Hot Wheels and High Heels (32 page)

“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.”

“I always had a feeling you were a pervert. Is it the discovery fantasy about doing it in a public place?”

“No. It’s the dessert fantasy of intensifying the brownie-eating experience by having an orgasm.”

John eased closer. “Tell you what, sweetheart. You eat the brownie”—he slid his hand over her thigh under the table—“and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Never in her life had a man looked at her the way John did, as if he wanted to gobble her up in a single bite. She thought about being alone with him later, and her stomach swooped with anticipation.

She smiled to herself.
Why wait?

She pulled out her gift card, went to the counter, bought half a dozen brownies, then came back and grabbed her drink off the table. John looked up at her questioningly.

“I have the brownies,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

Chapter 20

J
ohn figured if he went ten miles over the speed limit all the way back to Darcy’s house, he had maybe a one in twenty chance of getting caught, but he also had maybe a one in two chance of being stopped by a cop he knew who would let him slide on a ticket. Those were odds he could live with, particularly when Darcy spent the entire trip running her hand up and down his thigh and speaking only one word.

Hurry
.

Fifteen minutes later, they were at her front door. The wind was up, and she was having a hard time getting the key in the lock with her hair flipping into her face. Finally John took over, unlocked the door, and pulled her inside, dragging her up next to him for a kiss. She reached over to close the door, but the wind blew it back open. John gave it a push with one hand at the same time he tugged up her skirt with the other, wrapping his hand around the back of her thigh and pulling her up against him. He heard the soft thud of the sack of brownies as they hit the floor. A second later, when she reached between them for his zipper, the world seemed to slip out of focus, and he stopped thinking about anything except getting naked.

After leaving a trail of clothes all the way to the bedroom, they fell into bed. Darcy curled her hand around his neck and pulled his mouth to hers. When he slid his hand between her legs to find her hot and slick already, the urgency he felt took a quantum leap.

No. You can’t hurry. Take it easy. Take your time. Make it good for her
.

He stroked her incessantly, then delved inside her, then pulled back to tease her again. He did it over and over, kissing her lips, her breasts, then coming back up to whisper dirty little nothings in her ear. She squirmed beneath him, and then all at once she shimmied and shook him away.

“Darcy?”

“Now.”

“No,” he said. “Too soon.”

“I said
now!
” She grabbed him by the arm, but he shook loose and reached for her again.

“No,” he said. “It can’t be. Just let me—”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” She pushed him away, shoved him over on his back, and straddled him. She pointed down at him.

“Don’t move!”

She reached into the nightstand drawer, found a condom, rolled it down over him, guided him to her, and plunged down hard.

John squeezed his eyes closed, gritting his teeth against the sudden indescribable feeling of being inside her all the way to the hilt. She picked up his hands, shoved them over his head, and before he knew what was happening, she laced her fingers through his and pinned him to the mattress. And then she was moving against him, her warm breath spilling across his neck, her nipples dragging along his chest with every stroke.

Holy shit
.

“You’re such a know-it-all,” she said breathlessly, finding a hot, even rhythm. “A hardheaded know-it-all who never listens to anyone. Did I ever tell you that?”

He arched up to meet every stroke, astonished how quickly the feeling was building. “Repeatedly.”

“Well, I’m telling you again.” Her fingers flexed against his, her face tight with passion. “From now on, John, when I say
now,
I don’t mean next week.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She kissed his neck, then whispered in his ear. “So I have your attention?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m hanging on every word.”

But then she moved faster, with hard, grinding strokes, and her words fell by the wayside. He rose to meet her, wanting everything she had to give him any way she chose to do it.

She moaned softly. Then let out a tiny gasp. She threw her head back, and seconds after she cried out, he was coming, too. He clasped her hands so tightly he was in fear of breaking bones, groaning at the flood of heat that spilled through him.

She fell against him. He shook his hands loose from hers and wrapped his arms around her, stroking his hands up and down her back. He felt as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. No pain, though. Just pleasure so complete it was almost unbearable.

Darcy finally rolled away, falling to her back with all the muscle control of a marionette. She took a deep, cleansing breath, then rose on one elbow, fumbled in her nightstand drawer and pulled out her vibrator. With a sharp underhanded toss, she threw it toward the corner of the room. It bounced against the wall, then fell into the trash can with a satisfying clatter. She rolled back against John, resting her head against his shoulder and twining her leg with his.

John smiled to himself. What man wouldn’t love the ego boost of beating out your average battery-powered device?

Darcy put her hand against his. He turned it over and laced his fingers with hers. She looked at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“Everybody has best days of their lives.”

“Yeah. I guess they do.”

“This was one of mine.”

Her words flowed over John like warm honey. As crazy as it seemed, he couldn’t imagine a time in the future when she wouldn’t be part of his life.

They lay there a moment more, and then he rose and went to the bathroom. When he came out, he decided he’d go back to the front door, get those brownies, and feed every last one of them to her while he did unspeakably carnal things to every inch of her body.

He rounded the doorway into the entry, surprised to find the front door standing open. He thought he’d shut it, but evidently he hadn’t done it hard enough, and the wind had blown it open again.

Then it dawned on him. Pepé was nowhere to be seen.

Darcy’s heart pounded with apprehension as she and John hurried along the sidewalks of the apartment complex, calling Pepé’s name.

“I can’t believe the door was just standing open,” she said. “I swore we shut it.”

“So did I.”

“He’s probably scared to death.”

“He has tags,” John said. “If somebody finds him, they’ll call you.”

“As long as he doesn’t get scared and do something stupid first, like run right out in front of a car.”

“Take it easy. We’ll find him.”

“How long were we in the bedroom? How far could he have gotten by now?”

“I don’t know. Surely he’ll stay around the complex, won’t he?”

“John, I love my dog to pieces, but I’m afraid he’s not terribly smart. I’m just so afraid he’s going to—”

“Wait! There he is!”

“Where?”

She looked where John pointed and spotted Pepé huddled against a wall behind a shrub. She hurried over and scooped him up.

“Oh, he’s so scared! See how he’s trembling?” She kissed his furry little head. “We have to be more careful about the door from now on.”

“We will.” John reached up to stroke his head. “Wow. He really is shaking, isn’t he?”

“Poor baby,” Darcy said, hugging him closer. “It’s a big bad world out here, isn’t it? You have to watch out for all kinds of—”