Hot Wheels and High Heels

by Jane Graves

  Actually, in the past few weeks, Darcy had gotten these strange little vibes that maybe it was a blessing that Warren was gone. Of course, it would have been even more of a blessing if he’d left behind a couple hundred thousand dollars for her, but a blessing just the same.

  “Your mother needs taking care of,” her father said. “Always has. But you’re not your mother.”

  “You two have been married a long time.”

  “Yep.”

  “You had to get married.”

  “Didn’t have to.”

  “Because of me.”

  “It was just what people did back then. The responsible ones still do.”

  “So what about now? I’m not a kid anymore, and these days people don’t hang around if they don’t want to.”

  “Old habits are hard to break.”

  “You still fight a lot.”

  “Like I said. Old habits.” He shrugged. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but a lot of times it really isn’t all that bad. Your mom throws a fit, and I do whatever I want to do, anyway. It’s just what we do. If it didn’t work for us, we’d have split up a long time ago.”

  “She’s been on a rampage since Warren left me.”

  “She’s just afraid for you, that’s all. Believe it or not, she always just wants the best for you. She has a hell of a way of showing that sometimes, but it’s the truth.”

  In her heart, Darcy had always known that. She just wished her mother would pick more calm and productive ways of demonstrating it.

  An hour later, her father was probably regretting putting the transmission of his precious pickup through the trauma of Darcy’s driving ineptitude, but finally she learned how to make the truck stop and go with a minimum of gear grinding and engine dying.

  She couldn’t wait to see the expression on John’s face when she brought in a car all by herself without breaking the law to do it. She knew he’d launch into a tirade about it, but in the end she knew another truth: he’d respect her for the fact that she’d been able to pull it off. And for maybe the first time in her life, respect from a man was something she wanted to have.

  “Speaking of stealing cars,” her father said. “Would it help to know how to hot-wire one?”

  Darcy smiled. This day just got better and better.

  On Saturday morning, Darcy woke up, but it was a minute before she realized what day it was. When she did, she pulled the covers back over her head, wishing she could shut out the world. Today was G-Day. “G” as in geriatric.

  Her fortieth birthday.

  She’d already told her parents she didn’t want them to make a fuss. No presents, no dinner out, no card, no nothing. She’d told Carolyn the same thing, threatening her with death if she showed up with a present or tried to drag her to La Maison for lunch. John would have no idea it was her birthday, so he wouldn’t feel obligated to do anything. She wasn’t even seeing him until later, anyway. He was working today, going after a few cars he hadn’t been able to grab during the week. He told her to come to his house around seven o’clock. With luck, he’d take her straight to bed, and by the time she woke up, her birthday would be over. Then she’d just have to resign herself to living out the remainder of her years as an old woman.

  She pulled the covers back over her head and slept till noon, hoping to make the day go by a little faster. Then, just as she was getting up to take a shower, she heard a knock at her door. She threw on a robe and looked out the peephole, surprised to see Amy.

  She opened the door. “Amy! What are you doing here?”

  Amy grinned. “Just dropped by to wish you a happy birthday.”

  With a painful groan, Darcy turned around and walked to her living room. Amy came inside and closed the door behind her. “What’s the matter?”

  “How did you know it was my birthday?”

  “I’m nosy. I looked through your personnel records a few weeks ago, just in case it was coming up soon.” She handed Darcy an envelope. “This is for you.”

  Darcy opened it. A Wal-Mart gift card?

  A few months ago, she’d have turned her nose up at this. But now it felt as if Amy had given her pure gold. Just thinking of how much she could buy there for so little sent a little thrill right up her spine.

  “This is great!” she said. “I need new dishtowels and a toaster and some other stuff for my kitchen.” She gave Amy a hug. “Thank you.”

  “Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll go shopping with you? Unless you have something else planned today.”

  “No. Nothing. Not until tonight, anyway. I’m going to see John, and—” She stopped short, a terrible thought crossing her mind. “Amy. Please tell me you didn’t say anything to him about my birthday.”

  “Didn’t have to. He already knew. Apparently he was poking through personnel records, too.”

  Great. “I hope he’s not planning anything.”

  “Truthfully, I don’t know what he has in mind.”

  Darcy sat down on her sofa with a heavy sigh. “I just wanted this birthday to go by without anybody even mentioning it.”

  “But why? Birthdays are fun.”

  “Not when you’re turning forty.”

  Amy waved her hand. “Forty’s no big deal.”

  “Yeah, that’s what John keeps saying. That forty’s no big deal. Just because he passed right by it with no repercussions, he expects me to as well.”

  “Don’t bet on that.”

  “What?”

  “The ‘no repercussions’ thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Amy sat down on the sofa beside Darcy. “He turned forty right after he had to quit the police force. That wasn’t easy on him. It reminded him he was having to start over, only this time he wasn’t a kid anymore. See, he wanted to come up through the ranks and eventually run the show. Given the fact that he thrives on being the boss, I think eventually he would have made police chief.”

  Darcy smiled. “It’s not hard to imagine that, is it?”

  “Nope. John has to be in charge of something, or he goes nuts. That’s why he started his own business.”

  “He told me your family thought he ought to buy a Subway franchise.”

  Amy laughed. “Yeah, we suggested it. A nice, normal business where he has very little chance of getting his head blown off. But no. He’s not happy unless he’s dealing with gun-waving deadbeats.” Then her smile faded. “But to tell you the truth, he’s not really looking for something as much as he is someone. He just doesn’t know that yet.”

  Darcy felt a little flush of warmth, thinking back to a couple of times in the past few weeks when she’d seen John staring at her with something that looked like confusion, as if he was trying to figure something out but was coming up short. Maybe he was looking ahead to what his life might be like in the future and imagining her in it.

  Or maybe he was just picturing her naked.

  Darcy took a quick shower, and then she and Amy went shopping at Wal-Mart. After buying a few things for her kitchen, Darcy picked up some car wax on sale, thinking that sometime she ought to try to spiff up old Gertie a little. When Amy said there was no time like the present and offered to help, Darcy figured she couldn’t turn that down. They spent the rest of the afternoon washing and waxing the old car. In spite of a first-class effort on their part, though, Gertie didn’t look much better than she had to start with, but Darcy was very happy to have killed a few more hours of G-Day.

  Amy left about five o’clock. Darcy had just headed to the bathroom to take another shower when she heard a knock. Looking out the peephole, she was surprised to find Bernie standing at her door, her hands tucked behind her back.

  Good God. Not again. Darcy did not want to deal with this.

  She opened the door with a heavy sigh. “What now?”

  “Mr. Bridges would like to speak with you.”

  “Bernie, will you do me a favor and tell Mr. Bridges to take a hike?”

  “I fully intend to. The moment he sto
ps signing my paychecks.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Darcy sighed. She was still a mess from washing and waxing her car, but so what? If Jeremy dropped by unannounced, he was taking a chance on what she might look like. And what did it matter what he thought, anyway?

  She grabbed her keys, locked the door behind her, and followed Bernie to the parking lot, where the limo was double-parked. Bernie slid in beside the driver, and Darcy climbed into the back. As always where Jeremy was concerned, she got a surprise.

  He was wearing a tuxedo.

  “Hello, Darcy.”

  For a moment she was speechless. What was he up to now?

  “Surprised?” he asked.

  “Yes. I wouldn’t have thought you even owned a tuxedo.”

  “I didn’t until this afternoon.” He tugged on his lapels. “You know, I may eventually like the millionaire look. What do you think?”

  What did she think? He looked amazing.

  “You look . . . okay.”

  “Okay?” He beamed. “Why, Darcy, I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” He knocked on the Plexiglas between him and the driver. “Let’s go.”

  To Darcy’s surprise, the driver started the car, and before she knew it, they’d pulled out of the apartment complex.

  “What are you doing?” she said. “Bernie said you just wanted to talk.”

  “Isn’t it amazing what a good liar she is? She blows me away sometimes.”

  She knocked on the Plexiglas. “Hey! Stop! Take me back home!”

  The driver acted as if he hadn’t even heard.

  “I thought we could spend the evening together,” Jeremy said.

  “Well, you thought wrong.”

  “Have a nice dinner.”

  “Dinner? I don’t want to have dinner with you!”

  “In San Antonio.”

  Darcy froze. “What?”

  “My private plane is waiting at the airport to fly us there.”

  Darcy just stared at him, dumbfounded. “You want to take me to San Antonio just for dinner?”

  He grinned. “Nothing’s too good for the birthday girl.”

  Birthday. That god-awful word she didn’t want to think about, much less hear somebody say. She started to ask him how he knew it was her birthday, but why? By now the man probably knew everything from the number of fillings she had to the brand of feminine-hygiene products she used.

  “Have you bothered to look at what I’m wearing?” she asked.

  “Not a problem. We’re dropping by my house first. I have a wardrobe consultant there with a nice selection of evening dresses for you to choose from. Size six, isn’t it?”

  Darcy sighed. Did this guy ever let up?

  “Hmm,” he said. “You don’t seem particularly happy about my plans for this evening.”

  “That’s right. Your plans. Not mine.”

  “Just think of it as a very nice surprise.”

  “Surprise? Technically this is kidnapping.”

  “Technically, you’re right. Are you going to call me on a technicality?”

  “I don’t like being manipulated.”

  “It’s just a date, Darcy. What could possibly be wrong with that?”

  “I already have a date this evening.”

  Jeremy frowned. “Then you’ll just have to cancel it.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t want to have dinner with you!”

  “Sorry,” he said with a gleam in his eye. “You’re stuck. This limousine is on an irreversible course to my house, and then to Love Field. You’re just going to have to suffer through a flight on a private jet and a gourmet dinner whether you like it or not.”

  Jeremy sat back with a smirk of satisfaction, but Darcy had no intention of letting him get away with this.

  A few minutes later, the limo turned onto a property surrounded by a massive iron and stone fence. The house was tucked away down a gently sloping road lined with trees, a sprawling French chateau with arches and columns trimmed in carved limestone. The massive oak front doors were flanked by diamond-cut glass that shimmered in the evening light. It was even more spectacular than she imagined.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jeremy watching her, a devilish smile on his face. That was what he was. The devil. Trying to lure her into selling her soul for the opportunity to enjoy the kind of luxury only the wealthy could consider.

  She got out of the limo and followed Jeremy and Bernie into the two-story foyer. A dazzling chandelier lit the space, which was complete with a marble tile floor and a hand-carved Palladian arch leading to the great room beyond.

  “So, what do you think?” Jeremy asked. “Architectural Digest wanted to do a spread of it last year, but all those people running around my house would have irritated the hell out of me.”

  As much as she wanted to, there was no way to lie about this. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Give a decorator a blank check, and this is what you get.”

  Yes, it was amazing. And normally at the sight of this kind of elegance, she’d be salivating like Pavlov’s dog. But for some reason, she wasn’t thinking about the beauty of this house, or the cachet of a private jet, or about a dining opportunity that didn’t involve two-for-one coupons. She was thinking about the man she’d be with.

  Or, rather, the man she wouldn’t.

  Jeremy’s cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket, looked at the caller ID, and frowned.

  “I have to take this,” he said. “Just go up the stairs to the first bedroom on the right. The wardrobe consultant is waiting for you. Then we’ll head to the airport.”

  “And just when do you intend to take me home?”

  He stopped at the doorway, a sly smile playing over his lips. “Actually, Darcy, I was hoping you’d want to stay tonight.”

  With that, he disappeared into the other room.

  Darcy couldn’t believe it. What exactly was he offering her? She wondered if it was possible that he was actually getting serious, or whether he was simply spending more money to play the same game.

  But then she realized it didn’t matter. She wanted out of there. She wanted to go home to her crappy apartment and get ready to go to John’s house. Instead of a gourmet dinner complete with fine wine, he’d probably shove a bag of popcorn into the microwave and they’d chase it with a couple of beers. For reasons Darcy still was a little fuzzy on in light of the elegance Jeremy was offering her, the thought of that put a smile on her face.

  She went to the kitchen. Bernie sat at the breakfast room table, reading the newspaper. Darcy headed for the telephone to call John, knowing he’d drop whatever he was doing if it meant getting her away from Jeremy Bridges. Then she realized his phone number was programmed into her cell phone, but she didn’t know it off the top of her head. And as a former cop, the last thing he’d have is a listed number.

  “What are you doing?” Bernie asked.

  “Calling a cab.”

  “Yeah? Got money for cab fare?”

  Darcy froze. No, damn it, she didn’t. Not only had she gotten away without her cell phone, she’d gotten away without her purse.

  “I don’t suppose Jeremy has a cookie jar full of money around here somewhere, does he?”

  “Nope.”

  “Bernie, can I borrow—”

  “Nope.”

  “If he won’t take me home, you do it.”

  “Sorry. No can do.”

  “This really is kidnapping.”

  “So call the cops.”

  Darcy put her fists on her hips. “Hey, whatever happened to sisterhood? Women are supposed to stick together.”

  Bernie made a face. “You saw that Ya-Ya movie, didn’t you?”

  God. This woman was even more infuriating than her boss.

  But then Bernie’s gaze slowly swept across the kitchen to the back door. Through the big window next to it, Darcy could see Jeremy’s umpteen-car garag
e. Next to the back door was a board where half a dozen sets of car keys hung. Bernie focused on it for a few long, deliberate moments, then looked back down at her newspaper.

  “The code for the garage doors is two-eight-one-nine,” she said.

  Darcy looked over her shoulder to the door Jeremy had disappeared through, then walked quickly over to the board that held the keys. Hummer . . . Cadillac SUV . . . Maserati . . . oooh. A Porsche 911. She’d always wanted to drive one of those.

  “Door number three,” Bernie said quietly.

  “Just how mad is he going to be?” Darcy said.

  Bernie looked up, and a sly smile inched its way across her lips. Then she looked back down at her newspaper again.

  Now, that was sisterhood.

  With a whispered thanks, Darcy slipped out the door and headed to the garage, hoping Jeremy couldn’t hear her starting the engine. As she motored down the road toward the front gate, she glanced in the rearview mirror and didn’t see him standing in the driveway shaking his fist, so she figured she’d made a clean getaway.

  Fifteen minutes later, she swung the Porsche into her apartment complex and pulled it into a parking space next to Gertie. It was a nice car. Really nice. But Gertie had her advantages, too. Her paint was shot a long time ago, so she didn’t need a garage, and because nobody would ever think to steal her, all those expensive antitheft devices weren’t necessary.

  And she did have four really nice tires.

  Darcy had just stepped inside her apartment when she heard her cell phone ring. She hurried to the kitchen counter where she’d left it, smiling when she saw the caller ID.

  She hit the TALK button. “Hello, Jeremy.”

  “You do realize you just committed car theft.”

  “Tell you what. If you won’t have me arrested for car theft, I won’t have you arrested for kidnapping. Deal?”

  “I don’t get you, Darcy. I arrange a really nice evening, and this is the thanks I get?”

  “Your car will be at my apartment anytime you’d like to pick it up. And if I were you, I’d make it snappy. I saw a couple of sleazy-looking guys scoping it out, and they weren’t just admiring the paint job.”