Because of the Baby(38)

She looked amazing.

And not unlike herself, something she’d discovered the last time she’d tried on the dress. That had been four years ago, before she’d moved back to Royal. Returning to her hometown had caused Lark to regress into what had been comfortable and familiar. Once again she was that wallflower who worked hard and received little notice. She spent quiet nights at home reading or decorating cakes. Once in a while she went out with her coworkers, but she was never the girl men wanted to flirt with.

Now, for the first time in what seemed like forever, she craved someone’s attention. Longed to see a man’s eyes to light up when he spotted her. For him to be a little tongue-tied when she smiled his way.

And she wanted that man to be Keaton Holt.



Keaton arrived home much later than he intended. He glanced at Lark’s closed bedroom door before checking on Grace. The infant was sleeping peacefully in her crib. It was about half an hour before her four o’clock wellness visit.

Work at the town hall wasn’t going well. The delicate process of unearthing over a century of the town’s records had suffered yet another setback.

After a quick, hot shower Keaton put on a pair of khaki slacks, a striped shirt and a navy sweater. With the restaurants on the west side of town destroyed by the tornado, they had only the Royal Diner or Claire’s to choose from. As much as he enjoyed the diner’s fifties décor and terrific food, the place was a hotbed of local gossip. If he and Lark showed up there with Grace, they would be mobbed with questions and the focus of far too much speculation. Better that they dined at Claire’s, which boasted a more refined ambience and an upscale menu.

Lark must have decided the same thing, because she was wearing a black trench coat and heels. His eyes were immediately drawn to her bare calves. She had great legs. Long. Toned. He loved riding his hands up their smooth length, relishing the power of her muscles as she wrapped her thighs around his hips.

Desire pulsed through him, a languid, sensual tug on his hormones. Until they’d made love, he’d been mostly preoccupied by her perfect, luscious breasts. Now he was having trouble deciding which turned him on the most.

“Ready?” Lark questioned, picking up Grace’s carrier and giving him a strange look. She’d dusted her eyelids with gray shadow and darkened her lashes with mascara, making her green eyes stand out. A soft pink gloss covered her lips, drawing his attention there next. “Grace’s appointment is in ten minutes,” she prompted, her voice edged with smoke.

There was something different about her today and it wasn’t just the stylish trench or the makeup she’d applied. She wore confidence like a favorite accessory. He had a hard time keeping his thoughts from straying to what dinner might lead to.

“Here, let me take that.” He relieved her of the carrier and gestured her ahead of him out the door.

Since Grace hadn’t left the house since they brought her home from the hospital, her car seat was still in Keaton’s truck. He settled her carrier into it and made sure everything was secure while Lark clambered into the passenger seat.

“Where to?” he asked, backing slowly down the driveway.

“The medical building just south of the hospital.”

They rode in silence the ten minutes it took to navigate the short distance. Keaton kept his eyes on the road in front of them, but his attention was half on Lark. He was accustomed to her unadorned beauty, appreciated her naturalness, but the bombshell seated beside him was whipping up his appetite.

Once they were inside the lobby, they looked up the doctor’s office on the wall directory and made their way there. “So, I was thinking Claire’s for dinner,” he said as they stepped off the elevator on the third floor. “We run a better chance of an uninterrupted meal.”

“That sounds nice.”

Her quiet reply nagged at him. She didn’t seem withdrawn or angry with him, but the camaraderie they’d enjoyed these last ten days was missing. And he didn’t like it one bit. He’d come to relish their particular blend of arguing and amity. Most days she kept him guessing and when she wasn’t stimulating him intellectually, she was inspiring his baser urges.

“I thought since it’s where Jake and Skye had their last official date in Royal,” he said, holding the clinic’s door open for her, “that it should be the place where we have our first.”

She halted halfway to the receptionist’s desk and gave him a blank stare. “Our first...?”

“Date.”

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked brightly.

“We have an appointment with Dr.—”