Chapter Twenty-One
Darcy cleared the giant lump from her throat and reached for him. “Micah, you’re a good man, if that was you covertly suggesting otherwise. I thought we already hashed that out earlier.”
He scooped her off her feet and swung her around once. “Once you make the front page, the city will finally have the hero it needs. My little shining star.”
“If you say so.” Her voice cut off in the heat of his mouth that claimed hers with hunger.
Once he let her up for air, he stared over the water and back at her. “The clouds are coming in over there. We’d better hurry.”
“I’ll be fine.” She meant it. His storm already surrounded her, protected her.
“I know you will. Come on, before your belly starts roaring at me because we skipped lunch.”
“Hey, it doesn’t roar, it…okay, it roars.” She was hungry for more than she should have been. For more days in his arms beyond the few remaining. A single note of his laughter. A glance. That she’d helped him control his anxiety attack earlier had filled her with a heady joy that wouldn’t relent, and she felt closer to him than ever.
No, she couldn’t think that way. They’d have their fun, and then it would have to be good-bye.
The motor roared to life, and they were free on the water. The way Micah had looked back on the dock settled a strange tightness beneath Darcy’s ribs. She studied his profile and posture as he chatted about this and that and found nothing to suggest he was embarrassed about what had almost happened at the market.
Maybe it was solely caused by the impending end of their tryst. She winced, hating her choice of word. In her mind, it suggested something taboo and secret, and even though others would probably see it that way, what they shared was so much more than a simple affair. It was deeply personal, at least for her. Sharing intense, intimate secrets had a way of making two people feel close to each other, but she hadn’t shed her clothes in exchange for anything other than mutual pleasure. Sol could never know, or she’d lose her moral high ground forever.
“There’s still so much I don’t know about you,” Micah said after a while, breaking the terrible silence.
“Like what?’
“I know some of your favorite foods, but how about your favorite color? Favorite flower? Favorite season?”
Why was he being so cautious? It wasn’t like him to pull any punches when it came to asking hard questions. “Red, daisies, and fall.” Her nose crinkled with her confusion. “Okay, those were way too easy. What are you up to?” Those were questions new lovers asked each other, and that’s not what they were. If she kept reminding herself of that, her stupid sappy heart would eventually believe it.
“Have you done much traveling? What are your favorite places?”
It took effort to think past the questions shouting in her head. “Last year, I took a couple of weeks off and went backpacking through Scotland and Ireland. It was really beautiful. I’d like to see the rest of Europe, and I’ve always wanted to go to Australia. Other than that, I don’t really have any.”
“Sure you do, locally, at least. Where do you go on special occasions with your family? Where do you celebrate when it’s your birthday? Which is when?”
Flames licked up her chest, both from impending dread and embarrassment. “It’s on Tuesday, actually. I’ll be twenty-seven. And I don’t usually do much. My friends went to Dalhousie University on the east coast, and they both met guys and settled down there, and my parents are depressing. I usually try out a new restaurant on my birthday.”
He frowned. “By yourself?”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s the way I like it.”
“You really are a terrible liar. Have you ever been to Alice’s Bistro?”
“Never heard of it, no.”
“They have the best pie in all of Toronto, maybe even the world. Homemade, flaky crust, and filling that’s made from scratch, not too sweet and not too tart, just like you. I challenge you not to lick your plate.”
“Sounds divine.”
His amusement faded to leave him more serious, worsening the twinge under her ribs. “Do you want to be a mother someday?”
She drew her knees up and set her heels on the edge of the seat. “What brought that on?”
“I saw how you watched every pudgy, toddling child in the market, and now that you’ve told me about what happened at the ranch, I think you’ll make an amazing mother.”
“Yeah, I don’t think children are in my future.” She laughed to cover the tears welling behind her lashes. Although she felt stronger than ever, she wasn’t ready to think about a commitment of that magnitude with a man, and that draped a heavy sadness over her.
“That’s not what I asked you.”
“Of course I dreamed of having kids, right around the same time I was scribbling my name in notebooks with the last names of all the boys I liked. That was before I knew how shitty the world can be, and how hard it was to earn enough money to keep my own head above the water, let alone a kid. Raising them is hard, and it’s not something I’d ever try to do alone.”
“You’ll find your nightingale. He’ll come out of the ether when you’re least expecting it, and you’ll find yourself living the dream you’ve given up on.”
She’d already found him within the least likely man on the planet, and she only had a few more days with him. She shrugged. “I can’t control the future. What will be, will be, and I’ll carry on.”
“Don’t be sad.” He reached across and caressed her hand, throwing the throttle forward with his other hand. “Let’s see if I can go fast enough to leave that frown behind.”
Her lips curved, but she couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom from her mind to laugh the way she should have. The sound of the wind and the water splitting beneath the bow made talking difficult. Which made loads of time for thinking, the last thing she wanted to do right now. It had been such an odd question choice, and it worsened the twist in her stomach.
She still couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong, but something was. The time slipped by beyond her notice, and too soon, they’d arrived back at the island.
Micah parked the boat at the dock and helped her out, tucking her under his arm, the bags in his free hand. “No races tonight. I want you right here beside me.”
Wrapping her arm around his waist, she concentrated on the movement of his muscles as he walked, and the sound of his voice as he hummed the same tune he had at the pond. It seemed like a dream, to be going home with this man.
Only it wasn’t her home, and he wasn’t her man.
Once in the cottage, he spun her to face him, nuzzling her forehead. “Why don’t you take a shower while I make some dinner? Are you okay with spicy? And I’m not talking about Frank’s RedHot; I’m talking about light your lips on fire, spice.”
“If I wasn’t, I couldn’t handle kissing you. Make me burn, Micah.”
“Oh, I intend to, in more ways than one.”
She slid a finger under the collar of his T-shirt and stroked his bare chest beneath. “Are you sure you don’t want some help?”
“Relax, get comfortable, and let me take care of you tonight.”
She stretched up, close enough to taste his breath, but not close enough to touch his lips. “If you insist. I’ll just be in the shower. Naked.”
When she snatched the dress bag from his hand and backed up, he stumbled forward a step, giving a breathy laugh. Grinning over her shoulder, she watched him scrub a hand over the back of his neck, still watching her with the new hunger he’d been wearing this afternoon.
The cool shower she’d opted for was heaven on her sunbaked skin. It rinsed away whatever had been worrying her on the boat, emptying her out for whatever new experience she was about to have with Micah.
Skinny dipping, maybe, or getting creative with dessert. Even curling up with him on the lounge chair to watch the stars pop out would have been a monumental event. Just in case, she shaved everything that needed shaving twice.
She dried her hair so it curled out the way she liked and applied some vanilla body butter from her stash of toiletries. Withdrawing the dress from the bag, she held it up and watched the material move. She’d been so intent on Micah’s apparent distress at the market she hadn’t looked at the price tag, and she was afraid to now. Just the weight and silkiness of the fabric let her know it had been expensive and more than she could have afforded.
Good lord, she was way out of her league. Ignoring the reminder, she slipped her arms through his gift, wrapped it around her front, and tied the belt into a bow at her waist. Beyond the island, she may have been someone Micah would never glance twice at, but tonight, in the dress he picked out for her, she felt beautiful standing by herself in front of the mirror. It was a taste of how she felt every time he looked at her, and tonight, she wouldn’t run from that gaze. She’d let him look as deep and hard as he wanted.
After donning a pair of high-heeled sandals from Cynthia’s closet, Darcy exited her bedroom and returned to the kitchen. Lovely scents swirled around the air through the screen door that was open to the back deck.
John Legend’s “All of Me” played in perfect clarity from outdoor speakers hidden amongst the flower pots, and two tall, white candles burned in the center of the glass table.
She opened the screen and stepped out, closing it behind her. Smoke trickled out of the unattended charcoal barbecue. A sound drew her gaze to the stairs. Micah stood frozen on the bottom one. He’d changed into black dress pants and a perfectly tailored button-down in almost the same shade of blue as her dress. He’d secured his hair at the back of his head, leaving his face unguarded.
His eyes were open wide as he ascended, his lips parted. “You’re stunning. Your eyes are as bright and clear as the sky above an early morning sunrise.”
She tore her gaze from the exposed wedge of his chest. “If the sight of you didn’t suck all the brain cells out of my head every time, I might have said something equally as elegant to you. At the moment, I’d be lucky if I could come up with a dirty limerick.”
He laughed and took her hand. “Let’s take it for a spin, shall we?”
Darcy let him twirl her once. Dizzy—more from the romantic scene and his proximity than the spin—she clung to his hand as he led her to the table.
“Have a seat. Supper’s almost ready. I didn’t have time for anything fancy, but it should tempt that adventurous palate of yours.” He poured red wine into her glass, graced her temple with a kiss, and returned to the barbecue.
She sipped her drink and watched the hypnotic sway of his rear, feeling no guilt in that particular indulgence considering how often he did the same to her. Soon, he returned with a platter and set it on the side of the table.
“Jerk-style grilled chicken breasts, corn on the cob, and baby red potatoes in the tin foil, baked with garlic and butter.”
“Mmm, it smells delicious. Hand me your plate, and I’ll load you up.” She forked the biggest breast, the fattest cob, and the plumpest tin foil packet onto his plate and handed it back to him before helping herself.
Her knife sliced into the chicken easily, and she lifted the juicy bite to her mouth. Spice and heat lit her mouth on fire as she swallowed it down, leaving her eyes closed to savor it. “This is amazing. If you ever finish sowing your wild oats, you’re going to make some very lucky woman a dream-grade husband.” She opened her eyes at his silence, replaying what she’d said in her mind. “That came out all wrong.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin and stared at her, his expression falling flat. “That’s not what I’m doing with you, sowing my wild oats.” His frown suggested otherwise.
“Of course not,” she lied. “There’s nothing cold or impersonal about what we’re doing. We’re just friends turned to lovers, taking a temporary vacation from our lives. It was a poor choice of words, I’m sorry.”
He smiled, but it seemed forced. Darcy ate a little, moving her food around on the plate as that knot of dread latched onto her ribs again.
“It’s okay if you don’t like it.” Micah pushed his empty plate back. “I can make you something else.”
“No, it’s delicious, seriously, but the heat sometimes steals my appetite.” Dammit, why couldn’t she just stop thinking and enjoy herself?
“Then walk with me. We can have dessert later.” They walked along the path to the water while Darcy drowned in nerves. Micah stood behind her on the dock, one arm holding her back against his front, and his chin resting on her head, as they watched stillness fall over the world with the coming night. He was calm, absent even. If she hadn’t been petrified to know what he was thinking, she’d have turned to face him and demanded he say something.
By the time they went back to the deck behind the cottage, Darcy was in a barely contained state of panic. The music continued to play in the background, adding to the chaos in her mind.
Something was terribly, terrifyingly wrong.
“What’s happening—?”
“Dance with me.” Although she resisted, he pulled her close, and they swayed to the music. His arms were strong, his movements passionate and precise, as if he wanted this one moment between them to be memorable, perfect. Something to remember.
Drawing in a shaking breath, she pushed back. “Oh my God, I’m such an idiot. You’re kicking me out early. That’s what this is, isn’t it?”
“Listen—”
“I’ve done something wrong.” She whirled away, fighting tears. “I’m a terrible lover, aren’t I? I’ll just go and pack. You could have just told me instead of doing all of this work for nothing.”
His arms came around her from behind, holding tight when she tried to fight free. Warm breath fanned across her left ear. “I wish I could stay here with you forever.”
She stilled, staying rigid in his grasp. “There’s a ‘but’ coming at the end of all this; I can feel it.”
He sighed, and she could hear his smile in it. “So perceptive. But, when I finish telling you the rest of my story, you’re going to run from me as fast as you can, despite your promises. And it’s better that way. You deserve more than I can give you.”
Finally prying herself free, she turned and studied the sadness and resignation etched into his body. “I told you on the boat there’s nothing you could say that would change my opinion of you, and I meant it.”
“Ask the question, Darcy.”
She shook her head, crossing her arms. “I’ve asked all I need for the article, and my personal curiosities about your favorite colors and such can wait for later.”
“This isn’t for the newspaper, only for you. I’m putting the future of the foundation in your hands.”
“It’s my final test to see if I’m one of the vultures or not.” Although it stung, she understood.
His gaze lowered, giving answer enough. “Ask the question.”
“No.” She backed away. “You know what? I’m starting to think my boss was right; maybe I don’t have the stuff to do this job, because I don’t want to know. I don’t care what you think you did, because I know who you are, and nothing you can say will change my mind.” She wiped away the first hot tear to crest her lashes.
“If you didn’t think it would change anything between us, then you wouldn’t be so upset.” He edged closer. “Ask the question that’s been on your mind since the first time I told you about Fernando.”
Several protests jammed sideways in her throat. He stood tall, all emotion gone from his face as he waited for her to rip open his wounds and judge what came tumbling out.
He needed this confession. She could see the truth of it in his eyes. If he could find the courage to relive his past, then she needed to find the courage to listen to his story, maybe the first and last time he’d relive it for anyone.
“Okay,” she said, even though it wasn’t. “I just need a minute.”