Page 31 of Darla's Christmas Knight
“Look.” He stabbed a finger at the little object in the center of her door. “Through the peephole.Beforeyou blithely opened the door? I could be anybody, Darla. A stalker. A killer.”
“But you’re not.”
“But I could be.”
She narrowed her eyes, lifted her chin, and fisted her hands on her hips, and focused all her vexation on the cause of her restless sleep. “How do you evenknowI didn’t look? And who uses words likeblithely?”
His expression changed, softening,heatingas his eyes trailed over her. And of course, her traitorous body reacted, forgetting it was dog-tired.
Andof course, his gaze zeroed in on her nipples doing their darndest to push through the soft cotton fabric—
Oh shit, she was wearing his shirt.
One fromyearsago. One she had dug out from the very back of her closet because she freakingmissedhim last night.
Maybe he wouldn’t notice? She folded her arms and tapped her foot. “What are you doing here?” she muttered, acutely aware that instead of hiding her budding problem, pulling taut the material only enhanced it.
He mimicked her pose, adding a lean-against-the-doorframe. “Love you kept my shirt, darling,” he drawled in his faint foreignaccent that warmed her blood and made her tingle.
Gah!
*
It took everything in Bobby not to haul Darla into his arms and ravish her. Right there against the wall of her entry. At first, her blasé attitude toward her safety had annoyed him, but then he’d noticed her attire and everything else faded into the background. His old T-shirt hit mid-thigh, leaving a delicious amount of bare skin for him to ogle. It would take nothing to push aside those panties she wore and feast on everything she had to offer. But he tamped down the building desire. He had a huge load of work waiting for him, but coming here had been more important.
He pushed off the wall. “I need your car keys.”
Her scowl deepened. “My car keys. Why?”
“New tires.”
“Huh?”
“You need new tires, love. Yours are done. In case you haven’t looked out the window, there’s a good foot of snow on the roads, and more forecast.” He held up his hand, dangling his keys in the air. “You’ll drive my truck today, and I’ll get your tires sorted. And get King’s to make sure your car is good for winter.” At first, the idea of winterizing machinery had boggled his mind, but after seizing an engine he’d woken up to understand that he no longer lived in a temperate climate.
She gaped at him for a beat. “You want to put new tires on my car?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she croaked.
“Because you’re my woman, and it’s my job to take care of you.” As the words left his mouth, Bobby knew he’d shoved the proverbial foot into his mouth.
“I’mnotyour woman,” she snapped. “And it’smycar. My problem.”
Fuck. “Darla. Let me do this for you. Please.”
“No.”
Bloody hell. Stubborn woman.
“You carrying my baby?” he boomed.
Her eyes widened. “W-what?”
Bloody bollocks.
He hadnotmeant to blurt out that he knew she was pregnant. Not yet. And mostdefinitelynot in the hallway outside her apartment. He pushed past her and closed the door. And turned to face her, his eyes briefly dropping to her belly before fixing on hers. “I know,” he whispered.
