The Harder They Fall (10 page)

“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Michael laughed. “I’ve always liked a challenge. How about if we start by going out to dinner?”

Her face went blank. “Dinner?”

Michael chuckled softly. “You know, appetizer, salad and an entrée.”

“Dinner,” she repeated, as if getting used to the idea. “When?”

“Hmm, how about Friday? You’re off that night, aren’t you?” As if he didn’t know. He probably knew Darcy’s schedule better than she did.

“Yes, I think so.” Her eyes had gone limpid, but suddenly a spark of suspicion flashed in them. “Just dinner?”

He nodded. “Just dinner. We’ll reserve judgment on dessert.”

“But I love dessert!”

“Me, too, sweetheart. Me, too.”

Darcy had to work hard
not to gape when she opened her apartment door and spied Michael. Until the afternoon at the club, she would have sworn that Michael Davidson had emerged from his mother’s womb dressed head to toe in Brooks Brothers attire.

And then, when she’d had the chance to get her fill of him almost in his birthday suit, she’d been completely shocked at the breadth of his shoulders, the ropes of muscles in his arms and legs. No doubt about it, Michael Davidson occasionally took off his suits and worked out. Hard.

And now, one more shock. He owned clothes other than power suits and bathing suits. He’d changed into navy chinos and a white cotton polo shirt. Overtop he wore a leather bomber jacket that looked like it had survived a stint in World War II. He had loafers on his feet and flowers in his hand.

No one had ever brought Darcy flowers before. Well, her father used to give her an orchid every Easter, but that was different. Michael Davidson was holding a full bouquet of blood red roses. A lover’s gift.

“Hi,” he said, his lips lifting and his blue eyes crinkling handsomely. Darn. All the while that she’d dressed for her date with him, she’d managed to convince herself that he had ulterior motives. That he just wanted to soften her so that he could convince her to agree to his offer. She’d even planned the little speech she would give him when he showed up at the door.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Davidson, but agreeing to go to dinner with you was a mistake. I admire the lengths you will go to for your stupid corporation, but I refuse to allow you to manipulate me through niceness. I see through your little plan, you turkey.”

Of course, she’d ignored the nagging voice in her head that kept wondering why, if she was so intent on refusing his dinner offer, she was still dressing in her favorite peach-and-green dress. She’d refused to analyze why she had washed her hair
again
and pulled it back from her face with barrettes. She’d refused to concede that the extra spritz of perfume was for anyone’s nose but her own.

But, staring up at his warm, sexy smile, every rational thought flew from her brain, and all that replaced it was the knowledge of how it felt to be kissed by him. To be touched by him. To be propositioned by him.

The man had actually told her he wanted her.

And Darcy was just crazy enough to want him, too.

She prayed she wouldn’t do anything stupid tonight. But with her track record on dates, she didn’t have an ice cube’s chance in hell of getting through the night without embarrassing herself.

“You look great,” he said after a long span of stupid silence on her part. She couldn’t seem to make her tongue move. His presence in her doorway overwhelmed her. He was so big and tall, and she’d seen him nearly naked.

She knew that he had only a light sprinkling of crisp hair on his chest that tapered down to a single line that led directly to his navel . . . and beyond. She knew that, even with his beautiful eyes closed, he was classically handsome and had the sexiest lips she’d ever seen. She knew that his chest was big and hard and she liked her breasts pressed to it. And she knew that she was suddenly eager to be intimate with a man. And, unfortunately, her body seemed to want it to be this man.

He held out the flowers. “These are for you.”

Darcy took them, knowing that long after they died, she’d treasure them—her very first flowers ever. “Thank you,” she said, burying her nose in one rose.

“You’re welcome. May I come in?”

“Oh!” She stepped back. And caught her heel in the carpet. A flash of mortification burned through her as she realized she was about to fall on her rear end in front of him again.

Apparently Michael had been prepared, though. Because his hands shot out and steadied her. Grateful, embarrassed, electrified by his touch, she smiled tremulously. “Thank you.”

“Close your eyes,” he said, his fingers still searing her arms.

“Excuse me?”

“Close your eyes.”

Darcy did.

“You’re in the pool,” he said in a soothing, gentle tone. “You’re swimming, and you’re in control.”

Darcy didn’t believe for a minute that she was in a pool. She was standing in her doorway having all kinds of kinky thoughts about a man whose hands could brand skin. But to please him she pictured herself in the pool, and amazingly, she felt a little calmer, a little more in control.

She opened her eyes and smiled. “It works!”

He flashed her one more bone-melting smile before taking keys out of his leather jacket and gripping her elbow. Darcy knew that to get herself calmed down right now, she’d have to picture an entire swim meet.

Michael drove Darcy
from her Falls Church apartment to Old Town Alexandria. After parking his rented BMW near the dock, he took her aboard the cruise ship
Dandy
,
which doubled as a restaurant as it plied its way up and down the Potomac. In his opinion, there was nothing more romantic than sharing wine and good food, all the while passing national treasure after national treasure.

Washington, D.C. at night was probably the most romantic city in the U.S. of A., in Michael’s opinion. And he planned on wringing every ounce of romance out of this evening.

The notion baffled him. Darcy was far from his “type.” But he had to admit that he liked a lot of things about her. Like her honesty. She had such expressive eyes, she’d never get away with lying to him. Which made her honest answers to his questions all the more appealing.

Her innocence made him nervous, but it excited him as well. For some reason, for once in his life he was happy that no man had been somewhere before him. He liked not having to wonder who else she’d been with, what other men had touched her body.

Innocence aside, he really liked the passion inside her. He had no doubt there was plenty to be tapped. And he wanted to heighten it to record levels.

Michael didn’t know when his attitude toward Darcy had changed. He hated to think that it had everything to do with her looks and figure and nothing to do with her mind and personality. He was half-afraid her appeal was purely physical.

And if that was the case, he was going to end up hating himself. He’d only go and prove that he was just like his old man. And there wasn’t a person on earth he despised more than his old man.

Shoving aside the unpleasant thought, he picked up the wine bottle and poured more sauvignon blanc in their goblets. Darcy smiled her thanks, and Michael returned it.

Her smile faded slightly as she stared at his lips. If he wasn’t mistaken, that blaze in her eyes stemmed from hunger and desire. For him? Or for men in general? Had she finally reached a point in her life that any man would do?

The thought made his gut clench. Didn’t she realize how special she was? Didn’t she know she had a gift to offer up? Even though he’d avoided virgins his entire life, he sat in awe of her at the moment. He wanted to be the man to initiate her. Badly. Very, very badly.

As they passed under the Memorial Bridge and by the splendor of the Lincoln Memorial on their left, Michael held up his glass in a toast. Darcy followed his lead.

“To friendship,” he said, his voice sounding unusually husky to his own ears.

Her smile trembled just a little. “To friendship,” she said, then started to touch goblets . . . with the force of a hammer. Michael pulled back just in time to avert disaster.

To a friendly affair,
he thought as he sipped.

Darcy set down her goblet, licking her lips. She gazed out at the various monuments, all lit with spotlights and looking regal against the purplish night sky. Then she looked back at Michael, and something in her expression made his heart lurch. “What?”

“Tell me about your family.”

His heart lurched again. He shrugged. “Not much to tell.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York City, born and raised.”

“Do your parents still live there?”

He was about to snap that his personal life was none of her damn business, but something stopped him. Her expression was so guileless, he knew she wasn’t trying to unearth family secrets. He wondered how she’d react to the truth. And suddenly, he wanted to find out.

He took a sip of wine before answering her. “My mother still lives there. I have no idea where my father lives . . . or if he’s still living at all.”

That shocked her. Her goblet hit the table with a clang, sloshing some of the wine onto her hand. Michael gently pried her fingers loose from the stem and wiped her hand with his napkin, using it as an excuse to avoid her wide, questioning eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Will you tell me what happened?”

Michael did look into her eyes then. There was no censure, not even pity. Just a certain sadness. For that he felt utterly grateful to her. “My mother’s from a very prominent family. When she was eighteen, she and a friend went to the city on a shopping spree. They had lunch at Tavern on the Green. My mother fell fast and hard for the man who waited on them—”

“Your father.”

“My father,” he agreed, his jaw clenching. “They dated secretly for a few months, because my mother was well aware that her father would never approve. Unfortunately, my mother became pregnant—” he swallowed “—with me.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped like a lead weight. “Unfortunately?
Unfortunately?
”

Michael
waved away the choice of words. “Anyway, her
boyfriend
wanted her to have an abortion, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Thank God,” Darcy murmured.

Michael liked that response. “So my mother and father worked up their courage and confessed to her father. Needless to say, he wasn’t pleased. In fact, he was furious. Instead of letting them get married quickly and quietly, he actually tried to force my mother to get an illegal abortion. He kept her prisoner in the house. But somehow she managed to escape and run to my father.

“They got married, and a few months later, I was born. It was really rough for a while. My mother begged her father to give her husband a job in his company, but he wanted nothing to do with her, with her husband or her child. He disowned her completely.”

Darcy shook her head, her eyes bewildered. Knowing Ed Welham, he could understand her confusion. The idea of a father turning his back on his child would be inconceivable to her.

“A few years later, my sister Annie was born.”

“You have a sister?”

Michael grinned at the thought of his daffy sibling. “Yeah. Anne Elizabeth. She’s a couple of years older than you. She lives with us, too.”

Darcy smiled, but then her smile faded. “What happened to your father?”

Michael’s grin vanished, much as his father had. “One day he just couldn’t take it anymore, I guess. He went to the store for milk and never came home.”

“Oh, Michael! I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. We were better off without the son of a—him.”

“But . . . supporting two kids. All on her own?”