Keaton was pleased his mother no longer sounded suspicious when she spoke of Lark. Initially his parents had had a very negative reaction to his announcement that he was moving into Lark’s house, but they trusted his judgment and he’d plied them with stories of Lark’s earnestness and devotion to her sister and Baby Grace until they’d come around.
“I think she’d be glad to have you. Let me check with her when she comes home tonight.”
In truth, he wasn’t sure how Lark would react to his mother’s request. She’d yet to receive an answer to the invitation she’d extended to her parents despite having called twice since Grace had come home from the hospital. The lack of contact agitated her. Keaton hated seeing her distress. As angry as his parents had been when they found out that Jake had been secretly seeing Skye through high school and college, as the years had gone by without contact with their son, their attitude toward Skye and, by extension, the rest of the Taylors had mellowed.
If only the Taylors felt the same way.
“I’ll give you a call later tonight and let you know what Lark says,” he told his mother before ending the call.
No more than five minutes later Grace began to fuss. Pleased that he was developing a sixth sense where she was concerned, Keaton headed for the swing before she had a chance to let out her first wail.
Lark let herself into the kitchen and pushed the button that would close the garage door. All the way home she’d been dreading what sort of chaotic mess she’d find her house in. To her delight, there were a neat row of drying bottles lined up on the countertop and a delicious smell wafting from the oven. Soothing music poured from her stereo speakers. Keaton had found her collection of interpretive piano CDs.
Before she shrugged out of her coat, Keaton appeared at her side with a glass of white wine. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes if you want to grab a quick shower.”
“You did all this?”
“I had a very smooth day with Grace. That left me with enough free time to stay caught up.” He took her coat and handed her the wine. “How was your first day back?”
“Awful.” She sipped the wine and sighed. “Is there really time for me to take a shower?” The thought of letting hot water wash away her stressful day sounded blissfully perfect.
“There’s time.” He gave her a little shove in the direction of her bedroom. “Just don’t fall asleep in there.”
Drifting in a fog of pleasure, Lark sipped her wine and peeled off her scrubs. Leaving them in a pile on her bathroom floor, she started the water running in her shower and blinked to restore moisture to her dry eyes. The last twelve hours were beginning to feel like a bad dream. She took another sip of wine and felt the knots in her shoulders begin to unravel. She’d never imagined how wonderful it would be to have a family to come home to after a long day.
Ten minutes later, wrapped in a thick terry robe, her hair still damp, Lark reentered her bedroom and stopped when she realized Grace’s crib and changing table were no longer in the little sitting area. She and Keaton had talked about moving Grace into the third bedroom, but Lark wasn’t ready to have the baby so far away. Instead of respecting her decision, he’d gone ahead and done what he believed was best.
Lark stalked out of her bedroom and headed for the kitchen, where Keaton was sliding a cookie sheet covered with dinner rolls into the oven. “I thought you understood that I wasn’t ready to have Grace move.”
Keaton closed the oven door and turned to face her. His eyebrows drew together as he took in her damp hair, robe and bare feet.
“Grace will be fine in her own room. You need to be able to sleep the nights you work, and this way I have freer access.”
His calm explanation had the opposite effect on Lark. “This is my house,” she reminded him, her temper flaring. “I should be the one who decides what happens here. You’ve already insisted on hiring a housekeeper and brought in a huge TV. Now you’ve moved Grace.”
“Look, it’s going to be okay.” He took her upper arms in a strong grip and gave her a little shake. “You just need to let me help.”
All the fight went out of Lark as her body became immediately aroused by Keaton’s touch. Despite the thickness of the terry cloth, Lark could feel his heat. It flowed into her in a rush, igniting the desire she’d worked so hard these past few days to ignore.
“Keaton.” Her voice cracked on his name. She had no idea how to verbalize what she needed. Her skin longed for the imprint of his hands. The ache between her thighs flared, demanding relief from the endless hours of anticipation. Her instincts took over. “Kiss me.”