Waking Up Pregnant(63)

                Jeff stopped and, one arm in his dress shirt, craned to catch his reflection in the mirror. “Geez, you’re right.”

                Yanking the T-shirt on as fast as she could, she looked around. Though they’d never actually made it underneath the covers, the duvet was a crumpled heap and the pillows scattered clear across the room. One was even in the doorway to the bathroom.

                “She doesn’t still check on you before going to bed at night, does she?”

                Jeff looked at her like she’d gone mad, and he thought it was adorable. Which was so not the response she was after right then.

                “This is bad,” she stated, dread settling deep in her belly.

                “No, it’s not.”

                “Your mother opened her home to me. And the second she walks out the door, I’m treating it like—”

                Jeff was in her face, then cutting her off with a hard kiss before pulling away to meet her eyes. “I know for a fact she’s left the house since you moved in.”

                “That’s not the point and you know it. Button your shirt,” she said, desperately.

                “Yours is inside out,” he returned, flashing a grin when she gasped.

                “How can you be so blasé about this? It’s your mother. In her house—”

                “Technically, it’s my house. But I know what you mean.”

                She blinked at him, then yanked her shirt off and quickly pulled it back on.

                Jeff held up a hand, squinting. “Do you hear her? Because I don’t. And for reasons I prefer not to get into, I’m pretty adept at sounding out my mother’s tread on the steps.”

                Darcy arched an amused brow at him. “I can only imagine.”

                And then her betraying mind was doing just that and it must have showed because suddenly Jeff pulled her in close, tsking at her ear. “Mmm, naughty. I’ve mentioned how much I like that, right?”

                Flustered she pushed back, trying to make her scowl stick. “I don’t hear her. So I’m going to make a break for it. Good night, Jeff.”

                He shook his head, catching her hand and threading their fingers together. “She must have gone up the south stairs. Stay.”

                Darcy looked down at where their hands were joined, felt the overwhelming pull of yes from the very deepest part of her.

                She peered up at him, again seeing the fatigue he’d shaken off while they were together, but now seemed etched in every line and shadow on his face.

                It made her want to wrap her arms around him, kiss away the tension and— No.

                “Better to end it like this I think.”

                Because suddenly she didn’t feel so very safe at all.

                * * *

                Watching Darcy walk out his door, Jeff was struck with the thought that at least this time he’d seen her go. It wasn’t the blindside of Vegas, not even close.

                Only witnessing the actual departure didn’t feel a whole hell of a lot better than it had the first time.