What's Yours is Mine (27 page)

Darcy had made a sound like a breathy hiccup.
“That would be nice.”
She’d sounded so wistful, so far away.

To make her feel better, he’d told her about the time Alex had gotten into his sister’s bedside stand and found a big jar of hand cream. Which he’d smeared all over the since-departed family dog, a patient golden retriever, who’d come out looking like a ’70s’ punk rocker, his hair all spiky and brittle.
 

Darcy had laughed, and they’d moved on.
 

But now the memory, her confession, and his overwhelming urge to comfort her, that moment of intense, albeit unspoken, intimacy, reverberated in the air between them like a tangible thing. If he reached out, he could touch her. If she reached out…
 

Darcy blinked hard and turned back to her computer screen. “I’ll add that part. And the rest we discussed back then.”

She clicked away on the keyboard in silence. He watched her fingers gliding across the keys, almost caressing them. Then she looked up, her gaze catching on his like a hiccup before she looked away almost too quickly, as if embarrassed.

~*~

Darcy was in the work zone, where nothing else existed but rewording, replaying, rethinking, reading sentences aloud to Will and jumping back in to fix the thought, tweak the prose, fuss with the layout.
 

Will’s phone chimed with an incoming text message. Darcy looked up from her computer, brought back to reality by the sound.
 

He glanced down, then nodded. “Good. Grant’s on his way over.”

Now? The tiny clock in the corner of the screen proclaimed it 11:52 p.m. “Grant?”

“Brancasio. I told you, I called him around seven, told him what we needed.”

Darcy rubbed her eyes. “I guess you did, yeah. I just didn’t think he’d do it.”

Will leaned back against the bottom of the couch. “He’s good. It’ll be a help.”

“Oh, I know. I remember. He was almost as good as you.”
 

Will gave her a quick smile of acknowledgment.
 

“But why is he pitching in? Does he expect payment? I don’t know how much we can wring out of the account, especially since neither of you are on staff now.”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t mind the cash, but he’s doing okay. He started his own video game company. His first game was a simple app for mobile phones. Wildly addictive. It’s made him a bundle already.”

Darcy stifled a yawn. “I’m happy for him, but that’s not what I asked. Why is he doing this? He doesn’t owe me anything. We weren’t even particularly friendly.”

The doorbell rang. Will scrambled up. Avoiding the question again.
 

Darcy stood up as Grant came in. He looked around. “Nice, dude. Got anything to eat?” As Will headed to the fridge, Grant flopped down on the rug.
 

Darcy sat back down. Two couches, and they were entertaining on the floor.
 

Grant eyed Darcy. She smiled calmly at him, taking a page from Will’s playbook. “Good to see you again.”

At the kitchen counter, Will took a swig of fermented green goo as he set a bunch of healthy-looking food out on a wooden platter.
 

“You too. Gotta say, I was shocked to hear you and Will were shacking up.”

Behind him, Will choked on his drink.
 

“Let’s see what you’ve got.” She held out her hand.
 

Grant pulled a sheaf of pages out of his cardboard portfolio. “They’re rough. I can tweak.”

They were fantastic. Darcy marveled at them, turning the pages. She pointed out what she liked, and what else she liked, and this other thing she liked.
 

Grant beamed. Will set the platter down and looked over her shoulder.
 

Finally, Darcy sat back. “I don’t know which ones to use. They’re all good. We have to pay you for this work. In fact, do you want your old job back?”

Grant snorted. “Hell, no. I’m better off without that racket.”

“Racket?”

Grant glanced at Will, who shook his head. “She likes Stan. Don’t disillusion her.”

“I’m right here, guys. Mind telling me what you mean?”

Grant grabbed a pickle and crunched down on it. “Doesn’t matter. Old history.” He mumbled around a mouthful. “Just consider this payment in trade and call it even.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Will looked embarrassed. “It wasn’t meant to be a tit-for-tat thing.”

Grant waved a second pickle in the air, scattering the brine. Darcy hastily protected her laptop keyboard with her hands. “I know, dude. But I owe you. I was floundering. Those clinic bills for Jessie’s chemo…” He shuddered.

“She’s okay now?”
 

“Thanks to you, yeah.”

Will shook his head indulgently, glanced sideways toward Darcy. “Anyway, thanks for the work, it’s great.”
 

Grant nodded. “No prob. Fun getting to play in illustration again.
 
These days I hardly even have time to do coding, what with all the other crap I have to do. And to think I used to make fun of suits.”
 
He glanced at Darcy.
 
“No offense.”
 

“None taken.”

“But all that admin garbage. Ugh. I just want to play. Like tonight. This was fun.” He scrambled up, swiping another pickle, an apple, and a handful of dried pears. “Gotta go, Jessie is expecting me home before the mice run down.”

Darcy frowned in confusion.
 

Will grinned at her. “The clock struck one, the mouse ran down.”

Cute. “Hickory dickory dock to you too, Grant. If there’s anything I can do for you, let me know.”

Grant winked at her. “Will do. Get it,
Will
do?” He chortled his way out the door.
 

Will stood on the doorstep for a few moments, chatting with his ex-colleague. At the end, Grant clapped him on the back and went off whistling.
 

Darcy tried to focus on the computer screen, but something kept nagging at her. Some thought, just out of reach. Some connection. She hit Print, got up and went into the bedroom to get the pages from the printer.
 

What was it about Will? Why was Grant so grateful? Medical bills,
I owe you, dude,
better off without that racket.
 

And then she saw it. She sat down abruptly on the bed.
 

Will had said he’d only stolen the money in a manner of speaking. What if he had simply redistributed it? To Grant and whoever else might be in need.
 

He said he’d lost his job because of the triclosate. He’d blamed her. So he’d done it after that. She could imagine him bent over the computer, typing in the purchase orders that released the Slippery Elm funds, his brows furrowed and his jaw tight with barely suppressed anger, then grabbing his bag and storming out of the building.
 

And wouldn’t that be just like him? Self-righteous, high-handed, and mind-bendingly generous. Righting a wrong.
 

It explained why Stan hadn’t pressed charges against Will. It was the kind of thing he himself might have done as a young man.
 

It didn’t explain why Stan hadn’t told her. She gazed out the window at the cliff edge and the hint of moonlit water beyond, trying to remember. He hadn’t called her himself. His CFO Ira had. In his typical terse way, he’d simply told her that the Slippery Elm project was on ice. When she pressed, he’d muttered something about no money. Pressed further, he’d said ask Dougherty, and by the way, Human Resources will get in touch about your upcoming relocation to Shanghai.
 

She’d called Will. His phone number was out of service. She’d called Stan late that night, in tears and confusion, and he’d told her about Will’s perfidy. Or had he? What had he said, exactly? She felt dizzy, like she was looking at the world from the wrong side of a telescope, and everything seemed smaller and weaker.
 

“Hey. You okay?”
 

She looked up to see Will hovering, concern in his eyes. He took the pages from her unresisting hand, set them down on her dresser, and sat down beside her on the bed. “You want to call it a night? We can probably finish up in the morning.”
 

Shaking it off, she stood up. “We’re almost there. Let’s finish. I mean, I want to see this done, but you can go to bed if you want. You should take the bed tonight. I’ll sleep on a couch or something.”

Will blinked. “Thank you, I think. For letting me have my own bed.” But he quirked a grin that took the sting out of the words. “I’ll stay up for a while. I’m not tired yet.” He stifled a yawn.
 

Her heart twisted. He was a good man. How had she ever thought otherwise?

~*~

An hour later, they were actually done. Will watched Darcy take a breath, her finger hovering over the trackpad. Then she shot him a glance and clicked Send. Frankfurt would have the material they needed first thing in the morning Germany time. Someone from Golden Organics would pick up the hard copy tomorrow so the graphics department could perform their scanning-and-printing magic.
 

Will yawned and stretched, feeling his joints crack. His foot was asleep. He stood and started running through a few simple yoga poses to get the kinks out. Halfway through, Darcy joined him. Moving awkwardly, copying him half a beat behind. He smothered laughter. She was so earnest and so very gawky.
 

“You need to twist your back like this.” He illustrated the move.
 

She tried. Failed.

He went over and pressed his palm into the small of her back. She settled into the pose. “Good. And then down.”
 

She dropped down from the waist, her fingers grazing her bare toes. Her purple-painted toes. He felt like he was noticing details about her for the first time.

“And arms sweep out to the sides as you come up.” He demonstrated.
 

She copied his movements.
 

“Now hands to the center.”

Again, she copied. Her fingernails were painted too, but not purple. They had a faint silvery sheen. Toxic, no doubt, but he found it absurdly appealing.
 

He realized belatedly that she’d stopped. Her hands were in a prayer position in front of her, and she was staring intently at him.

He quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

She started to say something. Stopped. Caught her breath.
 

His breath caught in his chest, and he didn’t even know why.
 

She took a step toward him.
 

His body went on alert.
 

She licked her lips. “Will…”

He waited.
 

“I…” She paused. “Uh…” Her breath was coming faster. He could see the flutter of her shirt collar and the pulse beating at the base of her throat. “I was wondering, do you…”

She was so vulnerable in this moment, so delicate, no longer the hard-nosed businesswoman. This was the layer underneath. Against his better judgment, he wanted to gather her close, hold her tight.
 

She sucked in her bottom lip. Awareness raced through him. Okay, not just hold her tight.
 

He gave himself a mental shake. “What’s up, Darcy?”

The words came out in a rush: “I’m willing to share the bed if you are. I mean, we can try the bolster again if you prefer. It just doesn’t seem fair to make you sleep on the couch, and honestly, I need a good night’s sleep so I can deal with Stan tomorrow and—” She was talking too fast, her gaze darting around the room. The spell was broken. She’d backed off from whatever she’d been going to say.
 

Will felt disappointed, but whether with himself or her, he wasn’t sure. “Of course. We’ll make it work.”
 

Sharing the bed again. The last time, she’d moaned and writhed, thinking she was being subtle but driving him insane. Tonight? He was doomed.

~*~

Darcy shut herself in the bathroom, then sat on the closed toilet seat, cursing herself. She’d totally chickened out. Before he’d begun his yoga routine, she’d made up her mind to ask him if she was right about how things had gone down at Golden Organics, and whether Stan had known. But then as they were doing the movements together, as he’d touched her back and guided her with his hands, she’d wanted to ask him something altogether different.
 

He might not be in love with her, and maybe he would never be able to get past that huge barrier of mistrust. But today had been special, particularly tonight. He’d helped her. Worked with her. Not fought against her. Not shut her out. Closeness, shared experience.
 

Closeness, yes. And she wanted him so badly, wanted that gentle touch at the small of her back to become a caress, wanted him to take her in his arms again, wanted that devouring kiss.
 

She wanted to make love to him. To be with him without prejudice or judgment, just pure emotion. Wanted it so much she was nearly shaking with need.
 

Did she have the courage? Tonight, after they’d both settled in for the night, would she dare to reach across that rolled-up blanket barrier and ask him for what she really wanted?
 

What if he said no?
 

Knuckles rapped on the door. “Darcy? Are you almost done in there?”

“Done. I’m done now.” She leaped up off the closed toilet and flung the door open, nearly smacking Will in the face. “Uh, sorry.”

“No problem.” He stepped into the bathroom, inadvertently brushing against her side, setting off a delicious quake racing through her.
 

One final night together. Her last chance.
 

Tomorrow, she’d leave the condo. Pack up her stuff and move into a hotel room. Give Will the home he’d built for himself. She’d been making the decision all day, she realized. She only knew it now. She’d find another place to live. Not as good, but it would suffice. But for Will, his surroundings meant everything. It was the right thing to do. It had always been the right thing to do.