The awkwardness between him and Darcy had waned but lay just beneath the surface of good manners and appropriate public behavior. He still couldn’t look at her without thinking about the taste of her lips or the silkiness of her skin. And he couldn’t bear to see Blake’s arm around her without feeling jealousy’s bite. His inner caveman yelled, ‘Mine!’
“Wow! Josh, this is amazing! Really.” Darcy scanned the room as she spoke.
“She’s right, Josh. It’s impressive,” Blake confirmed.
“Thanks. You know the saying, ‘It takes a village.’ Well, it truly took a village to put this together.”
Darcy stretched to place a kiss on his cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”
Josh’s cheek burned where her lips touched him, and he resisted the urge to touch his face to see if she’d branded him with her kiss.
“The table is this way.” He led them to the front of the stately room, near the stage. “Laura’s already here, and so are Kelly and Daniel. You should see Daniel,” he continued. “He looks very handsome in his suit, but you’d think someone forced him to wear a noose the way he keeps pulling at his collar.”
The large round table would seat Darcy and her family, Blake, Laura, Kelly, Daniel, Mark, Chris, Martin, Cindy, and himself, giving them an uninterrupted view of the evening’s speakers, one of whom was Kelly.
Several women who have used the Legal Fund’s services planned to speak briefly about what it meant to them, followed by former Jets’ defensive tackle, Jordy Jacobs, whose late mother was a recipient of the Fund’s services when Jordy was just a teenager.
“Mom, are you nervous?” Daniel asked.
Kelly looked around the crowded room, and placed a hand to her chest. “God, yes!”
Darcy took the seat next to her and, grasping the hand in Kelly’s lap, gave it a squeeze. “You’ll be great. Just speak from the heart. Oh, and picture everyone naked.”
Daniel’s eyes grew big. “What? Ewww!”
“It’s just a little speaker’s trick to calm the nerves,” Josh explained as he took the seat on the other side of Daniel.
“That wouldn’t calm my nerves. It would make me want to hurl.”
“Daniel,” Kelly admonished.
“Darcy, thanks again for contributing to the auction.” Josh gave her a warm smile.
“You’re welcome. I don’t know how much money it will bring, but I’m happy to help.”
Kelly’s eyes lit up. “What did you contribute?”
Laura chimed in as she sat down, “Dinner with NY Times best-selling author Darcy Butler.”
“I have to bid on that.” Kelly shook her head. “Oh, but I’m sure I can’t bid enough to win.”
Darcy lifted a glass of champagne, a look of confusion on her face. “We’re friends. Why should a friend have to bid on dinner? We can have dinner any time.”
“Aw, thanks Darcy,” Kelly replied, her eyes bright with pleasure.
“Told you we’d get $500 a ticket,” Laura whispered, as she adjusted Josh’s tie.
Josh glanced around the room quickly filling with wealthy patrons. “Yes, you did. And you were right.”
“Joshua Michael Ryan, this is no fun!”
“The event?”
“No. You being so agreeable. I can’t wait for this night to end so we can get back to normal.”
Josh just grinned as he took a sip of champagne.
Chapter 38
The evening was in full swing when Darcy slid into the empty chair next to Josh and leaned over to whisper in his ear, “Wow, Josh. You have to be proud of what you’ve accomplished tonight. I know I am.” She scanned the room full of New York’s Glitterati. “This could be the social event of the year.” Being close to him, inhaling his crisp, clean scent flooded her brain with sweet, sexy memories. Down, girl.
“Thanks, Darcy. That means a lot to me.” He gazed into her eyes and she momentarily forgot about Blake, and the roomful of people, until Josh broke the spell. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight? But, then again, you always do.”
Darcy could feel the warmth of his compliment all the way down to her toes. Was that a sign, or was he just being nice? Unable to answer, she turned her attention to the ballroom.
Blake was speaking to the Mayor. Daniel and his mom were out on the dance floor looking adorable . . . and relaxed, Kelly having already delivered her speech. When she’d finished, there hadn’t been a dry eye in the room, including Darcy’s.
She recognized members of the media working the room, in search of valuable photo ops and sound bites. Laura was talking to a reporter from the NBC network, in her element as the center of attention, however momentary that fame might be.
Darcy had noticed Laura and Josh getting along. When Laura had adjusted his tie, Darcy thought she’d entered an alternate universe—one she didn’t like. Their constant harping on one another was oftentimes grating, but this open friendliness got on her nerves. Don’t bring it up. Don’t bring it up.
“You and Laura are getting along well.” You just had to bring it up.
“Yeah. She’s very professional when the situation calls for it. I have to admit she’s been . . . pleasant all evening. And she did a terrific job with the marketing. I couldn’t have gotten all of these people here without her help.” He gestured to the elegantly clad assembly. “She’s been my right arm for the whole event, from planning to execution.”
“Who’s been your right arm?” Laura pulled out the chair on the other side of Josh and sat, the slit in her evening gown revealing her long, Victoria’s Secret model legs.
“You, who else?” Josh patted her arm.
Darcy felt an irrational stab of jealousy.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Thelma and Louise.”
Darcy’s heart stopped. “Doug!” His tie was slightly off-kilter and he reeked of bourbon.
Josh and Laura stood, shouldering in front of Darcy.
“If it isn’t Doug Lansing, Cheating Bastard,” Laura said. “What are you doing here? Hell spit you out?”
“I’m here to claim my prize. Dinner with NY Times best-selling author, Darcy Butler,” he said in derision as he swayed on his feet.
“She’s not having dinner with you,” Josh ground out. “We’ll gladly give you a refund.”
“Don’t want a refund. Want my prize,” he slurred, reaching out to grasp Darcy’s arm.
“Touch her, and you’ll draw back a nub,” Laura warned through clenched teeth.
“What’s going on?” Blake joined the group, pulling Darcy back and into his arms.
Doug aimed his blurry glare on Laura, grabbing her by the wrist. Josh noted that for a drunk guy, his reflexes were quick. “You bitch. Still fucking anything that moves?”
“All right, that’s it.” Not wishing to cause a scene, Josh grabbed Doug’s arm and twisted it behind his back, restraining him, before signaling to security. “Mr. Lansing has had too much to drink and could use an escort to a taxi.” He released his grip on Doug’s arm and handed him off to the burly security guard. “We wouldn’t want him to become the news story, now would we?”
Doug chose the better part of valor and went with the security guard, but not before a parting shot at Darcy, “You always were a little princess,” he spat. “Too good for everyone else.”
An awkward silence fell among the group, but the other nearby guests hadn’t caught wind of the near scuffle.
“That was fun,” Laura muttered, as she rubbed her offended wrist.
Josh took Laura’s wrist and examined it. “You okay?”
“Oh sure. Asshole is nothing I can’t handle. Thanks, though.”
“You okay, Darcy?” Josh asked.
Darcy noted the look of concern on Josh’s face and nodded. “I’m
fine.” Sort of. Her insides shook like a martini shaker in a bartender’s hands. She hadn’t seen Doug in person in years and he had to pick Josh’s event to resurface in her life.
“Good,” Josh said before turning to Laura. “Want to dance?” he asked, as he slid his hands up Laura’s arms to her shoulders.
Laura looked at Josh in surprise. “Um, sure.”
Darcy watched as Josh escorted Laura out onto the dance floor with his hand on the small of her back, a dull ache beginning in her chest.
“How about you? Are you sure you’re all right?” Blake kissed her temple.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
“Who was that guy, anyway?”
“No one important.” Darcy didn’t feel like drumming up the past by discussing what Doug had done to her.
“Come on.” He led Darcy out to join the other couples swaying to a romantic waltz-tempo and pulled her into the circle of his arms. She leaned her head against his chest, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Laura and Josh. Her two best friends were finally getting along, so why wasn’t she happy about that?
Josh and Laura swayed to the music, her arms around his neck, his around her waist, but a respectable distance between them. In her heels, she stood face-to-face with him.
“What a dick,” Laura muttered.
“If you’re talking about Doug the Dick Head, no argument there.”
“Cheating Bastard.”
Josh snorted. He hated what Doug had done to Darcy, but as far as he was concerned, Doug didn’t deserve her anyway. “You really hate him.” It was a statement, not a question.
“What’s not to hate, after what he did to Darcy?” Laura turned in Darcy’s direction. “I wanted to reach my hands down his throat and pull his balls out.”
Josh winced, but couldn’t argue with that reaction.
“Her self-esteem took a big hit, and to this day, she won’t watch that network’s news.”
Josh remembered all too well the changes he saw in her.
“I didn’t know what to do to help her. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly Dear Abby when it comes to love.”
“You’re a good friend to her,” Josh said. “That’s all that matters.”
“There you go again, being nice to me. Cut it out before I start to like you.”
Josh laughed and gave Laura a quick spin before pulling her back in his arms. “I’m surprised you don’t have some international hunk on your arm tonight.”
Laura huffed out a laugh. “I’m working. Men and work don’t mix.”
After a few moments, Josh asked, “Why do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Sleep with one jerk after another?” Josh felt Laura go stiff in his arms but he just held her tighter.
“Well, so much for Mr. Nice Guy,” Laura grumbled.
“I’m serious. You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for.”
Laura’s brow furrowed in thought, a flicker of confusion, before she laughed it off. “He’s ba-ack.”
Chapter 39
Darcy sliced into eggs covered with Hollandaise sauce, while Laura signaled the waiter for another mimosa. She wasn’t up for the post-mortem brunch, but she’d promised Laura last night when she left her and Josh to “put it to bed,” whatever that meant. She’d spent a good bit of the ride home trying to figure out if that could mean anything other than closing out the event.
Just as Blake kissed her good night, his cell phone rang—a ten-car pile-up on I-95. Dr. Blake Garrett swung into action, and Darcy sighed in relief that she didn’t have to come up with an excuse not to invite him in.
Laura was saying, “I think notwithstanding the unwelcome appearance of Cheating Bastard, the event was a tremendous success. What do you think he was doing there, anyway?”
“Probably there to interview Jordy Jacobs.” Darcy pushed the eggs around on her plate.
“Oh yeah, you’re probably right.” Laura gestured with her mimosa.
Laura continued with her animated discussion of the evening. Who made an appearance, what they wore, and who they snubbed. Darcy listened with half an ear, feeling out of sorts. She couldn’t even lay the blame for it on Doug’s behavior, although seeing him had been a shock.
She’d like to blame it on her sleepless night, but even that wasn’t the reason either.
“I couldn’t believe how Josh came to my rescue last night,” Laura said, interrupting Darcy’s glum musings. “It was very, well, chivalrous of him. I’m beginning to see why you like him so much.”
Yep. There it was. The reason for her morose mood. Darcy pushed her half-eaten Eggs Benedict away. “Yeah, he’s a prince.” She flashed a lame smile.
“Hey,” Laura reached her hand across the table and squeezed Darcy’s fingers. “You okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. Just a little hung over.”
“You didn’t have that much to drink. Oh, you mean a love hangover?” She waggled her eyebrows. “You and Blake play doctor until the wee hours of the morning?”
“No,” Darcy said a little too emphatically.
“Oh, girl. Did you two have a fight?” Laura patted Darcy’s hand. “It’ll be fine. Anyone can see he’s crazy about you.”
Guilt knifed through her. Great.
Children swarmed the lawn like an invading army, their squeals, laughter, and shouts muffled by the heavy soul-sucking August air. Darcy sipped ice-cold lemonade and wiped the sweat from her face as she watched her Great Aunt Rosie, whose bounteous progeny had gathered to celebrate sixty-three years of wedded bliss, accept a kiss from her oldest granddaughter.
The adults gathered under the shade of an ancient white oak, the brood of some forty-eight children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, far too large to hold the festivities in the old house Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al had lived in since 1955.
So, everyone dressed in the lightest clothing possible and resigned themselves to sweating through the party. Even Aunt Rosie dabbed at the perspiration on her upper lip with a lace-edged handkerchief like a trooper.
“Vanessa tells me you’re seeing someone,” her aunt said, drawing Darcy’s attention away from the game of torment-the-family-dog.
“Um, yes. Blake.”
“And he’s a doctor?”
“Yep.”
“And a hunk?”
“Oh, yes.”
“But the important question is, does he make your heart sing and your toes curl?” She winked at Darcy.
Aunt Rosie had always been a favorite of Darcy’s. She was . . . well . . . cool, hip, with it. When Darcy would come to Poughkeepsie to spend time with her cousins in the summer, her aunt played dress up with them, took them to the latest teen heartthrob movies, bought them fake nails and lip gloss in bright red. All things Aunt Rosie’s sister, Darcy’s grandmother, would never do.
She didn’t know how to answer that question. Blake wasn’t the man who made her heart sing. Her toes curl. He was perfect—so why didn’t he?
Before she could answer, Uncle Al approached with a glass of lemonade in his hand. He still stood at over six feet and maintained the build he’d acquired playing football for Yale.
“For my bride.” He bent and kissed Aunt Rosie’s raised lips. “She’s even more beautiful than the day I met her.” His eyes glowed as he gazed at his wife’s face. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”
Darcy stared at the hem of her halter-top as if it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen, feeling like an intruder on a moment too intimate for public view. When she glanced back, Aunt Rosie was patting her uncle’s face and laughing, the corners of her eyes crinkling, the look of love on her face making her appear decades younger than her eighty-three years.
“Pop-Po
p,” a dark-haired little girl said, tugging on his shorts, “Mandy won’t let me ride the scooter.”
Uncle Al reached down and picked up the little girl. “Then Miss Jenny, why don’t we do something more fun?”
“Like what?”
He glanced around. “Well, like playing horsey.”
“Yay!”
Uncle Al galloped off with Jenny clinging to his neck, giggling as he tickled her belly. Double knee replacement hadn’t diminished his athleticism.
Aunt Rosie took a sip of her lemonade, smiled, and said, “What a gem.”
Darcy’s gaze drifted over the three generations of cousins who’d made their way from all over the country to celebrate a marriage that had survived six decades, at a time when the average marriage didn’t last one. Despite the distance, the family had a close, loving relationship—so close, they made Norman Rockwell look like the Simpsons.
To spend time with Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al was to see first-hand what two people still in love after all those years looked like. Even as a child, Darcy had noticed the little gestures of affection, the flirtations, the sparkle in their eyes when they gazed at each other. The deep respect they had for one another made her hope for that very thing when she reached those same milestones in her own life.
Uncle Al never hesitated to say that he’d married the love of his life, and he always made it a point to tell her how beautiful she was and how thankful he was that she loved him.
“How do you do it?” The thought was out of her mouth before she even thought about asking the question.
“Do what?”
Now that the words were out, she might as well ask what she really wanted to know. “Not only stay married, but stay so obviously in love?”
“I love Al for who he is. Can he get on my nerves sometimes? Of course, as I’m sure I get on his. No one’s perfect.” She tilted her head in thought.
Darcy picked a honeysuckle flower from the vine wrapped around the fence and held it to her nose. The sweetness was almost unbearable. Like Aunt Rosie and Uncle Al.
Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) Page 19