What's Yours is Mine (25 page)

He opened his computer, determined to do some work.
 

Ten minutes later, he found himself staring at the screen, having no clue what he’d just drawn. Some kind of rectangle. A room? A whole house? A box on a table? He had no idea. He closed his eyes and felt feminine fingers tangled in his hair, felt her warm breath against his mouth. He felt shaken by the power of it.
 

A kiss. A mere kiss.
 

He got up, ready to go back out to the living room, to see Darcy. To talk to her. But what would he say? What would she do?
 

He sat down again. He was no high school kid. He had work to do. It was time to act like a grown-up, not an infatuated boy.
 

Infatuated? How ludicrous was that? The woman was the bane of his existence four years ago, and now—

Well, now. She was complicated, yes. She was manipulative, hell, yes. She was… She was Darcy.
 

He drew a vector on the screen. Erased it. Drew another one. Shook his head. This was useless.
 

He got up again. He needed to set things straight, make sure she understood. A kiss wasn’t a commitment. It certainly wasn’t love. Even if she’d done an amazing job with those agents. Even if she’d pitched in on the roof earlier, getting dirty for the cause. Even if she unexpectedly turned out to have a big heart to go along with that scheming mind. He still wasn’t going to fall in love with her. He wasn’t going to fall into that trap.
 

If he went out there right now, would he be able to say all this? Or would he grab her and kiss her again?
 

The thought made him pause, his hand on the doorknob. He wasn’t thinking straight. He was reacting from the gut, from emotion, not a place of clean calm. Time to meditate, clear his head. So instead of heading out to the living room, he went to his dresser and clicked Play on the boom box. As the gentle music filled the room like rippling ocean waves, he felt himself relax. That was key. Center himself and he’d know what to do, what to say. Center himself and he wouldn’t lose control.
 

But just as he’d seated himself on the bed in a cross-legged position and taken his first deep, slow breath, a phone rang. Darcy’s phone, with a different ringtone this time, the first chords of Beethoven’s Ninth. The sound was coming from on top of his nightstand. And he’d warned her not to come in here. He’d have to answer it himself.
 

“Hello?”

“Who is this?” The unfamiliar male voice sounded preemptory, demanding.

“Who is
this
?”

“Where’s Darcy?”

“I’ll go get her.”
 

The man wasn’t done. “You’re Will, aren’t you?”

“I am.” Will blinked, putting it together. The tone of authority, the gruff voice of an older man. “You’re her father. The General.”

The man actually laughed, an abrupt bark. “Is that what she calls me?”

“Does that bother you?”
 

“Of course not. Darcy has nicknames for everyone.”
 

What was his? He didn’t dare ask. But the General answered anyway. “She used to call you Will Freaking Dougherty.”

“And now?”

“On Monday it was Will That-Snake Dougherty. Tuesday, we didn’t talk. By yesterday, oddly, she just called you Will. So, Will No-Nickname Dougherty. Did you really steal from Golden Organics?”

Will choked. The General was awfully blunt.
 

“Darcy said the department was shut down because you absconded with all the money, leaving nothing for operating costs.”

“That’s not exactly how it went.”
 

“So what did happen?”

The question Darcy had never asked. So Will told General Jennings the whole truth. (Was he really a General or was it just a nickname? Will was never clear on this.)
 

The older man listened without comment, entirely neutral. At the end of Will’s recitation, he gave a snort-like chuckle. “Childish, don’t you think?”

“Sir, I hardly think—”

“You don’t think, do you? You just act. You and Darcy, you’re quite a pair.”

“I wouldn’t compare myself to her—”

 
But her father wasn’t listening. “No wonder you haven’t gotten yourselves untangled. You probably have no idea how to sort things through, either of you. It’s all fight, fight, fight, and never the big picture. Son, in a battle, the side that wins is always, but always, the side that has the satellite view. Think about it.”

Will sat back. “Do you want me to win? I figured you’d be on your daughter’s side.”

“Who says I’m not?” The man gave an enigmatic chuckle. “There are more than two sides here. Think in three dimensions; you’re the builder.”

~*~

The pebble landed on the ceramic with a satisfying clank. Darcy picked up another, aimed, and threw. She’d rather punch something, but everything in the condo belonged to Will except for her brand-new furniture, and there was no way she was going to wreck that. She’d come outside so she could at least throw pebbles. She picked up another one.
 

He’d kissed her. A tender, real kiss with emotion leaking out in the way he held her, the way he ran his hands along her spine, the look in his eyes just before he moved in.
 

And then he walked away like it meant nothing. Or maybe like it meant too much. Like it meant more than he felt? Like it meant—

At this rate, she’d be a gibbering, circular-thinking, useless-for-work, insane person by dinnertime.
 

Facing him over dinner. That would be a blast. He’d probably come out to gulp down something quick as possible, then rush back into the bedroom and barricade himself.
 

Her laptop chimed. Incoming email. She frowned at it. She’d brought it outside so she could at least pretend to work. Pretend she wasn’t discombobulated by what had just happened.
 

Who was she kidding?

But as she went to close the computer, she caught sight of the message. It was from Phillip. Her heart thudded.
 

Tested 2 soaps, 1 shampoo. Blue Suede Soap was ok. It only has the ingredients listed on label.
 

Darcy let out her breath. Slippery Elm had been an isolated event, then. If indeed it had even been deliberately contaminated. Maybe Will was wrong. Maybe he got a bad batch. Maybe…

Then she read the next paragraph.

Strawberry Suds Forever tested positive for triclosate. Butylparaben too. Don’t know how much yet. AquaSoap batch was faulty, I have to retest it tomorrow. But I thought you should know my preliminary findings.

I’m sorry.

The back of her throat felt scratchy. She swallowed, but it didn’t go away. It was true, then. Someone was deliberately adding toxic ingredients and not labeling the products.
 

Who was responsible for Strawberry Suds?
 

Mathias Lerner. He had been involved in setting up the production line on Slippery Elm too. Mathias, who had tried to insinuate that Will wasn’t trustworthy. Mathias, who’d been surprisingly hostile to her since her promotion. Mathias, who acted jaded about Stan’s idealism.
 

Why would he do it? To make himself and his products look good. All the chemicals they so assiduously avoided at Golden acted as preservatives, stabilizers, and enhancers.
 

Mathias, with his little goatee and his wire-frame glasses and his nervous habit of chewing on the ends of pens. Mathias, with his special-needs son and his ten years with Golden. Had he really done something so callous? Something that would jeopardize the company? And if so, what was she going to do about it?
 

Maybe it was Johanna. She’d always been slipshod, letting other people pick up the slack, but she’d been so careless lately, almost as if she was daring Stan to fire her. And now she was heading the team developing Deep Velvet, that clone of Slippery Elm. She could be the culprit, always looking for the easy way to make a product work.
 

Darcy closed the laptop and tossed another pebble, trying to hit the side of a nearby planter. She had to get back to the office, and soon.
 

Past the planter, Brianna ran by, making zooming noises as she held a Barbie doll high in the air. “Super Barbie to the rescue!”
 

Her mother followed at a more leisurely pace, grinning at her daughter. Brianna flashed a smile at Darcy and zoomed off, making Barbie do loop-de-loops in the air and dive-bomb a gardenia bush.
 

Megan shook her head at Darcy. “I usually try to steer her away from such girly toys, they’re so programmed. But…”

Darcy smiled. “But it’s Super Barbie, savior of the modern world.”

“Exactly. May I?” Megan gestured toward the stoop.
 

Darcy moved over to give her room.

“Sometimes her head pops off. I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“Barbie’s? Or Brianna’s?”

Megan laughed. “Metaphorically, Brianna’s, but that’s another story. No, I meant Barbie.”

“I used to do that to my dolls, and I turned out okay.” Darcy made a face. “At least I think I’m okay. Others apparently disagree.”

Megan made a moue. “Man troubles, huh? He’s still not moving out?”

“I’m starting to think maybe I’ll be the one to leave.” As she said it, Darcy realized it was true. She couldn’t take much more of this.
 

Megan gave her a measuring look. “Huh. Really.” She called out to Brianna, who was investigating a cactus. “Make sure you don’t get pricked!”
 

Darcy laughed. “Words to live by.”

Megan joined her in laughter. “Amen to that.”

It felt good to laugh. Good to step outside her little world inside the condo. “You’re a single mother? That must be…” How to say it?
 

“Exhausting? Painful? Lonely?” Megan quirked her mouth sideways. “All of that, yeah.” She smiled wryly at Darcy’s expression. “I’ve heard them all.”
 

“Right. Of course. How long has it been?”
 

“Since he disappeared? Thirteen months.”

Darcy blinked. “Your husband disappeared?”

Megan looked out over the courtyard, her gaze unfocused. “Can we talk about something else?” She waggled her eyebrows at Darcy. “Tell me about Will, the mystery man. What’s it like in there? Are you all hot and steamy, or do you stalk around making each other miserable?”

Darcy burst out laughing. She couldn’t help it. Megan was just too astute, and the situation was ridiculous when you summed it up like that. “Both.” She rubbed her cheeks. “Can I be honest?”

“Please do. It’s like a live soap opera.”

“He kissed me just now. And then he hightailed it to the bedroom and closeted himself in there. He—we didn’t exactly start out on the best terms.”

“So I heard.”

Darcy winced. “How?”

“Janet may have alluded to it. And then Jennifer told me about the ruckus that first night.” The Vista del Mar complex was like a small town, with gossip traveling like Internet messages, packets of information handed off from person to person, door to door. Of course everyone knew about her messy relationship.
 

“Yeah. But it’s been an intense few days.”

“And now?” Megan’s face was wide open, her eyes alight. “You’ve fallen in love.”

“I don’t—I don’t think—” It came out in a near stammer, and Darcy shut up.
 

The other woman smacked her knees with her palms. “How perfect is that? Like being stuck together in a snowbound cabin or on a deserted island. How could you help yourselves?”

“I don’t think he feels that way.”
 

“So what, he kissed you by accident? His lips slipped and crashed into yours? Of course he has feelings for you. He just isn’t ready for it. He hasn’t adjusted to the new reality. I don’t know Will that well, I admit, but from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t relinquish control very easily. And being in love is all about letting go of control.” She blinked rapidly, clearly struggling with strong emotion.
 

Darcy reached out and touched Megan’s knee. “I’m sorry he left. Or disappeared, or whatever. You must have loved him very much.”

Megan inhaled and visibly calmed herself. “Yeah. Well.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret what?”
 

“Giving your heart and having…having that happen.”

Megan was quiet for a long moment. Had she taken offense? Darcy wasn’t exactly experienced at this friendship thing. Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds?
 

Finally, Megan spoke. “No. No, I don’t. He was—when things were good, he was…” She paused again. “Worth it.”

Darcy took a deep breath. “When did you know—”

But before she could finish her sentence, she heard Will’s footsteps in the main room behind her. “Darcy?”
 

She turned, squinting into the shadowy room with sun-dilated eyes. He was a dark bulk, but she could tell he was holding something in his outstretched hand. “Call for you.”

Darcy scrambled up, grabbing her computer.
 

Megan rose too. “I should bring Brianna inside. She has homework.”

Darcy hesitated. “I really enjoyed talking.”

“I did too.”
 

They stood for an awkward moment, then Megan gave Darcy a brief hug and went off. Darcy watched her go, a warm feeling unfurling inside her chest. This was what it was like to have a friend. A real confidante, not just work colleagues to drink with in the hotel bar. It had been a long time. Since college. Karen had gone off radar because of her all-work-all-the-time job producing TV commercials. Lissette had a low-key job at a bookstore and mostly gave Darcy blank looks whenever she talked about her career, then vanished entirely after she’d had the twins. And that was it. Darcy had moved too often to develop real friendships in secondary school.
 

This, though. This felt good. Megan had depth. And compassion. And for the first time in her life, Darcy thought those two traits were probably all that really mattered. Not what you did for a living, not how driven you were. Just who you were.