Page 22 of Love & Rockets

The compliment brought an instant smile to her lips. “Maybe a little.”

“I’d bet all.” He took a step into the kitchen then dropped his volume a bit. “She wants to do something with clearing the neighborhood.”

“This neighborhood?” she asked, involuntarily glancing over her shoulder toward the front door.

“No, it’s a term we use in astronomy. She wants to study gravitational dominance and why some stars are deemed planets, and others dwarfs or masses.”

Feeling stupid for not realizing there had to be a geekier explanation than simply picking up trash, Darla pushed away from the sink to go gather the rest of the abandoned dishes, but the wine got the better of her balance. Flailing as she stumbled, she smacked Jake square in the jaw with the back of her hand when he dared to attempt a rescue.

“Whoa! Oh! I’m sorry,” she cried, pressing the same hand to her mouth in horror.

“I’ll live.” He grasped her by both arms and turned her toward him, holding her steady until her feet were planted firmly beneath her.

And then he didn’t let go.

Afraid she’d jinx the moment if she looked directly at him, she let her gaze travel down the crisp white cotton of his oxford-cloth shirt. It was basically the same kind of shirt the boys had been required to wear under their blazers at St. Pat’s, but somehow better.

Perhaps it was the way he’d rolled his sleeves up a couple times—an infraction sure to earn detention—or the faint shadow of his body beneath the cloth. Broad, straight shoulders. A chest with some very decent topography if her trusty oven mitt wasn’t leading her astray with the earlier assessment. And all of lean musculature tapering down to hips so narrow she wanted to wrap her legs around him and hang on for the ride.

“Uh, Darla?”

His voice not only rasped, but broke, lending a super-sexy, almost pleading quality to the question. In a flash, her mind filled with all the things she wanted to do to leave him panting and pleading for more.

“Darla?”

This time, his voice dropped a half-octave and there was a definite hush factor. She liked the husky thing, too. Husky or pleading, either one would do. Oh! Raspy begging!

“Darla.”

She jumped when he whisper-barked her name. The whisper-bark definitely wasn’t good. But neither was the hand she had resting on the man’s belt buckle and the other wedged into the open neck of his shirt. For cripes sake, she was stroking the poor guy’s Adam’s apple with the pad of her thumb!

“Oh, jeez!” She yanked her hands away as if the man were radioactive.

“God, I want to tell you not to stop,” he said gruffly, then ducked around her to turn off the water.

Pressing one of those offending hands to her own throat, she met his gaze, hoping he meant what he said and wasn’t as completely horrified as she was. “I’m so sorry. I’m not... The wine.” Rubbing the back of her neck, she took another step away from him. “I don’t drink very often.”

“Neither do I.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Well, I drink beer, but I hardly ever drink wine.”

“It was good,” she said in a rush to defend their questionable consumption.

“Yeah, but I think I had a little too much.” He wet his lips and his gaze drifted down to her mouth. “I thought maybe I could help with the dishes while my head clears a bit.”

Heat flooded her cheeks and pooled low in her belly. So much heat she pressed her hand to her stomach. Soft. Granted, being on her feet most of the day kept her belly flat-ish, but there was a definite curve there. A soft curve that proved she was a mother, no matter how young and elastic she’d been when she’d given birth. She wasn’t young anymore, and this man was making it hard to keep her priorities in line. Truthfully, the only soft thing about Jake Dalton was the pitch of his voice. And maybe his hair. She hadn’t touched his thick, wavy hair yet. An oversight she’d have to remedy the next chance she had.

“Darla?”

Again with the quiet, questioning tone that made her toes curl. Tucking her foot behind her leg, she ran those wayward toes over her calf. “I, uh, I can handle things in here.”

He stared at her, a half dozen unspoken questions shining in his dark eyes. “Do you want me to leave?”

“Yes.” The answer came as fast as a shot from the hip, but the way he flinched made her feel like she was the one who’d taken a punch to the gut. “No!”

He froze for a second, then tipped his head to the side. “I’m sorry, maybe it’s the wine, but I think I’m going to have to ask for further clarification.”

She cast a longing glance at the dishes in the sink before daring to meet his eyes again. He stood there. Still. Solid. Patiently waiting. No pressure, no demands. He wanted an answer to a question. Should he stay or should he go? But what Jake Dalton and every other man who’d breezed through her life didn’t know was her life stopped being simple on the day she peed on a stick and the damn thing actually spelled out p-r-e-g-n-a-n-t.

Drawing a deep breath, she met his gaze with a direct stare. “You go talk to Grace some more. I’ve got this.”

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