From Exes To Expecting. Laurel Greer

“See you at the office?”

      “Yeah, give me an hour.” Provided he made it to town without Lauren dispatching his body on a deserted dirt road.

      He hugged his sister and Cadie, ignoring the suspicion written on their faces.

      A minute later the roar of the boat retreated into the distance. He stared up at the house, the one Lauren had bought and made into a home without him. Not that he needed a house. Just the opposite.

      After Mackenzie had shacked up with Drew, Tavish had taken over her apartment to avoid having to find a new place to stash the few boxes of childhood mementos and photography equipment he’d been keeping in her spare closet. That served as more than enough of a base. No point in owning a chunk of property or some neatly constructed glass and logs if he wasn’t ever going to be in town long enough to enjoy them.

      He took a deep breath and trudged barefoot up the sets of half stairs. His knock on the glass door went unanswered, so he pulled it open and stepped into the open-concept kitchen and living area. Running a hand along the green-flecked granite counter, he blinked as his eyes adjusted after being in the bright morning sun. “Lauren? You here?”

      The dining table sat empty, as did the chocolate-colored leather couches and armchairs curved around a stunning river-rock fireplace that soared all the way to the pine-planked ceiling. He let out a low whistle. Talk about a showpiece. But the house managed to look livable, too.

      Touches of Lauren livened the room: clusters of family pictures and splashes of color in throw pillows and an orchid, plum and cream-striped floor rug anchoring the couches. Job hazard, noticing color. Though that didn’t stop his friends from giving him grief for knowing the difference between orchid and plum. Whatever. The predominant moss-and-tree-bark motif made him think of curling up with a bowl of popcorn under a blanket and listening to spring rain on the tin roof. Thanks to the sudden end of their marriage, they hadn’t had the chance to do normal husband-and-wife things, movies on the couch and the like. But they’d been pro snugglers when they’d dated in high school—it took zero effort to remember the comforting shape of her shoulders under his arm.

      He wandered over to the mantel, to a pair of photographs in mismatched standing frames. None of him there, not that he expected it.

      But he did recognize himself in one sense—he’d taken both the pictures on display. A shot of Drew, Cadie and Mackenzie laughing on a chairlift—he’d been on the chair in front of them and had turned around at the exact right time to capture the women doubled over at one of Drew’s jokes. The other one, though—he had to close his eyes for a second before he could fully take in Drew and Lauren on their trip to Vegas, sitting in the center of a small group of Lauren’s friends. Lauren wore a tiara, a silly gift from her brother for finishing her residency. Tavish had been working on a magazine spread in LA, so he’d joined them on impulse. And the day everyone else had left, Tavish and Lauren had exchanged rings.

      “Why are you still here? Your ride’s gone.” She threw the accusation out from somewhere behind him.

      He turned, held up his hands in mock surrender. “I come in peace.”

      Gripping the newel post, she shuffled her feet on the bottom tread of the staircase. Her sleek hair hung in just-showered tendrils around her shoulders, making damp spots on her silk bathrobe. That material would be touchable as hell and, with her soft skin, it would be hard to tell where silk ended and flesh began.

      Cool it, Fitzgerald.

      He jammed his hands into the front pockets of his hoodie sweatshirt. “Just needed to explain myself.”

      “Explaining yourself is well and good, but you’re getting back to town how?” she demanded.

      “Uh, you?”

      “Try again, Tavish.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she sent him a death stare.

      Okay. So his prediction he might end up in a shallow grave wasn’t far off. And no way were his fingers getting even close to touching her.

      Instead of verbally running in circles, he went for the easy out. He pasted a cheeky smile on his face. “That’s a pretty complicated half hitch in your panties, Lauren.”

      “You can dream about seeing my panties, but it’s not going to happen.”

      He chuckled. She made it so easy. “I don’t need to dream, sweetheart. I got my fill in Vegas. You still like lace, or have you moved on to the waist-high, granny kind?”

      “Wouldn’t you love to know?”

      A predictable response, clichéd even, but it pierced the bull’s-eye. Discovering white lace under Lauren’s wedding dress had killed him. And getting to touch her over the soft material, coaxing sexy moans from her with his fingers? The memory still kept him up at night. He barely held in a groan and ran a hand over his face before she realized just how much he’d love to delve under her robe. To find out what she had hidden beneath. Maybe nothing but her sweet skin.

      “Nice house. I recognize the artwork.” He jabbed a thumb toward his photography on the mantel.

      “Don’t read anything into it. You have a way with a camera.” Her pink cheeks contrasted with her blanched knuckles, which were clenched in fists at her sides. “And with ruining my summer vacation, apparently.”

      “You going to give me the chance to explain before you reduce me to ash with that glare?”

      “By all means.” She stomped into her kitchen and started opening and slamming cabinets before yanking out a coffee canister and grinder and placing them on the granite island. Sure, her anger had grown to the point that he could almost see it shimmering on her skin, but too much white showed around her irises to peg her as solely pissed off. She was covering for something he didn’t want to poke too much. Unearthing their feelings could suck him past the point of no return.

      He strolled to the island and leaned his forearms on the surface across from where she was shakily scooping beans into the grinder. “Mackenzie and Drew needed help, Lauren. Otherwise they were going to have to cancel their honeymoon.”

      “Nice to know you’re more concerned about your ex-brother-in-law than your ex-wife.” She pressed her lips together, brows knitted into a near V-shaped blond line.

      Tavish’s heart dropped. “That’s not... I didn’t know I’d be working with you when I offered. And it’s about my sister, too, not just Andrew.”

      Beans whirred in the grinder. She stared at the counter and gripped the machine as it slowed into silence.

      “I figured you’d be so busy at the clinic that we’d barely see each other.” He offered the excuse in a gentle voice.

      “Whatever.” Deserting the coffee, she circled the island and stood close enough to him that she had to tilt her chin to look him in the eye. He had a good foot on her, something she’d always complained about. Why, he didn’t know. It had just made it easier for him to pick her up, pin her against a wall and send her into oblivion. Her fresh-from-the-shower scent drifted into his nostrils, a hint of tropical summer and sugary sweetness. His mouth watered for a taste, just one...

      And now he was lying to himself and not just his family. Great.

      She slumped against the counter. “So, two weeks?”

      The urge to touch her, comfort her, licked up his arms. He fisted his hands. “I’m sure if we schedule things right, we can avoid actually being in the office at the same time.”

      “That’s not the problem!” She jabbed him in the chest. Her utilitarian-length nail wasn’t sharp enough to dig in, but she put enough force behind it for it to sting. “I can’t believe you’d step in with this, but you wouldn’t stick around for me!”

      He caught her by the wrist before she could poke him again. “You needed more than two weeks, Lauren.”

      Swiping at her eyes with the back of her other hand, she nodded. “I needed a lifetime.”