Page 23 of Love & Rockets

“But I should help. At least let me clear the table—”

She caught the crook of his arm as he turned to do as he offered. “I think it’d be better if you let me handle things in here.”

He glanced down at her hand, and she unclamped her fingers. “I’d like to let you handle things in here.”

Husky, raspy, and maybe a little creak of sincerity. Heck, who was she kidding? His voice was loaded down with a whole boatload of sincerity, and Lordy-be, he was sexy.

She wondered if the brilliant Dr. Dalton knew he’d hit the superfecta with that magical combination. Surely she wasn’t the only woman susceptible to his charm. A man who looked like American aristocracy but happily spent an hour talking nerd with a girl who had few people in her life who knew or cared about things like eclipses and meteor showers. A hottie whose quiet confidence and innate grace made his every movement a spectacle to behold. Until he caught someone looking. Then, he became disarmingly self-conscious. And something told her she needed to be armed around this guy.

“Don’t say things like that to me,” she said, pitching her voice low so he wouldn’t catch the quaver. “Don’t come in my kitchen and let me paw you and then tell me you want more mauling. My kid is out there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” she snapped. “Save your niceties for the girls who didn’t blow all their chances before the Camellia Ball.”

“Camellia Ball?” he asked, nonplussed.

Her lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t tell me you’ve never been to one.”

“I’ve been to lots of them, but I’m trying to understand how debutante balls figure into getting your dishes done.”

“You know how it figures.”

But the blank look on his face made it clear the genius rocket scientist standing in front of her had no friggin’ idea he’d eaten his spaghetti off plates she’d picked up at a carport sale when he should have been off wining and dining one of those girls who’d kept their knees together long enough to make her all-important bow in front of all of Mobile society.

“I’m not the sort of woman you usually spend time with, Jake. And I’m pretty sure Gracie’s a whole new demographic.”

Surprise gave way to suspicion, then, finally, amusement. “You weren’t so sure the other night. And how do you know what kind of woman I like?”

“Are you kidding me? Zelda Jo practically salivates each time the new issue of Upwardly Mobile hits the racks.”

Darla’s insides seized. Zelda had no way of knowing the local society paper read like a who’s who of Darla’s childhood, and Darla’d never told her. Photographs of her parents were printed in each issue. And there was nothing Zelda Jo liked better than spotting a picture of her ‘sweet John-John’ dressed up in his tux and sporting a pretty miss on his arm.

Jake smirked. “Hey, did you ever see the picture of Brian with Jennifer Aniston?”

She rolled her eyes but allowed the shift in subject. She didn’t want to talk about the women Jake dated. Women like her old cheer squad nemesis, Carol Ann Watson. Or worse, the gorgeous redhead he’d danced with at the last Camellia Ball. The snapshot captured the kind of moment most young girls dream will happen to them. The handsome prince with his perfectly-fitted dinner jacket and patrician profile, and the dewy young woman in the pale pink ball gown gazing up at him as if he’d hung the friggin’ moon for her pleasure.

“Darla?”

Again with the gentle prompt. She was going to have to stuff a sock in his mouth to make him stop saying her name. He said it so damn well. “Yeah, I saw. Everyone saw it.”

“They never met.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the doorway. “The paper said they were dating, but according to Brian, they never even said hello.”

Letting her lips part in mock shock, she gave him the big, wide calf’s eyes. “You mean not everything I read on the Internet is true?”

Jake chuckled again and looked away. “I’m a firm believer in gathering hard data before tossing hypotheses out there. And Darla, I have to tell you, I’m getting conflicting information here.”

She wet her lips, then caught the bottom one, sucking pensively while she absorbed the truth of his statement. “I know,” she said at last. “I can handle the dishes.”

And maybe by then, she’d get a leash on her impulses, too.

“Dr. Jake, I think I’ve got Saturn,” Grace called, her voice squeaking with excitement.

“Saturn, huh?” Jake took his time pushing away from the doorway. He unfolded his arms and straightened to his full height. The move was lithe, almost lazy, but impossibly masculine. “Now that’s a sight to see.” His eyes locked on Darla’s. “Have you ever seen Saturn?”

“I’ve been to every planetarium on the Gulf Coast,” she said with a wry smile.

“Have you ever seen Saturn through a telescope your daughter pointed at the sky?”

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