Part 4 (1/2)
That gentleness fell over her like a warm cloak. But then she had to ask herself, did she feel lost? Adrift? Alone? But she wasn't alone when she had good friends helping her. ”No, not lost. Just off balance. I hate the unexpected. And my life has been one unexpected crisis after the other.”
Rounding the coffee table, he approached her and she wished he'd sit beside her on the sofa. But he didn't. ”Sophie and Grace coming home will be grounding. You'll see.”
His dark eyes didn't waver from hers and she felt sudden heat rising in her cheeks. Not from looking at Mitch! How many times had she looked at him in just that way?
No. Not just this way.
”The bedding for the sofa is upstairs,” she said in a rush. ”I'll get it.”
”Are you staying up there?”
”I suppose.” She produced a smile. ”You'll have the downstairs to yourself if you want to watch TV or get a snack.”
”I'll walk up with you.”
There was no point in protesting. What would she do? Toss him the bedding over the banister?
When she swung her legs over the side of the sofa, Mitch was there, holding out his hand to help her up. She could be stubborn. Or she could accept a hand up when she needed it.
His strong fingers closed over hers, and her heart raced as her mind searched for something to say.
”Take it slowly,” he reminded her as she rose to her feet.
Everything Mitch said today seemed to be full of deeper meaning. Although she longed to keep her hand in his, she slid it free and headed to the stairs.
A few minutes later in the hall on the second floor, Lily stopped by the linen closet and opened the door. Blankets lay folded on the shelf above her head. She reached up but she shouldn't have bothered. Mitch was there, behind her, easily pulling a blanket from the closet. His superior height and strength was obvious. She could sense both, even though he wasn't touching her. Jittery, tired and anxious about what was going to happen next, she knew her hormones were out of whack. That was the best explanation she could think of to explain how she was feeling around Mitch.
He stepped away, bedding in hand. ”This is great.”
”Don't be silly. You need a sheet and pillow.” And she needed something to do with her hands. She needed something to do with her mind. She needed something to do.
Choosing a pale blue sheet, she yanked a matching pillowcase from a stack. ”The extra pillows are way up on the top shelf,” she explained, moving away, letting him reach.
He easily removed one of those, too.
”I wish the sofa pulled out. You're going to be uncomfortable all scrunched up.”
He laughed. ”Believe me, I've slept on a lot worse. You worry too much, Lily. Did anyone ever tell you that?”
Her husband's name came to her lips, but she didn't say it. She didn't have to. Mitch knew.
He looked disconcerted for a second-just a second-but then he took the sheets from her arms. ”Do you have a phone in your room?”
”My cell phone is in my purse. You brought that up with my suitcase. Why?”
”If you need something, call me. You might go to bed and an hour from now figure out you want a pack of crackers or a gla.s.s of milk.”
There was only one way to answer with a man like Mitch. ”I'll call you if I need you.”
But somehow they both knew she wouldn't.
She went to the door to her room, which was only a few feet away. He didn't move until she stepped over the threshold and murmured, ”Good night.”
He gave her a slight nod, responded, ”Good night, Lily,” and headed for the stairs.
As she closed her door, she leaned against it and sighed. She wanted to make up the sofa for him so it would be comfortable.
How silly a notion was that?
”What do you mean you sent Gina home?” Mitch demanded as he stood in Lily's living room the following evening, a gift-wrapped box under one arm.
”She arrived before I was up this morning, as you know. She helped me ready the nursery. She took me to see the babies, and then I told her she should go home to her husband and son.”
”And she just went?” He seemed astonished by that idea.
”She protested, but I plopped here on the sofa, told her I'd stay here, and she saw I meant it.”
Lily was one exasperating woman! There was no doubt about that. But he had to admire her in spite of himself. ”What did you do for dinner?”
”What is this, the third degree?”
He just arched a brow.
”Gina made a ca.s.serole for lunch and I had leftovers, with a salad and all that. What did you have?” she returned, almost cheekily.
All day he'd thought about eating dinner with her last night...saying good-night at the end of the day, spending the night on her couch in the strong grip of an insomnia he knew too well. Yet that was better than waking up in a sweat after too-real flashbacks or nightmares. Moments of sensual awareness when Lily had come downstairs this morning had been unsettling enough to push him on his way as soon as Gina had arrived.
Answering her, he said, ”I went to the drive-through at my favorite burger joint.” At her expression, he laughed. ”Don't look so outraged. I have to do that once a week to keep fit.”
Lily laughed then, even though she tried not to. That was the first real laugh he'd heard from her since before-even he had trouble saying it sometimes-since before Troy had died. He wanted to keep her spirits up. ”So...how are Sophie and Grace?”
”Sit down,” Lily said, motioning to the sofa. ”I hate it when you loom. What's under your arm?”
”We'll get to that.” He considered her comment. ”And I don't loom.”
”Whatever you say,” she said too quickly, with a little smile.
Shaking his head, he set the box on the coffee table and lowered himself to the sofa. Not too close to her. Before he'd driven over here, he'd warned himself about that.
”The babies are so small,” she explained, worried. ”I can touch them but I can't hold them, and I'm dying to hold them.”
”You'll soon be able to hold Sophie, if not Grace. How's their weight?” he asked, digging for the bottom line like a doctor.
”They're holding their own. My milk should be in soon and I'm going to pump it-” She stopped as her cheeks turned more pink.
”Don't be embarra.s.sed. I'm a doctor, Lily. We talk about this all the time with our patients.” Right now he had to think of her as a patient so other images didn't trip over each other in his head.
”I know. But it seems different with...us.”
Yes, something did seem different. Her perception of him? His of her? The fact that they'd been friends and maybe now something more was going on?