The volume of splatters on the window increased and the thrumming rain was now a dull roar. Autumn was flying by unapologetically. Whereas a few weeks ago the rains had felt almost warm, a biting wind now accompanied them. At least half the leaves had been blown off the trees and the other half glowed red, orange, and yellow quite spectacularly. But picturesque, or not, Naomi could hardly expect Luke to work outside in the rain.
“I’ve never done anything like this before.” She gestured toward the walls with one hand, rubbing her belly with the other. “But I’d like to fix the room up for my little radish.”
“She’s becoming more of a potato now. Far too big to be a radish.”
“You keep calling her a girl.” She shook a finger at him. But when splayed her hand over the mound growing inside of her, she couldn’t help but add, “Perhaps a pumpkin.”
“Cockfield intuition.” Damn that grin. “Perhaps a cantaloupe but not quite a Pumpkin.”
“Cockfield intuition!” She couldn’t help but shake her head at that. He was so very good at this. Making her laugh at the simple things when a week ago she’d doubted she could ever laugh again.
“I wouldn’t mind a little guidance.” She winced as she stared at one of the walls. “This color is too dreary, regardless if my potato is a girl or a boy.
Luke pushed away from the doorframe and sauntered in. After running his fingers along the wall in various places, he brushed his hands together, scowled, and came to a decision. “We need to wipe it down first.” He startled her for a moment by jumping up and down a few times. “But the floor seems solid enough.” When something in the darkest corner of the room caught his gaze, however, he frowned. “I thought I’d repaired this leak already.”
The rusty-colored mark showed where water had been seeping through from above to trail a path down one of the corners. Such marks were ubiquitous throughout the house.
She grimaced when a large drop splattered onto the floor. “I’ll get a bucket.” She’d learned that such leaks were what had been ruining all of her floors.
By the time she’d returned from the kitchen, Luke had retrieved a ladder and was pulling soaked strips of plaster away from the corner, shaking his head.
The plaster fell away in sopping heaps that reminded Naomi of strips she’d once used as a child to make a paper mâché elephant.
“Oh, hell, Naomi.” He looked concerned as more of another large strip dropped to the floor. “Hand me that bucket.” He stepped up higher and practically disappeared into the ceiling.
Naomi watched him in concern, but as he stretched and reached, she found herself noticing how the muscles in his thick thighs rippled when he twisted. And beneath his shirt, where the material pressed against his abdomen, the flesh wasn’t soft but corded so as to appear almost ropey.
She shivered.
What would that feel like? To touch?
She licked her lips and got so lost in her own imagination that she didn’t realize he’d emerged and was watching her.
“Naomi?”
She lifted her gaze to his and her insides tightened at what she saw in his.
Lust?
But then it was gone. She’d imagined it. She must have. And she could chalk her sudden bout of her own physical yearnings up to the changes her body was going through. This unfortunately wasn’t the first time she’d caught herself doing this.
If this unsavory habit wasn’t caused by the physical changes her body was going through, what kind of a woman would she be? And if she had seen lust, then what kind of man would that make Luke? Reluctant to analyze such cravings, she shook her head and smiled cheerfully. “Sorry. Excuse me?”
“Hand me one of those rags?”
“Oh, oh. Yes.” She scooped one off the floor and approached the ladder. What she failed to take into consideration was that when she handed it up to him her face would be embarrassingly close to what she’d been ogling moments before.
Heat flushed up her neck.
“Are you all right?” He’d bent down to peer at her closely. Lost for a moment in the sky blue of his eyes, the memory of him rowing her across the pond last spring popped into her head. Last spring, without fail, he had treated her with respect and concern.
She had liked him.
He hadn’t been as flamboyant as Arthur, but she had liked Luke very much.
When he’d taken her out on the water, she’d wanted him to kiss her. How had she forgotten that? But wished…
“Naomi?”
