Читать книгу Who Will Father My Baby? - Donna Clayton, Donna Clayton - Страница 12

Negativity. Denial. Refusal.

He was going to turn her down. That much was plainly expressed in the shadows clouding his eyes. Written on the taut planes of his handsome face. Drawn in the rigid lines of his body.

“Don’t say no just yet.” The words burst from her throat, the despair squeezing her tone sickening her as panic surged seemingly out of nowhere. “Let’s clean up the dishes. Make some coffee.” As she spoke, she rose and started snatching flatware, plates, glasses. “Didn’t you say you’d made dessert? I’d love something sweet. How about you?”

She didn’t dare look at him. Didn’t dare allow her momentum to slow. She had to stay one step ahead of him. If she didn’t, he’d surely catch up to her. He’d surely put a stop to all her hopes and dreams.

Whirling around, she raced to the sink. And as she set the dishes and cutlery on the counter, one of the water tumblers tapped against the edge of the porcelain sink.

Glass shattered, and Lacy was aware of pain. And blood.

A gasp escaped from her lips.

“What did you do?”

Dane was at her side before she had time to draw breath. And in that instant, it felt to Lacy as if the experience became dreamlike, surreal. As if she’d stepped outside her body, moved to the sideline to watch the scene transpire before her.

“It doesn’t look too bad,” he whispered, seemingly to himself.

The warmth of his fingers encircling her wrists. The worry planted in his forehead. The concern darkening his gaze to a steely gray.

Although she registered all these things—her body reacting, her heart melting, her knees quaking—she couldn’t seem to make her muscles work, couldn’t seem to voice the thoughts running through her head.

His touch was so gentle as he inspected the fleshy, outer pad of her palm that her heart warmed and tears misted her eyes. With his thumb, he tenderly probed the cut for any remaining slivers of glass. As he moved his way around the small wound, his gaze kept darting to her face, evidently checking to see if her expression conveyed any pain.

She was devastated by the compassion emanating from him. The urge to rest her head on his shoulder, to lean on him, to confide in him was awesome. Earth-shattering. She imagined a moment of complete peace in his arms…and for an instant, she could easily conjure what heaven really meant.