Free Dreams of Her Own by Rebecca Heflin

then she reached around and snatched the wet kitchen towel out of Darcy’s hands and held it up in front of her chest. Why she didn’t know, since she had her back to Ian.
    “Millie spilled a bowl of hot soup,” Darcy volunteered. “I yanked her sweater off.”
    Great. First, he’d snatched her from the jaws of death on the street, then she’d nearly choked to death in front of him. Now this. What other lame, embarrassing things could Ian witness? She shuddered to think.
    That’s it . She and soup would never cross paths again.
    “Quick thinking.” Ian nodded. “Anything I can do?”
    “No!” Millie exclaimed.
    “No,” Darcy added more calmly. “Thank you.” Taking an apron out of a drawer, she threw it around Millie’s shoulders. “Let’s get you out of the rest of your clothes and into something clean and dry.”
    Millie couldn’t help but think she’d just heard Darcy’s mothering voice. At least what she imagined a mothering voice sounded like, since she’d never heard it from her own mother.
    On the way out of the kitchen, Millie sneaked another look over her shoulder. Ian still had his back to her, hands shoved into his jeans pockets.
    Upstairs in her bedroom, Darcy took out a pair of pre-pregnancy jeans and a soft turtleneck sweater in navy blue. “Here. You can wear these.” She stepped back as if assessing Millie’s size and nodded. “They should fit,” she said, laying the clothes on the bed.
    “Thanks,” Millie muttered, still embarrassed over her display.
    “Aw.” Darcy gave her a brief hug. “Could’ve happened to anyone.”
    “Yeah. And did it ever happen to you?”
    “Well, no. But that doesn’t mean it couldn’t.”
    Millie grimaced.
    “I’ll just leave you to change,” Darcy said as she headed for the door. “If you want, you can throw your clothes in the wash.”
    “Can you tell me when Ian leaves? I think I’ll just stay here until he does.” Millie eyed the clothes on the bed, certain they were too small.
    “He won’t say anything. For all his rough appearance, he’s quite the gentleman.” Darcy sighed. “He turned his back immediately.”
    Right. Probably because he couldn’t bear to look at me.
    The visual Ian got as he’d rounded the corner into the kitchen wouldn’tleave his brain. Millie, standing there in nothing but a white bra and brown skirt, her breasts filling the cups to a pleasing capacity. Her gently curving hips visible without the bulky sweater.
    She had a sweet little body beneath all those brown clothes.
    Then he recalled the red splotches across her bare midriff. Don’t be such a dick, he thought as he scrubbed his hands over his face. He shouldn’t be thinking about her body and how much he’d like to touch it. She could have been burned.
    He’d been coming to tell Darcy she could check out the newly installed bookcase he’d built. Seeing what was left of what appeared to be the lasagna soup on the floor, he grabbed a roll of paper towels and began mopping up the mess. Darcy didn’t need to be on her hands and knees, that was for sure. He didn’t miss the fact that this was the second time Millie and soup had crossed paths and she’d come out the loser.
    “You don’t need to do that,” Darcy said from the doorway.
    Ian stood. “It’s no problem. Is Millie burned?”
    “No. She’ll be fine. I think I got her sweater off before the soup could soak in.” Darcy wet a handful of paper towels, which Ian took from her and continued to clean up. “Seems you’re always cleaning up around here.”
    “Yeah, a jack-of-all-trades, I guess.” Ian worked in silence a few minutes, as Darcy pulled out the trashcan for the soiled paper towels. Recalling her kindness to Millie, he glanced up at her, “If you don’t mind me saying so, you’ll make a great mom.”
    Darcy hesitated a moment then gazed down at him. “No. I don’t mind at all. And thank you.”
    “That should do it,” he said as he rose.
    “By the way, what were