She poured him a cup of coffee. “I’m glad you like it. I think the tofu blends nicely with the other flavors.”
He had another forkful halfway to his mouth. At her words, he froze. “No way.”
She blinked innocently. “Way.”
“You didn’t put tofu in here.”
Her smile gave nothing away.
Cautiously he took another bite. It still tasted heavenly. The cake was moist, the frosting just sweet enough to make his mouth water.
“Hell, if this is tofu, sign me up,” he muttered in defeat.
Darcy dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I wish I could say it was. I’m just having a good time at your expense.”
“It’s not politically correct to take advantage of a man when he’s injured.”
“On the contrary, this is the only time I get a chance to best you.”
She walked over to the counter and started pulling ingredients out of the cupboard.
“What are you making tonight?” he asked.
“More sugar cookies. Melissa doubled her order today. She said they’re selling a lot faster than she thought. And I have to make gingerbread for another house. The hospital said they wanted to raffle one off at their Christmas party on Friday. I’ll get it baked and cut out tonight, then assemble it tomorrow.”
As she spoke, her shoulders drooped with weariness.
“How late are you going to be up tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t want to think about it.”
“Can I help? If you mixed up the gingerbread here, we could bake it at my place. That would free you up to concentrate on the cookies.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
“Thanks.”
She collected large mixing bowls and baking pans for the gingerbread, then shooed him off to preheat his oven. As Mark made his way to his own place, he wondered if she would accept money from him. He had some put away. He could help her pay for the next semester of Dirk’s schooling.
But even as he came up with the plan, he dismissed it. Darcy would never take that kind of help. Using his oven was one thing, but money was something else. She was stubborn and proud.
She was also everything he’d wanted Sylvia to be. The difference was Darcy was the genuine article. So what exactly did he want from her?
Their relationship wasn’t like any he’d had before. With Sylvia there’d been sudden, overwhelming attraction. He’d been smitten from the second he’d seen her. With Darcy, things had happened more slowly. Although not sexually, he reminded himself with a grin as he walked into his kitchen and turned on the oven. The physical chemistry between them was the most powerful he’d ever experienced. But the rest of it—the friendship or whatever he wanted to call it—had been slow in growing. Like a tiny ember that grew to be a—
A what? Forest fire? He shook his head. That was too big. That implied a kind of connection that made him uncomfortable. He and Darcy weren’t in love, they were—
He paused again, trying to define their relationship, all the while hating his own indecision. Before Sylvia, he’d always known where he stood with the women in his life. Usually they didn’t engage him. Sylvia had seemed like the answer to his prayers. So what was Darcy?
* * *
“Bigger is better,” Darcy said the next evening as they stood freezing in the Christmas tree lot. “I want it to fill the living room.”
Mark stared at the monstrosity she’d picked. “If you get this one itwillfill the living room, because it’s too tall. You’d either have to cut it in half or turn it on its side.”
“You think?” She tilted her head to gaze up at the gorgeous tree she’d chosen. “It’s just that I usually don’t have a very big budget for decorating. But this year, with all the extra money from my baking, I thought I’d go a little wild.”
