Because of the Baby(31)

His body stiffened at her plea...demand...whatever it had been. Concerned that she’d been too bold and embarrassed by his inaction, she was on the verge of explaining that she’d been kidding when he growled.

“Damn it, Lark.” His lips dipped toward hers but hovered before he made contact.

“What are you waiting for?”

His grip on her arms tightened. The corner of his mouth jerked. “You Taylor girls are nothing but trouble.”

Stung, she pulled back. Keaton’s long fingers held her prisoner. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said. You’re trouble.”

“I’m not the one who demanded we share responsibility for Grace or suggested you move in. That’s all on you.”

His fingers refused to relax their grip and she couldn’t risk struggling to free herself or he would get an eyeful of her bare form. As if he read her thoughts, Keaton’s gaze raked down her body.

“You have gorgeous breasts,” he murmured. “Why do you insist on hiding them?”

The awe in his voice was such a contrast to his annoyance a moment earlier that Lark was at a loss. “How do you know what my breasts look like?”

“There’s a great lake for swimming on the edge of Taylor land. When it was hot, you used to ride there and go swimming on the days you weren’t working at the mall.”

As soon as Lark had been old enough to get a part-time job, she started working a minimum of twenty hours a week. The income allowed her to buy her first car and limited the amount of time she was at home, enduring her mother’s nonstop criticism.

“How did you know that?” Then she realized what he hadn’t said. “You watched me?”

“Are you kidding? I was a horny college student and you wore a tiny yellow bikini.”

Her skin burned as she thought back to those days. Believing herself alone, she’d shed her inhibitions and reveled in being sensual and free.

“But that was my family’s land.”

“And it pissed me off that you had the best swimming hole for miles around. So I trespassed.” His lips twisted into a humorless smile. “A lot.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me you were there?”

“Because as long as you thought you were alone, you were like some wild water nymph. If you’d had any idea I was there, you’d have chased me off with that shotgun you always carried with you.”

“I needed it to keep the predators at bay,” she replied. “Looks like it worked.”

“Now that you understand that I’ve been crazy about your beautiful body for a long time, will you please go get dressed.” Keaton gently shoved her an arm’s length away and set her free. “And hurry. Dinner will be ready in five minutes.”

Knowing it would be supremely reckless to bait him further, Lark retreated. To her dismay, her knees had developed a perilous wobble and she had to sit on her bed for two minutes before she felt steady enough to dress. Slipping into jeans and a bulky sweater, she returned to the kitchen in time to help Keaton dish up the meal.

“This looks amazing,” she said, hoping some mundane conversation would disperse the last bit of tension between them. “What is it?”

“Chicken covered in mayo and shredded Parmesan cheese. I saw the recipe on a commercial and it seemed easy enough.”

“You are a man of many surprises,” she murmured, carrying their plates to the dining room. Glancing over to where Grace slept in her swing, Lark realized the chance of distractions during the meal was low. She sat down and smiled up at Keaton as he topped off her wineglass. “You know, I think I’ve used this dining table more since you moved in than in the two years I’ve owned the house.”

“Where do you usually eat?”

“At the breakfast bar.” She smoothed her napkin across her lap, avoiding looking at Keaton.

Tonight he’d substituted a long-sleeve Henley in dark gray for his usual cotton button-downs. The knit material clung to his wide shoulders and highlighted his sculpted chest muscles. Heat flooded her cheeks as she recalled the solid wall of his torso pressed against her the last time they’d kissed. A five-foot-ten-inch girl with substantial curves would be crazy not to swoon over a man who was strong enough to manhandle her and smart enough to know when she wanted him to and when she didn’t.

So far Keaton was that guy. He’d demonstrated both passion and restraint. If only his last name wasn’t Holt.

“My mother called tonight. She and my dad are coming back to town in a few days,” Keaton began, appearing oblivious of her musing.

What a relief. Usually he demonstrated an unsettling ability to read her thoughts and anticipate her needs.