Darcy quickly walked around to her seat, where her presentation folder sat along with all of her designs. She riffled through the colored-pencil sketches until she came across what she was looking for. She handed the paper to Wellington.
“Although there are a number of rooms I love, this one is my favorite,” she said softly.
Sean stood on his toes and tried to look over Wellington’s shoulder at the drawing. It was a room of cool and subtle grays. Charcoals mixing with slate blues and grayish whites.
The wing-backed headboard was a large, padded monstrosity covered with a dull silver fabric and tufted with dark buttons. The floor was a grayish slate with flecks of blue. The shaggy rug under the bed was taupe gray, which contrasted with the stark white window treatments. The only color in the sketch was a white vase of pale purple roses on the oak writing table in front of the window.
“And what do you call this room?” Wellington asked, looking up at her.
“The Dove Suite.”
Wellington looked back at the drawing and nodded. Sean suddenly had this illogical need to understand exactly why this was Darcy’s favorite. It wasn’t as vibrant as some of the other rooms she’d shown in her presentation. It was almost muted and dull in comparison. But it had a certain subtle charm.
Sean wondered if her choice had anything to do with the fact that ever since he’d known her, her Grandma Nell had called her Little Dove. He’d always thought it was an odd nickname to give someone.
“Well then, Ms. Owens, my wife will be extremely happy to assist in the selection of room designs. She can select eleven rooms from your many beautiful drawings. The twelfth room will be the Dove Suite.”
The Englishman looked up at Darcy and winked. Before Darcy could respond to him, Wellington rose from his chair and turned to Sean, who was standing nearby.
“Sean, I don’t need any more time to decide. If we can get the finances aligned, I’ll sign with Rolland Construction. I want to start work immediately.”
Sean felt a slow smile spread across his face similar to the one he’d felt on Christmas morning as a kid when he realized that Santa Claus was able to fit his fat ass down their chimney.
Thank you, Jesus. We did it.
“I have all our financials included in the presentation booklet to send home with you. I’m sure you will find them in order; however, we are more than willing to work with your team if changes are necessary.”
“Very good.” Wellington turned to address everyone in the room. “I’d like to thank you all for an excellent presentation. I’m looking forward to breaking ground as soon as possible on this hotel. My assistant will be in touch by the end of the week to finalize the contract.”
Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Sean shook Wellington’s hand before the Englishman turned to Darcy.
“Ms. Owens, it was a pleasure,” Wellington said as he extended his hand. “Please make sure to send all your designs in the material Sean is sending back with me.”
“Likewise, Mr. Wellington,” she replied. “And I’ll be sure to include them.”
“And on behalf of my entire corporation, I express my heartfelt apologies for any embarrassment that unfortunate incident you mentioned earlier at my Paris hotel may have caused you,” he said in his crisp British accent. His eyes danced with humor.
She smiled. “Well, I was going to write a rather direct letter to the owner, but I guess your apology will do.”
He threw his head back and laughed once more. Sean had no idea what the two of them were talking about, but at this point, he didn’t care. They’d just landed the deal. They’d just gotten the biggest fucking deal of his career.
Sean and Michael showed Wellington and his associates out of the office. After more handshakes and exchanges of business cards, they headed back toward where the rest of their team waited in the conference room.
“You son of a bitch, you got the deal.” Michael slapped him hard on the back as they walked through the office. Sean hadn’t heard that much excitement in his partner’s voice before.
“We did it.” Sean stressed the word, making sure Michael was aware that it was a total team effort. Though in his opinion, he thought most of the credit belonged to Darcy.
“Your girl brought it home. She was our ace in the hole.”
He smiled at the reference. His girl.
“Told you she was the right pick.”
Michael laughed. “Yes, you did. And you were right for once.”
“For once? Old man, I’m always right.”
Michael clapped him hard on the back. “You keep telling yourself that, hotshot.”
As soon as he entered the room, Sean started clapping. Loudly. Sharp, piercing claps that had everyone else joining in as well. Elation filled every feature of every face in the room.
Without a word, he rushed around the long oak table and wrapped his arms around Darcy, picking her up to where her feet weren’t touching the ground. He pressed his face into the curve of her neck and exhaled with a laugh.
Sweet, beautiful relief wound its way through his body, and when her arms closed around his neck, that relief rested warmly in his chest. Instead of pushing away like he should probably do in a strictly professional relationship, he pulled her closer.
“You did it.” His words were muffled against her neck so no else could hear. “Thank you, Darcy. Thank you.”
Her hair smelled like rosemary and mint. He pulled the perfume deep into his lungs, enjoying the way it went to his head. The familiar feel of a woman’s warm body pressed against him, sending awareness rippling through his insides.
“I knew you could do it.” Her breath tickled as she whispered into his ear.
He lowered her to the ground, and his fingers slipped from her hips almost as if they didn’t want to let go.
He gazed into her dancing eyes and couldn’t help but grin. It must be the euphoria from getting the bid that was making his body react the way it was. That or the fact that he hadn’t gotten laid in over a month.
Inhaling deeply, he turned toward the rest of the room. “We’re meeting at Dirty Heron’s tonight at eight. Come ready to celebrate!”
As the rest of the room dispersed, Sean turned back to Darcy. “By the way, what the hell happened to you in his hotel in Paris?”
She barked out a laugh. “It was nothing.”
“Obviously it was something, or Wellington wouldn’t have practically shit himself laughing so hard.”
She shook her head, chuckling quietly to herself.
“Come on, tell me.”
“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “You’d tell Hyde Wellington an embarrassing secret about yourself, but you won’t tell me?”
She tilted her head and looked at him like he was an idiot. “Hyde Wellington won’t use it against me in the most inopportune moment possible. You would.”
“It’s that good, huh?”
Darcy shrugged.
Sean shook his head. “First your virginity, then that thing that may or may not have happened between you and Maggie White. Now this scandalous incident in Paris. Something so astonishing that it embarrassed the un-embarrassable Darcy Owens. I have so many of your secrets to uncover.”
She grinned, her eyes dancing with hidden truths. “You have no idea.”
Chapter 9
“What, dear?” Grandma Nell’s voice cracked over the phone. “You say you won?”
Darcy laughed, holding the phone precariously between her ear and shoulder while trying to fasten a silver bracelet on her wrist. “That’s one way to put it, I guess. The client selected our bid. Our presentation. He liked our proposal the best, so he’s going to give us the job.”
“That’s wonderful. I didn’t doubt there’d be any other outcome. Now, when can I expect to see you again? I have a new shortbread recipe I’m dying to try, and Phee is on one of her crazy diets. She said it was a strict no-shortbread-allowed diet.”
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br /> “Oh, yes, I’ve heard of it. It’s all the rage with the young kids,” Darcy replied sarcastically.
“Pffft. Those young girls. Either they’re on a diet or they’re talking about being on a diet or they have it marked on their calendar when their next diet will be.”
Finally getting her damn bracelet clasped, Darcy dug some lip gloss out of her makeup bag. She had no idea what type of bar they were going to tonight, but she could guess with a name like Dirty Heron’s that it wouldn’t be all bow ties and evening gowns.
Darcy played it casual with snug dark jeans and a boat-neck plum sweater. She’d taken the extra fifteen minutes to dry her hair with a large round brush so it touched her shoulders with lots of volume.
Some smoky eye shadow and pale pink gloss completed her we-just-scored-a-fucking-huge-deal look. No use wearing lipstick. She planned on touching her lips to lots of whiskey glasses before the night was through. She’d rather touch them to Sean’s mouth, but she’d been hoping for that since she was thirteen years old, so the chances of that happening didn’t look promising.
“So when can we expect you home for a visit, dear?”
“I’m not sure, Grandma,” Darcy answered, trying to stuff her feet into a pair of black heels. “Since we got this project, I’m not sure what the next few weeks are going to look like for me. But I’ll at least try to stop by for a meal if I can’t come for a weekend.”
“Fair enough, little dove. Please keep me in the loop. You know me, I’m quite nosy.”
“Yes, you are. And I love you anyway.”
“Love you too, dear.”
Darcy disconnected the call and hurried to finish getting ready. If she was lucky, she’d get to the bar by half past eight. With one final look in the mirror, she pulled on her black leather moto jacket, grabbed her clutch, and headed out.
She hailed a cab to the bar. She soon found out that she’d been right about what type of establishment they were spending their evening at. Heron was in the name probably because it was on a street that ran adjacent to the harbor. Dirty was in the name because… well, it wasn’t going to win any awards for sterility.
After paying the cab driver, she got out onto the busy sidewalk crowded with bar hoppers. Most were loud, and all seemed to be enjoying themselves. She wasn’t sure what it looked like inside Dirty Heron’s, but there was quite a party going on outside its doors.
Pushing her way past people, muttering her apologies, she finally got into the bar. The place was packed. Wall to wall with people of all ages.
And it was loud. The combination of yelling voices, loud music, and some God-awful screeching coming from the speakers made it hard to focus on all the tables that were situated across the floor.
An earlier text from Sean said their group was in the back left corner. Before fighting the sea of bodies to get there, she stopped off at the bar and ordered herself a drink.
She was happy to be there. Relief had a funny way of making you relax. And relief didn’t even begin to cover how she was feeling.
Yeah, there were some nerves. Some anxiety about being able to hold up her end of the project. She knew she had to sit down and think of her strategy. She’d need to bring on temporary employees for the job. But she didn’t want to think about that yet.
Tonight was about patting themselves on the back and forgetting about all the shit that was yet to come. They’d cleared the first hurdle. They had about one hundred ninety-nine left to go.
She was turning away from the bar with her whiskey in hand when she almost ran smack into Michael.
“Hey there, young lady,” he said with a genuine smile.
His demeanor was a thousand times better than what it had been earlier in the afternoon before their presentation. His shoulders were relaxed, his hair (although there wasn’t much to begin with) was carelessly tousled, his cheeks ruddy, and his eyes sparkled as if he’d been enjoying his spirits.
“Hey, Michael. Where is everybody?”
He looked back over his shoulder and pointed to the far corner. “Over yonder. Good idea to stop and get a drink. It took me ten minutes just to get over here with all these people. I can barely hear myself think in this place.”
“Should I have a round sent over for the table?”
“Nah, Sean has some girl running circles, falling over herself to do his bidding. The table is sufficiently stocked. I just need some fresh air. All this singing is giving me a headache.”
Michael winked as he moved around her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. The singing he was talking about was the God-awful sound she’d heard earlier. A small stage occupied the far back wall with a single spotlight on a guy who was trying to make his alcohol-addled brain sing Lady Gaga’s “Poker Face.” It wasn’t going well for him.
Darcy started pushing her way through the crowd. She finally spotted Sean, who, sure enough, was speaking into a busty waitress’s ear. She was bent over, her hand resting on the arm of his chair, her eyes turned down into his lap. She was licking her lips.
Goddamn tramp. Not that she blamed her.
When Darcy got closer, Rhys saw her and waved. The motion distracted Sean from his “sweet nothings,” and his eyes met hers. He smiled, said one last thing to the waitress, and stood. Rhys, who was sitting across the table from Sean, stood as well.
“I was gonna send a search party out for you.” Rhys smiled.
Darcy finally cleared the last of the crowd and sighed. “It’s taken me an hour just to walk back here. I would have been on time otherwise.”
Rhys leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Glad you made it okay.”
She smiled back at him and was about to sit in the empty chair next to Rhys when Sean said, “Darce, I saved you a seat.” He pulled out the chair next to him, where the blond trampy waitress had been standing.
It was a no-brainer. She’d get to sit next to Sean plus keep the waitress from getting her face closer to his crotch.
“Why did you pick this place?” she asked Sean when she sat down.
“Oh, come on, it’s a great place. They gave us the best table. It’s right next to the fire exit in case the building goes up in flames. I’m pretty sure this place is in violation of the fire code. We’ll at least make it out alive.”
Now that she was seated, she was able to take a better look at Dirty Heron’s. It wasn’t a traditional bar by any means, but there were still lots of dark woods, which made it comfortable.
The main floor was a huge open room partitioned off by low half walls and thick wooden beams. The dance floor in the middle of the room wasn’t being used tonight. Instead, more tables and chairs were placed there to accommodate more people.
Karaoke was tonight’s main attraction. And she’d thought Lady Gaga guy was bad. There was a girl on stage at the moment who was butchering The Beatles’s “Hey Jude” so badly that she should be locked up. Indefinitely.
Trampy Waitress came back with a tray full of drinks. She paused when she saw Darcy but quickly regained her composure and showed her cleavage to everyone at the table as she put down the glasses and bottles.
“Thanks, Melissa,” Sean yelled to her. “Just put it on our tab.”
Darcy felt Sean put his arm along the back of her chair as he sat back and sipped his beer. The near contact gave her a buzz that even her whiskey couldn’t touch.
“Even though Michael’s not here, I’d like to propose a toast.” Sean raised his glass in the air. “To a great team and the successful completion of our hotel project.”
“Hear, hear!” rang most of the table occupants.
They clinked their glasses against one another. When she touched her tumbler to Sean’s bottle, she smiled at him. He smiled back, his crystal-blue eyes sparkling with boyish charm.
“And you,” he spoke quietly next to her, “were our ace in the fucking hole. Until he heard your presentation, I don’t think he had any intention of finalizing the deal today.”
She grinned. She didn’t know about all
that, but it still made her feel pretty damn good to hear praise from Sean. Different ideas for how he could express his gratitude were on the tip of her tongue.
Earlier in the afternoon, Darcy’s naughty daydream had started when she’d first seen Sean walk into the office. He’d worn a navy blue suit and a pale blue tie that matched his eyes for their meeting with Wellington.
She’d momentarily forgotten to breathe.
Sean looked like a walking Adonis. He’d cut his light hair since she’d seen him last. Although a hint of his shaggy curls remained at the top, the sides were cut short.
He’d lost a little of the boyish good looks with his haircut but instead had looked like a wildly handsome man. Grown-up, confident, and ready to take on the world. She’d never seen him look more amazing.
Except he looked pretty fucking fantastic tonight.
He was in jeans and some sort of dark red shirt. A hint of stubble glimmered on his jawline, which honestly made Darcy’s panties wet, but again, that wasn’t anything new. Most times when she was around Sean, her panties got wet.
When he pursed his lips, it made Darcy think of what those lips would feel like pressed against hers, and inevitably, her panties got wet.
He had a habit of licking each of his fingers after he was done eating anything. That was a no-brainer. Panties definitely wet.
But at the moment, it was the way he was slumped back in his chair, his ankle crossed over his opposite knee as his arm hung lazily along the back of her chair. Yep, wet panties.
She finished the last of the whiskey she’d picked up at the bar. As she placed the glass on the table, she noticed Trampy Waitress had slid another whiskey right in front of her.
Looking at Sean, she asked, “Is that for me?”
He nodded, taking a pull of his beer. She mouthed thank you to him and picked up her second drink.
“Watch out, Darcy,” Rhys yelled from across the table. “I think Sean’s trying to get you drunk.”
“Please. I could drown her in whiskey, and it wouldn’t do anything. She can drink any one of us under the table. Darcy doesn’t get drunk easily. Or embarrassed, for that matter. She’s like the epitome of composure. Isn’t that right, Darce?”
Not In My Wildest Dreams (McKenna Series Book 2) Page 11