Page 56 of It's You
What happened? What is this?
Darcy tried to remember the last time she was in the sun. Certainly not yesterday, when she was wearing layers of clothing on an overcast day.
A rash, Darcy. It could be a rash.
She considered the possibility. It made a lot more sense than sunburn. Darcy’s skin was fair, and more than once she’d needed to switch detergents when she realized she was overly sensitive to one with colors or fragrance.
She walked gingerly back to the bed and put her nose against his sheets. It wasn’t a cloying smell, per se, but it did smell strongly of some synthetic floral scent. She started to sit back down on the bed, then stood up quickly.
Don’t sit on the bed, idiot! You could make it worse.
She opted for a wooden rocking chair in the corner of the room instead. She sat down carefully, naked, then sighed with pleasure. The wood was smooth and cool, a balm to the back of her bare thighs. She sat rigidly, trying to adjust to the painful heat of her body as she looked around Jack’s bedroom. This was the first time she’d seen it in daylight.
It was an attractive room, exactly what Darcy would have chosen if Jack had asked for her help in decorating instead of his fancy designer from Boston. She loved the woodland tones in tans and creams, and the simple lines of his enormous cherry bed. Two large dormer windows had alcove window seats and built-in bookcases that made them snug reading nooks, and two traditional rocking chairs flanked the fireplace. It was a warm and inviting room, elegant in its simplicity, and Darcy felt completely at home.
The only thing that bothered her, she realized, was the absence of any personal photos. Not that it was obligatory that a grown man should have a picture of his family in his bedroom, but he’d been so closed about them when she had asked yesterday. It would have helped her to get an idea of his family dynamics if she could have seen one. She made a mental note to ask to see one.
She was so distracted by her reverie that she didn’t hear Jack come back into the room, bare-chested, only dressed in his jeans from yesterday and a pair of shearling slippers. He was standing in the doorway of the room, watching her, a concerned expression on his face.
“Hi,” she murmured, smiling at his tousled black hair, his intense brown eyes.
“I love you,” he whispered from across the room, gazing at her, not moving.
“You do.”
“I do.” He approached her slowly, wincing as he noticed her skin. “Are you okay?”
“I think I got a rash from your sheets.” Darcy looked down at her arms and thighs. “Not so pretty, huh?”
Jack squatted in front of her. “Beautiful.”
“You need glasses, Mr. Beauloup.”
He shook his head lightly. “I don’t need anything but you.”
Darcy grinned. “Then you’re all set.”
He pressed his lips lightly to her kneecap, and she sucked in a breath.
“You’re in pain?” He didn’t look at her. He leaned back to take a better look at the redness of her legs, and she saw him grimace.
“A little.”
“How can I help?”
“Do you have any antihistamines?”
He shook his head regretfully.
“Can I take a cold bath?” she asked.
“I’m on it.” He leaped up and beelined for his bathroom. She heard the water running. “I’ll, um…I’ll get your clothes out of the dryer and bring them up.”
“Hey, you didn’t use softener sheets in the dryer or anything, did you?” she called to him. “Whatever you’re using, it doesn’t agree with me.”
“Nope. Just heat.”
Darcy stood up and shuffled into the bathroom, finding him kneeling on the floor, hand in the bathwater. She stood naked behind him, plunged her fingers into his hair, pulled his face back, and leaned down, her breasts grazing the back of his head as she gave him an inverted kiss. Then she stepped over him, gasping at the cold water on her skin as she stepped into the bath.
