Holy hell. This was the morning sickness she still endured a few times a week. Which meant it wasn’t the universe conspiring against him after all. Just his little baby in the making.
“Do you want to get back into bed? I can bring you some crackers, ginger ale, tea, eggs or a cake—do you want more cake?”
She waved a frenzied hand in front of him, her lips pinching together as her cheeks puffed out, effectively conveying her “No thank you” in somewhat less polite but more effective nonverbal means.
Which left him standing there looking down at her with a sense of impotence he didn’t dig at all.
“Darce, is there anything I can do for you?”
Shaking her head, she muttered, “Just give me a couple of minutes. Alone.”
Alone.
Why did she always want to go it alone? And damn it, why did it bother him so much that she did?
Giving her hand a parting squeeze, he headed out to the kitchen figuring he’d make some tea for when she was ready.
* * *
She couldn’t catch a break. Darcy flattened her hands on the solid marble counter and stared into the mirror in front of her. One morning. That’s really all she’d wanted. Just the one to get accustomed to being with Jeff on an extended basis without her stomach rolling out the welcome mat for this new phase of their relationship. Temporary phase. For their non-relationship.
She let out a deep sigh. It was supposed to be based on sex. And morning sickness, hers in particular, was so totally not sexy. Not even close.
Her belly gave a twist of the more traditional dread-filled variety as she geared up to leave the sanctuary of Jeff’s sleek master bath. If she was going to find regret in Jeff’s eyes or discomfort or whatever else, she wanted to see it now.
She’d be able to handle it, too. Because there wasn’t any part of her that had gotten attached to the idea of being here.
No, she was fine.
She was tough. Practical. And resilient.
A last glance in the mirror told her she was also about as put together as she was going to get. Freshly showered, teeth cleaned, hair blown out smooth and neat. Sure the blouse was a little tight and she didn’t love the feel of it, but she was banking on the snug fit to give her an edge in the coming exchange.
Walking down the hall, her bare feet quiet over the blond hardwood, she took in the modern clean lines of the place—the open layout, high ceilings and stark-white walls—all contrasting with the repurposed hunks of heavy steel.
The apartment was so Jeff she couldn’t help but love it on sight.
And she’d only just gotten there.
It didn’t matter.
In the kitchen, Jeff was on the phone, issuing one word replies between brief pauses as he cracked some eggs, single-handed into a bowl with shredded cheese. He hadn’t bothered to pull on a shirt and was still sporting those superthin drawstring plaid pajama bottoms with bare feet. His hair looked the same as always—messy in a tempting but touch-me-at-your-own-peril way. And the look was hot enough to nullify any advantage her too-tight blouse might have earned her.
This was the man who’d pleasured her senseless the night before. And then this morning—