Chapter Eight
Myles
In his early twenties Myles had gone to see a counsellor. When he realised his brother had managed to put the past behind him, succeed in his career, get married and raise two very happy children, Myles recognised that he may need some help moving forwards. But the sessions hadn’t lasted. He’d had two, then missed one because of work, then another, and another, and then he’d begun to make excuses not to turn up, until slowly, over the years, his discomfort around his family particularly at this time of the year had become such a big part of him that, now, he had no idea how to move past it.
After Darcy left him to it and dismissed any plea that the escort-agency card wasn’t what she thought it was, he put the business card on the side table and slumped onto the sofa, staring into the tree. It still had the strong scent of pine, its branches a verdant green, ornaments that had been carefully chosen and were coordinated in silver, white, and a blue that reminded him of Darcy because it was the same colour as her eyes. Those eyes that appeared to trust him one minute and the next, had no idea where he was coming from. But really, he couldn’t expect anything else, could he?
He’d given up on his idea of asking Darcy if she had a friend he could take to the Christmas party, because after their run-in he felt sure what her reaction would’ve been. So he’d thought of an alternative plan, and the escort agency sounded both legitimate and respectable. It wasn’t a seedy, pay-for-a-full-service type thing, it was a fee-charging, reputable place where he could find someone to take to the party with no strings attached.
When he pulled himself together, Myles did what he did best and lost himself in work. He’d had client meetings all morning and here he could get much more done. There were no interruptions in the corridor as he went to get a coffee, nobody running things by him when they needed a push to get going on a project. He cocooned himself in his work frame of mind, fielding calls, juggling paperwork, and by early evening he’d made progress. But his stomach told him who was boss and when it gave an almighty growl he knew it was time to get away from his desk.
He changed into jeans and a jumper – or sweater as he had to get used to saying in the USA – and he grabbed a jacket after checking the weather app on his phone. The temperature had plummeted about ten degrees since lunchtime and he whistled. It was going to be his first winter here and he suspected they’d see snow before too long.
He picked up his keys and momentarily paused at the escort card lurking beneath. Should he make the call now? Get it over with? He wondered how it worked. Did you get assigned someone depending on your budget? Did you ask for a certain type of women, view mugshots?
Laughing to himself, he left his apartment and ventured down the stairs. This was alien to him, but he needed to keep his boss happy. He was already settling into life in Manhattan, a life that ran at an even faster pace than in London. But it was an addictive pace, a mayhem that made sense to him, or maybe it was the way he was wired.
When he reached the foot of the stairs in the entrance-floor hallway he adjusted the garland on the bannister that had tried to wind its way loose, so it was tucked in neatly, and paused before he went into the lounge and leaned against the door jamb before he could be seen. Never mind the twinkling lights, the wreaths, the holly and the pine-scented tree that stretched all the way up to the ceiling. The fire was crackling away in the hearth; seeing it relaxed him instantly – he could leave the world behind as he peered into those orange flames – and already he felt a desire creep up on him to request a drink and sit on the sofa by the window.
‘We don’t have anyone booked into the apartment at all after Mr Cunningham leaves.’
At the sound of his name on Darcy’s lips, Myles hovered, still unseen.
‘The other apartments are at partial capacity but it’s patchy. We need to do something to really get the Inglenook Inn out in the open. I don’t want you to worry though, I’ve been following up on advertising possibilities, the website is coming up in every possible search engine, and with every guest and every review our reputation builds that little bit more. I promise you, Sofia, I’m doing the best I can.’
It pained him that he’d snapped at her, called her Cinderella, moaned about the touch of niceness she’d tried to add. He could tell she was worried and he wouldn’t mind betting his sniping had made things worse.
He went out of the brownstone quietly. He turned up the collar of his jacket as the cold bit at the tips of his ears. There was a fine layer of frost glistening in the passing tail lights of vehicles. It lingered on car wing mirrors, the tops of lamp-posts where the glow gave away all the city’s secrets, on the stoops of the brownstones standing in a row, reminding you to be careful making your way down to street level.
Myles walked from the Inn to Washington Square Park. He followed the streets past New York University. He passed restaurant after restaurant, eager owners more than happy to jostle him inside, but each time held up a hand as though he was on a tight timeframe and had someone to meet. He passed a diner, a shop that looked as though it sold junk although he was sure they’d claim it was hardware or bric-a-brac. He finally turned left as he reached Canal Street and, battling the crowds, made his way along until he saw something he wanted. Not in the mood for a sit-down meal, especially not alone, he found a Chinese restaurant serving classic dim sum that he could take away after he’d finished a big bowl of wonton soup that warmed him right through.
By the time he reached the Inn, Darcy was hefting a bag of something inside the front door. He took the steps towards the warmth of the hall that grabbed him in off the street. ‘What’s that?’ He stepped inside and rubbed his hands together, blowing into his palms to heat them up. He wasn’t even ready to take his coat off yet.
Darcy shut the main door behind him. ‘It’s a de-icing product. The streets are starting to get worse, the sidewalk too. I slipped when I went across to the café on a patch I hadn’t expected. I’ll get up early in case I need to clear some with a shovel, but I’d hate one of my guests to fall. Just when you think winter isn’t coming, it shows up to take you by surprise.’
He’d been caught up watching her talk and hadn’t realised he was staring. She was more conversational than she’d been earlier and he wondered whether it was because this situation wasn’t about them in any way. ‘It’s good of you to think of us. I don’t do a graceful fall.’
‘I’ll try to remember that.’ She put the bag to one side, dusted her hands and straightened the black cropped suit jacket that fitted neatly over a sky-blue blouse, fitted trousers and, of course, the heels that she rarely seemed to go without. He tried to ignore thoughts of toned calves and the long legs he’d seen that time she’d been without a skirt, because those were the thoughts that would get him into trouble.
‘About earlier.’ He followed her into the lounge and checked whether there was an audience in the form of another guest. There wasn’t, thankfully. There was no way he was going to let anyone else know his desperation and need to contact an escort agency.
‘There’s no need to mention it.’
‘I feel I need to. It really isn’t what you think.’ He detected a smirk that wasn’t allowed to escape behind her professional conduct. ‘You see, I’m a bit stuck.’
‘Really, Mr Cunningham. No need to explain any further.’
‘Myles.’ Exasperated, he said, ‘Stop calling me Mr Cunningham because it makes me feel even more of an ass – that’s what you guys in America say isn’t it? – than I already do.’
‘OK. Myles.’
‘Thank you. And I feel I do need to explain.’ He didn’t want her thinking he was using the Inn for anything untoward. ‘My boss, he’s having a Christmas party, and he wants me to bring someone.’
‘An escort?’
This was all coming out wrong. ‘The client, or potential client, he’s hoping to impress is a traditional man. Everyone seems to be married these days and apparently the wives get together, the men discuss business and it all works in some weird harmonious parallel universe.’
Darcy pushed the top on a pen at the desk as they talked, he one side, she on the other. ‘I take it you don’t believe in all that.’
‘I don’t believe it’s necessary for a business deal, no. But I will concede that I get where he’s coming from. Whenever I’ve been to functions alone it’s hard to talk business when wives or girlfriends are there. Or boyfriends,’ he added, for fear of retribution. Plenty of his colleagues were women after all. ‘Other halves are usually happy enough but it does facilitate the process when they can talk amongst themselves.’ God, he sounded like he was quoting from a corporate ethics manual. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I need someone who is familiar with the corporate world, who makes a good impression and who can hold a conversation with whoever comes along.’
‘It sounds as though an escort is exactly what you need then.’ She said it without joking and he was impressed. If he were in her position he’d probably make more of a joke out of it, but her business etiquette, as always, shone through. ‘Have you found someone suitable?’
‘I haven’t called them yet.’
He stopped talking about it when Rupert came in, looking agitated. The man may have had an English-sounding name but he couldn’t be more American if he tried. He had the same accent as one of Myles’s colleagues, a Texan with a habit of chewing tobacco and a drawl that dragged out long, lazy vowels.
Darcy excused herself and followed Rupert out to the kitchen. Myles hung around a bit longer and was about to head up to his apartment when Darcy reappeared, looking as flustered as her chef had as though he’d passed on whatever he was stressing about.
‘Everything OK?’ Myles asked.
‘Yes, everything is fine.’ Distracted, she used a key to open a drawer in the desk but he couldn’t see what she was looking for. Whatever it was, she didn’t find it because she stood up empty-handed.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, picking up his briefcase.
She mumbled something and he took himself up to his apartment. But the beers in the fridge didn’t appeal; being on his own was less attractive than it usually was. He picked up the card for the escort agency again, toyed with it in his hand and picked up the phone.
Less than twenty seconds later when the call was answered, he hung up. He rested his forehead against the wall. ‘What are you thinking?’ he said out loud. He couldn’t do it. Although this agency said it was upmarket and implied it was company and intellectual conversation he would be paying for, he wasn’t stupid. He knew men used these types of agency for sex, and as much as he was going through a dry spell, he wasn’t interested in one night with a woman, especially for money.
He leaned his back against the wall and had a sudden desire for a glass of bourbon again. Or was it rather that he wanted to recreate the evening he’d spent in the lounge, by the fire, talking to Darcy as though they were friends?
Restless, he left his apartment and went back downstairs. There was a low hum of music – definitely Christmas music – but he didn’t mind it too much. He sat on the sofa in the lounge and looked out onto the street. Greenwich Village was a much better location than being put up in the Financial District in one of those modern residences with no personality. Here, it was real Manhattan life and he felt connected to it.
He hadn’t been sitting there long when Darcy came through, looking as frazzled as before. She was with Rupert still. She handed him a bundle of cash and he patted her on the shoulder in an everything-will-be-OK-you’ll-see gesture.
‘Good evening, Myles.’ Her formality and smile were back in place the second she saw him.
The family that was staying in one of the other apartments chose that moment to bustle through the front entrance and the kids told Darcy all about their day. She acted as though the only thing on her mind at that very moment was their well-being and antics. He loved the way she had the power to make people feel as though they were the centre of the universe and that nothing else mattered. He wondered if anyone ever exchanged the favour and made her feel that way.
The kids told her how they’d looked at some of the Christmas window displays and, whatever else she’d been in the middle of, Darcy listened to them extol the virtues of the window at Macy’s with the North Pole and Santa’s Communication Station, then a big shop of Fifth Avenue that had had giant lollipops and cotton candy in the window as well as a ten-story-high light show. Myles watched the family, the kids’ voices laced with delight, fascination and exhaustion that was slowly beginning to creep up on them.
When the parents had ushered their offspring upstairs and they had all bid goodnight to one another as though somehow by staying under the same roof they were an extension of family, Myles ordered a drink. He took off his sweater, a cable knit that wasn’t needed when you were this close to the fire. He wondered if Darcy would join him but when it looked like she had no intention of doing so, he picked up the newspaper and lost himself in the pages of the New York Times.
The young couple staying in the other apartment came through the front entrance just after Darcy served him his bourbon and a gush of icy air rushed in to remind guests of the season. Myles peered out of the curved window, not that he could see much now the moon had taken the sun’s place, but it was curative with the passing lights of cars, people bobbing past the window as they dashed here and there, the day coming to a close yet the night still young.
Darcy went into hostess mode and passed on some details of the carriage rides through Central Park. The couple – who he’d established were called Vanessa and Zach – had booked one for the following day and Darcy took out a photocopied map of the city before using a pen to trace the route from the Inn to the meeting point.
‘We left our cell phones at home for the holidays,’ Zach announced proudly, hugging Vanessa to him. ‘Our families know we’re having some much-needed down time.’
‘That’s a good idea,’ Darcy smiled. ‘You’ll have a proper vacation without anyone bothering you.’
When the couple went on their way Myles wondered if anyone would ever look at him in the way Vanessa looked at Zach, as though he was the person they wanted to tell all their secrets too, the last person they wanted to see at the end of the day, the first face they wanted to greet in the morning. He had an overwhelming urge to snigger. He wasn’t sure a woman from an escort agency would ever be giving him that much of an extensive service.
‘Can I get you another?’ Darcy caught him gazing out onto the street, noticing couples walking by, families huddled together.
‘The city that never sleeps,’ he smiled, turning back into the room and towards the fireplace.
‘It sure is.’
‘I thought London was busy but this is something else. Did you miss it while you were away travelling?’
As he’d expected, she seemed reluctant to launch into conversation of a personal nature but offered, ‘Very much, it’s why I always knew I’d come back.’ She reached out to take his empty glass and he confirmed he’d like another.
‘Join me?’ he asked with a smile he hoped would be enough to persuade her.
‘I’m working.’
‘Come on. The lovebirds have gone upstairs and I doubt you’ll see them again, and the family looked beat to me. I’ll bet the kids are in their pyjamas already and tucked up in bed.’
‘I’d better not.’
‘Come on, I’m not asking you to get so drunk you can’t stand up. Just one drink, keep me company.’ Boy, did he sound desperate? He didn’t mean to, but something about this girl made him want to keep trying, encouraged him to keep bashing his head up against that proverbial wall.
When she came back he smiled because she’d relented and in one hand she had a bourbon, and in the other a gin and tonic for herself. The ice in her glass clinked against the sides as she sat down on the armchair adjacent to the sofa. He figured it would’ve been weird if she’d joined him on the two-seater, a little bit intimate for a platonic nightcap.
‘Bad day?’ he asked when her shoulders relaxed after her first sip.
‘Something like that.’
‘Anything I can help with?’
She smiled across at him although he sensed her smile hid an exhaustion, an apprehension she wasn’t sharing. ‘No, nothing anyone can help with.’
He leaned forward, forearms on his thighs, glass poised between his palms. ‘Are you sure about that? It’s just that you look as deflated as I do when I lose a deal with a major client.’
‘The Inn isn’t doing as well as I’d hoped, that’s all.’
Good. She was talking. ‘Financially?’
She cast a glance around to ensure the other guests were tucked away safely in their rooms and not about to walk up behind her. Her eyes sparkled from the glow of the fire and the white fairy lights coming from the bannisters out in the hallway. ‘Sofia started this place from scratch. It used to be her home. She went through a nasty divorce but turned her life around by starting up an inn.’ She looked around her, at the high ceilings that would be imposing if there wasn’t this incredible warmth about the place. ‘She’s done a brilliant job.’
‘But…’
‘There’s no but.’
‘Oh, there’s a but.’
She grinned. ‘I barely know you but I can’t keep much from you, can I?’
‘Blame my business acumen. I’m used to reading people in my line of work as I’m sure you are.’
‘She doesn’t have a handle on the marketing she needs to do for this place,’ Darcy admitted. ‘There are so many other hotels, big and boutique, there’s Airbnb now so that’s another competitor, owners are renting out their investment properties via other websites. Sofia needs to turn things around and really think about how to maximise profitability. Take the top floor, for example.’ She took a generous swig of gin.
‘Where I’m staying?’ The bourbon slipped welcomingly down his throat. He was at ease with Darcy, this conversation, this shared interest in business.
‘It’s a stunning apartment, right?’
‘It’s the best.’
‘It’s not rented out very much.’
‘That surprises me.’
Darcy shook her head. ‘It doesn’t surprise me. At the price we’re charging customers could go to one of the major hotel chains, with a pool, spa, a cordon-bleu restaurant. This place isn’t catering for those people. I’m actually surprised you came here really.’
Myles nodded. ‘It was partly my doing. I was asked where I wanted to stay while the apartment was renovated for me to live in. I said I preferred a boutique hotel or an apartment, somewhere I could come and go and that wasn’t too busy. Apparently my boss’s wife recommended this place, so your word-of-mouth advertising is working.’
‘That’s comforting to know. But, again, there aren’t enough bookings throughout the year. I’ve been spending a lot of my time between tasks looking into what Sofia could do to change that.’
‘And what did you have in mind?’
‘She could go the corporate-rental route. So she could market to companies who bring people in from overseas. People like yourself.’
‘That’s a good idea. What else?’ He liked that she was talking. He didn’t want that to stop.
‘Alternatively, she could easily separate the top floor into two apartments. It would be an initial outlay but she might find the affordability generates way more bookings.’
‘You’ve got a lot of ideas.’ Darcy had relaxed into her armchair and Myles mirrored her by leaning back against the sofa.
‘It’s hard to persuade Sofia to do much at all. I think part of her is scared whatever she does may backfire and she’ll be worse off. It took a lot of courage to get this far. She really had a terrible time.’
‘It sounds like you’re close.’
‘We are. Gabriella, her daughter, is my best friend. We were always in and out of each other’s houses growing up and so Sofia is like a second mom to me. Seeing her go through that divorce was horrid, but seeing her come out the other side was the best thing.’
‘You really want this place to work for her, don’t you?’
Darcy nodded, toying with the sprig of mint leftover in her now empty glass. ‘She went to Switzerland to help her daughter but she told me that now she’s there, she’s glad she’s away. She’s never opened the Inn at Christmas until now, and she only did it because I was so insistent it was a good idea.’
‘I’m surprised,’ he said. ‘Christmas in New York is something a lot of people dream about and the premium prices aren’t something to ignore.’
Darcy got up and changed the lights on the Christmas tree from rapid twinkling to a constant white glow that brought out the colours of the ornaments. ‘She’s always closed up shop, saying she couldn’t neglect her family. I know where she’s coming from. Gabriella went through her parents’ breakup and Sofia is keen to make up for it in any way she can.’
‘Does Gabriella need her to?’
Darcy shook her head. ‘Gabriella is one of the most rounded people I know. She emerged from that divorce strong and together and she was there for her mom. But Sofia has so much guilt, and she’s letting it blinker her view of what the Inn needs. I’d hate for her neglect to become her downfall. What I’m hoping is that she returns from Switzerland and I can talk to her, help her see that she needs to evolve and shake things up.’
‘Have another,’ Myles prompted, noting her empty glass between slender fingers.
‘You know, I think I will.’ But she didn’t top her glass up until she’d lingered in the hallway for a minute or two to ensure guests were ensconced in their apartments. Not that it mattered. He felt sure her professionalism would return in an instant if any of them emerged.
With another gin and tonic, she took a seat and his heart skipped a beat when she crossed her legs, because he couldn’t ignore how attracted to her he was, both on the outside and by the personality he was slowly getting to know.
‘You need to do a PowerPoint presentation.’ He lifted his eyebrows at her.
‘For what?’
‘To show Sofia what you want to say, about the Inn.’
‘Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.’
‘You know, when my niece and nephew were desperate for a puppy they got tired of begging my brother and his wife. So, one day, they – now I may have helped out a bit – prepared a PowerPoint presentation on all the reasons why they should be allowed to get a dog.’
‘That’s hilarious.’
He held up a hand. ‘Hilarious, but it worked. They’d cited reasons such as the puppy teaching them to care for another being, teaching them responsibility, encouraging them to get outdoors even when the weather was miserable. They had it all worked out. You know, I think Winston and Victoria caved in because they were so impressed with all the effort their kids had gone to.’
‘So they have a puppy now?’
He took out his phone and scrolled through his photos. He handed it to Darcy. ‘Meet Sally, the labradoodle.’
‘She’s gorgeous.’
He took his phone back. ‘I just think that rather than telling Sofia what you think she should do, in snatched pieces of conversation, you need to back it all up with hard evidence. Present the facts in an easy-to-comprehend format and she might just see exactly what needs to be done. She’ll understand a way forward.’
‘I would hate to see this place close.’
‘It’s not that bad is it?’
Concern etched across her brow. ‘It will be if she doesn’t rethink things soon and bring those customers in.’
‘Is that what this Christmas is about?’
‘It came at the right time. This is my chance to start by showing her, with photographs, figures, testimonials to back it up, that Christmas is a time she not only should open but needs to open.’
Darcy fixed herself another drink while Myles was still on his second. He hadn’t had to prompt her this time, but she was relaxing as they talked more about the Inn. They covered suggestions and plans for how it could be advertised, about what to include in her presentation to Sofia. He discussed with her ways to get corporate customers on board. Much in the same way as he did with his clients, Sofia would need to earn their trust and ensure they could see what was in it for them.
‘I think the key with Sofia,’ he said, ‘is to know exactly what you’re talking about, cover every aspect you think she’ll question.’ He probed some more. ‘Is that what was going on earlier?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When the chef came through to get you.’
‘Ah,’ she remembered. ‘He went to the store and the credit card got rejected. I didn’t even have any money in the cash box to give him. I had to use some of my savings. I’ve spoken with Sofia, who was more than embarrassed and promised to have some money transferred to the business account, but the way she was talking, I’m not sure she’s got an endless supply. I just hope we don’t have any mishaps through Christmas. We’ve ordered and paid for a turkey, sorted decorations and the liquor, but there’s still the day-to-day food we’ll need, particularly when the snow starts and everyone is hunkered down inside.’
She seemed to check herself and held her glass aloft, the mint leaves wedged between ice cubes. ‘This has loosened my tongue far too much.’
‘Don’t worry, it won’t go any further, I promise.’
‘I appreciate it.’ A look passed between them. He wondered whether this side of Darcy rarely showed, the side that dropped the business woman façade and showed her vulnerability. ‘You know, I like to manage things on my own, and even calling Sofia was a struggle. I have to pull this off.’
‘Christmas?’
She nodded. ‘Sofia doubted holding the main meal here would be popular, let alone profitable, but already the bookings have more than covered the costs, and I know the liquor consumption will go up so that’ll generate more money. And then there’s my secret weapon.’
‘Oh, and what’s that?’ He wondered what else she had hidden up her sleeve.
‘I have a very prestigious guest staying from Christmas Eve through the festivities. She works for a major publication and has promised me a huge feature in the New Year. She says a lot of people brood in the aftermath of Christmas and they want to make bookings for something to look forward to. She says the article will run and their reach for the magazine is huge.’ She used her hands to illustrate the point. ‘This could see bookings for next year, and to know that the season from Thanksgiving through to January is solid would be an enormous boost.’
‘I have every faith you can do it.’
‘Really?’ She put a hand against her chest. ‘You know, I think I can too.’ Her smile disappeared. ‘When Sofia’s husband left her, she almost hit rock-bottom. He was the provider, the man, the one who earned the money. She was lost. It’s a blessing he left her this house and she managed to do something with it.’
‘It worked out for her in the end,’ he confirmed.
‘I’m never getting into that position.’ The drinks certainly had made her a lot more talkative.
‘And what position is that?’ She was swaying slightly and he wouldn’t mind betting she hadn’t eaten enough to soak up the gin and tonics she’d drunk in quick succession.
‘Relying on someone else.’
‘A man?’
‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not gay.’ She laughed and he couldn’t help but smile. This was a Darcy he’d never seen before and she was as fun as her conversation was stimulating. ‘It’s just that I never want to be one of those women.’
‘One of what women?’
‘The ones who need a man!’ She went behind the bar area, took out a bottle of water and downed almost all of it, pulling herself together with every sip. ‘It’s easily done. Women have a career, they marry, have kids, and then the job goes out the window. There’s nothing wrong with that. I get it. I just don’t ever want to be dependent on a man or anyone else for that matter.’
‘I don’t think you ever would be, Darcy. You seem as though you’ve got a good sense for business.’
‘You know, I’m going to do what you said. I’ll make a PowerPoint.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’ The last swig of bourbon warmed him right through and she didn’t ask whether he wanted another, just took the glass, refilled it, got another drink for herself and carried on their conversation.
‘So what about you?’ She handed him his drink. ‘Have you called the agency yet?’
He squirmed a little inside. So sure of himself until she’d brought up his potential dalliance with someone whose services he’d had to pay for. ‘Almost.’
‘Come on, live a little. You never know, you could meet the woman of your dreams.’
He almost thought she meant it until she laughed. ‘Don’t joke. My boss has made it clear I should take a date. And if I don’t find one, he’ll be sorting me out with someone and that brings with it complications, expectations, things I don’t need.’
‘And how much do these escorts charge? You know, for a basic service.’ Her voice wobbled in amusement.
‘Glad you think it’s funny. They’re not cheap. It’ll definitely cost but it’s not the money I’m bothered about.’
‘How much are we talking? Ballpark.’ When he gave her the cost she whistled through her teeth. ‘You’ll pay that for one night of company?’
‘I’m looking at it as a strategic move,’ he countered. ‘A way to impress the boss, the client and get business moving longer term.’
‘I’d have thought a man like you would have women lining up to go.’
He watched her. ‘I think you and I are very alike you know.’
‘How so?’ She moved forwards – just an inch, but enough that he could smell the floral scent he often caught wafts of on the air. It was subtle, sophisticated, and very Darcy.
‘We both work hard, we’re both independent and know what we want.’
Darcy jumped up and went to the desk and the moment was over, but he smiled when he saw what she was doing. She took out a pair of glasses and perched them on the end of her nose. Myles began to laugh. She looked like a school-ma’am except way hotter. She pulled out an A4 pad of paper and a big black marker and stood in front of the fire, then kicked off her heels.
This time it was Myles who turned to check they weren’t being watched. He suspected she rarely let her guard down and it was refreshing. He sensed she needed to do it, and at gone midnight they were pretty safe.
She propped the pad on the mantelpiece. ‘Let’s go through the pros and cons.’ Darcy drew a straight line down the centre of the page, top to bottom. ‘Pro?’
‘I think she would be.’ He laughed hard and she joined in before shushing him.
‘Pro et contra, Mr Cunningham.’
He kept his voice low against the peace of the brownstone. ‘If you’re going all Latin on me, then I didn’t listen much in that class at school. Hated it.’
She pulled a face, reprimanding him, and pushed her glasses up her nose a little so they didn’t fall off. ‘Pros and cons list. We’ll start with the pros of hiring an escort.’ Her pen was poised.
‘No strings,’ he called out.
‘Excellent.’ She scribbled it at the top of the left-hand column.
‘Intelligent conversation.’
She looked down her glasses at him. ‘Really?’
‘I’m assured of it. Well, as much as I can believe from the website. I haven’t spoken to them yet.’
Darcy jotted intelligent conversation beneath the words no strings. ‘What else?’
‘She wouldn’t be demanding when it was time to talk business. She could talk to the other wives, whilst being discreet.’
‘Excellent point, fabulous.’ Darcy scribbled away and he couldn’t help notice her buttocks having a little wobble beneath her skirt. Not in a bad way; firm but tantalising.
He really needed to stop with the bourbon. Perhaps have a cold shower before bed. And if Darcy knew he was thinking these kinds of things he doubted she’d stand for it anyway.
‘You could potentially find someone for life,’ she suggested, but he shook his head before she wrote it down.
They both thought for a moment.
‘You could get laid,’ she suggested. He spluttered on the bourbon in his glass. ‘What? It’s a genuine one for the pro list.’
He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. ‘OK, write it down.’
She penned S-E-X in huge letters.
‘I think we should move on to the cons now,’ he concluded.
She unbuttoned her suit jacket and shrugged it off, another layer of her formality gone. ‘Hot,’ she said as though that explained it. She most certainly was. Her cheeks had pinked up from the heat of the fire and the drinks she was getting into.
His lips twisted as he thought and he blew out his cheeks. ‘Laughing stock. Put that on the cons list, because if anyone finds out I’ll look like a total loser.’
Grinning, she wrote LOSER as big as the word S-E-X. ‘What else?’
‘Money.’
‘Perfect.’
‘She could be boring and I’ll wish I’d taken my grandma.’
That one had her laughing as she wrote Granny on the right-hand side of the paper. ‘Anything else?’
He sighed. ‘Darcy…’
‘Mmm…’ She was tapping the pen against her bottom lip, trying to think of something else.
He leaned forwards again. ‘Darcy.’
‘Go on, I’m waiting.’ Pen was poised.
‘Would you go with me to my Christmas party?’ When she swung round to face him he added, ‘You don’t need to answer now. Think about it.’ He’d caught her off guard.
‘I’m not sure, Myles.’
Should he have asked? In this moment, there was nobody else he’d rather take than her. He liked how independent she was, how she knew what she wanted, how she’d stood up to him that first time in the hotel in London. He liked that she had a work ethic to rival his own.
‘One moment please.’ Her school-ma’am approach was back as she looked down her nose through her glasses at him. She turned to the list propped up on the mantelpiece and his eyes followed her stocking-covered legs from her ankles up to the material of her skirt before he focused on the list too.
She put a thick line through S-E-X. ‘I’ll be your escort,’ she said. ‘Should I cross out the no strings too?’
‘Why don’t we just wait and see?’
A noise on the stairs had Darcy pushing her feet into her heels and shaking herself to look professional. ‘Everything OK?’ she asked whoever had appeared at the door.
‘I’m sorry to bother you so late.’ It was Vanessa. ‘The shower in our bathroom is leaking. I didn’t notice it earlier but there’s an enormous puddle on the floor. I’d hate for it to seep through the ceiling.’
Darcy was straight into business mode, even this late at night, and he had to admire her; she looked stone-cold sober. ‘I’ll get some old towels and come to mop the water up for now, which should keep it at bay until morning, when the plumber can take a look. He’s pretty good at coming out straight away. Don’t worry too much, we’ll get this sorted. And please accept a full complimentary breakfast in the morning.’
Vanessa brightened. ‘Thank you so much.’
When she disappeared off up the stairs again Darcy sighed deeply. She adjusted the damper on the fire. ‘Duty calls,’ she told Myles.
‘It’s OK.’ He stood, took his glass over to the bar and left it on the darkened wood. Darcy was already bending down to turn off the tree lights and even Myles had to admit the room lost something when they were off. He’d got used to the pine smell by now, the gentle flicker of lights and his distorted face reflected in the odd decoration as he walked by. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Myles.’
He turned to add something about the fact he’d asked her out on a date, but she’d already bustled off to the door that led down to the basement, presumably to find those old towels she’d mentioned.
He just hoped she remembered this in the morning, all of this. She’d let her guard down and, without thinking, so had he. And he couldn’t help wondering whether this was the start of something real.