by Nora Roberts
Better yet, we can arrange for Mac to have the desk take your calls until things cool off a bit.”
“That’s like running again, isn’t it?”
“No. It’s protecting yourself, and it’s staying in control. If you want to do interviews, you can set them up. When you’ve figured out what it is you want to do, you contact a financial advisor. Whatever you do, you do at your pace.”
“I’m in charge,” Darcy said when they stopped at the door of her suite.
“Exactly. If you have any questions or concerns, you can call me. I’ll be around through tomorrow. After that, you can reach me in Boston.”
“I don’t know how to begin to thank you.”
“Enjoy yourself.” He gave the hand she offered a squeeze. “And don’t forget how much fun it was to buy a new dress.”
“Keep it simple,” she murmured, understanding.
“Atta girl.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Alone, Darcy stepped into the suite. Keeping it simple wasn’t as easy as it sounded. She was a rich woman with her fifteen minutes of fame in its initial seconds. The message light on her phone was blinking, and the phone itself began to ring. Taking Caine’s advice, she ignored it, waiting until it stopped, then taking the receiver off the hook.
Problem solved, she thought, for now.
But she had much deeper, much more complex problems that sudden wealth had nothing to do with.
She was in love and knew there was no point in questioning it, debating it or denying it. Her heart was the one thing she’d always been sure of.
Often she’d imagined what it would be like to lose it, the thrill and the anxiety of the fall. She’d always wondered who it would be who would make everything inside her yearn. How they would be together—for in her dreams he’d loved her as well.
But this wasn’t a dream or imagination. Loving Mac was simply and brutally real, with the physical needs so much sharper and more vital than she’d believed herself capable of.
She wanted him, to touch him, to taste, to fulfill the promise of that frantic kiss. She wanted to tremble with the knowledge she was desirable, and oh, she wanted to know what it was to lose herself in sensations.
Just as much, she wanted to curl up against him and know she was welcome there. Even expected there. She wanted to exchange those quiet looks that people who were truly intimate could use as effectively as words.
To be loved in return.
That wasn’t a simple matter.
But something about her stirred him, and that in itself was a miracle. If he could want her, perhaps there was a chance for more. It wasn’t any more impossible, she supposed, than winning more than a million dollars on the single pull of a lever.
Comforted by that, she snuggled into the corner of the sofa, rested her head on the big, soft pillow tucked there and let herself imagine.
She dreamed of showgirls, dozens of them with endless legs and bountiful breasts showcased in brief, glittering costumes and colorful, floating feathers.
She stood among them, miles too short, wearing layers too plain to be noticed. A wren among exotic birds.
Their long legs flashed, their lush bodies turned and twirled while she stumbled through the complex routine. She couldn’t keep up, couldn’t compete. No matter how hard she tried, she was always a step behind. Mac stood watching, a small, amused smile on his face. Beautiful women with long, curvy bodies spun gracefully, seductively around him. Take your pick, they seemed to say.
His gaze flicked down to her face when she stopped in front of him. Where did you come from? You don’t belong here.
But I want to stay.
He only patted her cheek, then gently nudged her along. This isn’t the place for you, Darcy from Kansas. You don’t even know where you are.
I do know. I do. And it could be the place for me. I want it to be.
And there was Gerald, taking her hand, tugging her away. He had that impatient frown on his face, that irritated scowl in his eyes.
It’s time to stop this foolishness. If you insist on pretending to be what you’re not, you’re only going to embarrass yourself. I’m tired of waiting for you to come to your senses. We’re going home.
“I’m not going back.” She murmured it as she broke through the surface of the dream. “I’m not going back,” she said more definitely, opening her eyes to find the room had become dark while she’d slept.
She lay there another moment, ordering both the dream and the depression that accompanied it to fade.
“I’m staying here.” She wrapped her arms around the pillow. “No matter what.”
Chapter 7
Darcy had been at The Comanche nearly a week and was amazed at how much of the hotel she’d yet to explore.
She’d managed to catch the stunning display of horsemanship presented in the auditorium twice a day, where beautiful fast horses and daring riders in authentic Comanche costumes teamed up for a spectacular performance.
She’d wandered around the lavish outdoor pool with its sparkling water contained in bright tile cannily shaped in a wide C, and dipped her fingers into the smaller lagoon, secluded by palms and fed by a musical waterfall.
She’d indulged herself in the spa and treatment center, had roamed nearly half the wide array of shops, but had yet to slip inside any of the three theaters or walk through the many ballrooms and conference rooms, or find an excuse to visit the business center.
The longer she was a guest of The Comanche, she thought, the more it seemed to grow.
When the elevator let her out on the roof, she stepped into a lush oasis of palms and tangling flowered vines. The morning sun showered onto the rich blue waters of the pool, shooting diamonds of light onto the surface.
Chaises and chairs in the hotel’s colors of sapphire and emerald were arranged to offer ease to sun worshipers or those who preferred the shade.
Seated at one of the glass tables under the jewel-tone stripes of a slanted umbrella was Daniel MacGregor.
He got to his feet when he saw her, and Darcy was again struck by the raw power of the man who had lived nearly a century, had built empires, raised a president, stood at the head of a fascinating family.
“Thanks so much for agreeing to see me like this, Mr. MacGregor.”
He winked and gallantly pulled out a chair for her. “A pretty woman calls and asks to see me alone, I’d be a fool to say no.” He took his seat across from her. Instantly a waiter appeared with a pot of coffee. “Do you want breakfast, lass?”
“No.” She smiled weakly. “I’m too nervous to eat.”
“Food’s just what you need then. Bring the girl some bacon and eggs—you need some meat on you,” he said to Darcy. “Scramble the eggs, and don’t be stingy with the hash browns. And bring me the same.”
“Right away, Mr. MacGregor.”
And that, Darcy mused as the waiter scurried away, was likely the typical response of those who came into Daniel MacGregor’s orbit. Right away, Mr. MacGregor, and off they rushed to follow orders.
“Now.” He picked up his cup. “You’ll eat and see if you don’t feel steadier. A lot’s happened to you in a short time. Anybody’d be a bit rocky. My grandson’s taking good care of you?”
“Yes. He’s been wonderful. All of you have been wonderful.”
“But the ground seems a bit boggy under your feet.”
“Yes.” Her breath came out in a whoosh of relief that he understood. “It’s all so … foreign. Exciting,” she added, scanning the lush rooftop garden. “I feel as if I’ve dropped down into the middle of a book, and I’m vague on the first chapters and don’t have any idea how it’s going to end.”
“Nothing wrong with enjoying the page you’re on.”
“No, and I have been.” Self-consciously she lifted a hand to finger the silver-and-gold twists that dangled from her ear. “But I have to think about what’s going to happen when I turn that page. I can’t keep buying new clothes and earri
ngs, and living in the moment. Money’s a responsibility, isn’t it?”
He leaned back, lips pursed as he studied her. Delicate she might look, he mused, but there was nothing delicate about her brain. He had a feeling it was both strong and flexible. All the better, he decided. The wife of his grandson should possess a nimble mind and not a shallow one.
“That it is,” he said, and smiled at her.
The smile confused her. It was so … canny. And there were secrets dancing in those bright blue eyes. A little flustered, she picked up her coffee, forgetting to add her customary cream. “There were dozens of calls on my voice mail when I checked it this morning.”
“That’s to be expected.”
“Yes, I know. Mac told me it would happen, but I didn’t imagine there would be so many. Reporters …” She laughed a little. “People from magazines I’ve read, television shows I’ve watched suddenly want to talk to me. I haven’t done anything. I haven’t saved a life or found the cure for the common cold or given birth to quintuplets.”
His brows shot up. “Do multiple births run in your family?”
“No.”
“Pity,” he murmured. He’d have enjoyed twin babies. Still, he brushed that aside as Darcy stared at him in confusion. “You’ve lived a common fantasy. Instant wealth. And you’re young, pretty, you come from a small town in the Midwest and you were down to your last dollar. It’s a good story. People who read it or hear it can root for you, and imagine it could happen to them.”
“Yes, I suppose that’s true. It’s only fair I talk to some of them.” She paused as the waiter returned with two heaping plates. Daunted, Darcy stared down at hers while Daniel dug into his with gusto.
“Eat up, girl. You need some fuel.”
She picked up her fork. “I didn’t know they served meals up here.”
Daniel grinned. “They don’t. Just drinks and such as a rule. But it’s a fine thing to break the rules now and then. You wanted to be private,” he reminded her. “And not many come up here so early in the day. The restaurants inside will likely be packed with people wanting the special buffet and the like.”
“There are six restaurants,” she told him. “I read about them in the hotel guide. Six. And four swimming pools.”
“People have to eat, and some like to be seen around the pool when they’re not gambling.”
“I can’t get over how … huge this place is. Theaters and lounges, the open-air auditorium. It’s a maze.”
“And all roads lead back to the casino. It’s not a casual design,” he added with a wink. “Whatever else there is to do in a hotel of this nature, gambling’s the hub.”
“It’s beautiful and exciting. Then you come up here, and you can look beyond it all and see the desert. I love looking at the desert.”
“One of the reasons there aren’t any windows in the casino. Wouldn’t want any distraction.” He shot her a warrior’s grin. “You should eat a good breakfast, then when it’s settled, take yourself a nice swim. I swim most every day. Keeps me young.”
It was more than that, Darcy thought. It was the energy, the avid interest in life, the delight in the challenge of it that kept him vital. She was counting on that interest and that delight. “Um … Mr. MacGregor, Caine—gave me a list of names. Financial advisors, brokers, that sort of thing.”
Daniel grunted and, since no one was around to stop him, dashed salt on his potatoes. “You need to protect your capital.”
“I understand that, particularly since a large percentage of the calls on my voice mail were from people wanting to discuss my finances. One offered to fly me into Los Angeles, put me up at the Beverly Wilshire so that I could take a meeting.”
Frowning, she buttered a piece of toast. “Most of them sounded very interested in discussing portfolios and investments, but none of them were on the list your son gave me.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“I wrote them down. I have both lists. I wondered if you would mind looking at them? I know your son prefers giving me a range of choices, but I think I’d do better if I was pointed in a specific direction.”
“Let’s have a look.” Daniel pulled his glasses out of his pocket, perched them on his nose as Darcy took her lists from her purse. “Ha! Vultures, fly-by-nights. Grifters.” With barely a glance he slapped the first list facedown. “You’ll want to stay away from these, lass.”
She nodded. “That’s what I thought. That’s the list of the ones who called. This is the one your son gave me.”
He tapped his fingers on the table as he read the second list. “The boy learned, didn’t he?” Pleased with the names Caine had offered, Daniel scratched his chin through his beard. “Any one of these would do well for you. The best thing is for you to interview the top man at each firm, get a feel for it. Let them woo you, then trust your gut.”
She was already trusting her gut but wasn’t quite ready to tell him what she wanted. “I’ve never had any money, never had more to worry about—and over—than what I could juggle in my checking account month to month. Last night, I tried to imagine what a million dollars would look like. I couldn’t. And now, even after taxes, I have a bit more than what I can’t even imagine.”
Daniel poured himself a second cup of coffee. Anna would scalp him, he thought with delight, if she knew he was slurping up that much caffeine. “Tell me what you want from your money.”
From it, she thought. Not what she wanted to do with it, but what she wanted from it. “Time,” she said immediately. “Time enough so that I can do what I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve always wanted to write, and always had to steal the time to do it. I want that first, the time to finish my new book, then time to start the next,” she said with a smile. “Because I want to be a writer, and the only way to be one is to write.”
“Are you any good at it?”
“Yes, I am. It’s the only thing I’ve ever really been good at, really felt confident about. I just need another few weeks to finish the one I’m working on.”
“The money’ll buy you more than a few weeks.”
“I know. I intend to have fun with it, too.” Her eyes glinted as she leaned forward. “I’m starting to realize that fun wasn’t a big part of my life. I’m going to correct that. Whoever said money couldn’t buy happiness must have been happy to begin with. Because if it can’t, at least it can buy the opportunity to explore being happy.” She laughed and settled back. “I’m going to explore being happy, Mr. MacGregor.”
“That’s a sensible thing.”
“Yes, I think it is. Being happy isn’t something I’m going to take for granted,” she said quietly, “or something I intend to waste.”
He laid his big hand over hers. “Have you been so unhappy?”
“I suppose in some ways I have been.” She moved her shoulders restlessly. “But I have a chance now to make choices, for myself. It makes all the difference in the world. So I want to make good choices.”
“I think you will.” He gave her hand a squeeze and a pat. “You’ve already started to.”
“I want to use the money well. And I want to give some back.”
“To my grandson?”
“Oh.” She laughed again and propped her elbows on the table. “In the casino. Yes, indeed. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? But I meant to give some of that money, that time and that opportunity to explore happiness back. I want to make a donation, to literacy, I think. It fits, doesn’t it?”
“Aye.” He reached out to pat her cheek. “It fits, and you wear it well.”
“I don’t know how it’s done, though. I thought you would.”
“I’d be happy to help you with it.” When the waiter came to remove their plates, Daniel waved a hand. “Leave hers,” he ordered. “She hasn’t eaten enough. Now,” he continued as Darcy and the waiter exchanged resigned glances, “you’ll have your time, your opportunity, and you’ll have given something back. Unless you intend to toss around money like confetti, and you
don’t strike me as an idiot, you’ll have quite a bit left over. What do you want from that?”
She bit her lip, easing forward. “More,” she said, then blinked when he threw back his head and roared with laughter.
“Now there’s a lass with a head on her shoulders. I knew it.”
“It sounds greedy, but—”
“It sounds sane,” he corrected. “Why should you want less? More is better, after all. You want your money to work for you. I’d call you a fool if you wanted otherwise.”
“Mr. MacGregor.” She took a deep breath and rolled the dice. “I want you to take my money and make it work for me.”
The blue eyes narrowed. “Do you now? And why is that?”
“Because it seems to me I’d be a fool to settle for less than the best.”
His eyes remained narrowed, fixed on her face so intensely she felt heat rising to her cheeks. Certain she’d gone too far, she started to babble an apology.
Then the mouth surrounded by that white beard began to curve. “Neither of us are fools, are we, lass?”
“No, sir.”
“Well then.” Grinning, his eyes sparkling with challenge, he twisted the gold knob on his cane. When it hinged back, he slipped out a thick cigar. With the lighter he took out of his pocket, he touched tip of flame reverently to tip of cigar, his bright eyes closing in pleasure as he took the first puffs.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, Mr. MacGregor, but—”
“Daniel,” he said, and grinned fiercely. “We’re partners, aren’t we? Eat,” he ordered when Darcy only stared at him. “I’ve a couple ideas for how to get you that ‘more’ you’d like. Are you a gambler, little girl?”
With her head light and her heart soaring, Darcy bit into a piece of bacon. “It looks like I am.”
Mac had a lot on his mind. The media was executing a full-court press, scrambling for access to Darcy. Reporters were wild for interviews and personal data. The morning editions, both local and national, had played variations on the theme.
Little Darcy from Kansas Hits Yellow Brick Road
From Kansas to Oz On Three-Dollar Bet
Over the Rainbow with a Million for Kansas Librarian
Normally he would have been amused, and certainly pleased at the positive publicity the story generated for Comanche Vegas. Reservations in the hotel were soaring, and he had no doubt that the casino would be three deep at the slots and tables as long as the story was hot.
He could handle the demands on his time, the incessant requests for interviews and photos. He could add staff to each shift, and intended to work the floor himself during peak periods. In fact, his parents had already agreed to extend their stay a few days and pitch in. And he preferred, just now, to have his plate overfull.
God knows he needed the distraction to keep his mind off his libido. It was suddenly and insistently on edge due to one small, big-eyed woman with a shy smile.
He wasn’t inclined toward a serious relationship and certainly didn’t intend to become involved with an innocent, naive woman who didn’t know the difference between a straight and a flush.
He considered himself a disciplined man who knew how to control his baser instincts and resist temptations. He didn’t play at love like his brother, Duncan. Nor did he consider it a pesky fly to be swatted aside like his sister Amelia. And he certainly had no intention of settling down and raising a family at this stage of his life as his sister Gwen was doing.
For Mac, love was something to be dealt with eventually, when there was time, when the odds were favorable and when there was a good chance of raking in all the chips.
He wanted what his parents had. Perhaps he hadn’t realized that quite so clearly until Darcy had pointed out just what they did have together. But he could admit he had always used them as his yardstick where relationships were concerned.
It was undoubtedly the reason he’d avoided any long-term or serious ones up to this point.
He enjoyed women, but involvement beyond a certain level led to complications, and complications invariably led to hurt on one side or the other. He’d been very careful not to hurt any of the women who had brushed in and out of his life.
He had no intention of breaking that particular rule now.
As far as Darcy Wallace was concerned, he’d decided it was a bad bet all around. She was too inexperienced, too vulnerable.
He was setting her firmly off-limits. Friendship, he ordered himself. A steadying hand until she had her feet firmly under her, and nothing more.