Maybe This Time (22 page)

“You can stay.” Immediately she regretted saying that. In the old days, the sight of Holly nursing used to turn Darcy on. Once the baby was in bed, she and Darcy would make love. But that was then and this was now, and nothing was the same. She lifted her top and unclipped the flap on her maternity bra, pulling it down to expose her full breast.

Darcy’s eyes darkened. As if needing to get away, he rose and walked over to the dresser, putting away some clean socks he’d left there earlier.

Emma sucked in a breath and prepared herself for the pain of Billy latching on. He’d nursed so much in the first months, trying to get enough milk, that even with a few days’ respite her nipples were still cracked and raw-looking. She couldn’t help the hissed intake of breath as he latched on.

Darcy glanced around. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She sighed. There was no pretending. “It hurts like hell.”

“Is there anything I can do? Get you some ointment?”

“No, it’s fine,” she said grimly.

He winced, no doubt reflecting the expression on her face. “Breastfeeding isn’t the only way to bond with your baby.”

She went still. “Why would you say that? Did Sienna mention something to you?” It was one thing to talk to her doctor about the problem, quite another for Darcy to know.

“Sienna only talked about your pneumonia. I said that because it’s true. There’s a whole chapter on bonding in one of your books.”

“I meant, why do you think I haven’t bonded with Billy?” She set her jaw against the pain as he suckled noisily. “I’m crazy about him.”

“You’re not fooling me. At first I thought your strange behavior was because you’re sick, but after seeing the way you held him in the kitchen...” He sat on the bed again. “What’s wrong, Em? Talk to me.”

“Oh, Darcy.” She bit her lip, trying to control her emotions, but with being so worn down physically, they were too close to the surface. Despite her efforts, a tear spilled down her cheek. She told him everything—all the problems with low milk supply, the colic, the sleepless nights, the stress....

“I don’t l-love him. Sometimes I almost hate him and wish he’d never been born. I’m a bad mother. I’ve tried to change but the harder I try, the worse everything gets. I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad mother.” Darcy stroked his jaw, frowning. “But I don’t know how to fix this. Reading a few baby books hasn’t made me an expert.”

“Oh, Darcy,” she said wearily. “It’s not something you can fix. It just is. Don’t worry. I’m going to take care of him. You won’t be encumbered with me and Billy forever. Once I’m well and your decorating scheme is sorted out, I’ll be on my way.” She wiped her eyes with the edge of the coverlet. “Sorry. Have you got a tissue?”

He handed her the box from the dresser, his expression troubled. Darcy liked things to be light and happy. He wasn’t good with darker emotions. She wished now she hadn’t burdened him, or made herself vulnerable. He was being really nice about taking care of her and Billy, but he didn’t want to be flung into that well of pain again, either. She would see it in the wariness in his eyes.

She stuck her baby finger in the corner of Billy’s mouth to break the seal then transferred him to the other breast. “You seem to have bonded with him. What happened? What made you change your mind about Billy?”

“I haven’t changed my mind about anything, but someone has to change him and feed him while you’re out of commission. I saw the way you were with him...not present emotionally. I realized that someone had to be. It’s only a stopgap until you come back online.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” It was only a tiny step forward, but the implications were huge. Darcy had acknowledged that they both shared responsibility for their son’s well-being. It took a burden off Emma and strengthened the fragile connection between her and Darcy, and between Darcy and his son.

“He’s asleep,” Emma whispered. Billy’s mouth had come away from her nipple. Somehow she hadn’t noticed the pain so much with Darcy there.

“I’ll put him in his cot.” As Darcy bent over to carefully gather him up, his hair brushed her cheek and she inhaled his scent. His face was close to her bare breast and the glistening nipple. Awareness thrummed through her. He hesitated then put his mouth around her nipple and gave one gentle suck.

Oh, oh, oh. It was a cheeky thing to do. But tender and erotic at the same time. The sensation was electric, shooting down mysterious pathways straight to her core. She wanted to push her fingers into his hair and drag him back down for a kiss.

But there was a little something between them. And he was starting to stir. Darcy straightened with Billy in his arms, his gaze somehow both sheepish and ardent as he rocked the baby back to sleep. “Sorry. Impulse.”

Feeling her cheeks heat, she pulled her top down. “We should talk about colors.”

“I’ll put him to bed and get the swatches from my office.” Darcy took Billy into the next room. A moment later she heard him going down the internal staircase that led to his office. He returned quickly, his arms laden with samples. He spread them out over the coverlet and sprawled across the end of the bed.

Emma played with fabric and paint samples, matching colors and textures. “Deep coral walls would brighten up the place and go well with the wooden bar and trim.”

“Coral?” Darcy groaned. “That’s so girlie.”

“Pale pink would be girly. Coral is warm and inviting, modern but not cold. And a lot lighter than the wood paneling.”

“Don’t forget there’s going to be a garden room. That will brighten the place.”

“About that...don’t you think you should accomplish this in smaller chunks? Do a little bit at a time, keep the work and the costs under control.”

“That’s your way. You want every tiny step perfected before you move on to the next tiny step. It makes more sense to me to do the whole thing at once. Get it all out of the way so I can start fresh.”

“Yes, but will you actually do it? Doing it your way it’s easier to put things off because the bites are too big to chew. You can do a lot with simple cosmetic changes.”

“Structural first. It’s logical.” The way he said
logical
was deliberately provocative, as if logic was the male province. Which was a joke because they both knew who was the logical one, and it wasn’t him.

She batted his arm with a fabric swatch. “Do you want my help with this project, or not?”

After that, an element of flirtation crept into their bantering exchanges. Darcy’s laughing gaze slipped now and then to her breasts. Or even more provocative, held her gaze. She began to feel a little breathless. This was dangerous. What she’d always found hard to resist with Darcy was the fun he put into life.

Even something like decorating a pub could be exciting with him involved. She should be doing her term paper not lounging in bed, talking and joking, admiring his dancing dark eyes and the lazy way he sprawled, broad shoulders at an angle, one leg bent at the knee. The other leg hung half off the end of the bed, foot jiggling in that way he had of always being in motion.

Well, the paper could wait a little longer.

* * *

A
S
D
ARCY SAW IT
, anyone could be a bartender dispensing drinks, but it took a special personality to be a publican. His father had had the knack of talking to anyone, rich or poor, educated or not, as though they were his most important customer. Darcy had it, too. Now Billy, the third generation Lewis male, watched avidly from a front-row seat strapped to Darcy’s chest. Of course, with Emma’s smarts, Billy might not be interested in the pub. He might become a doctor or a veterinarian or even an interior decorator.

According to Emma he had colic and cried every night for hours. Darcy believed her but for some reason, since he’d been staying at the pub, Billy didn’t cry—as long as he was being carried face-out in the baby carrier.

The kid was a babe magnet. Three young women, all glammed up for a girls’ night out, cooed over him and flirted with Darcy every time he moved to their end of the bar. They’d said when they came in they only planned to stay for one drink before heading to Frankston’s club scene, but he’d just mixed them a second round of cocktails. Forget renovations, maybe male waiters accessorized with cute babies were all he needed to improve business.

“Hey, Darcy, can I borrow your kid?” Ron, the real estate agent from down the block, leaned on the bar in his rolled-up shirtsleeves.

“Sure, he’s due for a diaper change.” Darcy laughed at Ron’s grimace and removed an empty highball glass. “Same again?” He poured Ron another bourbon and moved along to Tony and his girlfriend, Cerise, a bouncy brunette with sparkling eyes who gazed adoringly at Tony. Tony couldn’t keep his hands off her. Ah, young love. Wouldn’t it be great to be that innocently happy again?

“Another round?” he asked the couple.

“One more, please.” Cerise pushed her empty cocktail glass across the bar, turning to Tony. “Then we have to go to the rehearsal dinner.”

“Her sister’s getting married,” Tony explained to Darcy. “Giving her ideas.” Cerise dug him in the ribs with her elbow and he grabbed her hand to hold it. “I’ll try a Red Hill pilsner this time. These new beers you got are ace.”

“I aim to please.” Darcy cracked a bottle, poured it into a glass and set it on a fresh cardboard coaster. It wasn’t a bad thing that he was having to lift his game now that the wine bar had opened.

He picked up a towel and started to dry glasses, ignoring the trio of girls and their batting eyelashes. Even sick, Emma had it all over them. He recalled his daring taste of her exposed nipple. Too bold? Hmm, maybe not, if the gleam in her eye was anything to go by.

Bold or not, taking Emma’s breast into his mouth had been stupid and reckless, like a child playing with matches. They’d had their day and called it quits for good reasons, reasons that hadn’t gone away.

A sudden cheer rose from the crowd of guys watching the football quarter finals. Their team must have got a goal. He concentrated on polishing the glass. Football didn’t interest him anymore.

“...surprised you let that dude in here with those,” Tony said.

“Sorry, what was that?”

Tony nodded over his shoulder at a pudgy youth moving through the bar handing out flyers to every person at each table. “He was at the fish-and-chip shop earlier. He’s working for the wine bar.”

Darcy put down the glass, lifted the divider and rounded the end of the bar in a few strides, remembering to hold Billy’s head steady. “Here, what are you doing? What are those?”

The kid looked up guiltily. He handed Darcy a flyer.

Buy one drink, get one free. Saturday, 8:00–9:00 p.m
.

In other words, right now. A red haze blurred Darcy’s vision. This was a step too far. Give out discounts, fine, but how dare Wayne come into his pub and directly target his customers?

He took the youth by the upper arm and marched him to the door. “Don’t come in here with this shit again, you hear me? And you can tell your boss— Never mind. I’ll tell him myself.

“Kirsty, watch the bar.” He went through his office and pounded up the stairs to the apartment, calling, “Emma, are you awake? Where are you? I need you to take Billy.”

“In the kitchen.” She glanced up from her laptop and the books spread over the table. “What’s wrong?”

“Wayne, at the wine bar.” Jaw set, he reached around to unclick the straps of the baby carrier. His agitated fingers couldn’t find the right spot. “Bloody cheek of that guy, sending a kid into my pub with his two-for-one coupons. I saw people leave right after the boy came in but didn’t think anything of it.” He tried to look over his shoulder and spun in circles trying to see the latch on the carrier. “What’s wrong with this thing?”

“Let me get it. You’re too worked up.” Emma rose and released the straps. “You should cool off before you confront him. Nothing good ever comes from anger.”

Darcy pulled Billy free and passed him to Emma. “I disagree. It’ll be good giving that bastard a piece of my mind.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

D
ARCY STEPPED OUT
of the pub onto the sidewalk, and the cool night air bathed his heated cheeks. Emma was probably right. Yelling at Wayne like some hothead wasn’t smart or mature. Then again, he wasn’t trying to win friends and influence people, just save his pub.

He flung open the door to the wine bar and looked around. Yep, there was the couple who’d left his pub not twenty minutes ago, now toasting each other with their half-price drinks.

Wayne was pouring wine into elegant glasses, the ever-present toothpick rolling between his teeth. A waitress came through a door from the back bearing a tray loaded with small plates of hot snacks giving off delicious savory aromas. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that the chicken soup he’d had with Emma was hours ago and he hadn’t eaten since.

Wayne passed the wine to the waiter and looked up. A big smile wreathed his face. “Darcy. Glad you stopped by. What can I get you?”

Darcy flung the stack of discount flyers across the bar. “For a start, you can keep these out of my pub.”

The toothpick rolled to the other side of Wayne’s grin. “Hey, buddy, can’t you take a joke?”

“I can take a joke. What I won’t stand for is you poaching my customers right out from under my nose. Don’t you have any kind of business ethics?”

“Ethics?” Wayne snorted. “Mate, get your head out of the sand. It’s a big bad world out there. All’s fair.”

Darcy heard a snicker and turned to see a pair of women listening in on the conversation. The red fog descended and he spun back to Wayne. “All bets are off...
mate.
”

Wayne’s mouth turned down, letting the toothpick droop. “Are you threatening me?”

“You can take it however you want.” Darcy was past caring how his words were interpreted. His father hadn’t worked his butt off to build a pub only for some upstart from the city to sweep in and steal his customers. “My establishment has been in this town for sixty years. It will be here sixty more, long after your wine bar has turned into a juice bar. I
will
outlast you.”