Shame the Devil (Portland Devils #3) - Rosalind James Page 0,162

Tomorrow was Saturday, she and Harlan were going to the farmers market, and she was wearing the prettiest dress they’d bought, one she absolutely wouldn’t be wearing to work, but that Harlan had insisted she needed anyway. It was a white sundress with an empire waistline and crocheted strings that tied under your breasts, with delicate pale-blue crocheted edging around the hem. It looked like an old-fashioned petticoat, and it was purely pretty.

After the farmers market, though, she was going to … She had no idea what. But something.

He’d been sweet. You bet he had. He’d shopped online with her last weekend, just like he’d promised. He’d shopped in person with her, taking her to Nordstrom for shoes and another swimsuit, even though they’d just bought one online. Also a pair of pink shortie PJs and a matching cotton robe trimmed with ivory lace that was the kind of thing you could live in, and a deep-blue nightgown with the prettiest Italian-lace racerback and tiny little straps, just because it was beautiful. He’d posed for a selfie and talked football very seriously with a bored six-year-old big-brother-to-be who’d had his day made and been temporarily rendered speechless with awe, and he’d taken Jennifer to lunch afterwards. He’d kissed her when they’d come back home, too, just like he’d kissed her every night this week when he walked her back to her place after their family dinner.

He’d kissed her like some guy from the 1950s, that is. They were Ward and June Cleaver, and Dyma was the Beaver, the one who got to have all the fun. Any minute now, Harlan would start smoking a pipe and wearing a cardigan. Even when she’d been half-naked last week, all he’d done was kiss her neck! And when she’d been sighing and boneless and ready, he’d slapped her butt and told her to go swimming.

Of course, she’d been tearstained and weepy, and she was also five and a half months pregnant and had the belly to show for it, so there was that.

She didn’t notice him until he touched her hand as she hit the pool wall. When he did, she flinched, bobbed up like an apple, grabbed for the edge, and said, “Don’t do that!”

“Sorry,” he said with a grin. “Those suits not working out for you, then?”

“What?” He was still in his running gear, though he’d taken off his shoes and socks, and as she watched, he pulled his T-shirt over his head. He didn’t show off. He didn’t have to. He just … took his shirt off. The shorts rode low, and that line of darker hair disappeared into the waistband. She noticed that, because he was right there, lean and lithe and hard-muscled. Looking like he didn’t know it. Looking relaxed.

When she didn’t move, he dropped down to sit on the edge of the pool and said, “Well, not to make a big deal of it or anything, but … you’re naked.”

“Oh.” Well, yes, she was. She’d forgotten. He seemed completely casual about it, though.

He said, “Mind if I come in and do a few laps?”

“No. Of course. I was just finishing anyway.” She swam over to the ladder and hauled herself out, trying to do it with some modicum of grace, then reached for her towel.

He was staring. Why was he staring?

Oh. She said, “It got bigger, yeah. My belly. It’s not that big, though. My weight gain’s, uh, pretty low. Actually.”

“You look great,” he said. “Beautiful. Actually.” He was still just sitting on the edge and staring at her. A smile on his face, and that intensity in his eyes. Like the wolf. She pulled on her robe, and he watched that, too.

She was about to tie the robe. She changed her mind. She said, “You know, you don’t have to do this.”

“Pardon?” He blinked. Slowly.

“This dating thing. The exclusivity. It’s stupid. Obviously, I’m not going to find somebody when I’m pregnant. As you’ve clearly noticed, it’s not all that appealing. There’s no reason you can’t find somebody yourself, though, just because we said that. It wasn’t some kind of solemn vow, and besides, you’ve done everything you promised. I’m all set. I’m good. I’ve got clothes, and a great job, and a place to live until after the baby. Dinners might be a little awkward, but we can change that. I’m used to cooking myself dinner, and …”

His expression, which had been confused, started to clear. “Jennifer. Are you setting me free?”

“Well, yeah.” Her arm was