The Harder They Fall (21 page)

He nodded, swallowing hard. Then, for some reason, he smiled. “Did I mention that I’m crazy about you?”

Darcy’s jaw dropped and she slowly shook her head.

“I’m crazy about you.”

Darcy had to fight not to blurt out how much she loved him. He hadn’t used that word yet, and she felt foolish using it first. Especially if it might scare him off. Darcy had no idea what his feelings were on the subject of commitment. Yes, he’d said he didn’t want what they had to end. He hadn’t said he wanted that exclusively.

The thought of him having a relationship with another woman at the same time he had one with Darcy hurt terribly. But she had no right to make demands on him. On the other hand, feminine instinct told her that their lovemaking had affected him as deeply as he’d said. Maybe she’d be able to keep him so busy, he’d be too occupied with her even to
think
about other women. It was a very pleasurable thought. And it made her smile.

“I’m glad,” she said softly. “Likewise.”

“How do you like New York so far?”

“It’s . . . big.”

He laughed softly. “And ugly and dirty.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you were thinking it, weren’t you?”

“I’m sure parts of it are quite . . . clean.”

He threw back his head and laughed. “Not many.”

She looked out and realized they’d entered a more residential area. The houses were all but connected, and they did have small yards and a few lovely trees. It reminded her a little of Georgetown.

Still, she felt sorry for the children playing in their tiny yards that couldn’t even hold a good-sized swing set.

Her children would never have tiny yards. Her children would have room to run and play. Her children would breathe fresh air.

Her children?

Darcy had never seriously considered the idea of having children before. She turned to look at Michael, who’d gone back to making notes. His nose was straight and strong, his chin solid. His eyelashes weren’t really long, but they were thick, fringing the sparkling blue of his eyes. His pitch-black hair had just a hint of wave in it and was thick and silky.

Michael would produce beautiful children.

Darcy felt her biological clock start ticking.

“What are you staring at?” Michael asked her.

Darcy started. She had been staring, hadn’t she? She blushed a little, but she answered him honestly. “You.”

“That, I know. Why?”

“I just think you’re beautiful.”

“Hey!” he said with a mock frown. “Men can’t be beautiful.”

She ignored that. “Were you always so good-looking, or did you have to grow into it?”

He laughed nervously. “I have no idea.”

“Do you look like your mother or your father?”

His laughter evaporated. “I don’t look like my mother.” He tapped his mechanical pencil against his legal pad. “Why all the questions?”

Darcy wasn’t about to tell him she’d just decided she wanted her children to look like him. That wasn’t possible, anyway. He was a New Yorker. His children would have a tiny yard and smoggy air.

She suddenly realized they’d come to a stop. Blessing the gods, she scrambled out of the cab without answering his question. Looking up, she gasped softly when she saw his home. It was really very pretty. No yard, of course. But still pretty.

After retrieving their bags and paying the cabbie, Michael joined her. “Like it?”

“Yes,” she said, and smiled up at him. “Yes, I do.”

“Good.”

“Do you own it?” she asked as they headed up the walk.

“Me and the bank.”

“It reminds me of the house on that old comedy,
The Cosby Show.”

Michael chuckled, transferring his duffel bag to beneath his left arm, then put his right hand on the small of her back and propelled her forward.

They walked up the steps while Darcy admired the intricately carved oak door with its big brass knocker. She also liked the crocks of colorful miniature snapdragons gracing either side of the doorway.

She looked up at Michael when they reached the entry. He, too, was gazing fondly at the flowers. He dropped the bags and reached in his pants pocket, smiling down at her. Nodding at the plants, he said, “At least that’s a good sign. My mother has a thing for flowers.”

So that’s where he got it, huh?
Darcy would bet a lot of money that Michael used to bring his mother flowers all the time when he was growing up.

Michael took a small set of keys from his pocket, but to Darcy’s surprise, he jabbed the doorbell three times—and three bursts of short buzzing noises sounded behind the door. He unlocked it and waved her in.

“Why’d you do that?” Darcy asked, after he’d followed her. She looked around. The foyer was lovely, with a green marble floor, and brass planters containing potted palms.

Ah, yes, and a thing for plants, too.

Michael shrugged. “That’s our signal. We always announce we’re home that way, so when one of us hears the front door opening, we know right away it’s not a burglar.”

Sure enough, a squeal sounded from the back of the house. And someone came pounding down the long, narrow hallway. “Michael!”

A lovely young woman came out of the shadows and hurled herself at him. All Darcy registered were long bare legs and a long black ponytail before Michael chuckled and twirled the girl around. She sure hoped this was his sister.

When Michael finally set her back on her feet, the girl started checking him over, as if searching for signs of injury. While she examined him, she talked. Faster than Darcy had heard anyone talk in her life.

“So glad you’re home, even though it wasn’t really necessary. Mother’s much better today. She’s so happy to be home from the hospital. Doc Forsner’s up with her now, so we’ll know more shortly. Are you home for good? We really miss you. You have about a zillion messages on the machine. I swear, that Diana Prescott is one persistent woman. She refused to believe you didn’t want her to rush down to D.C. and keep you—”

The woman would have continued, but Michael prevented it by slapping a hand over her mouth. He turned her slowly to face Darcy. “Darcy, meet Anne Elizabeth Davidson. She has a vivid imagination and a very big mouth. Annie, this is Darcy. Darcy also has a vivid imagination—” at that he gave Darcy a very knowing leer over his sister’s head “—but she knows how to keep her mouth shut.”

Blue eyes that mirrored Michael’s went wide. Except that she looked several years younger than her brother, they could have been twins. And somehow, strangely, the features that looked so masculine on Michael looked exactly the opposite on his sister. She looked to be about three or four inches shorter than Darcy, but still fairly tall. And lovely.

Michael slowly peeled his hand from Anne’s mouth. It had formed a small O.

“Say hello to Darcy, Annie.”

“Hello, Darcy.”

Despite the fact that the name Diana Prescott was still ringing in Darcy’s ears, she couldn’t help but smile. “Hi, Annie.”

Annie grinned as she glanced from Darcy to Michael. “Well, well, well.”

A look passed between brother and sister that Darcy didn’t understand. Annie’s expression seemed to say, “I’ve got a secret.” Michael’s seemed to say, “Shut up, Annie.”

Darcy broke the thick silence. “I’m
glad to hear your mother’s feeling better.”

Annie looked back at her. “She’ll feel a whole lot better when she sees Michael.” She paused. “And you.” She cocked her head. “Anyone ever tell you you look like Grace Kelly?”

Michael shot Darcy an I-told-you-so look.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Does this family have a Grace Kelly fetish?”

“Yes,” Michael and Annie said at the same time. But Annie elaborated. “Well, my mother does, at any rate. When we were growing up, she’d make an event out of watching a Grace Kelly movie. My mother always loved her because the first thing my father said to her when he met her was, ‘Did anyone ever tell you you look like Grace Kelly?’ So she felt this—”

“Enough, Annie,” Michael interrupted.

Darcy almost choked on her outrage. Michael had used the same line on her that his deserting rat of a father had used on his vulnerable mother? He was going to hear about that.

The nervous gleam in his eyes told her he realized that. “Annie, why don’t you take Darcy to the kitchen and get her some iced tea or something. I’m going to take our suitcases upstairs, then look in on Mom.”

“Sure!” Annie said, her smile friendly, curious, and just a little mischievous.

“And keep your mouth shut,” Michael warned. “Or talk about your writing.”

With that he winked at Darcy and started up the stairs.

They both watched him go, then looked at each other. Annie said, “Do
you
want
me to keep my mouth shut?”

“I want you to tell me everything.”

“Good.”

As Michael descended the steps,
he heard Darcy’s laughter, and his heart lurched a little. Why, he didn’t know. He supposed he just liked hearing her happy.

Why had he been so desperate to have Darcy with him? It was a question he did and didn’t want to probe. Admitting that he wanted her with him didn’t bother him. Admitting that he
needed
her with him did.

Shaking his head, he buried the questions for now. Heading down the hallway, he heard his sister say, “Senior Vice President!”

Uh-oh.

Michael hightailed it into the kitchen, just as Darcy said, “That’s wonderful! He never told me that.”

They were seated at the picnic-style kitchen table, built into a nook in the corner. Darcy’s back was to him. Annie started to open her mouth, but shut it when she caught Michael’s glare.

Darcy turned, and Michael quickly masked his expression. Her eyes were so filled with pride, he felt guilt wash through him. If she knew what his promotion hinged on, that look of pure admiration and pride would die a very, very quick death.

“I thought I told you to talk about your writing,” Michael said, forcing a grin.

Annie waved. “We did. That took all of five minutes.”

Michael poured himself a glass of iced tea from the pitcher sitting on the counter, squeezed a slice of lemon into it, then moved to the table. Darcy immediately scooted over on the bench, and Michael sat down beside her.

His hand automatically sought her thigh. For some reason, touching Darcy had become an imperative to him. Last night when they were spending their second night in her bed, exhausted from making love, he’d pulled her into his arms and instantly fallen asleep, contentment, fulfillment and a sense of rightness blanketing him.

When he’d awakened in the middle of the night, Darcy no longer in his arms, a feeling of panic, of loss, had gripped him. In the darkness of the room, he couldn’t see Darcy, but then she shifted in bed and uttered a little, soft sigh. Michael had moved closer to her and tucked her back into his arms, then had immediately fallen back asleep, his world restored.

Amazingly enough, that was a first for him. Michael had never cared to share a bed for any reason besides sex. He supposed that meant it was going to take longer before he started getting that bored sensation that marked the end of all of his relationships.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were up for a promotion?” Darcy asked him.