by Mara Jacobs
She didn’t answer right away. “Well, not all the time. But I’ve gone down quite a bit.”
“Hmmm,” he said while his mind turned to a new app idea. Wouldn’t be cool if you could—
“You just missed the turn to the Club,” he heard from afar.
“Hmmm?”
“Lewis? You just missed the turn.”
He came out of coding in his head to realize that, yep, he’d gone a half-mile past the turnoff to the Club. So many times he’d be walking through Manhattan and realize he’d gone five blocks past his office. That’s the app he needed—a warning on his watch or something for when he walked past his building. Something like a Garmin, but tiny and wearable.
“Unless you’d like to go somewhere else…” Darcy said beside him, jolting him out of his app nap.
He looked over at her as he pulled the car to the side of the road to turn around. “What? Where else would I want to go?”
She was looking at him like he should know something. He got that look a lot from women. She shook her head (again, something he got a lot) and turned her head toward her window. “Nothing. Never mind.”
The parking lot at the Club was filling up fast, even though the party was just beginning. You didn’t arrive fashionably late for this event. You sucked every minute out of this night.
What if there was an app where you could rate the party you were at and your entire social network could see it, rate theirs, and you could all move to the best one? As he parked the car, he reached for his digital recorder to get the idea down, then paused.
You could kind of do that already on Facebook. Damn Zuckerberg. (This was a sentiment Lewis thought daily.)
“Are you ready?” Darcy asked.
He looked at the Club, lit up with not only from the inside, but also the tasteful holiday lighting along the outside of the building. Grace was in there. His future started now.
“I’m ready,” he answered and got out of the car.
***
Darcy watched as Lewis rounded the car to open her door. She knew what he was thinking. She always knew what he was thinking—which wasn’t easy with a mind like his. He was thinking about Grace and their kiss. Maybe even something along the lines of it going differently this year.
Oh, it was going to go differently, if she had anything to do with it. She just hadn’t worked out the logistics of it yet. But she’d designed many games, and you always started with the goal and worked backward.
But was Lewis kissing her at midnight the goal, or just him not kissing Grace?
“Coming?” he asked as he held out his hand for her.
She took his hand and felt a tiny spark as his cool, smooth hand enveloped her small, warm one. She looked up at him to see if he felt what she did and saw him stare at their joined hands. Will his head turn? That would mean he was trying to figure something out. Turn. Turn. And then, ever so slowly, and ever so subtly, his head tilted as he rotated their hands just a fraction.
She pressed her palm deeper into his, loving how big and protective his felt, and watched as his brow furrowed just the tiniest bit. She stepped out of the car, and was greeted with a blast of cool air, from more than Lewis letting go of her hand as soon as she was standing.
“Wow. It must have dropped ten degrees in the time it took to drive over.”
Lewis looked up at the dark sky. “No stars. Must be heavy cloud cover. Could be a storm.”
Great. No way was she going to let these perfectly executed curls get caught in the rain, even though she’d pictured a stolen moment with Lewis on the terrace. Guess she’d just have to find an alternate private nook, indoors.
Lewis started through the parking lot and Darcy hurried to catch up to him. She wanted to enter with him, and let people think what they would. “Lewis,” she called. “Slow down. These shoes are really hard to run in.”
He stopped and waited for her, noticing her shoes. “Wow,” he said and she felt total justification in the money spent. “Those are going to be killing you by the end of the night.” And then, total frustration.
“I know,” she grudgingly admitted. “But I like how they make my legs look.” He looked at her legs and she struck a pose, flexing her calf and shifting so the slit up the side of her dress fell open.
“Hmmm,” he said and turned to hold the entrance door for her. She went through and nodded to the girls set up at the coat check station. She handed them her wrap, took the ticket they gave her, put it in her tiny clutch (also beaded!) and hurried down the hallway to catch up to Lewis, who had no coat to check.
“Lewis, wait,” she called and he turned, looking as if he’d forgotten she was with him. Not that she was with him, but, still. He stood at the entrance doors to the party and did as she commanded—waited. One thing about Lewis: his self-awareness about being so absent-minded had made him good at taking orders.
“Lewis, stay,” she added, not wanting him to go through the doors and make a mad dash, at least attention-wise, to wherever Grace may be. Maybe she’d get lucky and Grace wouldn’t be there yet, and Darcy would have a few more minutes of Lewis’s attention, such as it was.
When she reached him, she took a deep breath, preparing to enter the room where she’d spend the first night of the Rest of Her Life. He held the door for her and she walked into the already crowded room.
“Wow,” she said, taking in all the gorgeous gowns and dazzling tuxes.
“Wow,” Lewis said and Darcy didn’t need to follow his gaze, but she did anyway.
There stood Grace Devine, looking like she never had before, in a beautiful gown that Darcy suspected belonged to Annabelle, talking with a handsome man Darcy had never seen.
And just like that, all the work Darcy had done in the last year in preparation for this night—the Lasik, growing out her hair, the highlights, the ridiculous amount of money she’d spent on her dress and shoes—didn’t seem nearly enough to compete with the way Lewis looked at Grace Devine.
Something inside Darcy snapped. And then, something outside her did, and she felt herself falling off her glass slippers. Her last thought before she hit the ground was of turning into a pumpkin.
Chapter Three
Out of the corner of his eye, Lewis saw Darcy going down. He reached for her, but was too late. She lay huddled, face down, on the floor, her shiny dress askew, the slit up the side showing a good amount of leg. Not just leg, but thigh in particular. Toned, creamy thigh that stood in stark contrast to the black, beaded dress.
He knelt down beside her, gently laying a hand on her shoulder. “Munchkin? Are you okay?”
“Darcy. I’m fine. I think I did something to my ankle.”
“Can you sit up so we can take a look at it?”
“I can…but I don’t want to,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her over the party noise, which had gotten much quieter.
“Does it hurt that much?”
“No. I…is everyone staring?”
Lewis looked up to see that, indeed, people in the room were staring, and several people had quickly moved toward them to offer help. He held up a hand as if to ward them off, which worked on everyone except the Bennetts and the man who had been standing by Grace.
Grace. Who looked beautiful, of course, but not like any Grace he’d ever seen before. First Munchkin with all the changes so that he’d barely recognized her, and now Grace. He wasn’t so sure he liked this much change in one night.
Change threw him.
As the Bennetts neared them, he patted Darcy, knowing his touch was most likely ineffectual. “No, nobody noticed. The party’s in full swing, nobody was even looking this way.”
“Liar,” she said, but she did begin to move, to right herself. Sadly, the slit in her dress fell back into place. She didn’t look up, though. She hid behind the mass of honey gold hair that was hanging in her face. Had her hair always been that…that…massive?
“Darcy? Honey, are you all right?” The Bennetts had reached them now, their
concern showing in their faces.
“Baby girl?” Mr. Bennett said as he knelt down.
“I’m okay, Daddy. Just humiliated.”
“She thinks she might have done something to her ankle,” Lewis told John.
“Let me take a look at it,” said the man who’d been standing by Grace, and was now reaching for Darcy’s ankle.
Some irrational emotion overtook Lewis, and he swatted the man’s hand away. “Don’t touch her,” he nearly growled. Odd. He never growled. Or had irrational emotions for that matter. “It might be broken,” he added, as if to justify himself.
The man studied Lewis for a moment, a moment that lasted a little too long for Lewis’s liking. Who was this guy? He was in a tux, was part of the party, but seemed…different somehow.
“I’ve had some experience with these types of things,” the man said and reached for Darcy’s leg, slowly this time, his eyes on Lewis. His hands hovered just above her tiny ankle, and he looked at her. “May I?”
Lewis watched as Darcy looked up, her hair falling back off her face, parting like golden curtains. Her eyes grew wider as she took in the man, but she only nodded her assent. Like the guy left her speechless or something.
Lewis studied the man as he tenderly prodded Darcy’s ankle, causing a sharp intake of breath from her. “Careful,” Lewis warned.
The man shot Lewis a look that seemed like…amusement? But surely he wouldn’t be amused by Darcy’s pain. So he was amused by Lewis?
“Just who are you, anyway?”
The man took his hands away from Darcy’s ankle—finally!—and offered one for Lewis to shake. “Leo Ramos. Nice to meet you, Mr. Kampmueller.”
“How do you know who I am?” Lewis asked, not trying to hide the suspicion in his voice. Something was off about this guy—he was too…too…just too much.
“You’re the reason I’m here.”
“Me too,” he thought he heard Darcy whisper.
“What?” he asked them both.
“Nothing. Damn, this hurts,” Darcy answered as she tried to turn her ankle, causing another intake of breath—different from when Leo Ramos touched her.
“It doesn’t appear to be broken,” Ramos said to Darcy, ignoring Lewis’s question. “Probably just a pretty nasty sprain, but you should have it looked at.”
Lewis did look at it—her ankle—and could see it already starting to swell. Darcy started to rise and Lewis took one of her arms as Ramos took the other. “Her father can help her,” Lewis said, but only received that smirk again.
“Can you put any weight on it?” Ramos asked Darcy, who tried, but winced painfully, then tried to hide it.
Just like she used to when they were kids and she’d hurt herself doing something stupid that Brooks and he were doing. Trying to keep up with them. Not showing them she was in pain.
“Oh, honey,” Ellen Bennett said. “You really need to go to the emergency room.” As Darcy gasped and started furiously shaking her head—causing that massive hair to shimmer—her mother quickly added, “To make sure it’s not broken. I’m sorry, honey, you really have to go.”
Were those…tears? He’d never seen Darcy close to anything like tears. “I don’t want to go,” she whispered.
“I know, honey, but we really need to make sure it’s not something more than a sprain. At the very least, we need to get that ankle elevated and some ice on it.”
“Maybe I could just get some ice from the kitchen and sit down for a minute to rest it? I’ll be fine if I just stay off of it for a little while.”
Any fool could see that wasn’t going to happen. But she gave it a shot, trying to walk, only to crumple again, this time into Ramos’ arms. Damn, he needed to be quicker at this damsel in distress thing.
But that was just it. Darcy had never been much for distress. Or being a damsel, for that matter.
“I don’t think she should even try to walk,” Ellen said.
“I’ll carry her to the car,” John said and moved toward Darcy and Ramos.
“No, John, your back.”
Ramos made a movement, like he was going to lift Darcy, and that growling emotion roared inside Lewis. “I’ve got her,” he said, extricating Darcy from Ramos’ arms, then lifting her into his own. Even with all that beading on her dress, she was still light as a feather. She always was a string bean.
But it wasn’t a string bean he held in his arms. Nope, there were definite curves and they were nuzzled tightly against his chest. And lower.
He was just about to tell John he’d carry Darcy to their car so John and Ellen could take her to the hospital, when Ellen said, “Thank you so much, Lewis. I know she’s in good hands with you.”
Darcy, John and Lewis all gave Ellen a confused look, which she seemed not to notice. “Darcy, honey, we’ll see you later. Text us if it’s anything more serious than a sprain.” Then she grabbed on to her husband’s arm and dragged him away from their injured daughter. Odd.
“Mom?” Darcy called after them. But they must not have heard because they kept on going, only to be swallowed up by the crowd, who’d stopped staring at their small group.
Darcy looked up at him, her blue eyes full of sadness. Had her eyes always been that blue? Or were they just so much more noticeable now without her ever-present glasses?
“Lewis, you don’t have to do this. Leave the party, I mean.”
Well no, he didn’t, and he had no intention of it. He’d find Brooks and make him take his sister to the emergency room. He wasn’t an unfeeling monster, but Darcy was basically fine, Brooks was her brother, and Lewis…Lewis needed to see Grace in that dress again.
He was just about to ask somebody passing by to find Brooks for him when Ramos—he’d forgotten about that guy—opened his mouth.
“Mr. Kampmueller, about the reason I’m here.”
“Yes?”
“I’m with the FBI, here on behalf of the NSA, and I—”
Oh, shit. “Can’t you see this girl’s in pain? This is hardly the time—”
“I’m okay, Lewis. What would the FBI—”
“Darcy, we need to get you to the hospital right away. You could have broken your ankle. Or triggered a blood clot or something.” He turned, Darcy still in his arms, still very curvy in all the right places, and made for the exit.
“I don’t think blood clots work like that,” Darcy was saying as Ramos called after them, “Mr. Kampmueller, I’d really like to speak with you.”
“Later,” he called over his shoulder to the man. Agent. They were called agents in the FBI. At least Grace was. “I’ll be back as soon as I get Darcy looked at and then settled at home.”
“You’re coming back?” both Ramos and Darcy said together.
“Yes. I’m coming back,” he answered them both and sped out of the main room, down the hallway, toward the coat check area.
“Oh, let me find my slip,” Darcy said as she opened her tiny pursey-thing. Her body shifted at the movement, and Lewis hiked her up, getting a better grip. A much better grip, right across her thighs—those creamy, toned thighs—and causing her to press tighter against him. In all the right places.
Damn. He should find Tess. Let her know what had happened and that he’d definitely be back in time to enact Plan B.
“What’s wrong?” Darcy asked at his abrupt about-face.
“I just need to—” Ramos was down the hall, watching them. “Nothing. Nothing. It can wait.” He did another turn and headed through the doors to the outside.
“But my wrap,” Darcy protested.
“We’ll get it later,” Lewis told her. “It’s not like it’d give you any warmth anyway.”
“Wow. It has really turned cold. It’s even colder than when we came in.” She rubbed her arms together, causing a delectable amount of cleavage to peer out of the neckline of her dress. He debated putting her down to give her his coat, but figured it’d be quicker to get her inside his car. He half walked, half jogged, to the vehicle.
�
��I need to set you down to get my keys,” he told her as he moved to lower her. She leaned against the door, but kept her other hand on his chest for balance, her bad leg lifted behind her like a flamingo. That pesky slit in her dress fell from her lifted leg and Lewis desperately wished the parking lot had better lighting.
He fumbled for his car keys, opened the car, helped Darcy into the seat and then took off his jacket and laid it across her, blanket-like. He moved to the other side of the car, got behind the wheel and pulled out of his parking space.
He looked back at the building, sparkling with lights, the party now in full swing. Then he looked at Darcy. How long could this take, anyway? He’d get Darcy checked out, get her settled at home, then be back well before midnight and his kiss with Grace.
Chapter Four
Well, she’d wanted to get Lewis alone. But she could do without the unbelievable pain in her ankle. And Lewis’s obvious rush to get rid of her and back to the party. Though, bless him, he was trying to hide it from her.
“Isn’t there some way you can elevate it?” he asked as they drove from the Club to the hospital. “If I’d been thinking, I’d have put you in the back seat, so you could’ve had it up.”
His brow furrowed and she knew he was doing the mental “stupid, stupid, stupid” that he did when he realized he could have thought of a better way. It was that look which made her first fall for Lewis. Or maybe it was the head tilt while he was thinking.
“I’ll try,” she said and raised her leg to rest her heel on the top of the dashboard. The slit in her dress fell all the way open. She tried a couple of times to pull the bottom of her hem back up and tuck it around her foot, but it kept slipping, and damn her ankle hurt. She let it fall. “There. Elevated.”
He looked over at her, and it was hard to tell by the dashboard lights, but she didn’t think he looked all that long at her foot. Her leg, he looked plenty.
Okay, Darce, it wasn’t how you might have wanted it, but you have the man of your dreams alone on New Year’s Eve. You better not waste this opportunity.
She bent forward and gently touched her ankle. Then, ever so slowly, she ran her hand up her calf to her thigh. She didn’t look at Lewis, but she could tell by the slight swerving of the car that he’d noticed.