Hot Wheels and High Heels

by Jane Graves

Over his protests, she hung up the phone and went to take a shower. That beer and popcorn was sounding better all the time.

  And what was going to come after it was sounding pretty good, too.

  Chapter 19

  Jeremy hung up the phone, astonished at this turn of events. He turned an irritated expression toward Bernie.

  “Bernie? Did you not see her going for the key?”

  “Must have been looking the other way.”

  “Uh-huh. And how did she know the security code for the garage door?”

  “Lucky guess?”

  He threw up his hands. “Do you even know the meaning of the word insubordination? My enemies treat me better than you do!”

  “That’s because they don’t know you like I do.”

  “Have you thought about maybe helping me once in a while?”

  “Sure. Do you want me to go to her apartment? Maybe wrestle her to the ground, tie her up, and throw her in the trunk?”

  Jeremy sighed with resignation. “No. She’d probably just gnaw through the trunk lid.”

  “Shouldn’t that tell you something?”

  He sat down at the table. “It tells me she plays this game better than I thought she would.”

  “Maybe it’s not a game with her.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. I know her kind. I saw the look on her face when she saw this house for the first time.”

  “I know it offends you to your very soul that you’re actually going to lose at something, but there it is.”

  “I’m not going to lose.”

  “Hard work has never been your thing. Why don’t you just find yourself an easier target?”

  “Because I haven’t finished with this one yet.”

  “Leave her alone. She’s too good for you.”

  Jeremy bristled at that. “Oh, yeah? She spent fourteen years as a trophy wife, and she’s too good for me?”

  “Yeah. Because she’s trying to get over that, and you won’t let her.”

  Jeremy ripped the bow tie from around his neck, then unfastened the top button of his shirt so he could take a breath for the first time in an hour. Bernie just didn’t get it. No matter how it looked right now, women like Darcy couldn’t stay away from this lifestyle for long. It was just a matter of time. He wasn’t sure what it was going to take for this one, though. Every time he thought he had her, she slipped right through his fingers.

  Bernie said it wasn’t a game to Darcy, but that was exactly what it was. She was toying with him, turning down the small stuff to get him to step up to the plate with something really substantial. What irritated him was that the more she pulled back, the more he wanted her, and he couldn’t remember ever being in that position before.

  Another opportunity would present itself. And when it did, he’d be waiting.

  At seven o’clock that night, Darcy knocked on John’s door. As soon as he opened it, she came inside and gave him a kiss. Then she turned around, and her heart sank.

  Flowers. Candles. Presents. And—oh, God—a birthday cake.

  John smiled. “Happy birthday, Darcy.”

  She sighed. First Amy, then Jeremy, and now John. How did one go about banning the word birthday from the English language?

  “I didn’t want anyone doing anything for my birthday,” she said.

  “Sorry. Too late. How about a beer?”

  “Drown my sorrows? Sounds good to me.”

  John grabbed two beers from the fridge, nudged the door shut with his heel, and popped the tops. He handed one to Darcy. She took a long swig. Ah. There. Three or four more of these and she might forget she was one year closer to that AARP membership.

  “Presents first,” John said, setting his beer down. “Then cake.”

  He grabbed three packages from the dining room and brought them to the coffee table. He sat down beside her, handing her a small cylindrical one.

  “This one first.”

  Darcy pulled the ribbon, then unwrapped the package. She laughed out loud. “A can of Raid?”

  “Yep. I’ve always thought you could win the battle with conventional warfare, but it never hurts to have the nuclear option.”

  She smiled. “Thank you. I’ll cherish it always.”

  Next he handed her a wide, flat box. She tugged open the wrapping, lifted the lid, and laughed all over again.

  A gift certificate from Taco Hut?

  She smiled. “Hope you really love that cellulite, because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of it.”

  “That’s my plan. I like curvy women.”

  “Right. Pretty soon I won’t be able to get through the door.”

  “One more,” he said.

  He grabbed the biggest box and set it on her lap, and she wondered what other gag gift he’d managed to think of. Whatever it was, it was bigger and heavier than the first two. She unwrapped it, preparing to laugh, but when she saw what the box contained, all the silliness faded away.

  Ice skates?

  For a moment she sat transfixed, unable to believe what she was looking at. Beautiful skates with blinding white boots and shiny silver blades, a nine-year-old girl’s dream come true. Tears came to her eyes, and for a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. She just stared down at them, all kinds of emotions swirling through her.

  John remembered.

  No gift of Warren’s had ever meant anything. He always just gave her one more bauble to add to her jewelry cabinet, or maybe the occasional car if she needed one. And Jeremy. He figured the more money he threw at her, the more impressed she would be. But none of that had ever made her feel the way she did right now. And it wasn’t just the skates. The other gifts were inside jokes that had meaning only for them, gifts that made them laugh and cultivated a kind of intimacy between them she’d never expected.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked.

  But words still wouldn’t come. Finally she just set the skates aside and wound her arms around his neck, managing to murmur a “thank you” in his ear. She kissed his cheek, then pulled away again, sniffing a little and wiping a tear from beneath her eye.

  “Does this mean you’ll take me skating?” she asked.

  John froze, his smile evaporating. “Uh . . . I didn’t get any for me.”

  “That’s okay. You can rent some. Tomorrow’s Sunday. We can go to the ice rink at the Galleria.”

  “But I don’t know how to skate.”

  “Neither do I. We can fall on our asses together.”

  She tilted her head and looked at him plaintively. A calculating expression came over his face.

  “We’ll do your recreational activity tomorrow,” he said, “as long as we can do mine tonight.”

  That was a win-win situation if Darcy had ever heard one.

  After cake and ice cream and a glass of champagne, Darcy was feeling marginally better about turning forty, and when they retired to the bedroom to enjoy John’s choice of recreational activity, her age slipped her mind completely. Afterward, she went to the bathroom, and when she came back, John lay on his stomach on the bed, the sheet pulled to his waist, sound asleep.

  Drowsy with satisfaction herself, she sat down on the bed next to him, and for a long time she just leaned quietly against the headboard, watching him sleep.

  It was almost unfathomable to her that he was the same man who’d shown up to take her car the day her world fell apart. She couldn’t have imagined him giving her a job and a deadbolt and ice skates and sexual satisfaction beyond her wildest dreams, or holding her in his arms and looking at her as if she were the only woman on earth. But acquiring wealth didn’t make even the top ten on his list of things to do. So how could she have fallen for a man like him when she still missed her old life so desperately?

  Or did she?

  Her heart did a little flip-flop. She swallowed hard, and her cheeks grew hot.

  Maybe not.

  He lifted his head groggily. “Darcy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What’s the matter?”
/>   “Nothing.”

  “You look like you’re going to throw up.”

  “Uh . . . probably not.”

  “Good. I can do without that right now. Come to bed.”

  She crawled in next to him. He rolled over and took her in his arms, closing his eyes again.

  “Jeremy Bridges wanted to take me to dinner in San Antonio tonight.”

  John’s eyes sprang open. “He what?”

  “New evening gown, private jet, the whole nine yards.”

  “That son of a bitch. You know what he’s doing, don’t you, Darcy? You know when he gives you expensive gifts like that—”

  “I know. He’s going to want something in return.”

  There was a long silence. Darcy heard nothing but crickets chirping outside, mingling with the low-pitched rattle of the air-conditioning unit outside the bedroom window.

  “Did you consider going?” John asked.

  For maybe the first time since she’d met him, his words sounded hushed and uncertain.

  “Not for one moment,” she said.

  He kissed the top of her head and tightened his arms around her. Darcy couldn’t imagine being on that plane right now, or anywhere else that wasn’t in John’s arms.

  After an hour of fumbling his way around the railing of the ice rink, John concluded that ice skating was, without a doubt, the dumbest sport ever invented. How in the hell was anyone expected to balance on blades a quarter-inch wide while standing on ice? He wanted to blame his ineptitude on his bum knee, but it wasn’t a ligament problem. It was a balance problem. As in, he had none.

  A child maybe three years old sped past, followed by one not much older going backward. And more were in the middle of the rink, jumping and spinning and otherwise defying gravity in ways he couldn’t fathom. He was lucky to stand up, and these kids were swirling around like dust devils.

  “This is insane,” he muttered as he picked himself up off the ice for the umpteenth time.

  “Just hold on to the railing,” Darcy said.

  “I was holding on.”

  “And you still fell?”

  He came to his feet, breathing hard. “I want you to know that I don’t make an idiot out of myself for just everyone.”

  She smiled up at him. “Why don’t you sit out a few rounds? Rest up a little? Then you can give it another try.”

  “That,” he said, “is a really good idea.”

  He dragged himself around the rink, hand over hand, until he reached the exit. He plopped down in a chair with a huge sigh of relief. As much as he griped about the skating, though, it was worth every bump and bruise to see the look of pure joy on Darcy’s face. It was probably the only time in her life that she’d been at the Galleria and shopping was the last thing on her mind.

  “You’re right, Amy. This was so worth the trip.”

  John spun around, surprised to see Tony and Amy standing behind him. What the hell were they doing here?

  Amy plopped down in the seat to John’s right. “Darcy called me this morning and told me you were taking her ice skating.”

  “And Amy told me,” Tony said, taking the seat on John’s left. “John Stark on ice skates.” He grinned. “There was no way on earth I was going to miss this.”

  John glared at Amy. “You have a big mouth.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How long have you two been here?” John asked.

  “Long enough to see you fall on your ass about a dozen times,” Tony said.

  John yanked the laces loose on his skates. “Stupidest sport on earth.”

  “Is Darcy still out there?” Amy asked.

  “Yeah. She’s a glutton for punishment.”

  “I don’t know,” Amy said, pointing. “Looks to me like she’s getting around pretty well.”

  John looked up. The moment he saw Darcy, he froze, watching as she scooted around the rink, her dark hair a brilliant contrast to the white ice, looking so beautiful it took his breath away. He had the most uncanny feeling that if she were standing in a crowd of ten thousand, she would still be the only person he saw.

  “Ice skates,” Tony muttered, shaking his head. “Are you nuts? Didn’t you know what you were in for the moment you gave her those?”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Amy said. “It was a very nice thing to do. Darcy was thrilled.”

  John just shrugged, even though the world would come to an end before he’d forget the look on her face when she opened them.

  “So, John,” Tony said. “You gonna get one of those stretchy leotard things with tiger stripes? They’re all the rage among male figure skaters.”

  John glared at Tony and yanked off one of his skates, wincing in pain. Blisters. Damn.

  “You’ll have to wear one if you expect to try out for the Ice Capades,” Tony said.

  John held up the skate. “This blade is sharper than you think. Don’t make me use it as a weapon.”

  Tony just laughed, then turned his attention to a pair of twentysomething women in criminally short skating skirts. He waved a little and gave them a glowing smile, which they returned with equal enthusiasm.

  “Oops,” Amy said. “Darcy’s down again.”

  John turned to see Darcy getting up off the ice for the umpteenth time. This time, though, a pair of little girls, maybe nine or ten years old, grabbed her hands and led her around the rink, showing her how to move her feet. When they finally let her go, her movements had smoothed out a bit, and she made it a few more times around without falling once. John fought the goofy smile that insisted on pushing its way across his face. The fact that she could look wildly clumsy and strikingly beautiful all at the same time just boggled his mind.

  “She’s the one, isn’t she?” Amy said quietly.

  John opened his mouth to respond, only to realize that the knee-jerk remark he was about to make, the one about it just being casual between them, was so far from the truth he couldn’t even speak the words, and he closed his mouth again.

  But how could that be? He hadn’t known her long. Only a matter of weeks. But still . . .

  Usually, after he’d been with a woman even a few weeks, he got itchy to get out of the relationship before it actually became one. But with Darcy, every day he only wanted to see her more. She was vain and irritating and argumentative and occasionally so exasperating he wanted to pull out every hair on his head, but God, he’d never felt about another woman the way he felt about her. She was tough and resilient, far more than she realized, and he admired the hell out of that. And beautiful, no matter how much she protested about her advanced age and imaginary physical flaws.

  He’d told her it was more than just sex between them, even though at the time he hadn’t known exactly what that meant. He still didn’t know. But the more time he spent with her, the more he saw her being part of his life for a long time to come.

  Finally Darcy stepped off the rink and trundled over to where the three of them sat, flashing a bright smile. “Amy! Tony! What are you guys doing here?”

  “We just happened to be at the mall,” Tony said. “Imagine seeing you two here.”

  “Yeah, right,” John muttered, then turned to Darcy. “Tony thought it would be funny as hell to see me on ice skates. I think it’s time we put a pair on him and watch what happens.”

  “You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Tony said. “If I fell enough, I’m betting those two lovely ladies over there would take pity on me.”

  John stared at him dumbly. “Is there anything you won’t do to pick up women?”

  Tony thought about that, then shook his head. “Nope.”

  Amy rolled her eyes. “Come on, Lover Boy. The fun’s over. We’re out of here.”

  Tony turned to John, shaking his head. “Man, she’s got you ice skating. What’s next? Crocheting doilies?” He leaned in and spoke in a loud stage whisper. “Take my advice. Get out while you still can.”

  He turned and gave Darcy a wink. Amy grabbed Tony by the arm with a roll of her eyes and
pulled him away from the rink.

  “Okay,” Darcy said, circling the railing to sit down next to John. “I’ve had enough for one day. I think I’ve got bruises on top of bruises.”

  She took off her skates and packed them up, and John returned his to the rental counter. A few minutes later, they emerged from the mall, and even at eight o’clock at night, the strong night wind felt like a blast furnace compared to the cool air inside.

  “You know what would taste good right about now?” Darcy said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Iced coffee. There’s a Starbucks down the street. Let’s stop.”

  “Caffeine at eight o’clock at night?”

  “We’ll get decaf.”

  “I hate Starbucks.”

  “You have to have been there before you can hate it.”

  He scowled.

  She got the gift card out of her wallet and held it up. “Jeremy Bridges is buying.”

  “Well, then. By all means, let’s have some coffee.”

  A few minutes later they walked into Starbucks. Only a few people were there—a granola-head in scruffy clothes sat on a sofa reading the newspaper, and a guy in the corner was glued to a laptop and a cell phone at the same time.

  Darcy went to the counter. “Two Mocha Frappuccinos. Grande.”

  “Grande?” John said.

  “That’s a medium,” Darcy said.

  “Sounds like a large.”

  “A large is venti.”

  “Venti? Why don’t they just say medium and large?”

  “Because I guess then they’d have to say the next size down was a small, and that sounds, well . . . small. Like you’re not getting much.”

  “Then what do they call a small?”

  “A tall.”

  “A tall is a small?”

  Darcy smiled. “Exactly.”

  John shook his head. “I knew there was a reason I stayed away from this place.”

  A few minutes later they grabbed their drinks and sat down by the window.

  “Why do you like this place so much?” John asked.

  “It’s the atmosphere. The music. The people. The scents. Oh, and the pastries.” She sighed. “I swear if I could, I’d have sex right up next to that dessert case.”