Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell by Janice Lynn Page B

sucked in air. “Trey doesn’t count.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    She shook her head. “He just doesn’t.”
    Technically, neither Trey nor Blake counted.
    After all, they’d both only been faking their feelings for her.
    Â 
    Darby had washed her face, moisturized, brushed her teeth, flossed, and combed her hair. She’d put on the modest pajamas the sales clerk had assured her were sexy without looking like she was trying to be sexy.
    Time to face the music. Or, more aptly, Blake in a hotel room bed. Why was she acting so crazy? It wasn’t as if he were lying there waiting for her to come to him like a virginal bride. It wasn’t as if anything was going to happen between them just because he’d looked at her with desire earlier, then pretended to love her all evening.
    It wasn’t as if anything was going to happen betweenthem just because she hoped with all her heart that he’d someday really want her the way she wanted him.
    She gulped back her nervousness and opened the bathroom door.
    Light from the television illuminated the hotel room, casting shadows and short bursts of brightness across Blake’s face. He sat in the bed, all the pillows, including hers from home, propped behind his bare back.
    Where was his shirt?
    Where had he gotten all those muscles?
    She’d known he had a nice body, but, oh my, she hadn’t known he’d been hiding all those beautifully sculpted lines and planes. If business ever got bad, they could run an ad of Blake wearing low-slung jeans, no shirt, and his stethoscope dangling from his neck. Business would be through the roof in no time.
    Her pulse was already there.
    Her gaze lowered. Pajama bottoms rode low on his narrow hips. The comforter bunched at his waist, hiding everything beneath the dark navy waistband.
    â€œI thought you’d decided to sleep in the tub,” he teased, thankfully unaware of her thoughts.
    â€œNot likely.” But if a functioning spine wasn’t necessary for the following day, she might grab her pillow and give the tub a shot. How could she not have known what an awesome six-pack Blake sported?
    No wonder women flocked to him, were devastated when he moved on to the next beauty who caught his eye. Four years and she’d never seen the man’s naked torso. Now she’d never be able to forget—never be able to look at him and not know what he hid beneath those tailored shirts.
    Lord help her.
    Lord help him. Because she really wanted to just tell him how beautiful she thought his body was, how beautiful she found his heart and soul, his sense of humor, everything about him.
    As if sleeping in the same bed with him was no big deal, she climbed in and tugged her pillow out from behind him. “Give me that.”
    As if sleeping with her were no big deal, he grinned at her. “I was warming it up for you. Say thanks”
    â€œThanks.” What he’d done was make her pillow smell of his musky scent, all spice, sandalwood, and Blake.
    â€œI turned the air down. That okay? I sleep better when the room is a little cool.”
    â€œFine.” She didn’t need a play-by-play of his sleeping habits. Really. Just knowing they were going to be in the same bed, sharing the same blankets, that her pillow smelled of him, was already playing havoc with her imagination and her will power not to roll over and jump him.
    Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself of mind over matter. She could do this. She soooo didn’t want to run her fingers over those indentions on his stomach. She didn’t want to trace each outline of that six-pack. With her hands. Her mouth. Nope, she was immune to Blake’s charms if all he wanted from her was sex.
    She was a mighty oak that couldn’t be swayed by pin-up calendar abs and spicy musk that made a woman want to deeply inhale. Not her.
    Right.
    But maybe if she kept telling herself she didn’t want him, she’d make it