The Harder They Fall (7 page)

Irritated, Michael waved at a dawdling Darcy again.

Frowning, she marched over to the table, a plate of pie in each hand. Dumping them on the table, she glared at Michael. “Anything else?”

“A smile might be nice,” Michael said dryly.

“Not on the menu. Do you want anything else or not? You’re not my only customers, you know.”

“I’ll take some coffee, Princess.”

Darcy’s expression softened. “Decaf coming right up.”

Ed rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Michael almost liked Ed enough to warn him that wasn’t a good idea. But this was his last chance to show Edward how wrong this environment was for her. He prayed no permanent damage was done to either of them. “I’ll take some, too.”

Her smile vanished as
she nodded curtly. “By the way, if you’d have had to pay for this meal, it would have cost you—” she closed her eyes, her mouth moving silently
^“
—seventy-five dollars and twenty-eight cents. Twenty percent of that is . . . fifteen dollars and six cents.” She slapped a small black tray on the table. “You can leave the tip here.” She walked away.

Michael stared at the tray, then looked up at Ed. “How’d she do that? She didn’t even ring it up.”

Waving, Ed said, “She’s pretty good with numbers.”

“Does she have a calculator in her head or something?”

“One of her favorite games growing up was to have Jeannie and me rattle off numbers at her. As fast as we could say them, Darcy could add, subtract, multiply and divide. When she was thirteen years old, she corrected my tax return. Probably saved me from an audit.”

Michael
shook his head. This was the woman he’d thought of as a ditz?

Ed smiled at him. “You might do well to change tactics, you know.”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“You might try a little charm. Get her to like you. Then maybe she’ll listen a little more reasonably to your offer.”

“Why would she have to listen to our offer?” Michael asked, dreading the answer.

Edward didn’t surprise him. “Because much as I’m anxious for this deal to go through, to begin my retirement, I’m not signing one page until Darcy gives the word.” He took a bite of pie while Michael silently fumed. After a sip of water, Edward added, “Switch tactics, Davidson. You’ll never change Darcy’s mind by antagonizing her. She’s stubborn like her mama that way.”

Michael closed his eyes and thought his options through. He apparently didn’t have any. The key—the only key—to acquiring Welham’s was through Darcy. Opening his eyes, he smiled grimly. “Have any suggestions?”

Ed shrugged. “Darcy’s used to people running away from her before they really get to know her. Can’t imagine how she’d react to someone wanting to know her. Really know her. I honestly don’t think the restaurant business holds that much interest for her. I think in the back of Darcy’s mind, she has other goals and dreams. Maybe you could get to know her and learn what those goals are.”

Michael swallowed again, and pushed away his pie. Getting to know Darcy sounded dangerous to him.

Extremely dangerous.

He rolled his sore tongue around his mouth. Physically hazardous.

His mind conjured up the image of Darcy’s dazed gaze as he’d kissed her. Emotionally lethal.

A sense of dread sank through him. The battle lines were clearly drawn, but Michael realized his tactics needed some revising. Glancing at Darcy’s father, he waved weakly. “Get to know her. Right.”

It didn’t take a genius to know Michael had a daunting task ahead of him. Considering the way he and Darcy had started out, he almost needed a miracle. He’d spent a restless night, listing his options. And the very next day he started working on them.

He waited until Darcy entered Welham’s back kitchen before popping a forkful of coconut cheesecake into his mouth.

“Mmmm,” he moaned, closing his eyes. “Delicious.”

He took another bite, then addressed his comment to one of the assistant chefs. “Whoever created this recipe is gifted!”

“Hope you choke on it, Davidson,” Darcy said under her breath as she passed behind him.

He gritted his teeth, pretending he hadn’t heard her. As soon as she clocked in and left, he shoved the half-eaten pie at the dishwasher. Picking up his clipboard, he slapped at the pages of his legal pad until he came to the page titled
The Darcy Dilemma.

Sweeping his gaze down the list, he came to item number three:
Try flattery.
He crossed it out with a vengeance, then wrote beside it,
Flattery won’t work.

Two days later, Michael strolled up to Darcy as she punched in an order on the computerized terminal. He eavesdropped on her mumbling.

“The man with the red hair . . . potato soup, stuffed shrimp, side of spaghetti and a coke . . .”

Forcing a friendly smile on his face, he said, “Hey, you’re doing a great job with that party of ten.”

She looked up quickly. And promptly rang up about a thousand dollars’ worth of food. “Oh, no! Now look what you made me do!”

“Hey, don’t worry,” he said, his voice as soothing as possible. He reached over and pressed the cancel button, breathing in her alluring perfume. “There. All gone.”

She turned to him and rested her hip against the counter. Crossing her arms over her chest, she managed to turn glaring into an art form. “All gone, all right. Every single item I just keyed in for that party of ten I’m doing such a bang-up job on.”

Michael shot her a sheepish grimace. “Sorry.”

“What are you up to, Davidson?”

“Up to?”

“I’m not buying this sudden friendliness, so you might as well give it up.” With that she turned back to the computer and started jabbing in her orders, muttering what sounded suspiciously like a list of names. None of them nice.

A whole slew of retorts bounced through Michael’s mind. Before he could choose just which one he wanted to fling at her, she pushed him aside and sailed into the kitchen.

Swearing under his breath, he went to Tom’s office and grabbed his clipboard.

He crossed out item number two,
Try acting friendly.
Beside it he wrote,
Friendliness isn’t working.

“Your hair looks very pretty tonight,”
Michael told Darcy later that night. She’d taken it down after her shift was over, and he’d walked into the break room as she combed it out.

It wasn’t a lie. Michael could spend a few weeks getting lost in that hair. He’d never known he’d particularly had a hair fetish, but after seeing Darcy’s, he was certain that thick, long, silky hair was a feature he wanted the women he dated to possess.

His compliment fell on deaf ears. Darcy ignored him, flinging her hair over her head and bending over, to comb it from her nape to the ends.

“I bet a lot of the men you dated loved your hair,” he said, trying again.

Her brush stilled in mid-stroke. Since her hair completely obliterated her face, he couldn’t see her expression.

He itched to rub some of the strands through his fingers, but he thought that might be taking his flirtation a little too far. So he settled for verbal assaults. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Grace Kelly?”

That got her attention. She swiped the brush through her hair one last time, then flung the blond mass back over her head. She didn’t appear all that flattered.

“No,” she replied tersely.

“I think the resemblance is uncanny.”

“Too bad you don’t look a thing like Cary Grant,” she retorted, then moved to walk by him.

Frustrated, Michael grasped her arm. “Why do you dislike me so much, Darcy?” he asked, surprised that it really bothered him. “I know we got off to a bad start, but I’m really trying here. Can’t you meet me halfway?”

She pulled her arm from his grasp. “Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Why this sudden interest in me?”

His eyes traveled lazily over her features, and he gave her what he hoped was a slow, provocative smile. “You’re a damn beautiful woman. Surely you’re aware of that.”

Her snort wasn’t exactly the type one expected to hear from a beautiful Grace Kelly type. “May I recommend
To Catch a Thief?
Cary was particularly charming in that one.”

Michael hissed one short, succinct swearword while he watched Darcy stroll away.
Flirting sure isn’t working,
he thought, following her.

“Can I help you with that?”

Startled by the deep voice behind her, Darcy jumped . . . and promptly lost her balance on the stool. Her arms flapped like a bird’s as she tried to keep from falling.

She lost the battle with gravity.

And fell right into Michael Davidson’s arms.

He looked as startled to find her there as she herself felt. His arms were steel bands under her body. If holding her was a strain, it didn’t show in his face. In fact, his surprise had faded and another look took its place, one that made her flush with heat. His eyes fastened on her lips, giving Darcy no doubt about where his thoughts had strayed.

With what looked like effort, he dragged his gaze up to stare into her eyes. “You all right?”

No, she was not all right. She was far from all right. In fact, she’d lay odds she was slightly out of her mind at the moment. She had this awful desire to put her arms around his neck and lay her head on his shoulder.

Probably because a man had never held her like this. Or maybe because his aftershave smelled wonderful. Or possibly because he was about the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Whatever—she felt a little too comfortable in the enemy’s arms.

She wiggled. “Put me down.”

He did, nearly dumping her on her rump.

Darcy automatically clutched his arm, trying to steady herself. His muscles flexed under her fingers. She stared at his arm in surprise. No wonder he’d had no trouble holding her. That was one big muscle under there.

She looked up and caught his amused smile. Snatching her hand back, she hiked her chin. “Thanks for almost getting me killed.”

His amusement vanished. “Almost killing you! I just saved your tail, woman!”

“I wouldn’t have fallen if you hadn’t snuck up behind me.”

“I was trying to help!”

Darcy glared at the man. A week had passed since his dinner with her father. Over the course of those days, Michael Davidson had continued to stick to her like a shadow, but something had changed, something subtle. He no longer looked at her as if she were a social disease. He no longer took notes whenever Darcy made a mistake. He’d even taken down the breakage chart.

The creep was up to something.

“If I want your help, I’ll ask for it,” she retorted. “And believe me, I won’t.”

The creep-who-was-up-to-something stared at her, then slowly shook his head. As he walked away, she thought he mumbled something about charm and brick walls.

Michael considered himself
an intelligent man. Resourceful. Organized. Even creative when he had to be.

But as he looked down at the page on his legal pad, frustration clouded his mind. The Darcy Dilemma was driving him crazy. Over the week since his dinner with Ed Welham, he’d tried to subtly act kinder to her. He’d even tried to tease her a little. She’d responded to all of his efforts with suspicion.

He glared at his list.

Charm isn’t working,
he’d written. Boy, now there was an understatement. Darcy Welham wouldn’t recognize charm if it came up and bit her on the butt.

He had to admit, he didn’t think Darcy had much practice with men. Whenever he’d tried to tease her, she seemed to digest the gesture, analyze it, looking for hidden meaning. He suspected she wasn’t used to men flirting with her.