What a Woman Wants Page 9

  John blinked. “I don’t get it. Isn’t that why you called me out here?”

  “Is that why you came?”

  “Do you always have to answer a question with a question?”

  She chuckled, feeling the tension of the past hour melt away. God, it felt good to laugh.

  John said something under his breath, then held out the bouquet of fresh daisies mixed with wildflowers. “These are for you.” A shadow of something familiar yet unfamiliar entered his eyes. He slid a glance toward the door, then backed Darby out of the line of the girls’ vision and up against the counter where he kissed her. Soundly. His mouth a reminder of the passion they had experienced last night.

  Darby blindly put the flowers on the counter behind her and curved her arms around him, sliding her palms over his firm behind. Only when her knees threatened to give out from under her did he pull away and grin, running his index finger under his lips. “How can you say no to something I haven’t asked yet?”

  She cleared her throat, feeling as internally in disarray as she was physically. “John…”

  She was afraid he was going to drop to one knee again and braced herself. Instead, he grasped her waist and hoisted her onto the countertop, her jean-clad behind settling right in the middle of the flower stems. She opened her mouth to protest, but he lay a finger over her lips, then cupped her face with both hands. He looked at her for a long moment and then kissed her, taking her breath away. “Marry me, Darby.”

  Was it her, or was it a little more difficult to say no today? “No.”

  His grimace was all too endearing.

  “I need to know, John, is there, um, any three-strike rule here?” She smiled, grabbing his hands when he would have stepped away. “Sorry, bad joke.”

  He stared at her as if trying to figure her out. “So why did you invite me over here tonight?”

  Now there was a question.

  “It can’t have been just to feed me.”

  Darby glanced at the clock. “Speaking of feeding, I’d better take the lasagna out or we’ll all be eating cereal tonight.”

  “Cereal?”

  John stepped back and allowed her to slide off the counter to stand on the floor. “Long story,” she said.

  So how did one go about broaching a subject of this delicate matter, anyway? she wondered.

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re avoiding my question?” John asked as she grabbed a pair of oven mitts and emptied the oven of its steaming contents.

  She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Maybe because I am?”

  “Trust me, after the past few days, I don’t think there’s anything you could say that could shock me.”

  She put the mitts down on the counter. “You want to bet?”

  He chuckled.

  “I want you to help me tell the girls that they’re going to have a little sister or brother in six months.”

  John looked as if someone had just hit him upside the head with a two-by-four. “Then there’s that.”

  Dinner was an unqualified disaster. John sported no fewer than three food groups on the front of his shirt, felt a tremendous thirst for water because one of the twins had emptied nearly the entire contents of a salt-shaker on his food while he was talking to the other one, and to top it off, Spot had declared open season on his pant leg, batting and clawing as if she wanted him to do something he wasn’t. If he didn’t know better, he’d think the cat was in cahoots with the girls.

  John leaned over to whisper something to Darby, who sat in the armchair next to him in the living room, the twins sitting stiffly on the couch opposite them. “Tell me, are you going to make a habit out of this shocking-me stuff?”

  Darby’s smile was full of brightness and light when all he felt like doing was crawling out of the house on all fours. “Not having a change of heart, are you?”

  “Never.”

  “Then from here on out it’ll be my mission in life to present you with at least one shocking development a day.”

  “Damn.”

  Erin spoke up. “Mama, he said a cussword.” She started to get up from the couch.

  Darby held up her hand. “Whoa there a minute. Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To get the soap.”

  John’s brows hiked and he looked at Darby. It was all too obvious that she was stifling a laugh.

  “That won’t be necessary, sweetie. It was just a little slip. Nothing that warrants having his mouth washed out.”

  Erin looked as if it was a capital offense and she was willing to try all the same.

  “You’re not getting married, are you?”

  John blinked at Lindy, who for the most part had stayed quiet throughout dinner. Her lips were pink from where she’d eaten strawberry breakfast cereal, instead of lasagna. But it was the pain in her soft brown eyes that hit John like a punch to the gut.

  “No, honey, John and I aren’t getting married.”

  John sat forward, resting his forearms against his knees. “That’s not exactly decided yet,” he corrected. “You see, I still want to marry your mother. And I don’t intend to take the no she’s been giving me for an answer.”

  Dead silence.

  John cleared his throat. “Tell me, Erin and Lindy, would it bother you if your mom and I did get married?”

  Both girls immediately started nodding.

  “Why?”

  The girls looked at each other for a long moment, but said nothing.

  Darby raised her brows at him and he shrugged helplessly, praying she’d rescue him.

  She did. But didn’t continue on the marriage topic.

  “But that’s not what I…what we want to talk to you about, Erin, Lindy,” she said quietly, looking at each twin in turn. “You see, there are going to be some changes around here in the coming months, and I…we think it’s only fair that you learn about them from us, instead of someone else.”

  Erin folded her arms stubbornly across her chest, while Lindy sank a little more deeply into the cushions.

  “What John and I want to say—”

  “I already know,” Erin said.

  Darby leaned back. “I see. And what do you think you know, Erin?”

  “That you’re going to have a stupid baby.”

  John nearly fell out of his chair.

  Yep, it was very clear they did already know.

  Chapter Eight

  The girls knew? John thought. But how? From whom? And how much did they know?

  “I see,” Darby said, speaking when he could not. “And you understand that John is going to be the father of that baby?”

  Erin looked about ready to vibrate from the couch she was so upset. “I know that he got you pregnant. That he did something bad to you and now you’re going to get fat, and be grumpy, and throw up all the time.”

  “Erin!” Darby admonished. “Where did you hear all this?”

  “From Joshua McCreary up the road.”

  Darby looked at John, but he’d long since passed the point of response. “Joshua’s mother just had a baby,” she explained to him.

  “Uh, oh,” he managed, and cringed.

  Had it really been all that long since he’d been a kid? With a sinking sensation, he realized it had. Ever since the twins were born, he’d been the fun uncle. The one that got to play with them and didn’t have to discipline them. Who told them neat jokes and laughed at all of theirs. Who knew just where to tickle them to get the biggest reaction. But he had no idea what to say to them now, when they needed answers.

  Maybe that was because he was a little short on answers himself just now.

  “Joshua was, um, right, in some respects.” Darby cleared her throat. “But way off base on others. What happened between John and me…it wasn’t bad, Erin. And I don’t want you ever to think that it was.”

  She paused and John picked up the gauntlet. “You guys and I have always been pals, haven’t we, Erin? Lindy?”

  Both girls stared at their laps.


  “I’d like to continue that relationship,” he went on doggedly. “Just because your mom and I are having a baby doesn’t mean your mom is going to love you less. Or that I won’t love you anymore.”

  “You don’t love us,” Erin said.

  Darby’s heart sank as she watched John wince from each of the jabs her daughter delivered. She started to say something, but he held his hand up to stop her. “Let me,” he said quietly.

  She mentally groaned, knowing that he’d seen only the tip of the iceberg and hoped he was ready for whatever else the twins decided to reward him with.

  She was surprised, however, when he got up from the chair and moved around the coffee table to stand in front of the girls. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

  Neither of them said anything, but they did inch over, although not enough for him to sit. So John plucked them both up, one in each arm, sat down, then resettled them so they sat on either side of him.

  Darby fought a smile at the girls’ wide-eyed expressions now that something, or rather someone, blocked their conspiratorial exchange of glances.

  “Now which one of you said I didn’t love you?” John asked, tapping a finger against his lips as he looked at first one twin, then the other. “Ah. I remember. It was Erin.” He narrowed his gaze on the little girl, twisting his lips in mock thought. Erin fidgeted. “Is that what you really think? That I don’t love you?”

  All the starch seemed to drain from Erin as she shrugged. “Why should you love us? We’re not your kids.”

  “No, you’re right. We’re not blood-related,” he agreed. “But if there were two little girls I could choose to be my daughters in the whole wide world, you know who I’d pick?”

  “Us?” Lindy asked from the other side.

  John smiled at her, taking her tiny hand in his large one and giving a squeeze. “That’s right. You. And Erin.” He took the other twin’s hand, then drew both hands on top of his lap.

  Darby felt like all twenty digits encircled her heart, and it suddenly became difficult to breathe.

  “What about the new baby?” Erin asked.

  John met Darby’s gaze and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him—she could see the spark of panic in his eyes. “I don’t know. What about the new baby, Mommy?” he asked.

  Darby’s voice caught. She cleared her throat and said, “The new baby will just be one more very special little person to love.”

  “But what if there isn’t enough love?” Lindy asked.

  “No such thing,” John said, comically shaking his head. “There’s always enough love.” He patted the couch on the other side of Erin. “Why don’t you come over here and help explain, Mom?”

  Darby wasn’t sure her knees would allow her to move, but she made an effort and managed to edge around the coffee table. She sat down on the couch and John lifted Lindy, putting both twins between them, his arm resting on the back of the couch.

  “I think an analogy is in order here. A comparison,” she said. “You remember when Curly the Piglet was left at our door?”

  The twins nodded.

  “Well, we didn’t say, ‘Hmm, I wonder if we have enough love for this new animal who needs a home and someone to look after him.’ We just saw him and the love appeared.”

  “Like magic,” Lindy said.

  Darby kissed the top of her head, eyeing John over the top. “Yes, sweet pea, just like magic.”

  John’s fingers sought and found Darby’s shoulder. She relaxed into his touch, bone-deep gratitude saturating her muscles, desire sizzling along her nerve endings. Erin caught John’s movement and made a face.

  “Okay,” the six-year-old said, all energy and spice again. “We all love each other. But that still doesn’t mean you two can get married.”

  “Why not?” John asked.

  “Because Lindy and I don’t want you to, that’s why.”

  Erin scooted from the couch, then reached out for her sister’s hand. “Come on, Lin. We’ve got to go get ready for bed.”

  Darby gave John a warning glance. The twins had gone as far as they were going to go for one night, and forcing the issue would only jeopardize any ground gained. “I’ll be in in a minute to read your bedtime story,” she said as they disappeared up the stairs.

  John collapsed against the couch cushions, rubbing a finger and thumb over his closed eyes. “I feel like I just went ten rounds with Ali.”

  She leaned over, brushing his lips with hers. His eyes opened. “It looks like you did, too.”

  She got up from the couch. “I’ll only be a little while. Wait for me?”

  He seemed to consider that. “Depends on what you had in mind.”

  She smiled. “Unfortunately, not what you think.”

  “Then I think I’ll go.”

  She laughed. “Why don’t you go make us some coffee while I go introduce two munchkins to the sandman?”

  John hadn’t been lying. One of the most difficult challenges he’d ever had to face was those two girls gazing at him implacably with questions he didn’t know the answers to. He sank onto a kitchen chair as the coffee brewed, wondering how his own parents had done it. Of course he remembered there being countless because-I-said-so’s and countless times his father just threw his hands up in the air and left the room.

  John leaned forward and absently rubbed the back of his neck, afraid he was getting but a glimpse of what life would be like from here on out. How complicated it would become, where once it had been simple.

  Then there was the small fact that Darby wanted to talk to him, apparently determined to make good on her threat to keep surprising him.

  He got up and went on the hunt for coffee mugs, finding a couple in the dishwasher. He’d thought that telling the twins about the baby had been solely what she’d been after. And since, apparently, her asking him to stay didn’t have anything to do with repeating last night…

  God, last night. How long ago it seemed. Yet how immediate, given the reaction of his body. Whenever he and Darby were in close proximity, he felt his pulse rate spike, his palms grow damp and a subtle sizzling awareness of her flow through his body. But last night…wow.

  He closed his eyes and reminded himself that what she had to say had nothing to do with that.

  “Are you okay?”

  John tensed at the sound of her voice right behind him. He turned. “Marry me, Darby,” he said.

  She smiled, but averted her gaze. “No.”

  Was it him, or did it take her a little longer to say no this time?

  “That’s not why I asked you to stay.” Her lips twisted. Her full, luscious lips that John longed to kiss now that the twins weren’t underfoot. “Then again, maybe it is.”

  John lifted a hand to his head. “Boy, Darby, if you want me to follow, you’re going to have to be a little clearer than that.”

  She stepped to the counter next to him, the clean smell of her filling his senses. She continued what he had begun and poured the coffee, then handed him a cup. “What I mean is, well, I’ve been doing some thinking.”

  “When?” he asked, because over the past couple of hours he hadn’t been able to keep a sane thought in his head.

  “Now. Earlier.” She sat down at the table and he did likewise, his gaze sliding down her slender neck to where the V of her shirt played peek-a-boo with her sweet flesh. He focused in on her face and found her smiling. “You were great with the girls, by the way.” She pushed her thick dark hair back behind her ears and held it there, giving him an unobstructed view of her neck and her thrumming pulse. “I’m coming to think that you’re a natural. I mean, I always knew you were good with the girls. Especially after….”

  Erick died. She didn’t have to say it. The unsaid words hung between them, anyway.

  Following long moments of silence, Darby sighed. “Well, talk about a conversation stopper.”

  John nodded, his fingers wrapped tightly around his coffee cup. “I know this isn’t easy for you, Darby. None of it has been.”
He sat back. “Hell, it hasn’t been easy for any of us.”

  Her warm green eyes were fixed on him.

  He couldn’t help a small smile. “Erick’s girl. That’s what you were. The minute you two started going out, I made myself repeat that a million times, just to drill it into my head. You were my best friend Erick’s girl. Which meant you were off-limits to me.”

  Her gaze drifted to her coffee.

  “And if he hadn’t died eleven months ago, you’d still be Erick’s girl.” He rubbed his face, then sighed, staring at the wedding band still on her ring finger. “What am I talking about? You’re still Erick’s girl. It doesn’t matter if he’s here or if he’s gone. You’ll always belong to him, won’t you? That’s why you keep saying no to me.”

  Darby looked, for a minute, as if she had difficulty breathing. “Love doesn’t die with death, John. If that makes any sense.”

  He nodded. Her words made perfect sense. His own feelings for his best friend would never die.

  “But that isn’t why I can’t marry you.”

  “Can’t.”

  She blinked at him. “What?”

  “You said can’t. Not won’t. Or shouldn’t.”

  She waved her hand. “Forget my word usage for a minute, okay?” She took a long sip of coffee, suddenly looking troubled. “Let me ask you something, John.”

  He nodded. “Anything.”

  “Did you ever doubt Erick’s love for you? You know, as a friend?”

  John widened his eyes. What kind of question was that? “Never. Not once.”

  The smile she gave him was almost sad. “Yes, well, you’re lucky, then. Because it was something I wondered about almost every day.”

  John sat back, stunned. “Was it something he said? Did?”

  She shook her head. “No, no. Nothing like that. It was…it was because we had to get married that made me wonder.” She squinted at him. “Are you getting where I’m coming from?”

  He was. All too clearly. And he didn’t like the picture she painted. “Erick loved you more than anything in this world, Darby. You had to know that.”