by Tiffani Lynn
****
It’s been four days, and I thought I could stay away, but that just isn’t happening. She’s been a whirling dervish in my mind since I left. I walked back to her apartment this morning to get the address. Then I had the florist deliver a basket of high-end chocolates, expensive watercolor paints, and a huge bouquet of red amaryllis flowers to her address. The card read:
Darcy,
I’m not looking for forever, but right now would be nice.
Call me sometime. 219-536-8355.
Finn Thompson
Several days go by, and she still doesn’t call, so I assume she’s not calling. I wish I could say I brush it off and keep going, but instead I’m unhappy to report that I’m surly and hot tempered beyond what I should be. My teammates are starting to get tired of it, and I have to find a way to let it go or Coach will be benching me. This is not the kind of behavior you’d expect from the team captain. The question is, how do I get her to go out with me again?
Chapter Four: Darcy
I’m not home from the store longer than a few minutes when my doorbell rings. I look through the peephole to see a guy holding a basket and flowers. I probably shouldn’t open the door, but I can’t help it. The red in the flowers tempts me and wins, and I decide to throw caution to the wind.
“Are you Darcy? I was given no last name, just an address.”
“Yeah, I’m Darcy.”
He thrusts an amazing bouquet in a crystal clear vase at me and a huge basket filled with I don’t know what yet.
“Give me a second to put these down and I’ll grab your tip.”
“No need, Miss. The person who sent the flowers already took care of it. Have a good day.”
I set both items down on my small sunshine yellow kitchen table and dig around for the card. In the basket is the most colorful array of watercolor paints I’ve seen outside of a hobby shop and at closer inspection they’re the expensive ones. There’s also an obscene amount of fancy chocolate in this basket. Removing the card from the envelope, I read it, not once, but three times. Melt my heart. God, I’m dying to call him, but guys like him are either looking for a one-night stand or a wife. It’s never anything in the middle, and I’m not wife material. My kink doesn’t match the suburban mom/housewife profile. In fact, I’m sure if he learned all there is about me, he’d be running for the hills and not sending me amazing goodies to get my attention.
The one time I broke my rule and fell for a guy, he ended up stomping all over my heart after he found out who I really am inside and how I express it. Art is my hobby and I do exhibitions a few times a year. My next one is in two weeks, but it’s not my livelihood and I don’t think he’d care too much for my real profession. I put the card back in the flowers and move them to my studio. Then I empty the new colors onto the desk. I move the third painting of Finn I completed in as many days and put up a blank canvas. The first thing to hit the canvas is a splash of red as I work out my frustration.
Two weeks later, I’m still channeling thoughts of Finn through my painting and even included some of those in my gallery showing tonight. The pieces post-Finn are my most eye catching and colorful to date. Something about him stirred up my creativity.
I step inside the gallery converted from what was former law offices. The walls are a muted grey, the door handles and other hardware including light fixtures are all chrome giving the space a sleek modern feel. My paintings are spread out through out the room adding a ridiculous level of happy ambiance to the space. A smile stretches across my face as I spy Enrique, the flamboyant gallery owner.
“Hello, Darcy! You look lovely this evening.”
“Thank you, Enrique. You look handsome too.” He’s sporting a grey tailored suit fitted perfectly to his lean frame with a black button up shirt underneath sans tie. Hair artfully styled with the latest male hair product and a perfectly manicured goatee he’s definitely good looking just not very manly. Dazzling me with his ultra-white smile, he presents me the crook of his arm, which I take. He guides me to the gallery floor and passes me a glass of champagne. He holds his up and says, “To a world of color and the sexy beast that inspired you.”
I feel my face heat up and glance around the room as I take a sip of the bubbly drink. My latest paintings are colorful, but then again nothing I ever do is in black and white. My dress tonight is black, but I’m rocking a pair of sexy red sky-high heels and dangling ruby earrings. If anyone got a look at the lingerie underneath they’d see its royal blue. I only wore the black because my friend Audrey says that a little black dress is a necessity at these things. I agree with her, but I always pair it with colorful shoes and accessories. My hair is piled on top of my head in an elegant yet sexy updo with a few tendrils hanging loose.
An hour into the show, and I find myself backed into the far corner talking to a short, bald man who seems more interested in my cleavage than in my work, and I can’t seem to get away from him. I was trying to catch Enrique’s eye so he’d help me, but thus far it hasn’t worked. As I attempt my latest escape technique, by claiming I’m being waved down across the room, I spin away. Not paying attention to who is behind me, I smack straight into a rock-hard chest. I take a deep breath, using his arms in front of me to steady myself as I back up, ready to apologize. It’s then that the scent registers. It’s a hint of a cologne I’ve only smelled once before and clean, warm skin. Only one person smells exactly like this.
Finn.
My gaze travels up his incredibly tall frame, and then locks on his striking blue eyes I thought I’d never see him again except in pictures. I feel myself blush to my roots.
“Um… Hi,” I mutter sheepishly.
Delectable smile in place, but eyes tinged with irritation, he says, “Darcy, you look amazing. Congratulations on a successful show.”
My focus is locked on his handsome face. A sweep of unruly dark hair falls over his forehead but doesn’t block the view of his sapphire eyes perfectly framed by long dark eyelashes. His straight strong nose shouldn’t grace the face of a hockey player, but it does. The sudden urge to run my fingers along his jaw is almost overwhelming as I note that he shaved his face recently and is now letting the beard grow back. The stubble along his jaw is so sexy. This is the same face I’ve painted at least fifty times since he was in my studio. Ten of those pictures are here tonight.
Shit.
I turn my attention to the ground, unable to see the tension in his face without guilt.
“I’m sorry. I should have told you these would end up here. I hadn’t planned on them being here, but they were so good I couldn’t leave them out. The one of you on my couch has gotten the most compliments. I was offered a great deal of money for it, but I told them it wasn’t for sale.”
“I’m not upset about that.”
“You aren’t?” Shocked, my gaze jump to his.
“No. It’s obvious I made a bigger impression than I thought, since you never called. Why? I’ve been going crazy wanting to see you again. I thought maybe you just weren’t interested at all, but your work tells a different story. What’s the deal, Darcy?”
“If you thought I wasn’t interested, why did you come here?”
He steps so close to me that he’s now in my personal space, and his monstrous hand cups my jaw to hold it in place.
He ignores my questions and says, “I want the truth this time.”
“Can we talk about this later? I don’t want to have this conversation here in the middle of my show.”
“That’s fair, but I’m not leaving here without you. Unless you’re married or dating someone else. Are you?”
“No! Of course not!” I’m a little offended he’d ask that.
He ignores my attitude and replies, “Good. Then I’ll wait for you to finish. Go mingle. Be charming. I’ll just look around.”
He surprises me by placing a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth and striding away.
Tanisha, my best friend, scoots over as quickly as her four-inch
-high heels will carry her and grabs my arm.
“Oh my gosh! He’s the hockey hottie from a few weeks ago? The one plastered all over the paintings. He’s even better looking in person. Why wouldn’t you call him back? I think I felt my panties ignite just by looking at him.”
I roll my eyes and move a wild curl away from her mocha-colored cheek.
“Shhhh. We don’t need to announce it,” I chastise.
“Just be cool, and I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. He’s sticking around so I can explain why I painted the shit out of him, but blew him off like I wasn’t interested. He has no clue what my issues are. I need to figure out how much I’ll tell him, but for now I need to be professional and mingle there are still people coming in the door and at least thirty I haven’t talked with yet.”
“Good luck with that, girl. It’s obvious he scrambled your brain. I’ve never seen you so harried or quietly obsessed over one of your subjects. It’s kind of cute.”
“Tanisha,” I growl through gritted teeth.
She pats my arm and says, “Well I’m going to go help Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome over there in the grey suit and pick out a lovely painting for his office. I met him earlier. His name is Jaylen, and he’s an attorney with one of the big firms downtown. How do I look?” She pats her beautiful fluffy hair.
“You’re always gorgeous, and that dress,” I gesture from top to bottom, “over that ass… is what perked his interest I’m sure. Go get him.” My amazing best friend sashays away to stand by the hunk who is admiring my Lake Michigan series.
I make my rounds over the next two hours and as the last person leaves the room, I realize Enrique is standing with Finn having a nice laugh. The sound of glasses clinking as the staff cleans up doesn’t drown out the the schoolgirl like giggling he’s doing at everything the giant hockey player is saying, and I groan as I mosey over to save them.
As I approach, Enrique grasps my hand and holds tight, flashing his super white grin.
“Where’ve you been hiding this one? It should’ve been obvious after helping you hang the pieces this was not an imaginary person.” His free hand flaps excitedly right before he points at the picture closest to us.
I crush his hand in a shut-up-or-I’ll-shut-you-up manner.
“Owe, Mami! What’s wrong with you?!” His heavily accented Spanish sounds whiny.
I glare at him a little longer than necessary and comment, “I see you’ve met Finn.”
Finn smiles and says, “Yes, Mr. Ramos has been quite forthcoming with information.”
He switches his attention back to Enrique and puts his hand out to shake with the gallery owner.
“It was very nice to meet you.”
“You too, Mr. Thompson. I’m hopeful we’ll see more of you!”
He cackles after the last, letting us all know he’s alluding to seeing more skin, not necessarily him more often.
“Geez,” I grumble
“Come on, let me take you home and we can talk. Unless you’d rather go to my place tonight?”
“My place is fine. Let’s go.”
Finn drives us in his souped-up, extended-cab, and fully-loaded black truck to my apartment. After we get inside and I kick my shoes off, I offer him a drink that he declines and we head for the couch. I sit first this time, picking the far corner. I reach down to rub my sore feet as he sits in the middle instead of the other corner. His suit coat and tie are laying across the back of my recliner. It’s strange that just the sight of his things in my space affects me the way that it does. I notice the top two buttons of his dress shirt are undone, which trips my brain into flashback mode and runs a reel of all the delicious things we did here the last time. Damn.
He doesn’t ask, he just pulls my right foot from my own hand and grabs the other to join it. He lays them across his lap and begins to rub with strong, capable fingers. Not meaning to, but unable to help myself, my head falls against the corner cushion of the couch, and I release a strangled groan. It’s instant paradise and possible I’ll have an orgasm if he keeps going.
His voice is quiet when he says, “So you liked me enough to paint me… more than once, but not enough to see me again. I don’t get it. Did my breath smell? Did I snore? Was I too rough with you?”
My body stiffens defensively. He’s right, I liked him enough to paint him, and think about him non-stop since that night, but I’m not about to admit it.
“First of all, I painted you while you were here. You knew that was happening. No, you don’t smell, snore and you weren’t too rough. There are things about me you don’t know.” I cross my arms over my chest protectively and continue, “Things you’d never accept that I’m not willing to change. I have no interest in dating someone more than once and running the risk of getting attached when I know in advance it won’t work out. I’m surprised you even want to see me again. Single male athletes are famous for one night stands so why are we even having this conversation?” I swallow hard, my stomach revolting at the thought of him with other women.
His expression darkens, and I realize too late I hit a sore spot with him. “Yeah, I’m famous for one night stands, but not because I enjoy jumping from bed to bed though. I just hadn’t found anyone up till now who made it worth the potential hurt if I tried for more. I dated one girl over a year ago, for a short time and she could’ve been something to me, but she was still caught up on an old flame. Turns out I was right to dump and run from her; I heard she married the guy and is expecting her first baby.
“I can’t imagine what would keep me from wanting to try with you.” He releases my foot and ticks off on his fingers, “You’re beautiful, interesting, talented, intelligent and fun,” then wiggles his hand at me like he’s showing me the five things he listed and continues tapping the same fingers a second time. Great chemistry, kooky, silly, sexy and easy to talk to. “Who wouldn’t be interested in long term with a woman like that? In everything you do, you bring color to what would normally be boring black and white. I can’t stop thinking about this silly red couch or the vivid paintings that litter your walls or the fact that your dining room table is bright yellow. Even in the midst of all this amazing color you still manage to shine bright enough to dim the rest.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment a little as I respond, “I don’t think anyone has ever said something like that to me.” Most men acknowledge the sex, but don’t notice the real me underneath that. God, that makes sending him on his way that much harder, but I know his type. Straight-laced and slightly closed off. If he got a hint of my life outside of the art world, he’d freak out and run or just assume the absolute worst. I can’t imagine having to deal with the aftermath of letting a man like Finn into my heart and having to clean up the damage when he realizes I’m not what he wants or who he thought I was.
Unable to meet his gaze, I turn my head and lock mine on a picture of the ocean I painted last year on the adjacent wall and share, “Look, we had a good time the other night. I won’t lie and say that I’m not still attracted to you, but there are things you don’t know about me and that’s not going to change. So, I don’t see the point of going any further.”
“Why can’t you just tell me and let me decide for myself if they’re things I can live with?”
He doesn’t understand, and I could shock him by blurting it out, but I don’t want to witness his disappointment or horror first hand. I give an exasperated sigh and say, “It doesn’t work like that. Been there, done that before and I ended up hurt worse than I thought possible.”
I pull my feet from his hands and place them on the floor. My elbows rest on my knees as my hands cup my face. I don’t know what else to say.
“Okay, I get that you aren’t going to tell me. Can I at least take you out sometime? It’s not like I’m around a lot anyway. During the season I’m either out of town for road games or in town but at the rink. It’s rare I have one day off much less two in a row. We don’t have to be anything serious, but I really enjoy your company,
and I’d like to take you out.” His eyes plead with me to say yes.
Damn. My heart starts a war with my mind. I guess going out on an occasional date with him wouldn’t hurt. I just need to make sure things stay that way. Deep down, I chastise myself. It’s a bad decision keeping him around for occasional dates. He’s the kind of man who doesn’t do occasional and the one who will probably tempt me to want more than occasional. I’m so screwed, but I can’t seem to cut him off completely.
“Okay, I guess we can go out from time to time. Just don’t expect much,” I warn.
“I’m not trying to move in and marry you, Darcy. I just want to take you out…” He scoots closer, his eyes simmering with lust. “Treat you to a nice meal or take you somewhere fun, and maybe if I’m lucky, get you between the sheets again.”
A boyish grin stretches across his face as he places his pointer finger under my chin and lifts until we have eye contact. I take a deep breath and swallow hard.
“Okay, I’m down with that.” I don’t get a chance to say another word. He’s on me in a hot and needy kind of way. His lips fuse to mine, and his hands grow possessive as he lifts me in his arms and stands. I wrap my legs around his waist and kiss my way up his neck to the tender spot just below his ear. The soft curling hair along his collar tickles my nose as I lick him.
Moments later, he tosses me on the bed, unbuttons his shirt, and removes the cuff links and tosses them to my dresser. Haphazardly, his shirt is flung across the room. Then with his strong grip on my ankles, I’m yanked to the edge of the bed and his warm hands reach under my dress to locate the top of my tiny bikini panties. He hooks his big fingers around the elastic and he scoots them gently down and off, leaving my thigh-high nylons in place. It’s obvious the moment he spies the lace border of my thigh high stockings, because he groans so deep it vibrates through both of us. He settles my legs over his shoulders and lowers his face to my dripping sex. I remember what his mouth is capable of, and I’m beside myself with excitement at what’s about to come.