The Harder They Fall (5 page)

His body responded to the sound and feel of her surrender with a power that surprised him. He went hot and hard all over.

Pressing deeper, he brushed his mouth over hers more insistently, more frantically. He was losing control. Worse, he didn’t care.

“Darcy,” he whispered. He lifted his head slightly and watched her eyes flutter open. A wealth of emotions gleamed in their depths: passion, fear, pleasure and confusion.

The beauty of her swollen lips twisted his heart in knots and tore his good sense to shreds. He covered her mouth with his again while he wrapped her hair around his hands.

His senses flamed, his mind reeled. Tipping her head to the side, he pressed her lips farther apart and plunged into her mouth.

Her body snapped stiff.

Pain exploded in his mouth as her teeth bit into his tongue.

Michael reared back, swearing. “Ouch! You bit me!” He shook his hands to free them of her tangling hair.

“You stuck your tongue in my mouth!”

He examined said tongue with his fingers. It felt as swollen as the Goodyear Blimp. “That’th called a Fwench kith, you twit!”

“I know what it is,” she said, sticking her nose in the air. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“A thimple ‘no, thank you,’ would have worked jutht fine.”

“No, thank you,” she retorted, her eyes flashing.

“Now she tellth me.”

Her fists hit her hips again. “Why did you do that?”

Michael dropped his hands, rolling his tongue over the roof of his mouth. “Because I like to French kiss.”

She shook her head, her hair fanning over her breasts. “No, I mean, why did you kiss me at all?”

He plowed both hands through his hair. “God knows. I must be nuts.”

“You weren’t,” she said, her soft voice carrying a dangerous undercurrent, “perhaps trying to distract me from our conversation, were you?”

His hands stilled on his head. “I don’t even know what we were talking about anymore.”

“You letting it slip about who my father is?”

“I told you—” Michael swallowed his retort. The crazy woman had just bitten his damn tongue. He wasn’t about to stand here and plead for her to believe him. “If you’ll excuse me, Ms. Welham, I believe I’ll go suck on some ice cubes.”

Word spread faster than wildfire who Darcy really was. She had no doubts about the source of the news. As her co-workers discovered her identity, they withdrew from her as
if she’d caught a case of the plague.

It hurt. People had always given Darcy a wide berth, whether it had been her schoolmates or the ladies hired to care for her while her parents worked such long hours trying to establish their business.

She’d learned to live with it. She understood why people considered her bad luck, even if she didn’t feel she’d entirely earned her reputation. But here, the other workers had for a while cheerfully accepted her into the fold. And then the rat had gone and ruined it for her.

She sat all alone in the break room. As soon as she’d entered, the others had silently gotten up and left. More than ever in her life, she felt isolated and lonely.

A tear slipped from her eye. And then another, and another. Her shoulders shook with the effort to stop the flow. She
never
cried. Never. Crying was for people who allowed themselves to feel the hurt. She’d spent a lifetime fighting that weakness.

Darcy pulled a hanky from her apron and blew her nose. She couldn’t let Michael Davidson see her cowed. She wouldn’t.

“Darcy, you have another table—what’s wrong?”

Darcy looked up through a blur of tears. Anthony stood in the doorway, looking helpless.

She gave him a shaky smile. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“Like hell,” he said gruffly, patting her shoulder. “What’s the matter?”

His kindness was the last straw. Before she could stop herself, she was blurting out the entire story. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone, Anthony! I . . . I just want to keep the only thing left of m-my m-mother’s. I swear, if I can convince my father to let me run the business, I’ll match all of the benefits that s-stupid company is offering.”

“Sure you will, kid.”

Darcy swatted the moisture from her face and looked up. That’s when she realized that several of the employees had joined them. Anthony glared down every single one of them. One by one, their expressions became slightly shamefaced. Then, amazingly, they looked at her differently. Kindly. Compassionately.

“I swear it!” she repeated for good measure. “You’ll be better off with me.”

Slowly they each smiled at her. Darcy wanted to cry again, only this time out of pure joy.

Tom appeared in the doorway, and the chatter came to a screeching halt. “What the hell is this, a convention?”

Everyone scrambled to leave, but Tom stopped them. “Actually, I’m glad you’re all here.” He looked at Darcy with sympathy.

Her stomach fluttered. “What is it?” she whispered.

“Your father’s here, Darce.”

She jumped up, smiling. “Daddy’s here? Where?”

“Seated in your section.”

“Oh, no! Tom, how could you?”

“It wasn’t my fault. Davidson must have arranged it.”

“Davidson?” she squeaked, dread a palpable thing inside her.

“They’re having dinner together.”

“That rat!” Darcy cried. “That dirty, rotten, no-good, slimy snake. He’s doing this on purpose. He’s going to try to show my father that I can’t even handle a simple meal. I’ll kill him!”

“Now, Darcy, calm down,” Tom said. “You know what happens when you get upset.”

“No. What?”

He waved. “Never mind. Listen, we’ll all help you. Won’t we, folks?” he asked, staring down everyone in the room. One by one, bless them, they nodded.

Tom grinned. “Good.” He grasped Darcy’s shoulders. “Take a deep breath and go get ’em, tiger.”

Michael watched Darcy approach
and he mentally rubbed his hands together. This was a stroke of pure luck, and he didn’t want to miss a minute of it. When Darcy’s father had contacted Michael and invited him to dinner, Michael had agreed in a heartbeat. But he’d had no idea the man had called ahead and specified seating in his daughter’s section. One look at Darcy waiting tables and Edward Welham would probably sign the papers tonight.

Michael realized he was risking his life for the sake of his company, but it was a risk worth taking. His boss had all but told him that he needed this acquisition to secure his new position. He could almost picture his diplomas hanging on the wall of that plush, large, corner office.

But more than that office, he wanted to see the pride in his mother’s eyes when she learned about the promotion. And he wanted to shove his business card with his new title down his damned grandfather’s throat.

He closed his eyes, swallowing the anger. And the guilt. And the overwhelming need to prove that his birth wasn’t a mistake.

Opening his eyes, he glared at Darcy, the one woman standing between him and his ultimate goal. For a total klutz, she sure had a graceful air about her. Too bad she was the enemy. He didn’t relish making a fool of her in front of her father. But business was business. He hadn’t gotten to his position by letting a pair of kissable lips and great breasts distract him.

Michael’s face went warm when he realized he’d been thinking about that kiss too often in the last two days. And nights. Edward Welham was a little rough around the edges, but all in all Michael respected him a great deal. Michael didn’t think the man would appreciate his prurient thoughts.

Ed Welham had a very distinguished air, his teak-brown hair going gray only at the temples, and his deep green eyes stamping proof of his relationship to his daughter upon him. Yet, Ed’s eyes gleamed with shrewd business sense. His daughter’s sparkled with something else. Something Michael didn’t want to decipher.

“Hello, gentlemen,” Darcy said, all business. “I’m Darcy, and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”

With a promise like that coming from Darcy, Michael wondered if he shouldn’t have paramedics standing by.

Her father chuckled. “Ah, Princess, cut the crap.”

Princess? Yup, figures he’d call her Princess.

Darcy darted a look both ways, then quickly bent and pressed a kiss on her father’s cheek. “Hi, Daddy.”

Edward patted her hand, gazing up at her fondly. “Staying out of trouble, Princess?”

Michael almost snorted. Darcy’s narrowed gaze stopped him. She returned her attention to her father. “I’m having fun, Daddy.”

Touché
,
Michael thought. That was probably the best non-answer he’d ever heard. Of course, she probably had a lot of practice.

“Darcy, who burned down the house?”

“Want to roast some wienies, Daddy?”

Straightening to almost military stiffness, she said, “Now, what can I get you two from the bar?”

They ordered cocktails, then, as Darcy walked away without a single mishap in round one, Michael watched Edward watch his daughter. His eyes glowed with a father’s pride. That told Michael he needed to tread carefully. He didn’t want to offend the man by insulting his daughter.

Edward dragged his attention away from Darcy. “She blow anything up yet?” he asked, grinning.

Michael’s mouth almost dropped open. He stared mutely at the man.

Laughing, Edward said, “Don’t worry, Davidson. I know all about my daughter’s . . . hmm . . . accident-prone nature.” He sighed. “Her mother and I used to believe that Darcy’s exploits were a way of getting attention, because we were gone so much. But as she grew up and didn’t grow out of it, we were forced to face facts.”

Michael sat forward. “With all due respect, sir, a restaurant is a dangerous place for someone with your daughter’s . . . nature.”

“This is true. Which was why we always thought it best to keep her away when she was younger. We were just too busy to supervise her.” He looked at his hand thoughtfully. “I’m not certain that wasn’t a mistake.”

“I’m sure you did what you thought best,” Michael said. But he wondered about that. The restaurant business kept crazy hours, especially for an owner. Who’d watched Darcy while her parents built an empire?

He shook his head. What did he care who’d baby-sat the woman? As far as he was concerned, she still needed a keeper, if for nothing else than to save her from killing herself or someone else.

Leaning on his crossed forearms, he asked, “If Darcy didn’t have anything to do with the restaurants growing up, why her sudden interest in keeping them now?”

“Got me by the tail. I was as surprised as anyone when she came flying home in a huff. I’d had no idea she was so sentimental about the restaurants.” His lips pursed. “To tell you the truth, I lost all sentiment for the restaurants the moment Jeannie died. I only kept them this long to give me something to keep me busy.” He grinned. “But I’m at that age where a round of golf a day is all the busy I need.”

Their drinks arrived, and Michael braced himself to get his poured in his lap. When she deposited them without incident, he frowned.