“Of course.” Nodding, he bit back the urge to ask her how she was holding up in the new spurt of media interest in her since that small video clip of her lobbying for more coverage of female athletes went viral. He’d tested his ability to resist touching her enough for one day. “I guess I’ll see you in court then?”
“I’ll be there. So will my mother, actually. She flies in tomorrow and will stay with us until Jessamyn’s wedding.”
He’d always liked Jennifer Barclay, but then, Lark’s feisty spirit was a lot like her mother’s.
“I’ll look forward to saying hello,” he told her honestly.
At the same time, Lark said, “I haven’t forgotten about my promise to visit your mom. You’ll let me know when it’s a good time?”
Thinking about how often his mother asked about his “wife,” Gibson knew that couldn’t be soon enough. Still, he was glad Lark didn’t seem to mind.
“My contractor assured me the annex on the house will be finished by the end of the week.” He’d already called the moving company to bring their things permanently. “With any luck, maybe when the trial wraps up, my mom will be around.”
He moved toward the door, knowing he should cross the threshold. Drive home before he looked into Lark’s forest-green eyes for too long.
“Sounds good.” She walked a step behind him and when he stopped to take his leave, she bumped into him lightly.
Just a brush of the blanket where it wrapped around her elbow, but the touch still jolted him.
Her gaze darkened a fraction as she looked up at him. His heart thudded harder.
Restraint, he counseled himself.
Still, he couldn’t halt the final words she deserved to hear before he took his leave. “For what it’s worth, that dress looks incredible on you.”
She gasped softly, then glanced down at herself, parting the blanket slightly as if to recall what she’d been wearing. The renewed glimpse of her in the midnight-colored silk had him swallowing his tongue.
“Thank you. It was an unexpected gift from Jessamyn.” Her fingers smoothed along one skinny strap at her shoulder. “She picked it out for me today and then asked if I would be a co–maid of honor with Fleur.”
Recalling her fractured relationship with Jessamyn, he couldn’t help but wonder how that went.
“She couldn’t have chosen anything more perfectly suited to you,” he observed, even as his hands ached to feel the fabric and Lark’s warm body beneath it.
“I’m not so sure. I’ve never worn anything this revealing in my whole life.” Wrapping her arms around herself again, she gave a small shrug.
“There are no ruffles, frills or lace. It’s not a flashy color and it’s perfectly tailored for you. I’d say she put a lot of thought into finding something exactly right.”
“Maybe so,” she acknowledged, her attention dropping from his eyes to...his mouth.
She was killing him.
One hundred percent.
And he didn’t stand a chance of leaving just yet.
“Are you going to do it then? Be one of her maids of honor?” he pressed, his whole body heating.
Wanting.
Downstairs, he could hear her sisters working in the kitchen, talking and laughing. Outside, the rain still pattered lightly on the windowpane. But right here, at the threshold of Lark’s bedroom, there was only the slow burn of longing.
“Yes. I’ll be there for her.” She dragged her focus up to his eyes. “It’s a new era of sisterhood for the Barclays.”
He released a long breath, trying his best to ignore the pent-up hunger. He had to walk away now before he took the kiss that she was thinking about every bit as much as him.
“Good for you.” With a nod of approval, he backed up a step, inserting more space between them. “And me, too.”
“For you? How do you figure?” She scrunched her nose as she stared at him, her long hair a dark ripple in the shadowed hallway as she followed him toward the stair landing.