She was a mighty oak that couldn't be swayed by pin-up calendar abs and spicy musk that made a woman want to deeply inhale. Not her.

Right.

But maybe if she kept telling herself she didn't want him, she'd make it through the night without embarrassing herself.

Because she wanted so much more from Blake than just sex.

She wanted him. The whole package.

“I called the hospital and spoke with the night nurse. All of our patients are doing about the same. Dr. Kingston made a round on them this evening and introduced himself.”

See, even lying there half-naked, with her on the opposite side of the bed, Blake was only thinking business. Just because she'd hoped this weekend would jumpstart their relationship into who knew what, that didn't mean he knew she'd asked him to Alabama innocently enough the afternoon the reunion invitation arrived, but quickly realized she hoped for much more.

“He plans to stop by the hospital in the morning.”

“Thanks for letting me know.” She'd meant to call and check on Mr. Hill and Mrs. Mayo after they'd first gotten back to the hotel room, but she'd been distracted by Blake pulling his acoustic guitar from its case. Somewhere between the country music classics she'd forgotten everything except soaking in Blake's hypnotic voice.

She tugged on the covers, tucking the material around her neck.

“You ready for the light to go out?”

Light? Oh, he meant the television. “Sure. We've got a long day tomorrow.”

He clicked the remote, then put the device onto the nightstand next to his side of the bed. “Goodnight, Darby.”

“Goodnight, Blake.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“You too.

They lay in the dark for a long time, with Darby acutely
aware of each breath he took, of every movement of his body, of the fact his beautiful chest was bare beneath the sheet. All she'd have to do was reach out to feel those hard muscles bunched beneath his smooth skin.

She could accidentally brush against him. Just a quick brush of her fingertips against all that temptation.

“Why aren't you asleep?” he asked after a few minutes.

Because now that I've seen your chest I'm not sure I'll ever sleep again.

“Why aren't you?”

“I was thinking.”

That you should put on a shirt, because you're the stuff fantasies are made of and I'm the last woman in the world you'd want to have those kind of fantasies about you?