“Oh no. We walk. It's sixteen blocks. I figure we'll burn about half the gratuitous calories, and I'll only feel a third as guilty as I should.”
Darcy looked over Layla's petite figure and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd seen Layla put away a large pizza by herself, and the woman had nothing to show for it.
Sixteen blocks ended up not being all that long of a walk. Darcy didn't want to tell Layla that her math calculations were vastly flawed, especially not after she bit into a meatball sub. Mozzarella strings stretched from her mouth back to the sandwich. She used her finger to twirl and break them.
“Food this good should be illegal.”
Layla giggled. “And now I don't have to be an addict alone.” She took an impossibly large bite of her Italian special and moaned loudly. “I love pepperoni and salami. I love anything that comes in a package shaped like a penis and tastes this spicy.”
Before Darcy could think of anything approaching a witty reply, Layla slapped her hand on the table. Several heads turned in their direction. Layla didn't suffer from the need to be unobtrusive in public. Her voice carried, and her vivacious personality sent off vibes that drew stares from everyone in a ten-foot radius.
“Okay, we're officially not working. Dish, girl. Tell me all about this guy who keeps you up at night and puts such a dreamy expression on your face.”
Darcy hadn't disclosed anything about Theo to anyone. Part of her didn't want to talk about him. The fear he would up and vanish kept her from completely enjoying the endorphin rush thinking about him generated. She swallowed the food in her mouth and washed it down with a sip of diet pop.
“His name is Theo, and he's a very sexy computer geek.”
Layla wrinkled her nose. “Now that we've established he's your type, what makes him sexy? Have you done the nasty yet? Do you have pictures?”
Laughing and shaking her head, Darcy stalled by taking another bite. She really couldn't explain her reluctance to talk about Theo. The more time passed, the less real their weekend together seemed. Even though they talked every day, it wasn't the same.
Finally she put her sandwich down. “If I had pictures of us having sex, I would not show them to you. Some things should not be shared with anyone.”
“Funny.” Layla's smile evaporated. Her serious expression made Darcy tense. “You don't want to talk about him. What's wrong? Did he promise you he'd call and then he didn't?”
“No, nothing like that. He calls every evening.” Could she explain how she felt without Layla thinking something was wrong with her? She watched a teenage employee in the company's green-striped shirt as he changed the trash. The boy wore a bored, slightly resentful expression on his face that seemed to say they make me do this because I'm the only here one who can lift this much weight. The smaller girls behind the counter smiled at customers and took their orders.
“So? Sexy computer geek who calls when he says he's going to call. What's wrong, Darcy?” Layla's tone had gone soft and quiet. “Is it Scott? Are you feeling guilty? You shouldn't.”
Finally, something Darcy could articulate. “I know. I don't feel guilty. Somehow it feels like Scott approves of Theo. I don't know. It sounds crazy, right? Maybe I am crazy. I keep doubting that last weekend was real.”
Layla reached across the small table and put her hand on Darcy's. She gave it a squeeze. “You've had to deal with so much crap, honey. I think I'd be worried about you if you didn't question it. You deserve to be happy. Are you going to see him this weekend?”
Darcy shrugged. “I hope so. He lives over an hour away, so seeing each other during the week isn't feasible.”
“Is he a Dom?” A year ago, Layla had been just a client. When, by chance, she had met Scott, she had recognized the dynamics of their relationship. She'd been operating on intuition, but she'd confirmed her suspicion with a direct question. Layla wasn't one to beat around the bush or try a diplomatic route when she didn't see the need. The two had slowly built a close acquaintance over the past year, though they usually only saw one another for work-related reasons.
“Yeah. I've never dated a Dom before.” Sparks jumped low in her abdomen as she remembered dancing with him.
Layla snorted. “You were engaged to a Dom.”
“But our dates were very vanilla. Most of my date with Theo was vanilla, but not all of it. He topped me when he took me dancing.” She laughed, thinking about it. “He asked very nicely beforehand. He's like this perfect gentleman, even when he's dominating me.”
She thought about how he went out of his way to ensure her physical privacy when most Doms would have not only looked, but they would have ordered her to stand still while they did it. Most would have touched as well. Theo didn't pretend he'd whipped her for any reason other than to help calm her nerves, and he didn't deny or try to hide his attraction. Her heart swelled a bit, harboring both affection and fear.
“He sounds great,” Layla said. “Does he have a brother?”
When Darcy laughed this time, she heard the relief in her voice. In the back of her mind, she had been afraid Layla would judge her. “He does. I don't know if he's single, though. Theo didn't mention a girlfriend or a wife when he told me about his brother. Come to think of it, he didn't even tell me his brother's name.”
The large corner office screamed wealth and power. Soft, buttery leather encased every chair and covered the twin sofas on the other side of the room. Rich paneling covered the walls. Framed photographs of Vic Snyder with various political figures, including the Koch brothers, graced the walls. The more prominent political figures were featured in larger frames. Actual art was interspersed at intervals set by an interior designer with an eye toward the overtly masculine.
Thick carpet cushioned the sound of footsteps. Malcolm looked for a bearskin rug and various stuffed animals that might represent hunting excursions, but he found none. The only case of trophies and plaques in the office took up a small amount of space near the door. Each spotlighted Snyder Corporation.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, so Malcolm urged Snyder around the desk to see the laptop screen without the glare.
“Mr. Snyder, take a few minutes to poke around the site. This is one I created for Freedom United, a PAC that advocates for democratic principles.” Technically they financed rebellions in several countries seeking to install a democratic government, or so they claimed to their donors.
Freedom United also engaged in many clandestine activities, and their Web site had actually been designed by an undercover agent working on a joint FBI-CIA effort. That investigation was still active, and the Web site tracked every transaction. Malcolm's assignment here at Snyder's employed a similar approach.
Additionally Malcolm needed to investigate Snyder in relation to Yataines's disappearance. He'd shared his verdict that Darcy couldn't have killed her fiance with Keith, who hadn't quite ruled out Darcy's complicity. Keith had asked him to keep an eye out for evidence linking Yataines to Snyder that didn't involve Darcy. The agency wanted hard evidence either way.
That goon he'd cornered in the stairwell had reported him to Snyder. Malcolm had thought he would have to work around the negative report, but Snyder not only welcomed him into his office, he shook his hand and clapped him on the shoulder.
Snyder sat on the leather visitor's chair and navigated the site. “It seems pretty straightforward. What does it do that's not apparent? My needs are a little more specialized.”
“Well, Mr. Snyder, if you tell me what you need, I can design a program to do it.” What he couldn't do, his counterpart at HQ could. Lifting his gaze, he gave Snyder that cocky kind of look that conveyed a wealth of meaning without using words. I'm your man, Snyder. I'll break the law for you. “Back doors, hidden features, trackers, cookies. Everything.”
Theo Stevenson's checkered past featured work for several legally questionable enterprises, including a successful pump-and-dump scheme perpetrated through the housing market. Though nothing had ever been pinne
d on him, his resume generated enough doubt for someone as savvy as Snyder to pick up on. He wanted to look good, but not perfect. Perfection was always suspect.
Snyder's eyes narrowed as he studied and considered. Then he smiled and held out his hand to shake. “I like you, Theo. Call me Vic. I think you might fit in here very well.”
Malcolm accepted Snyder's show of camaraderie. “I think so too, Vic.” He kept the handshake strong. Snyder regarded him with calculated respect. Things were right on track.
The door opened. Malcolm turned in surprise, thinking even Snyder's administrative assistant would knock first. He caught Snyder's smile as he glanced toward the intruder.
Dressed in a navy blue pencil skirt and a flowing white blouse, Darcy halted in her tracks. Her lips parted a bit, and her eyes widened. She obviously hadn't expected to find Snyder entertaining anyone.
Malcolm squelched the smile that wanted to bloom on his face and forced his body to remain still. He wanted to rise, to cross the room and take her in his arms. Four long, lonely nights had passed since the last time he'd kissed her. Though they had spoken on the phone and he felt they really bonded over a number of topics, it wasn't the same. He desperately wanted to kick Snyder out of the room so he could show her how much he'd missed the smell of her hair and the way her eyes glittered when she laughed.
“Darcy.” Snyder crossed the room, took her free hand in his, and dropped a kiss on her cheek. “I'm so glad you could make it.”
Malcolm wanted to punch the man for touching Darcy. His heart thumped. He hadn't told her he would be in town because he'd wanted to surprise her later. Visions of calling as he normally did, asking about her day, and knocking at her door while they were still on the phone fled from his plans.
She didn't pay much mind to Snyder. Her crystal blue gaze, made even more stunning by the color of her skirt, burned through his chest. This wasn't close to how he had imagined their reunion. She was supposed to be pleased and excited, not wary and troubled.
“You know one another, I'm told.”
Darcy's mouth opened and closed, but nothing came out. A line of confusion marred the smoothness between her brows.
Snyder rubbed his hand from her shoulder to her elbow. Then it disappeared behind her. Malcolm wanted to remove it even though he knew he only touched the small of her back. That kind of possessive move should only be made by someone who bore genuine affection for her. Violent impulses made his hands clench.
Forcing a relaxed pose he didn't feel, Malcolm smiled at the woman who occupied his every waking thought. “Darcy. I didn't expect to see you here.”
She stopped just out of his reach and nodded a greeting. Her shoulder brushed against Snyder's chest as she leaned into his body, an unconscious search for security. Malcolm knew she trusted Snyder, but he wasn't prepared for such an outward demonstration. She offered a tentative smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, but she addressed her question to Snyder. “Who told you we know each other?”
“I have a confession to make.” Snyder gestured to the chair behind Darcy, indicating she should sit. His grimace managed to appear both boyishly regretful and affectionate. She didn't sit. “I had one of my most trusted guards, Mickey Halter, contact you this weekend. I couldn't be there to support you, and I wanted to make sure you'd be all right.”
Darcy swallowed, and her eyes flared, betraying a hint of displeasure. “Victor, that man is seriously creepy. The next time you want to be supportive, send me some flowers or recommend me to a friend.”
To his credit, Snyder appeared embarrassed. “I'm sorry, my dear. I had your best interests at heart. When Mickey told me that you were there with a man, I have to admit I didn't believe him at first.”
A little color left her face, and she sank into the chair Snyder had indicated. All traces of defiance vanished. She bit her lip and fiddled with the handle of her bag. Malcolm hated to see her brought to this point. While he warred with his protective instincts, the analytical, cop side of his brain noted how pleased Snyder seemed with her reaction. The jerk's statement had been calculated to use her grief and guilt to put her in her place.
Snyder had obviously picked up on Darcy's conscientious nature, and he used it to control her. But why would he want to control her? Malcolm suppressed the Dom instincts railing at him to rescue her from this pig, and he watched their interaction. Snyder wasn't the kind of man who did anything without a reason. Malcolm needed to know Darcy's role in Snyder's company, even roles she unwittingly played.
Snyder patted her shoulder. “Would you like something to drink, my dear? How about some coffee?”
“No thanks.” Her soft response didn't mask her underlying emotional turmoil. His heart went out to her. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her everything would turn out okay. He would catch the bad guy, lock him up, and throw away the key.
Glancing up, she caught Malcolm's eye. He affected the calm demeanor that, according to his last ex-girlfriend, kept his face an unreadable mask. It came in handy in his line of work. It also provided a basis for the strength and resolve that straightened her spine.
Flipping the handle and the strap out of her way, she dug a white, three-ring binder out of her shoulder bag. “Victor, I have the rest of the paperwork completed. All you need to do is approve the temporary hires as permanent employees and put someone in charge of the department. I've done all the rest.”
She held the binder out to Snyder. He held up a cautionary hand. “Darcy, I need just one more thing from you.”
She lifted the binder higher and shoved it closer to Snyder, forcing him to take it. “You always want just one more thing. I have other clients, Victor. Please don't think I'm not grateful for all you've done for me, but it's time for me to move on.”
Snyder set the binder on his desk. In a smooth motion, he knelt on one knee next to Darcy and took her hand in his. He gazed at her with paternal patience, which almost made Malcolm burst out laughing. According to the files he'd read, Snyder only had a little more than a decade on Darcy. Though his hair contained a bit more salt-and-pepper than most forty-two-year-olds, it just meant he didn't use hair dye to maintain the facade of youth.
Malcolm found himself leaning forward, more interested in their private tete-a-tete than any of his favorite Vin Diesel movies.
Darcy's sigh told him she'd been through this drama one time too many. He studied her expressive eyes, where he found thinly veiled impatience. This also interested him. He hadn't seen her like this before. This must be what the files referred to when they labeled her as hostile and uncooperative. As hot and cold as she'd run in their few days together, he shouldn't be surprised by this development.
“Darcy, this is your project. Your baby. You conceived it, nurtured it, and now I need you to see it through to maturity. You can't abandon it yet.”
The imagery of Snyder's loaded words wasn't lost on Malcolm. As a woman approaching thirty, she and Scott had to have discussed the idea of children. This played on her maternal instincts and on any grief she might harbor over having lost something that might have been.
Extracting her hand from between Snyder's, she pushed to her feet and moved to stand behind the chair. “Victor, I told you months ago that I was moving on. This project is as finished as I can make it. The rest is up to you. I think Snyder Foundation is a wonderful resource and it's going to help a lot of people. I'll definitely recommend it to many of my clients. But I'm just a surrogate. This is your kid now.”
Brava. Malcolm leaned back and flashed a proud smile in her direction. Strong, smart women turned him on in a big way. Intelligence and backbone were the sexiest assets a woman could possess, and Darcy had those in spades.
Then Snyder played another card. Rising to his feet, he inclined his head in Malcolm's direction. “I want to automate the whole system. I'm hiring Stevenson to put all your stuff online, streamline the process. I want you to work on that with him.”
Darcy turned her attention to Malcolm. Her fro
wn asked a lot of questions, most of which he couldn't answer. He didn't see how the job Snyder wanted him to do could possibly involve Darcy. Even if Snyder wanted to put the whole grant application process online, he didn't need Darcy's input to make it happen. He only needed her documents.
She lifted her bag and adjusted the position of the shoulder strap, all the while pinning Snyder with a mild frown. “Vic, if I work only for you, then I'm your employee and my business falls by the wayside. I won't do that.”
“Part-time, then. I just want this to be perfect, and nobody knows what I want better than you.” Snyder clasped his hands together and held them near his heart.
Darcy melted. She closed her eyes and gave in. Malcolm identified the exact moment she capitulated. “Ten hours a week, but I'm billing you double. Tell me what you need.”
Snyder pulled her into a warm hug. Malcolm had no doubt it was genuine and heartfelt; he just didn't know why Snyder insisted on having Darcy work for him.
“Great. I want you working with Theo. When I first heard about the two of you together, I was a bit shocked. But now that I've met him, I can see why you like him. He has that whole authoritative air you seem to like so much, and he's quite distinguished looking.”
Malcolm lifted a brow at the compliment. The call he'd got from Snyder bright and early Monday morning suddenly made more sense. Instinct told him Snyder was less interested in Malcolm's talents than he was in using Malcolm to make Darcy stay.
He looked at Darcy with new eyes and wondered at her secrets.
Snyder returned his attention to Malcolm. “Theo, when can you start? I want you to work closely with Darcy. This has to be perfect.”
Malcolm rose to his feet and avoided Darcy's questioning gaze. “Monday. I have another job to finish up, and then I'm all yours.”
Darcy's freezer contained a pathetic amount of food. A half-empty bag of frozen corn occupied one corner, and an empty freezer baggie lay crumpled in another. Only the ice tray had done its job this week. She closed the door and opened the refrigerator. Three Styrofoam takeout boxes mocked her. Several bottles of condiments presented some color. She ate out entirely too often.
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