The Harder They Fall (11 page)

“Sometimes she worked two and three jobs at a time. Not only did she support us, she managed to send us to private school.”

“She must be some woman.”

“She is. She sacrificed so much for Annie and me.”

Darcy’s smile was wistful. “I’m sure she doesn’t consider it a sacrifice, seeing how you turned out.”

Darcy couldn’t possibly know how much those words meant to him. His biggest fear in life was not returning big dividends on his mother’s emotional investment, her lifelong sacrifice. “Thank you,” he said, his voice grainy.

She lowered her lashes. “So, what does your sister do?”

“She’s an aspiring author.”

Darcy looked up. “How wonderful! What does she write?”

“Romance and romantic suspense,” Michael boasted. “She’s really good, too.”

Suddenly it occurred to Michael that he’d spilled his guts to this woman. He hadn’t ever discussed his family background with an outsider before and, for the life of him, he didn’t know why he’d done it now. Embarrassed, he searched for a way to change the subject.

“Do you remember your mother?” he asked, then silently debated biting off his tongue. His curiosity about Darcy had grown by leaps and bounds in the last few days, and he’d stupidly brought up a subject that had interested him. To his thinking, what Darcy Welham desperately needed was the guidance of a mother.

She looked at him, startled. After a pause, she swallowed and nodded.

“How old were you when she died, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Darcy sipped her wine. “I was eleven.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

Her eyes grew just a bit bright. “Yes, so am I.” She set her glass down . . . on the edge of the table. Michael reached over and set it on firmer ground.

Darcy didn’t notice. Her expression said she was years away from this moment. “It was wintertime. My parents were getting ready to open their fourth or fifth restaurant. This one in Chicago.”

“The Chicago restaurant was their fifth,” Michael said, without thinking.

“How—” Her mouth snapped shut. “Of course you’d know. You probably know more about the restaurants than I do.”

Her look turned so glum, Michael covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry. Finish telling me about your mother.”

“She was afraid of flying. So, instead of taking a plane she drove from Spokane to Chicago in a snowstorm. She made it all the way just fine. Then a block from the new restaurant site, she was broadsided by a semi.”

Michael swore softly. No wonder Ed Welham had lost sentimental interest in his restaurants. But why hadn’t Darcy?

He turned her hand over and made little circling motions in her palm with his thumb. “I think your mother would be very proud of you if she were still alive.”

“You do?” Her free hand wobbled a little as she grabbed for her wine.

His hand shot out and picked the goblet up first. Then he passed it to her, holding it steady for a moment while he pretended to just want to use any excuse to touch his fingertips to hers. “Absolutely.”

“Why?”

“Why not? You’re beautiful, intelligent, sensitive, hardworking. And you’re fighting to hold on to her dream. I admire that, I really do.”

He really did, dammit. He really did. The only problem was, her dream was interfering with his goal. And he never let anything interfere with his goals.

Unfortunately, he now had another goal. A conflicting goal. That goal was to make sweet, wild, all-night love to Darcy. He
had
to border on being certifiable.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft voice. “That’s nice of you to say. But I’m
well aware of my . . . shortcomings.”

Manners kept him from acknowledging that he was aware of several himself. “What shortcomings are those?”

She waved . . . nearly knocking over her wine. Michael silently pulled her goblet out of range. When her hand finally stilled, he pushed it back at her.

“You’ve been taking notes on my shortcomings for weeks. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

He squeezed her hand. “Darcy, grace is a state of mind. So is clumsiness. They’re affected by your sense of self. As soon as you recognize that you are a valuable, worthwhile human being, I think those accidents will stop happening, at least with that much frequency.”

She seemed uncomfortable with his analysis, and pulled her fingers from under his. The band started playing soft, classical music—Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” if he wasn’t mistaken—and the waiter stopped and refreshed their water glasses.

Amazed at how relaxed he felt in Darcy’s company, Michael drained his wineglass. Darcy refilled it and her own. And didn’t spill a drop. Michael was so proud of her, he almost broke out in applause.

“Enough of family history,” he said, admiring the smooth creaminess of her skin in the candlelight. She looked beautiful tonight, in a pretty flowing dress and her hair curling slightly around her face. “Let’s talk about something pleasant.”

“Something pleasant, huh?” she said. “Like what?”

Michael thought about it as he sipped on the wine. “Tell me the one thing you want to do most in the world.”

“Have sex with you,” Darcy blurted.

Michael’s wineglass shattered as it hit the table.

“I’m sorry!” Darcy said, for about the hundredth time in the last hour.

Passing a tourist bus on the parkway, Michael sighed. “Stop apologizing, Darcy. The wine wasn’t your fault.”

“I startled you.”

He laughed. “That’s an understatement.”

“So it
was
my
fault.”

“You’re welcome to startle me like that any time you’d like. Believe me, that kind of shock I can live with.”

“I was forward,” she said glumly. She sat pressed against the door of the Beemer, as if to get as far away from him as possible. They’d docked almost as soon as the waiter had finished clearing the glass and sopping up the wine. Darcy had been so unnerved, Michael had decided to take the scenic George Washington Memorial Parkway home. Not the shortest route to Falls Church, but, he hoped, the most soothing.

“I like that in a woman,” he said, squeezing her hand.

Her head whipped around. “You do?”

“Very much. I like women who say what they feel, who tell me what they want.” He glanced over at her and smiled. Her eyes had gone large as pies. “How else can I make them happy?”

“Women
tell
you what they want?”

“With any luck.”

She digested that news for a moment. “Michael?”

He really liked the way she said his name. “Hmm?”

“I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I think you’d better know.”

“What’s that?”

“I . . . I’ve never had sex before.”

He bit on his lip to stifle a smile. Her tone told him she was thoroughly disgusted with herself.

“I’m glad,” he said, when he’d successfully squelched his grin.

“You are?” she squeaked.

“Sure.” He took a breath. “I have an admission to make, myself.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had sex, because I won’t believe it for a second.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“And don’t tell me you’re gay, because I don’t believe that, either. I don’t care what everyone is say—” She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth.

Michael did laugh then. “Don’t worry, Darcy, I’m well aware of the rumor.”

“You are?”

“Yes. And I want to thank you for staunchly defending my heterosexuality.” He looked at her and grinned. “And, no, you’re not Jessica Alba. You’re much prettier.”

She frowned. “Tom’s got a big mouth.”

“He just wanted me to know you weren’t buying it.”

“Why don’t you deny it?”

“Because I don’t think my sex life is anyone’s business. And I really don’t care what people think of me.” He glanced at her. “Most people, that is.”

Even in the dark of night, he could see her cheeks blush. “Okay, well if your secret isn’t that, what is it?”

Michael swallowed. “The truth is, I’ve never been with a virgin before.”

There was a long silence. Michael rolled his window down an inch, and the daffodil scent of Washington in springtime filled the interior of the car. An erotic image of him rubbing flower petals over Darcy’s naked body, then breathing in the scent of her, filled his head. And other places. He shifted in the leather seat.

“Does it make a difference?” she asked in a soft, hesitant voice.

“I think it does.” Michael took the Lee Highway exit. “Darcy, I think you’ve got this wonderful gift. The gift of purity—”

She snorted. “I don’t consider that a gift. It’s a curse, is what it is.”

He waved. “Whatever you want to call it. I want you to make damn sure that you want to give that gift to me. I mean, your first time should be so special. And should be with someone you care about.”

He held his breath. He was giving her the golden opportunity to back out, and he was at once scared to death, and hoping like hell she’d jump on it.

“Are you asking me if I care about you?” she asked faintly.

His breath left him in a whoosh. “I guess so.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know you well enough.”

“That’s probably the best reason to wait a while before you plunge into anything you might regret later.”

“What about you? You could end up regretting it, too.”

He pulled into Darcy’s parking lot and stopped the car. Turning to her, he felt his lips quirk up. “Darcy, there’s not a chance in hell I’d regret it. First of all, it’s not going to hurt me, but it might hurt you a little. All that will happen to me is that I’ll get great pleasure having sex with a beautiful woman. That’d be difficult to regret.” He looked deep into her wide eyes and his smile disappeared. “I’d only regret it if you ended up regretting it. It’s a major decision. One you need to take seriously.”

His thumb pads caressed her wrists. “If all you’re looking for is to experience sex, and any interested man will do, I want to be that man.” He heaved a breath, because he didn’t like that possibility. “If it’s that you’re sexually attracted to me, great.” He heaved another breath, because he really liked that option. “But if you’re looking for a long-term relationship, don’t let me make love to you, because I’m not ready to promise that to you.”

There, he’d said it. He’d laid it all out, and it was completely up to her. He knew he’d be sorely disappointed if she decided to give up on the idea, but he also knew he didn’t want to take his pleasure now and destroy her self-esteem later when he left her and returned to New York.

“I’d be an idiot not to be attracted to you,” she said, staring at her lap.

Michael laughed softly. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I mean, you’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you.”

“And tall.”

“Always have been for my age.”

“And you have a really great body.”

Michael stifled more laughter. She sounded as if she were making a laundry list of why she should just go ahead and take the plunge with him. He could relate to that. “Thanks again.”

“And . . . you’re healthy, right?”

“Clean as a whistle.”

“You’re sure?”

“I give blood every time the Red Cross asks me. They haven’t turned me down yet.” He lifted her chin with his forefinger. “And I’ve never had unprotected sex in my life.”

“I’m sorry for . . . asking.”