A Family Come True (18 page)

Great. Another topic to keep her awake.

“It’s a conspiracy,” she whispered into the jelly roll, trying desperately to make her mind blank. To forget Moxie’s barbs about Darcy “forgetting” that Nonny would be out of town this week. To forget Xander, here to claim his share of Cady’s life. To forget that very soon there would be a long stretch of confusing, delicious and totally off-limits man curled up on the other side.

Whether it was the constant exhaustion that went with motherhood or simply her mind ordering her body to shut down while it could, somewhere along the line she fell asleep. She wasn’t aware of anything else until she was dragged back to wee-hours wakefulness by Cady’s soft whimpers.

A quick glance at her phone told her it was a little after one. A longer glance at the other side of the bed told her she was no longer alone.

She swallowed hard while shoving her feet into slippers. The night-light and moonbeams played across Ian’s side of the bed, drawing her attention like a dieter to chocolate.

He was sprawled on his stomach with his left arm out to the side and the hand dangling through the air. His right leg was crooked up against the jelly roll. His head rested on the pillow, dark against the white case, and his soft breathing called to her almost as strongly as Cady’s strengthening cries.

Off-limits, Maguire.

She slipped through the kitchenette, closed the door, stepped over a drowsy Lulu and lifted Cady from the crib.

“What’s the matter, sweet pea? Is it that tooth again?”

One dose of medicine later, they were settled in the oversize rocker. For a second or two she debated trotting up the stairs to the attic room and waking Xander, plunging him headfirst into Parent Boot Camp. After all, wasn’t that why he was here?

But as Cady nestled warm and trusting against her shoulder, she knew she couldn’t do it. Being hauled out of bed at this hour sucked, true, but cuddling her daughter in the muted glow of the night-light, listening to the soft creak of the chair, feeling Cady’s breathing slow and her little body grow heavier as Mama made everything better... Nope. Even if Cady had been comfortable enough with Xander to invite him to take over, Darcy wasn’t ready to share the shadowed peace of this moment. Especially not while wearing jammies, and especially not with Xander.

Ian, on the other hand...

Darcy hummed tunelessly, patted Cady’s back and admitted the truth.

Ian did things to her.

Things she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. During the day she could convince herself it was simply prolonged celibacy making her feel this way, but at night the truth came creeping. She liked him. Liked being with him and laughing with him. Liked kissing him. Really liked knowing that if she needed help all she had to do was say the word and he would be by her side.

Though how could she like something that made her so damned scared?

“Oh Cady Bug,” she sang to the slightly mangled tune of “Danny Boy.” “Dear Cady Bug, please go to sleep now—”

A smothered snort from the other side of the room interrupted her song.

“Ian?”

“Please tell me this is a dream,” he said. “Because if you’re really singing that, I might have to report you for child abuse.”

“Everyone’s a critic,” she said as softly as possible.

He peeled himself from the door and crossed the room. Funny how it felt so much smaller when he was in it. “The tooth?”

His voice was rough and thickened by sleep, and, oh crap, she was melting all over the chair.

“I think so. She’ll be asleep again soon. Sorry we woke you.”

There was just enough light for her to make out his shrug. “No problem. Do you need anything? Water, a pillow...”

A massage that didn’t stop at the neck or shoulders sounded mighty attractive.

“I’m okay, thanks.”

He studied her while she rocked. “Aren’t you cold?”

Dear Lord, no.

For a moment she allowed herself a lovely fantasy—that when it came time to climb back into bed, Ian would reach over the jelly roll and take her hand, stroking it with his thumb, encouraging and inviting but leaving the next step up to her. The next step, of course, would find her vaulting over the quilt and dive-bombing him into the mattress.

“Go back to bed,” she said gently. To bed, to sleep, preferably before she got there. “I gave her some meds. She’ll be out again in a few minutes.”

Instead of doing as instructed he shuffled to the window, pulled back the curtains and peered outside. She couldn’t imagine what there was to see at this hour, but maybe it was a protector thing, like with dogs.

As if on cue, Lulu whined softly and pawed the air. Yep. The great defender, standing on guard for thee.

Ian, however, was still at the window. Maybe he’d fallen asleep standing up. Maybe he was counting the stars.

Maybe he also was doing his best to avoid the bed. Because as weird as it had been to slip between those sheets earlier, knowing he would be joining her, it was going to be a whole different story now with both of them awake. And aware. And—crap—more than a little aroused, at least on her part.

Nope. Definitely not happening.

She eased to her feet. Cady stirred but didn’t protest. A few steps, a pat on the back and Cady was down for the count. Probably chasing Lulu through some dreamscapes.

Darcy shivered. Damn. She really wished Ian had gone back to bed when she’d told him to go.

He had left his perch by the window and waited at the door to the kitchenette. She padded past him into their room, resolutely averting her eyes from the bed as she grabbed the monitor from her side and tossed it into her workbag.

“What are you doing?”

It really was unfair the way his voice got lower and rougher when he tried to speak softly. It scraped against parts of her that hadn’t been scraped in a long time.

“I’m wide-awake, and I have a lot to do, so I’ll go downstairs and sneak in an hour or so of work. Where can I set up camp without disturbing anyone?”

“You should sleep.”

Yeah, as if that was going to happen.

“Hey, us working moms have to grab the moment when it presents itself.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to buy that line.”

Her hands slowed as she zipped the bag. “You could at least pretend. Help me save face and all that.”

“Darce.” His hand hovered over hers. He was so close, damn it, standing beside her wearing nothing but sleep pants and an undershirt—which she strongly suspected he wore only out of consideration for her—and oozing temptation. Warmth radiated from him.
Cozy,
it seemed to whisper.
Snuggleable. Doable.

She had to get out of there.

“Darce, listen. I know it’s weird sharing the bed and all, but the only way it’s going to get easier is if we just, you know, do it.”

Her head snapped upright. Her jaw sagged.

“Shit.” He covered his face with his hand. “That came out really, really wrong.”

Oh, the rightness of that wrongness...

“Don’t worry about it.”
Keep it brisk, Maguire.
“We’re in an awkward position here. Practically anything we say can be turned into a double entendre.”

His mouth quirked. “Like
awkward position
?”

“Did I... Oh, jeez. I did say that, didn’t I?”

His only answer was a mildly repressed snort. She pulled her bag to her chest—all the better to shield herself with—and sidled toward the door.

“Yeah, this is why I think it would be best if I went downstairs. Work. Warm milk. All those good things.”

“And this is why I think you should come back to bed. You can’t hide the whole time we’re here.”

Did he have to see through her so easily? “I went to bed early. I can nap when Cady does if I need to.”

“Or you could bite the bullet, get back under the covers and get through this.”

Her foot slipped back. “Not that easy.”

“Of course not. But it will just get harder—”

She coughed.

“Damn! I mean, the longer you put it off, the more difficult it will be.”

He had a point. Worse, he was as stubborn as she was. The more she argued, the deeper he would dig in his heels. Maybe the best course of action would be to get into the bed, wait for him to fall asleep and slip out. She could do that.

“Fine.” She grabbed the monitor, set the bag by the door for ease of escape and flounced over to her side of the bed, where she yanked back the covers, issued a stern warning to her libido and dropped to the mattress.

“That was quick.”

“That’s what she said,” she retorted without thinking, then stuffed her fist into her mouth. Stupid, stupid, stupid—but her inner adolescent burst into giggles.

Ian eased into his side with much more grace. Probably trying to keep from jostling her. Little did he know that an earthquake couldn’t shake her as much as the sight of his head against the pillowcase.

“There. You survived.”

“But I’m not asleep yet.”

“Give it time, woman. Count sheep. Distract yourself.”

“Close my eyes and think of England?”

“What?”

Oh, crap. She couldn’t have kept her mouth shut?

“Victorian era advice to brides on their wedding night,” she said as tonelessly as possible.

Over on the other side of the jelly roll, Ian was silent...until he burst out laughing.

“Seriously?”

“You think I would make up something like that?” Especially when they were the only two people awake in a dark house surrounded by the lingering echo of his Christmas story and a thick fog of awareness.

“No. No, I guess you wouldn’t.”

His laughter faded to occasional snickers. She stared into the darkness, listening to him breathe, willing him to fall asleep the way she had with Cady so many nights. Too bad she had yet to perfect the technique.

Maybe if she pretended to be nodding off...

“Darce?”

Her fingers curled into the pillow. He wasn’t simply asking if she was asleep. There was an extra edge in his voice that had her instantly on alert.

A smart woman would ignore him, maybe fake a snore. Of course, a smart woman never would have got herself into this predicament in the first place.

“What?”

“Listen, Darce...there’s something I should tell you. Since we’re both awake anyway...”

Sheets rustled. The echoes of his movements vibrated through her, and she opened her eyes in time to see him push up on his elbow and stare down at her. His hand rested on the quilt, a breath and a dare away. She sucked in oxygen and stopped deluding herself.

If he kissed her—if he said he wanted to ditch the pretense, make the relationship real, have hot sweaty sex until the sun came up—she was going to say yes.

But the words that cut into the night were none that she could have predicted.

“Darce, the real reason I came up this weekend is because I’m moving back home.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

W
HO COULD HAVE
guessed that one little sentence could carry such a giant load?

Saying the words, pushing them out despite the tight dryness in his throat, brought a rush of relief that caught Ian off guard. He’d known it wouldn’t be easy to break the news to Darcy. Given the intensity of the silent sigh that slipped through him, he must have been dreading it even more than he thought.

Half a heartbeat later, the relief disappeared under a new wave. Worry over Darcy and Cady. Guilt over the thought that he wouldn’t be around at a time when she might need him most.

Then a black hole of lonely opened inside him and sucked everything else into its maw.

How the hell did he think he could leave?

“Oh. Oh, of course.”

There was no question in her voice. No disbelief or automatic denial, no
Wait, I need you
. The only emotion seeping through the cracks in the deliberate flatness of her voice was dull acceptance. Almost as if she’d been expecting this.

“It’s not definite yet,” he added quietly. “But Moxie wants to establish a new arm to the business, a charitable foundation, and she wants me to head it up.”

“Oh. Wow. How, um, how perfect for you.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” Or at least he had until he heard that forced brightness behind her words.

She sat up, arms hugging her knees, her hair hiding her face. Not that he could see much of her anyway with just the night-light, but still, he missed the tilt of her chin, the flash of her smile.

“So that’s why you came back now. You wanted to test the waters.”

“In a nutshell, yeah.”

“I see.” She curled in on herself a bit more. “Well, I guess I don’t have to worry anymore about how you’re doing, being home.”

“Does it help if I say that having you along made it a lot easier? And not just because of the pretend stuff.”

He wasn’t going to let himself think about the parts he wished weren’t an act—the parts that involved touching. And holding her against his side while Cady snuggled into his shoulder. And sharing secret smiles with her when the others weren’t looking.

“Glad as I am to have helped, right at this minute I kind of wish I hadn’t been so successful, you know?”

“Yeah. I do.”

Did he dare touch her? It might not be the smartest move, given the way he had to drag himself away every time it happened. But this wouldn’t be about him. It would be about easing some of the tightness in the stiff line of her back, the way she hunched over as if trying to hold herself in one piece.

“Darce.” His palm stalled above her shoulder.

Coward.

Steeling himself against the soft strength that was such a part of her, he let his hand settle and squeeze. Her initial flinch changed into something a lot more welcoming as she leaned into his palm. Her hand grabbed his. Her fingers wove through his.

“When will you leave?”

“I don’t know exactly yet... I’ll give you at least a month’s notice for the apartment, but I imagine I’ll be out by Labour Day.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry about the timing. With Xander, I mean.”

“Don’t worry about that. You got me through the worst parts. It’s all details from now on, and you know me, I can step-by-step my way through anything.”