Which was why he was driving out again tonight after spending the entire day and the majority of last night telling himself he wouldn’t—reminding himself not to think about the way Darcy’s hair sometimes spilled over one shoulder, leaving the bare length of her neck exposed on the other side. Or the soft curve of her mouth when she’d just finished laughing. Yeah, he’d figured some distance wouldn’t be the worst thing. Tried to talk himself into a solid week before he saw her again. But after barely four days he’d gotten in his car and driven out anyway.
Throwing the car in Park, he checked his phone for whatever messages had come through between leaving his office and pulling in the drive, wanting them out of the way before he was with Darcy.
Not with with her. Though, sure enough, now that he’d made the mental jump—
He blew out a harsh breath.
It would be fine. So long as Darcy did her part to keep it wholesome...well, he’d be good for his.
* * *
Half a dozen hangers clattered together as they hit the bed, their high-end couture spilling across the duvet in a spectrum of linens, crisp cottons and stunning raw silks.
“Gail, please, I can’t borrow your clothes.”
The older woman turned a cool smile on her. “If you’d let me take you shopping like I wanted, you wouldn’t need to. But now we’re being picked up in less than an hour, and you need a dress for dinner.”
Dinner with Grant Mitchel. The doctor Jeff had gone to school with and then bullied into checking on her a couple times a week.
When Gail had sprung the plans on her earlier that afternoon, Darcy had tried to put her off with the usual excuses. Only tonight Gail was having none of it. She’d looked her straight in the eye, smiling a sort of frightening smile and said, “You’re going.”
She’d seriously considered faking sick again to get out of it, because as nice a guy as Grant was, she knew the score. Gail was doing what she’d basically promised to do from the start— Trying to find her a nice husband. But after the way her last fib had blown up in her face she wasn’t about to lie again.
“With you barely beginning to show and the loose cut of the pieces I’ve pulled out, all of these will fit. And if you want my opinion the burnt-orange would be fabulous on you.”
Darcy opened her mouth to voice another protest—but Gail cut her off with a look that brooked no argument and a hanger against her chest.
Five minutes later, an airy sheath the color of a setting sun was skimming over her hips and belly in a silky caress. It was gorgeous, light and flattered her exactly the way Gail had promised it would. And more than anything she wanted to take it off, hand it back with whatever apology or excuse it would take to get out of a dinner the mere thought of was making her stomach roil with nerves.
From beyond the bathroom door, Darcy could hear the rise and fall of Gail’s animated voice, but not exactly what was being said. A second, deeper voice sounded, and she stilled as her heart skipped a beat.
Jeff.
She swung the door wide.
“Why the hell wouldn’t I join you?” Jeff demanded as his mother scoffed at him.
“Don’t be dense, honey. If Grant wanted to catch up with you, he’d have set up some rock climbing retreat.” She cocked her head. “He’s the climber isn’t he? Keeping all you boys straight can—”