TWO DAYS LATER, DARBY WAS putting in her last sapphire earring when she heard the doorbell ring. She inspected herself one last time in the stylish floor-to-ceiling mirror and smiled at what she saw. Darby adored her massive closet. It had once been a guest bedroom, but the year before, she’d converted it. Picking up the bejeweled sandals that sat in their place on one of her lighted pull-out shoe shelves, she bent to slip them on. She gave herself one final look before turning to answer the door.
Darby’s cozy little brownstone suited her perfectly. It was situated in the middle of a quiet street on the Gold Coast a few blocks back from the water and walking distance to the Lincoln Park Zoo. It was a far cry from the ostentatious Evanston mansion she’d grown up in, which had been no place for a child. In place of the Fabergé eggs and Waterford crystal, Darby had chosen more practical themes. Bamboo floors and neutral creams were the base motif for every single room. Yet the lamps, rugs, pillows and other accent pieces in each room splashed teals, chartreuses and other bold colors. Comfortable furniture throughout gave her space the feel of a lounge.
Though most of the rooms felt finished, it nagged her that she hadn’t chosen much art for her bedroom. The space above her fireplace mantel was conspicuously empty. She saved her movie-watching for the living room, and felt it would have been a bit of a cop-out to install a TV where she slept. She glanced at the empty spot for a moment as she walked back out of her closet to descend the stairs. It had been half a minute since he had rung and she needed to answer the door.
Michael’s enchanting blue eyes sparkled more brilliantly than her sapphires when she opened the heavy door to him. For a pregnant moment, he was silent. He didn’t compliment her dress or kiss her hand or make any other debonair gesture. Yet, as he leaned comfortably against the frame, his eyes shadowed sultry remembrance of what had transpired the week before.
“Hi.” His smile was roguish.
“Hi.” They held each other’s gaze for another long moment before he finally took the rest of her in.
“You’ll be the belle of the ball.”
“I think we’ll both turn some heads.” It was hard not to notice how well he wore his tuxedo. At the wedding, he’d rocked his suit pretty hard, but Michael’s elegance in white tie could have rivaled Robert Redford as Gatsby himself.
“Is it too soon to bail?” Her eyes lingered on his body for a moment longer than she intended before returning to meet his gaze.
“The night is young,” he rejoined, though she thought she heard—more like hoped she heard—a twinge of disappointment. “Besides, it’s time for your interview.”
“I should’ve known.” She liked their game. “What am I being evaluated on?”
“Apart from making me look as unavailable as possible?”
“How could I forget? There will be cougars on the prowl. If anyone grabs your goods on my watch, I won’t expect an offer.”
Perfectly straight teeth peeked through an amused smile.
“I also need you to be my wingwoman. Standard stuff—rescuing me from boring conversations, charming donors with deep pockets who like pretty girls, which is most of them. I’ll charm the ones who like pretty boys,” he added cheekily.
“Fundraising. Check,” she nodded.
“It won’t be as fun as the sex.” He said it apologetically, as if he were afraid she would be tempted to bail on this part of the arrangement.
“I’m a politician’s daughter. I can do this in my sleep,” she reassured him. “And didn’t you say that if the main event was boring you’d make it up to me later?”
“I did. And I will.” His voice was deliciously low as he offered her his arm.
From the small table just inside her door, she grabbed her silver sequined clutch and her mother’s white fur stole, and shut the door behind her. Michael ushered her to his car—a dark gray Maserati that suited him somehow—and tucked her safely inside. She hadn’t noticed until after he closed her door that in place of formal shoes, he wore black and white Converse All-Stars. This detail made her smile.
She watched him discreetly for several minutes as they sped down city streets. From the reverence with which he handled his car, and the obvious enjoyment with which he drove it, she got the sense that he was not just another handsome boy with an expensive plaything—he had a gentle way of handling anything he touched, and seemed like the kind of person who treasured his possessions.
Yes, Darby realized. There was something different about Michael. Already, she had a tender curiosity about him. She thought back to their easy conversation on the beach—she liked smart people who knew how to have a good discussion. Even their small talk about wedding gropers and fake engagement rings had been refreshingly real. She recalled the chemistry in his hotel room, also surprisingly reactive. She was already looking forward to the end of the night.
“What?” When he asked, she knew she had been caught watching him.
“The way you’re touching your car…I think I’m getting a bit jealous.”
The corner of his lip quirked up. “I thought we said no jealousy.”
“We agreed that our jobs came first, but we never actually agreed on rules,” she pointed out.
“Should we?” He shifted gears and glanced over at her as they turned south onto Lake Shore Drive.
“Maybe there’s only one…” she mused. “No hard feelings about competing priorities.”
“Is that enough for you?”
She thought back to how inflamed she’d been at his comment about women being biologically incapable of not wanting commitment.
“Still think you’re going to break my heart?” Darby teased.
“Maybe I’m worried you’ll break mine.” His mouth widened into an even fuller smile. He smiled a lot. Working in medicine meant Darby was often surrounded by illness and despair. She appreciated that Michael seemed happy, albeit a bit intense.
“How about this? We promise each other that when it ends, it ends in a single word—whether that be tonight or a year from now. No awkward confrontation. No messy breakup talk. That’s the shitty part anyway, right? We agree to keep it fun and simple. And, when it stops being fun, or stops being simple, it’s over.”
“Sounds sensible.” There was hesitation in his voice.
“But?”
He seemed to think about it, as if deconstructing the idea in is mind.
“No, you’re right,” he said finally after he had worked out whatever was holding him back. “So what’s our code word?”
“Lotus.”
He looked offended. “What if we’re talking about cars?”
“Skittles,” she offered, her eyes falling to the red packet of candies she had noticed sitting in the cup holder on his center console.
“I use that word too much in everyday conversation.”
He sounded completely serious.
“Broadway,” she blurted as her eye caught a billboard for a musical.
He smiled as he looked over at her. “I love show tunes too much.”
That earned him a laugh.
“Alright, smart ass—what do you think it should be?
He was quiet for a moment as the smile faded from his face.
“Snapdragon.” His voice was quiet as he said it. She had no idea what had made him come up with that word, but she liked it.
“Snapdragon, then,” she repeated, just as he stopped at a red light and looked over to meet her gaze.
Darby hadn’t been lying earlier. As a senator’s daughter, she had attended events like this all her life. She would not have been surprised to find her father himself lurking someplace. But they were always on the outs and she hoped not to run into him that night. Michael, too, seemed at ease in this environment. Both of them were well-acquainted with a number of partygoers, so much so that she wondered how they had never crossed paths before.
“So you fundraise for the foundation?” She asked when they had a moment to themselves back at their table. The mingling had dulled after the first two courses were served. They’d set down dessert and she was now enjoying watching Michael’s lips melt into a tiny smile every time he slipped a mini fruit tart in his mouth.
“My tenure as fundraising chair ended last year, but I’m still on the Board. I have relationships with most major donors, so it’s always a good idea for me to show my face.”
And a beautiful face it was. At the wedding, she’d mainly seen him in dim light. But, fully-lit, he was splendid. He possessed a striking combination of undeniable masculinity and delicate beauty. His strong jaw juxtaposed full, kissable lips, a heavy brow and hooded eyes as blue as deep ocean waters. Light stubble shadowed skin that was otherwise baby-smooth—a fact she remembered from the week before.
“I didn’t know you had such a tangible connection to all this, “Darby said.
“You thought I came for the hors d’oeuvres and free booze?”
“$1,000 a plate isn’t free.”
He fixed her with a pointed look. “Nothing in this world is free.”
She noticed once again how even his most casual words never seemed off-handed; they always seemed to convey an absolute truth
“I give to the foundation every year,” she offered.
“I know you do. And not a small amount. But you save the majority of your giving for the arts. I hear they want to name a gallery after you at The Art Institute, but you won’t let them.”
Something inside her hardened a bit at his comment. It must have shown on her face.
“Chicago’s a small town, Darby. Everyone in philanthropy knows where the big families give.”
She took a long sip of her drink, swallowing down the reminder of how little privacy she had. She didn’t mind that Michael knew, but she did resent that so much of her business was spread through the grapevine, and freely shared for public consumption.
“It only seems right that I use the money my mother left me to support causes that she loved. The Art Institute was her favorite museum.”
“But not one of yours, I take it. I’ve never seen you at any of their events.”
If he knew whether or not she attended events, that had to mean he supported the museum as well.
“Actually, I love it there. It’s just…been hard to go since she died.”
Realization dawned in his eyes.
“I know a thing or two about that.” As he said it, some of his intensity softened.
“What else do you know about me?” She was eager to change the subject and curious about what else he had heard.
“Not nearly enough.”
“So you’re saying you want to know more?” she flirted.
He leaned in closer, his voice lowering as he said the words.
“I told you before. I like complex things.”
Before she could respond, he stood and held his hand out to her, beckoning her to join him for a dance. She couldn’t remember the last time she had accepted an offer to dance with someone. As they swayed together, it was hard not to notice that everyone around them was watching them with interest—even more interest than Darby was accustomed to. She couldn’t remember hearing his name mentioned in her Chicago society circles. But it was becoming clear that Michael was an object of attention all on his own.
“Did you recognize me? At Ben’s wedding?”
“Not until you told me your name. When you did, I pieced together your connection to the senator and to the foundation, but by then I was already interested.”
“I thought you said you’d given up on women…” she challenged lightly as they moved to the song.
“Given up hope on dating, yes. Stopped being attracted to fascinating women?” He shook his head. “I didn’t think anything would happen between us when we first met, but I fully planned to enjoy our time together.”
“How very Buddhist of you…”
“I don’t take Buddhist practice literally, but I identify with its principles,” he rejoined. “I try to be present in the moment—to enjoy what’s right in front of me. Right now, I’m enjoying the smell of your hair and your breath on my cheek and the way you feel when we’re dancing this close. I’m not thinking of what happened earlier today, or what will happen tomorrow.”
“Be here now,” Darby smiled, thinking of the name of a book she’d once read.
Trying to piece together his psychology, as she was doomed to do with nearly everyone she met, she recognized the consistencies between what he said now and the man she had met the week before. Michael had mastered the art of paying rapt attention to whatever was in front of him. It made it difficult for women to reconcile feeling so close to him in certain moments yet so unimportant to him in others. Of course his relationships with other women had failed. It wasn’t only that he didn’t have time to commit—it was the confusion he must have caused.
If she was right about him, he was someone who experienced his life in a way in which he could achieve extraordinary connection and pleasure. But he had learned to do so without attachment. It explained why sex with him had felt so gratifying. Whereas most people held back parts of themselves, guarding them for a select few, Michael surrendered himself, giving more than expected. There was something so beautiful—so extraordinary—about it. But most people weren’t ready for that. His relationships had failed because of his honesty, not in spite of it.
It also snapped the comment he’d made when they first met about how he was looking for companionship into clearer focus. It made sense that he wasn’t just in it for the sex—he enjoyed people. But relationships—even friendships—came with rules and people like Michael, who defied convention, could find themselves left behind. She felt comfort in the notion that she was figuring him out. Understanding his motives helped to quiet the nagging inner voice, which cautioned her that casual sex with a stranger—even a close friend of Ben’s—was risky.
He’d picked up on her wandering thoughts. “Are you here now?” His voice was neutral, more curious than accusatory.
“Just deconstructing your psychological profile. It comes with the territory of befriending a shrink, I’m afraid. But don’t worry—I never tell people how fucked up they are unless they ask.”
She enjoyed the sound of his responding laugh. They were so close now that the vibrations from his chest pleasantly echoed within her.
“I’ve been told how fucked up I am, believe me. My sister is a social worker. If she found out what you and I are doing, I’d never live it down.”
“That brings up a good question.” It was her cue to mention something that had been on her mind. “What do we tell everyone else?”
“Do we have to tell anyone else anything?” It was the first time something about him seemed naïve.
“You might find that being seen with the daughter of a controversial Senator will invite unwanted attention. It won’t be as fun as the sex.” She repeated Michael’s phrase with the same apologetic tone he had used, worried that he hadn’t considered this downside to their arrangement.
“I see them looking. We’ll be in the society pages by tomorrow. It’ll be the gossip pages by the end of the month.” He said it more casually than she could comprehend.
“They’ll want to know whether we’re dating.”
“If we’re seen out together enough times, denying it would make no difference.”
She’d been so focused on sizing up Michael and reveling in the memory of their hot sex that she’d barely thought about the rest. “Companionship” meant that this gala was the first of dozens of events she might attend with him. Privately, she’d signed up for a booty call and a hangout buddy. Publicly, it would seem as if she had a boyfriend.
She must have looked as distressed as she felt, because his dancing slowed, and he leaned in to speak discreetly into her ear.
“I like going out, Darby. I like dancing with you right now. I like treating you like a lady and feeling like a man. I’m tired of turning down invitations to parties that could be a good time if I only had someone fun to go with. I’m sick of eating alone.”
He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice sounded repentant.
“People will talk. And I didn’t think through what that would mean for you, being Frank Christensen’s daughter. If all that comes with it is more than you signed up for, I understand. But it’s your life. And pardon the unsolicited advice, but I think you should live it the way you want to.”
The sensible words she’d been ready to say in defense of damage control died on her tongue. She was having a better time with him than she had ever had at any other charity gala. And she knew she’d have an even better time at the end of the night. That was what she’d been in it for, at first—her “give me four orgasms and get the fuck out”. But hadn’t she enjoyed dress shopping and having some place to go? Didn’t she love dancing with him and being on his arm? Hadn’t her mind drifted three or four times to what it had felt like to be carried bridal-style up those steps on that cliff? Didn’t she deserve a little romance?
“I’d be home watching a movie.” Her voice was weaker than it had been a minute before. She didn’t know why she was admitting this to him. “If I wasn’t out with you right now, I’d be at home with takeout from Boka, a bottle of wine, and I’d be watching a movie. Alone.”
Upon hearing her confession, he held her more tightly, yet more softly somehow.
“This is better,” she concluded quietly. In that moment, she comprehended something she realized that Michael had known implicitly: not having to be lonely was the cake. The sex was just the icing.
The song was ending and Michael leaned back to peer into her eyes, that penetrating gaze making her feel as if he could see right through her.
“I don’t care what those people think. Do you?” His voice was even softer now.
The truth was, she didn’t. But she had spent a long time being conditioned to feel that she should.
“No.” Her voice rang with a sincerity that felt like relief.
“Do you care about this, right here, right now, just me and you?”
Afraid of how her voice would sound if she spoke an answer, she nodded her head.
“Good. Because that’s what I care about right now. I want to keep looking at you in that gorgeous dress, and hear that sharp wit of yours, and think about the sound you’ll make when I bite you again in this place, right here…”
He ran a finger lightly over the column of her neck, and something in her changed. In her mind, it flashed before her in an instant, a vision of what they could give to one another. She could have him now, like this, and again later in her bed without expectations for anything more. Even if other people got the wrong impression about them, it was a small price to pay for something that would give her what she hadn’t dared to let herself crave.
“That’s not exactly living in the now, is it?” she asked, her voice compromised. “Unless you’ll be biting me right here, in front of everybody…”
He didn’t smile at her quip. Instead, a fire she recognized from the week before flashed dangerously in his eyes.
“So why don’t we make the future now?”
He slid his eyes to the exit door, then back to her. Twenty minutes later, they were parking in the underground garage at Lake Front Tower.