Hot Wheels and High Heels (35 page)

Darcy itched with discomfort, hating the way his voice sounded. He moved toward her again, resting his hand against her shoulder, his thumb stroking her collarbone as his gaze roamed over her body with the utmost appreciation. There had been a time not so long ago when this kind of attention from a man would have made Darcy feel powerful, as if she had him wrapped right around her little finger. But now she realized the truth.

She had no power at all.

This man held all the cards, and right now he was demanding advance payment against everything she could persuade him to give her in the future. All at once, John’s words thundered inside her head.

You’ll pay, Darcy. One way or the other
.

He was right. The moment she gave this man anything and expected something in return, she would be confirming that she was exactly the kind of woman he thought she was. The kind she used to be. Suddenly, all the things she’d thought were so important seemed as insignificant as house dust.

Jeremy moved closer, his hand creeping across her shoulder to rest against her cheek, and every nerve in her body screamed for him to stop.

He can’t make you feel secure, Darcy. Not in the way you really need
.

John was right. This wasn’t security. She was selling herself, piece by piece, for luxury to be doled out to her like candy to a child. She didn’t need it, didn’t want it, and as of right then, she never wanted to see it again unless she’d bought and paid for it herself.

“Jeremy . . . don’t.”

He came closer.

“Jeremy—”

He leaned in to kiss her. The instant before his lips touched hers, she put her palms against his shoulders and shoved him away. “I said
no!
”

He stumbled backward with a look of total astonishment. “What the hell are you doing?”

“What part of that didn’t you understand? The ‘no,’ or the shove?”

“Neither one!”

“Good-bye, Jeremy.”

She spun around and started for the door. He hurried after her.

“Hey!” he said. “You can’t just walk away!”

“Yeah? Why not?”

He caught her arm and pulled her back around. “I thought we had an understanding.”

“Actually, I didn’t understand anything until I came here tonight. I thought the worst thing in the world was to lose everything I had. It’s not. The worst thing in the world is to be treated like a high-paid hooker by a man who thinks there’s nobody he can’t buy.”

Jeremy looked genuinely surprised, but she knew it wasn’t because of what she’d said. It was because she’d had the audacity to say it.

“That’s a pretty harsh characterization,” he told her.

“It’s a pretty
accurate
characterization. And I don’t want any part of it.”

“Do you have any idea how many women would kill to be in your position?”

“No, but I imagine there has been quite a parade of them in the past. I saw the selection of nightgowns in the closet.”

His jaw tightened with irritation. “You have no idea what you’re turning down.”

“Yes, I do. I don’t want your money, Jeremy. And I don’t want this.”

“If you think you’ll ever get an offer like this from me again—”

“Actually, I think I will, because you hate like hell to lose.”

“Eventually you’ll give in.”

“Eventually I’ll get a restraining order.”

His eyes widened at that, and she could practically feel his brain working, trying to figure out a way to come out of this situation on top. After a moment, though, his gaze shifted away, and he sighed with defeat.

“Restraining order,” he said with disgust. “Really, Darcy. Do you have to be so dramatic?”

“Do you have to be so relentless?”

“I thought I knew you.”

“Believe me. No one is more surprised about this than I am.”

“I assume you’re going back to Stark?”

Darcy started to answer, but before she could get the words out, her voice cracked and tears stung the backs of her eyes. When she thought about the possibility that she’d never see John again, the longing she felt was almost incapacitating.

How could she have been so blind?

“Actually,” she said, “after everything that’s happened, I sincerely doubt he’ll want me back.”

Jeremy shrugged offhandedly. “It’s for the best, you know. He’s not the one. You’ll be shopping at Wal-Mart forever. A woman like you always wants more.”

Yes. He was right. She wanted more. She wanted more of John. But because of what she’d done tonight, she knew he would never want to see her again. Still, if nothing else, he had taught her one important thing: an extravagant lifestyle handed to her by somebody else paled in comparison to a meager one she managed to earn on her own.

“You’re right, Jeremy. I do want more. And I’m going to get it. After all, I still have a car with four good tires, a neurotic dog, and a twenty-dollar bill in my purse for cab fare to my parents’ house.” She shrugged. “I can work with that.”

“So you think you’re going to make it on your own, do you?”

“Yes. I do.”

He smiled indulgently, as if she were a five-year-old who’d announced she was running away from home. But Darcy didn’t care. She didn’t know how she was going to make it. She didn’t know how she was going to pay her bills or what she was going to do for a job. She only knew that somehow, some way, she was going to survive, and she was going to do it in a way that made her feel good about herself. And no matter how many times her life got jerked out from under her, she was going to get up and start over again. She’d probably fall on her face a time or two more before she finally got it right, but she was going to make it happen.

Maybe then she’d be the kind of woman who deserved a man like John.

She started toward the bedroom door.

“I think you might be wrong about Stark not wanting you back,” Jeremy said.

Darcy turned around, feeling a surge of hope, but she refused even to think it might be true. “No. He told me if I went with you, I could never come back to him. He means what he says.”

“Men say all kinds of things in the heat of anger.”

Maybe some men, but not John. Darcy had never known anyone so utterly in control of himself, who knew exactly what he was saying and doing every moment of his life. And he wasn’t one to tolerate the slap in the face she’d given him by walking away the way she had tonight.

“He has too much pride,” Darcy said. “Trust me. He’ll never want to see me again.”

“Don’t bank on that.”

But Darcy knew the truth. The very idea that she’d ruined the best thing that had ever happened to her made Darcy sick to her soul. If she saw John again, he’d only tell her how spoiled and willful and clueless she was, and then remind her that when she’d had the opportunity to do the right thing, she’d blown it.

Or maybe he’d say nothing, and that would be the worst blow of all.

“I need my clothes back,” Darcy said.

“I’ll let my housekeeper know.”

She nodded.

“That twenty-dollar bill,” Jeremy said. “Don’t spend it on cab fare. It might come in handy later.”

“Shall I steal one of your cars instead?”

“Car theft won’t be necessary this time. After you get your clothes, just go downstairs and wait in the foyer. I’ll have somebody there shortly who’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” He turned to face the window, looking out into the night. “Just consider it my contribution to the Struggling Single Women of America.”

His words were lighthearted, but as she looked at his reflection in the window, they weren’t matched by a lighthearted expression. She sensed an aura surrounding him that was completely at odds with the bravado he usually exuded with every breath. Suddenly she wasn’t looking at a successful multimillionaire with deals to make and money to burn.

She was looking at a lost and lonely man.

She still didn’t know what to make of him, except it was possible he was missing the same thing in his life she’d been missing in hers, that thing she’d thrown away as if it meant nothing to her when it meant everything in the world.

“Good-bye, Jeremy,” she said.

“Good-bye, Darcy,” he said. “And good luck.”

John didn’t even bother finishing the second beer he’d ordered some time ago. What would be the point? He could drink a gallon of the stuff and all he’d get would be a hell of a hangover. Then he’d wake up in the morning, take a few aspirin, and Darcy would still be gone.

He signaled the bartender to bring his check. He was just reaching for his wallet when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID. Jeremy Bridges?

Anger rose up inside John, razor sharp. What was the guy doing? Calling to gloat?

Bastard
.

He flipped his phone open. “Bridges? What do you want?”

“Listen closely, because I never repeat myself. Two things.”

John came to attention.

“Number one. Darcy McDaniel is a seriously misguided woman. I offered her just about anything her little heart desires and asked so little in return. But—funny thing—it turns out she doesn’t want to be a kept woman after all. She wants more out of life, but evidently I’m not the man who can give it to her.” He paused. “She seems to think you are.”

John pressed the phone closer to his ear. Damned music in the bar. Had he heard this guy right?

“Number two,” Jeremy said. “Right now that seriously misguided woman is standing in my foyer waiting for the ride I promised her. She’s convinced you’ll want nothing to do with her anymore, and maybe that’s true. But it’s your choice. You can stick to your guns and tell her again that after coming with me tonight she can never go back to you. Or you can put aside your considerable ego, drive over here, and take her home with you where she belongs. Now, which is it going to be?”

John just sat there, so dumbfounded he couldn’t speak. Go to Bridges’s house? Pick up Darcy? Had this man completely lost it?

Actually, Bridges wasn’t the problem. Darcy was. John felt as if she’d crawled inside his head and messed with his mind until he couldn’t put two consecutive thoughts together.

He had to think rationally about this. He couldn’t give in. He couldn’t let her yank him around like this. After all, he had a little pride, didn’t he? And all kinds of self-control? No way was he going to let her do this to him. No way. After what she’d done tonight . . .

As that thought trailed off, he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh. Oh, hell. Who was he kidding?

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Chapter 23

D
arcy sat on a bench in the foyer of Jeremy’s house, feeling tired right down to her bones. Pepé sat nearby at the foot of a potted plant, his buggy little eyes shifting back and forth nervously. Poor little thing. First he’d gotten lost. Then came the explosion. Then she’d dragged him to an unfamiliar house. And now they were going back to her parents’ house, where peeing on the rug was a capital offense.

She called to him. He slinked over and jumped onto her lap. She hugged him close, taking comfort in his warm, hairy little body, hoping he’d stay reasonably sane until she could finally afford that doggy shrink he was desperately going to need.

A few more minutes went by, and Darcy wondered how much time had passed. How long did it take for Jeremy’s driver to bring the car around?

Just as she was starting to think about using that twenty to call a cab after all, she glanced out the window and saw headlights flashing through the darkness. A car was coming through the front gate.

She stood up and went to the window, thinking at first that Jeremy must have called a cab, even though that made no sense. But as it drew closer, she realized it wasn’t a cab after all.

It was John’s SUV.

As she opened the door and walked onto the porch, John brought the car to a jolting halt. He killed the engine and stepped out.

Darcy blinked dumbly. It was as if she were looking at an apparition. A figment of her imagination. A manifestation of her own wishful thinking. It was as if she’d fantasized about wanting him so much that he’d actually shown up. Only in that particular fantasy, John was smiling.

He wasn’t smiling now.

“John?” she said. “What are you doing here?”

He never responded. He just closed the door, went around the car, and started up the walk. His face was impassive. She couldn’t read his mood. With every stride he took, she grew a little more nervous.

“I did the dumbest thing on earth tonight,” she said as he drew closer.

“Yes,” John said. “You did.”

“No, I mean the
dumbest
. Really.”

“I’m not arguing with that.”

“I don’t want to be here. I told Jeremy—”

“I know,” he said, still walking.

“You know? But how—”

“No man in his right mind would have anything to do with you. You know that, don’t you?”

She took a step backward, bumping against the front door. “Look, John, I know you’re angry, but I want you to listen to me. I have to tell you—”

Before she could say anything else, he grabbed her by the wrist, wheeled around, and stalked back down the sidewalk toward his car, pulling her along in his wake. Pepé trotted over, and John scooped him up without missing a beat. When they reached the car, he pulled the passenger door open, deposited Darcy inside, plopped Pepé into her lap, and shut the door behind her. He went around and slid into the driver’s seat, moving so quickly that Pepé got spooked and scrambled into the backseat.

“I don’t understand,” Darcy said. “You said no man in his right mind—”

“Exactly. I haven’t been in my right mind since the moment I met you.”

“So why did you come here?”

“I heard you needed a ride.”

“You heard? How did you hear . . . ?”

“Bridges.”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “He called you?”

“Yeah. He called me.”

She looked at him disbelievingly. “And you came?”

“Hell, yes, I came! I said I was out of my mind, didn’t I?” He jammed the key into the ignition.

“I’m sorry, John,” she said. “I’m sorry for what I did. I don’t want Jeremy. I don’t want this house. I don’t want his money. I don’t want
any
of this.”