The Harder They Fall (28 page)

“Daddy, wait!”

“Hmm?”

“Did you . . . did you see in the paper that Michael Davidson was named president of Everything Kitchen?”

“I did indeed. As a matter of fact, I recommended him for the job.”

Her heart sank. “You?”

“That’s right. To tell you the truth, I really liked the young man right from the start. He’s smart and savvy. But it was more. He was extremely concerned about how you really felt about the takeover. He showed heart. Since I knew his promotion hinged on the deal, I found it admirable that he wasn’t thinking of himself first. And since I knew Ted was looking for a new . . .”

Her father’s voice faded beneath the drone in Darcy’s head. Michael had been worried about her feelings. He’d seemed more concerned about her than him and his promotion.

Oh, Michael!

Of course, that didn’t mean he loved her. But it did show that he’d cared.

“. . . get out of New York.”

“What?” she said, trying to hone in on her father’s voice.

“I said, he expressed a real interest in getting out of New York. Told me his lady friend hated New York, and he hated asking her to live there. And when I approached him about a move to Spokane, he was delighted. Said he had a feeling his lady would like that a lot.” There was a pause. “Hey, wait a minute. His lady friend wouldn’t happen to be—”

“Daddy, I need to go.”

“Darcy—”

“I’ll explain everything later. Right now I need to think.”

“Just tell me this. Are you his lady friend?”

“I was. But I think I blew it,” she added glumly.

Amazingly, her father yelled “Ye-haw!” right into the phone. “Go get him, Darcy. If you could have seen the way his eyes lit up when he talked about you. Go get him.”

“What if he’s changed his mind?”

“Do you think he’s the one who sent you the dog?”

“If it wasn’t you, it had to be. He’s the only one who . . . I told my goldfish story to.”

“Go get him. At least try, Darce. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Her heart was racing. Her father was right. If she didn’t try, she’d never know. For once in her life, Darcy had to take a leap, and hope she landed on her feet. Or better yet, in Michael’s arms. “I’ll try.”

“Way to go, Princess!”

“I’m scared, Daddy.”

“I don’t blame you. But I think your fears are unfounded in this case.” There was a short, profound silence. Then he added, almost in a whisper. “And, Darcy? I heartily approve.”

Darcy hung up, her nerves strung to their snapping point. Hands shaking, she replaced the receiver and went to the kitchen to check on Ralph. The puppy was still sleeping, her eyes and paws twitching as she chased down some squirrel in her dreams.

Darcy’s gaze fell to the newspaper, and Michael’s picture. She moved to it, tracing the contours of his smiling lips. She read the article again. Then she got a pencil and paper and started to plan.

She drew up a list.

Michael stood at the podium,
making his speech. It was a good thing he’d memorized it, because his mind was so far from profit margins and organizational restructuring, he didn’t even know what he was saying.

Yesterday, as he’d stood under one of the majestic oaks and watched Darcy feed squirrels, his heart had ached with all he’d lost. Him and his damn lists. When it came to his personal life, he was never going to make a list again, as long as he lived. He was going to learn to live for the moment, take what happiness he could find without analyzing it, fall in love like normal men did.

Just as soon as he got over Darcy.

Which, at current calculations, would happen sometime in the second quarter of the twenty-second century.

Yesterday, he’d mentally thrown all his lists away. No well-planned course of action was going to get Darcy back. So the only thing left to him was to follow his heart. And his heart had told him he wanted to do something to wipe the haunted, melancholy look from Darcy’s features.

With that in mind, he’d scoured the pets section of the paper. Luck had been with him when he’d found golden puppies right near his family’s new home on the South Hill.

After he’d paid the boys to deliver the puppy and supplies, he’d stuck around, knowing Darcy would come out eventually to walk the puppy. The ache in his heart had eased somewhat when he’d seen her joyful expression as she followed the wandering puppy around the park. When she’d sat down in the grass and allowed the puppy to climb all over her, Michael had actually laughed for the first time in two months.

He’d felt fairly certain that she’d figure out who sent her the puppy, but he knew it wouldn’t change anything. That had been confirmed somewhat when he’d received a philodendron this morning with a card that said, “Thank you for Ralph. I love her.” That note hadn’t been signed. But the next one that came with the rubber plant and said, “Congratulations. Everything Kitchen is lucky to have you,” had been. It said simply, “Darcy.” No “Love, Darcy,” but what did he expect?

Exactly one hour later—an hour ago—he’d received one final plant. This one a hanging spider. This card said, “Welcome to Spokane. Darcy.”

Along with the plants he’d already brought to his new office, he now felt he was working in a greenhouse. And he loved it.

Trying to bring his focus back to the speech at hand, he glanced down at the notes he really didn’t need. When he looked up, a photographer snapped a picture, its flash momentarily blinding him. But he kept right on talking as he blinked away the large spots before his eyes. He just wanted to get this over with and get off the stage.

As his vision cleared, he gazed out over the lobby at the twenty or so business reporters from the various news media. A fairly large turnout. But he supposed that the health of his company was of major concern to the locals, as well as the national business scene. He took a breath and went on talking.

“Downsizing is not necessarily an answer in our case. We’re already a lean, well-oiled machine, and we value all of our personnel highly. What we’re looking to do is reevaluate some store loca—”

Darcy.

She stood near the glass doors to the building, looking fresh as a spring flower in a flowing peasant dress. Her hair was loose, the way he liked it, her shoulders and legs bare. She had open-toed sandals on her feet, and even from here he could see that her toenails were painted coral.

She held her puppy in one arm. When she realized she’d caught his attention, she smiled.

Michael was struck dumb, his speech forgotten. That wasn’t a friendly smile. That wasn’t a polite smile. That was a smile that whispered, “I love you.”

The rest of the world sank in on itself. Nothing existed but Darcy.

She lifted one of the puppy’s front paws and waved it at Michael, bringing him out of his stunned elation.

“Excuse me,” he croaked, then came out from behind the podium, ignoring the murmurs from the reporters.

He traveled in a direct path to Darcy, never taking his eyes from hers. Her eyes widened for a moment, before narrowing over a devastating grin.

When he reached her, he didn’t say a word. He just took her in his arms and kissed her. Her response was instantaneous and cataclysmic. His world caught fire, burning bright and beautiful.

The softness, the taste of the lips he couldn’t forget, the scent of the woman who’d haunted his dreams, the silk of the skin he’d had such a short time to worship, all hit him with the force of a speeding truck.

Darcy, his Darcy, was back. And this time he’d never let her go.

He suddenly became aware of something wet and rough under his chin. That brought him to a semblance of his senses. Which was why he finally registered that the small crowd had broken out in loud applause, several wolf whistles, and a few shocked gasps.

Reluctantly he broke the kiss and looked down at her. God, to have her this close after such a long, long time without her was overwhelming.

He said the first thing that came into his mind. “It sure would be nice if Ralph is housebroken by the time we get married.”

IN POINT OF FACT, Ralph hadn’t been housebroken by the time they were married, two weeks later. In point of fact, it took nearly two months to housebreak her completely. But as Darcy pointed out, it would take their children much longer.

And it had.

Krissie, their oldest, took two years to train. Kyle had been a stubborn little cuss. It took nearly three years to convince him that the toilet wouldn’t eat him. But Katie, their youngest, was out of diapers by eighteen months.

As he stood in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Darcy juggle the children and step over the dog, all the while arguing with a chef on the phone, Michael smiled, his heart bursting with the raw, powerful emotion that was his love for his wife and family. Once again he threw up a silent prayer of thanks to the patron saint of matrimony—if there was such a thing. He was blessed. He knew it, and he thanked God for it.

Falling for Darcy had been the smartest thing he’d ever done. And damn if he hadn’t fallen hard.

And often.

(Continue reading for and excerpt of Trish’s book
Stuck With You
)

STUCK WITH YOU

Excerpt

Two feuding divorce lawyers.

One infectious “love bug” virus.

The symptoms are hard to resist .
 . .

The doctor was blunt. “There’s a slight chance that the two of you came into contact with infectious materials when you were transported in that ambulance.”

“A virus?” Paige squealed.

“What virus?” Ross demanded.

“The CDC believes it’s a new strain of Tibetan Concupiscence Virus. Or TCV.”

“Concupiscence?” Ross repeated. Paige could almost see his mind chugging along. Understanding had his eyes widening. “Horny Monk Disease?” he said dryly, not nearly as panicked as Paige felt he ought to be.

“Oh, you’ve heard of it?” the doctor said.

“Horny Monk Disease?” Paige whispered.

“They actually call it that?” Ross said, gaping a bit himself. “I was
kidding!”

The doctor laughed. “No, I don’t believe they call it that. At least not in official literature. But you’re getting the idea. The symptoms appear to be—somewhat unusual.”

“Is it dangerous?” Paige asked, not sure she wanted to know what the unusual symptoms might be.

Dr. Turner shook her head. “It doesn’t appear to be dangerous to young, healthy adults such as yourselves.”

Ross quirked an eyebrow. “What are these—unusual symptoms? And how long do we have to stay quarantined?”

The woman cleared her throat. “Well, some symptoms are elevated heart rate, a warmth radiating under the skin, possible dizzy spells, heightened sexual awareness and a few other very minor irritations.”

“Oh
 . . .
my
 . . .
God,” Paige said faintly.

Ross crossed his arms. “I’ve never actually considered heightened sexual awareness an irritation.”

“That’s it!” Paige said, pointing at Ross accusingly.

“That’s what?” he and the doctor asked at the same time.

“The reason I was—was—never mind,” Paige said, feeling her cheeks heat up. Like she’d ever admit she’d been making silent, non-lawyerly observations about the snake. Hospital gowns weren’t supposed to look that good. Or deliciously skimpy.