He’d already been awake when she opened her eyes, must have been studying her while she slept. His expression was tender and sweet—until she’d yawned and stretched, pressing her nakedness against his side, and then he’d been ready to go again, bless his young male heart.
Now, after extended languorous lovemaking, she was a boneless jellyfish of a woman. “Tell you what?”
“Tell me what you have against men.”
Darcy’s lovely relaxation fled. “Oh, there’s a nice one. ‘Good morning, Darcy, how about sex followed by a nice stroll through a minefield?’”
“I’m going to want to see a lot of you, Darcy.”
“Do I have a say in this?”
“Not really, no.”
She ignored the thrill and snorted derisively. “Well, there’s a good start to answer your question about what I have against men.”
“Hmm. I’m guessing your boyfriends didn’t give you much say in anything.”
“They let me dress myself.”
“Oh, hey!” His eyes lit up. “I can allow that, too!”
“Oh, you’re a prince. All that freedom? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”
He squeezed her to him, nuzzling her hair. “I’m not out to control you, change you or enslave you, Darcy. I’m asking for the chance to be with you, to find out what this is. If it’s just lust and burns itself out, fine, nothing wrong with a good old-fashioned sexual marathon.”
She giggled, relieved the discussion had stayed light. “Hey, you could add that to your events. Running, biking, swimming and sex. A quadrathlon.”
He laughed; she loved that he got her humor. She was stupidly loving everything about their time together. Shouldn’t warning bells be going off like mad? They were frustratingly silent. How was she supposed to panic properly at a time like this?
She needed to remind herself that relationships—yes, okay, okay, this was starting to look like one—were always beautiful at the beginning. Even her parents must have been utterly enthralled with everything about each other at one time. Impossible to imagine given the deep discontent bordering on hatred that comprised most of their interaction through her childhood.
“Men…?”
Darcy sighed and curled his arm tighter around her. “Men. Right.”
“They haven’t treated you well.”
“I haven’t chosen well. I finally decided since I was doomed to repeat the same punishment in my relationships, I’d be happier and healthier avoiding them.”
“So what happens if you find a man who is nice to you?”
She blinked sweetly at him. “Got anyone in mind?”
“No, no, no. A completely random question.”
She rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling, her left side still flush against his. She had some kind of weird addiction to the feel of his skin. And muscle. God, he was all muscle. She’d love to watch him work out sometime, revel in his strength and the contract-extend ripple under his skin as he—
Wait, what were they talking about?
Oh, right, men. “Here’s the thing. My parents were madly in love when they got married. I have divorced friends who were madly in love when they got married. If I’d married any of the men I was madly in love with, it would have been a complete disaster. I don’t trust the feeling.”
He was quiet so long she tilted her head to see his face, above hers on his down pillows. He was gazing across the room, but bent to brush her lips with his when she turned, started stroking her stomach absently. Oh, she loved the way he touched her, as if it was instinct, something he didn’t even have to think about. The man probably gave back rubs in his sleep.
“Darcy, I’m not sure how to put this, and thanks for the proposal, but I’m not quite ready to discuss marriage with you.”
She started spluttering in shock until she saw his lips curve and realized he’d gotten her. She shoved playfully at his side. “Okay, okay. Your point is that it’s not going to kill me to keep seeing you and having incredible sex.”
“That’s exactly my point. And maybe to keep your mind open to the idea that not all men are out to enslave you.” He frowned. “Though the concept has its attractions. You naked and chained to my bed, for example. I could get into that. Maybe giving me a massage every night. A home-cooked meal twice a day. Laundry, doing my errands, washing my feet and—”
Darcy launched herself at him, and discovered to her delight that this tall, buff man was horribly ticklish. And way too strong. She found herself pinned back on the bed within seconds, totally helpless. Terrible flashback to the one time Chris had gotten physical in his anger—anger over being caught cheating and anger over her gall to be upset about it. “Let go.”
He did immediately, searching her face. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yes, sorry, sorry.” She gave a nervous laugh. “I attacked, you defended. You were playing. It was fine. I overreacted.”
He kissed her mouth, a long, sweet kiss so gentle that she could feel her lips trembling. How did he manage to make his way past so many defenses before she even knew she was under siege? “Darcy, I have never used, nor will I ever use strength to dominate, control or hurt anyone. Anyone. Especially you.”
Her heart started performing feats out of Alice in Wonderland, swelling to enormous proportions, then shrink-melting into a goopy warmth spreading through in her chest. “I believe you.”
“Thank you.” He smiled then, a direct, relieved beautiful smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes under his morning-rumpled hair and turned him entirely irresistible, this young man who made her feel so damn much. “Tell me more.”
She rolled her eyes, shaky still. “Always the questions. Boyfriend one in college, Jon, insisted I put his agenda, friends and desires ahead of mine.”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
Darcy laughed at his fake-shocked expression. “Boyfriend two after college, Chris, couldn’t handle my hours and devotion to my career and cheated on me with a woman who loved nothing better than to wash his socks.”
“Wait, you don’t love washing socks?” He frowned, clearly struggling. “I’m having serious doubts about your suitability as a woman.”
“Exactly.”
He grinned and turned her away from him, started stroking her back, kneading muscles that were less tense than usual, but no less grateful for his attention. “How about nonboyfriend men? You don’t have good male friends? Brothers?”
“No brothers. I hung around with guy friends in college and in restaurant kitchens, but all my close friendships have been with women.” She stirred uncomfortably. Most of her male friends had been drinking buddies or colleagues. As for her female friendships, she wasn’t the type to keep people posted on all her feelings the way some women could. Her sister, Brit, could talk emotions all day, probably because of her therapy and A.A. meetings. Amy at the restaurant had no problem sharing. Candy certainly could. Marie and Kim were more guarded. But then most people were more guarded than Candy, bless her.
So Darcy wasn’t likely to win any intimacy awards.
“What about the chef who encouraged you?”
“God, yes, without him I’d probably be an abused-wife drunk.” She shuddered at the thought, then turned in Troy’s arms. “Enough of me. I want to hear your stories. Unless you’ve always had perfect relationships, then keep it to yourself.”
His eyes were warm. “If I’d had perfect relationships I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“Good point.” She touched his cheek, rough with stubble. “I’m glad they sucked.”
He grinned. “This is the first time I’ve ever said this, but so am I.”
“Tell me.” She traced the fine arch of his eyebrows, drew her finger gently down the noble line of his nose to his lips, which opened and gently closed around her first knuckle.
“There’s not much to say. I’ve had unhealthy patterns, too. Never got it right.”
“So we’re relationship misfits.”
“Looks that way.”
She contemplated the masculine beauty of his face, absently thinking someone should do a sculpture of him. “So why don’t we be together as much as we want and not call it a relationship, so we can’t screw it up.”
He laughed. “You know, I think that might work.”
“Good.” She grinned and launched herself on top of him, snuggling down on his broad chest, feeling his arms come tightly around her, acknowledging, yes, that just maybe Marie was a little bit right, and this was what she wanted.
“Just don’t forget that because of a man you’re a brilliant, unique success in town. That’s something to celebrate.”
“Not unique for long.” She wished the words back immediately. He’d want to know more about Raoul, she’d have to tell him, and he’d either tell her what to do or not see what she was worried about.
“Tell me more about that guy. Why did you have to fire him?”
Darcy sighed and told him. How Raoul had come to the restaurant in all his bad-boy sexy glory, flirted shamelessly with Darcy. She’d felt pretty hot, pretty special, until she caught him in the linen storage room with Alice. And until Ace reported missing steaks and expensive cheeses, some of which were eventually discovered in the back of Raoul’s truck, where Ace had “happened” to climb to get some springtime sunshine. Ace was also a guy she could depend on. That made two. Troy might be a solid third.
When she got to the part where Raoul landed the backing of James Thomas who’d laughed Darcy out of his office for the same request, and the details about Raoul’s restaurant concept being so similar to hers, Troy went very quiet and very still.
“Doesn’t play nice.”
“Ya think?” She shrugged. “Nothing I can do. He’s totally within his rights. No copyright on restaurant concepts, and business is business.”
“It still stinks.”
She nodded, waiting. He hadn’t done either of the Expected Man Things, hadn’t told her what to do or ignored her worries. Promising. Definitely.
“Seems to me, though, if you keep your quality up the way you’re already doing, people will still come, even if he does do well. Different neighborhood, different cook. Is he any good?”
“Under me he did what he was told, to make the dishes I created. That was his job.”
“Mmm, I have never tasted your food, but I do love the way you cook…” He trailed his hand down her abdomen and lower, sending a shiver of arousal through her. Again! Twice the previous evening, once in the middle of the night, already this morning. She could see why women liked younger men. “I bet you have nothing to worry about with this guy.”
“I’d still like him out of the picture. Can you arrange that?”
“Sure. Um, but how about later…” His fingers started working magic between her legs. Darcy opened to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders and welcomed him on top of her. Nothing to worry about? Hardly.
But today at least, Troy had made her feel wonderful, respected her, didn’t insist on commitment, reassured her he wasn’t capable of violence, didn’t dismiss her fears about Raoul….
Darcy kissed him eagerly, loving the soft insistence of his lips, the hard push of his body. She might as well face it. She’d run entirely out of reasons to resist him.
“A NEW WOMAN, HUH?”
Troy wanted to roll his eyes. He and his friend and coworker, Chad, were on treadmills at the Milwaukee Athletic Club after work, doing their five-mile training run. He, Chad and Bev had gone to grade school together; Chad and Bev had started dating in seventh grade and never looked back, so as far as Troy was concerned, Chad had been married to Bev practically since he was born. Every time the subject was Troy’s love life, the normally easygoing Chad became baffled and uptight at Troy’s failure to get something so simple right the first time. “Yup. Darcy Clark. Owns Gladiolas restaurant downtown on National.”
“I’ve heard of it.” Chad grabbed his towel to mop sweat from his slightly receding hairline. “You been yet?”
“Not yet.”
“What’s she like?”
Troy grinned. Where to begin? “Passionate. Strong. Independent. Sexy as hell. Brunette, looks like Catherine Zeta-Jones.”
“Yeah?” Chad did not sound at all impressed. But Troy wasn’t out to impress him. “She old enough to drink?”
Troy shot him a look. “Since when have I ever robbed the cradle? She’s thirty-two.”
“Really.” Chad sounded impressed that time, but Troy wasn’t sure it was for good reasons. “Older woman, huh? Has she been married before?”
“Nope.”
“String of failed romances?”
“Don’t we all?”
Chad’s gray eyes shot wide. “Uh…”
Of course not. “You’re not normal, dude.”
“Actually, I think I am.” He pushed a button on his machine to increase the incline. Troy, ever the competitor, matched him, adjusting his stride when the running surface tilted up.
“She had a tough childhood.”
“Abuse?”
“Don’t think so. Alcoholic father. Sounds like her sister went down that road, too, though she’s recovering. Parents had a nasty divorce.”
“You want some advice?”
Troy sighed. “From you? Of course not.”
“Ha-ha.” Chad mopped his face again. “My advice is to stop going after these hot, flashy, unstable women. Find a nice, normal sane girl who will stay with you. Passion is great, but it doesn’t last, and when it fades, you need a best friend beside you for the rest of your life.”
He didn’t have to ask who Chad was talking about. “Darcy isn’t Debby.”
“Maybe not, but she’s the same type. Hot, which means men have been after her all her life. Passionate, which means emotional roller coasters all over the place. Thirty-two and never committed to anyone, baggage several feet deep from family dysfunction—it all adds up to the same story, Troy. You fall hard, then she gets bored or restless and you get hurt.”
Troy drank from his water bottle, not sure how to respond to that. He had nothing to go on, no evidence handy that would convince Chad he was wrong. He hadn’t known Darcy long enough to understand how she operated on every level. He was mostly going on the fact that looking into her eyes turned him upside down and inside out and beat him to a submissive pulp of tenderness and desire, which had never happened to him before to quite that degree, which he’d maybe naively assumed meant they were on their way to deeper feelings.
“How did you meet her?”
“That night you sent Justin and me to Esmee. She was at the bar, drinking arak.”
“Pretty tough drink for a woman.”
Troy rolled his eyes and increased the speed on his machine. “Twenty-first century, Chad.”
“Right. Sorry.” He punched up his speed, too, breathing slightly harder. His compact body made keeping up with Troy a battle—one he hated to lose. “Wait, I thought you were just at Esmee last week?”
“Yup. Wednesday.”
“And what, she’s moved in already?”
“Not exactly. We’ve been out twice.” The first was a chance meeting, the second she was tricked into. That would go over great. It even sounded ridiculous to him.
“So let me get this straight. You pick this woman up at a bar, spend a couple of nights with her and now you’re hooked?” Chad shook his dark head. “She’s got to be something in bed. There’s no other explanation for why you’ve turned stupid on me again after all that work getting past Drama Debby.”
“That’s not all it is.” Troy wanted to explain further, but there was no way he was going to quote Justin’s line about nerve endings coming to life.
“What can you know about a person in a week, even if you spend every second together? Bev might not be a mystery to me anymore, but it sure as hell took longer than a week to get past the initial impression.” He grabbed his water bottle, took a long pull. “I was waiting until you settled after ditching De
bby, but I’m thinking it’s time for intervention now. Bev has a colleague at Atwood Elementary she’s been wanting to match you up with, a kindergarten teacher named Jan.”
Troy groaned. Chad ignored him. “She’s twenty-four, smart, sweet as hell, nice family, she’s great with kids, no dysfunctional garbage in her past. We’ll have you over to dinner. You’ll like her. Everybody likes her.”
Troy wanted to laugh. He knew what was coming. She just hasn’t met the right guy yet.
“She’s dated around, but you know, she just hasn’t met the right guy yet.”
“Yeah?” He upped his incline, heart starting to pump; Chad swore softly and did the same. “How about that.”
Maybe Troy was following his old patterns of finding women who’d treat him like crap—he and Justin used to joke about how they managed to find the psychos in every crowd. But Justin found someone sweet, sexy and devoted to him in Candy. It wasn’t impossible that Troy had changed, too.
“Can I tell Bev you’re interested?”
“Chad…”
“All you have to do is meet her, not propose.”
“I know.” He gritted his teeth. There was no way he could fit another woman in his brain right now. But if he said no, Chad would keep pestering, if for no other reason than Bev would keep pestering him. “I need to see where this goes first.”
“I already know where it’s going.”
Troy responded by increasing his speed to a sprint. Chad followed, and they did the last quarter mile in a mess of sloppy form and heaving chests before they stopped, out of breath and laughing.
Before Chad could start in again, Troy changed the subject to Packers football and their playoff odds for the next season, counting on the topic to take over Chad’s football-addicted brain completely, relieved when it worked all the way through their cool-down walk and into the weight room, where Chad did a perfunctory set and went home to Bev.
Troy stayed, working hard, then harder, working out muscles in his body and working out issues in his brain. Darcy during bicep curls. Jan during chest presses. Darcy during pec flies. His old girlfriend Debby during triceps kickbacks. Darcy during sit-ups on the slant board. Where was he messing up? Where were the women messing up?
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