“I’ll keep your suggestion in mind. Take care.” Sean’s gaze hardened. “And do your job. I expect to see another Lombardi trophy with the Knights’ name engraved on it. Soon.”
“I’m not falling,” Mac said through gritted teeth. “And I always do my job.”
With a jaunty wave, Sean exited his office. Returning to his chair, Mac powered up his laptop. Love. He rolled his eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think some of the punches Sean took in his movies hit their mark for real. The man had obviously lost his mind.
Darcy was his boss. A tentative friend. A person he regarded with grudging respect. And yes, he thought she was the sexiest woman he’d ever met. Beg deal. Lust did not equal love.
Satisfied with his conclusions, Mac clicked the statistics page for the players he had in his top ten for draft day. Yet, as he scrolled through the numbers, making notes, realigning his thinking on each player, his mind wandered back to Darcy.
Mac was worried about her. He’d read the emails and letters she’d received and though he knew there were sick people in the world, he was sickened by just how twisted a mind could be.
Darcy refused to acknowledge how serious the threats against her were. She wasn’t a foolish woman which told him she was worried—frightened—but didn’t want him or anyone else to know just how much the situation had rattled her.
How to keep Darcy safe? The question bounced around Mac’s head like a demented ping pong ball, refusing to settle in one place for long. So irritating, he thought as he stretched his arms over his head. Why couldn’t he come up with a solution?
Then, like a beacon from above, Mac remembered something Darcy told him when she took him to the mountains for their picnic. She ran—a lot. Every morning, to be precise.
As the germ of a plan took root, Mac smiled. The idea wasn’t perfect and didn’t solve everything. However, it was a start—enough to make his Darcy obsessed brain relax enough to let him concentrate on football business for the rest of the day.
Love. Again, Mac scoffed at the idea. Without realizing, a slow smile formed on his lips. Love? Absolutely preposterous.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
DARCY FILLED THE pockets of her pink and grey hoodie with the essentials. Lip balm. A credit card for emergencies—plus a ten-dollar bill because she believed there was no such thing as overkill where money was concerned. Key to her house. Cell phone strapped to her arm; earbuds connected to cell phone, set on her favorite playlist. Adjusting the volume, she closed her eyes and let the music wash over her as she did her final stretches.
Check, check, and double-check.
“For the love of all that’s holy, woman. What’s with all the supplies? You’re about to jog a few miles around the neighborhood, not hike up Mt. Kilimanjaro.”
Frowning at the interruption to her morning routine, Darcy tugged one earbud free.
“McClain? What are you doing?” she asked.
“You need me to state the obvious?” McClain opened his arms wide and turned in a slow circle. “Since I’m decked out in my finest running gear, I’d say a run is in order. Wouldn’t you?”
Darcy hadn’t seen McClain since they returned from Indianapolis. In the interim, she worked hard to justify in her mind what happened between them. A kiss had turned into two, then three which segued to him with his shirt off—yum. She was honest enough with herself to admit, if not for the interruption, they would have ended up in bed, under the covers, naked.
Putting a screeching halt to the sexy visuals, Darcy glared at McClain. Her morning run was her time to clear her mind for the day to come. She didn’t need him, with his gray sweats, long-sleeved t-shirt, stubbly face, and artfully messy hair to upset her me-time routine.
“Is this man giving you trouble?”
“Not at the moment, Phil.” Darcy smiled at her replacement bodyguard. “I’ll let you know if he crosses any lines.”
“Josh McClain.” He nodded toward Phil. “Darcy and I work together. I’m the head coach.”
Darcy raised an eyebrow at McClain’s use of her first name. She was used to Ms. Stratham. Or, hey, you. She remembered his reaction when she called him Joshua and decided they were better off formally addressing each other.
Phil didn’t seem particularly impressed by McClain or his job title. Darcy hid a smirk.
“I don’t need another bodyguard,” she pointed out, trying to decipher the reason for his presence.
“You think I’m worried about you?” McClain scoffed at the idea. “I’m not the heroic type. Just figured since we’re neighbors, and colleagues, we could keep each other company. A way to make the miles go by faster.”
Darcy wasn’t convinced but didn’t push the issue.
“I don’t need or want company.”
“How many miles are we doing,” McClain asked, ignoring her. “Five? Six?”
“Phil and I are going for five. Six, if we decide we’re up for the challenge.” Darcy pointed south. “Since you won’t be joining us, your total is up to you.”
“Fine,” McClain said. He gave in too easily for Darcy’s liking. “Be on your way.”
“Don’t follow.”
“Go,” he shooed her away.
“Asshole,” Darcy muttered.
As she set out, Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive guiding her steps, she watched as McClain crossed the street. She expected him to take off in the opposite direction. Instead, he ran on the sidewalk parallel to her, matching her pace step for step.
“Double asshole,” Darcy said with a sigh.
Zoning McClain out wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped. Besides the fact that her peripheral vision made ignoring him impossible, every now and then, he shouted out a random, out of the blue, nonsensical comment.
“A lot of cracks in the sidewalk,” he yelled after they passed their first mile.
Darcy rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Instead, she picked up her pace. McClain did the same.
“Isn’t March supposed to come in like a lion?” he asked as though speaking to himself. “Feels like spring to me.”
Even with the music playing in her ears, Darcy heard every word. How could she not? The man’s voice was loud enough to wake the dead.
“Hey,” McClain exclaimed as he passed a little café. “Smell that? Freshly brewed coffee.”
Why don’t you stop and get a cup? Though she kept the thought to herself, McClain seemed to read her mind.
“I cut caffeine from my diet after someone introduced me to dandelion tea. The stuff is oddly addicting. I need to remember to thank her.”
What do you know? McClain liked her tea. Despite herself, Darcy’s lips curved into a smile. Naturally, old eagle-eyes noticed immediately. In a flash, he crossed the street. Why did his hair seem more artfully tousled than before?
“What are you doing,” she asked when he fell in at her side.
“You signaled for me to join you,” he told her.
“Because I smiled?” Darcy shook her head. “I smile all the time; in case you haven’t noticed. I’m a big smiler.”
“I’ve noticed,” McClain said. “You smile at everyone—except me. Until just now.”
Afraid McClain might have a point, Darcy went on the offensive.
“What do you want me to do? Walk around like a grinning fool just in case you happen to walk into the room?” She snorted. “Get over yourself. I have better things to do than worry about your fragile ego.”
“My ego is fine,” McClain assured her. “I simply made an observation. Other people make you smile. I don’t. My fault, not yours.”
Darcy felt some of the wind drain from her sails. She knew how to deal with his supreme arrogance. A self-effacing Joshua McClain made her slightly uncomfortable. Certain he was up to something but not sure what, she refused to let down her guard.
“Let me guess,” she said. “I look prettier when I smile.”
&
nbsp; McClain shot her a sideways glance. He seemed surprised by her comment.
“Smile, frown, every expression in between. Doesn’t matter.”
“No?” Darcy prepared herself for the punchline. “Why not?”
“You always look pretty.”
Darcy blinked. She couldn’t count the number of times some man had told her to smile because, in their minds, a woman should appear happy all the time. Didn’t matter if she was miserable on the inside, he didn’t care.
You always look pretty. With one offhand remark, McClain managed to fling years of male ignorance and insensitivity on its ear.
“We’re back where we started,” McClain declared.
“We are?” Darcy looked around in surprise.
“The miles fly by when you run with a buddy.” McClain grinned. “Same time tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Darcy said without thinking.
“Great.” McClain checked his watch. “A quick shower and we can drive to the office together. Want to stop somewhere for breakfast? I’m starving. My treat.”
“Um—”
“Sounds like a plain,” McClain said before Darcy could form a proper response. “We’ll take my car. Meet you out front in twenty minutes. Text me if you’re delayed.”
After watching as McClain jogged away, Darcy turned toward Phil who’d silently done his job and stayed in the background during their run. Since he’d observed everything, she wondered if he could clarify something for her.
“What just happened?” she asked.
Rather than answer, Phil shrugged, keeping his opinion to himself. Wise man, Darcy thought. Wise man.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲
CLOSING HER EYES, Darcy swallowed a shot of straight whiskey and smiled. She didn’t go bar hopping on Saturday night. She didn’t go to bars on any night.
In college, Darcy was too busy holding down three jobs and a full class load to indulge in anything as trivial as having fun. After she graduated, her time was devoted to getting ahead, one rung of the ladder at a time.
For the next fourteen years, Darcy didn’t give her lack of social life a lot of thought. She had the occasional relationship. Short. Vaguely satisfying. Nice men who quickly realized that they came in a distant third. Job first, her mother second. Work and family were always her priorities.
Darcy didn’t blame the men for moving on. In truth, once they were gone, she barely gave them a second thought.
“Here’s to no regrets.” Darcy raised her glass. “And discovering a new bar in a new part of town. Life’s too short. Now and then we need to jump out of our usual routine.”
“Amen.” Piper smiled at the bartender when he presented her with a freshly filled glass of vodka. “So, cute. Maybe I should get his phone number.”
“Married.” Darcy pointed out. “Gold band. Left hand.”
“Could be fake,” Piper observed. “I wore a ring on my finger the entire year I worked at that accounting firm in Baltimore. There was one woman to every twenty men. I didn’t want the hassle of saying no, not interested, again, and again.”
“But your ploy didn’t work,” Darcy said, remembering Piper’s phone calls. “Your co-workers ignored the ring.”
“Jerks,” Piper muttered. “Dealing with men was reason number one-hundred-and-eighty-six of why I decided to open a firm where I’m the boss. And why I hired all women. Best move I ever made.”
For a Saturday night, the clock three minutes from striking midnight, the noise throughout the bar was surprisingly subdued. The vibe was mellow, a perfect match for the bluesy music that played in the background.
“Did McClain show up again for your morning run?” Piper asked.
“I don’t want to talk about Joshua McClain.” Darcy toyed with the glass but didn’t drink.
“Yes, you do.” Piper smiled. “And why not? He’s a fascinating contradiction. On one hand, he can be gruff, argumentative. An obstinate jerk. On the other hand, he’s kind of sweet, protective, a little goofy. And lest we forget, the man knows how to kiss.”
“Can he?” Darcy asked with a casual shrug. “I’ve blocked all memory of his kiss from my mind.”
“No, you haven’t,” Piper said with a snort. “And why should you? Kissing is an art form. Enthusiasm only goes so far. Technique and skill are just as important.”
Darcy only had a small sample size to use as proof. However, if Piper was right—and she usually was—then Joshua McClain could give a master class in kissing. He had the softest lips and knew how to use them. The way he nibbled at her—
No! Stop! Darcy berated herself for letting her thoughts wander down a dangerous path.
“What happened in Indianapolis, stayed there,” Darcy said. “McClain hasn’t mentioned the incident, and I’m grateful.”
“Sure, you are.” Piper didn’t look convinced. “Does he still jog with you every morning?”
“Two weeks straight,” Darcy grumbled. “You know how I like my solitude when I run. Just me, the fresh air, and my tunes. McClain is a talker. Yap, yap, yap, the entire time.”
“Tell him to shut up.”
“I do,” Darcy said. “McClain counters by saying he isn’t talking to me, so, if his chatter bothers me, I shouldn’t listen.”
“You’re smiling.” Piper pointed toward Darcy’s mouth and laughed. “Come clean. For all your grousing, you enjoy McClain’s company.”
Maybe she did, Darcy thought. Perhaps she looked forward to seeing him each morning and the one time he was late, when she was certain he wouldn’t show, she felt something that might have resembled disappointment.
“The man’s insidious.” Darcy sighed, her lips twitching. “And who would have guessed that he’s seriously funny. But I can’t figure out the rain.”
“Rain?” Piper asked with a frown.
“The other morning, near the end of our run, the skies opened up. A freaking deluge of water. Phil and I—”
“Your bodyguard?”
“Right.” Darcy nodded. “Like any reasonable adults, we headed for cover. Not McClain. Instead of increasing his pace, he stopped in his tracks, spread his arms, and lifted his face toward the sky.”
“Maybe he was overheated from the run,” Piper suggested.
“Doubtful. McClain is in excellent condition. He barely breaks a sweat after five hard miles.” Thoughtful, Darcy sipped her whiskey. “If I could use one word to describe his expression as he let the water rush over him, I’d say he looked peaceful.”
“McClain likes the rain.” Piper shrugged. “When he’s done, at least he’s clean.”
“Except the rain was icy cold,” Darcy said. “Who enjoys the feel of frigid water running down his body?”
“I’m not the person to ask.” Piper smiled when Darcy shook her head. “What’s the worst that could happen? McClain could say, none of your business. Or, go to hell. You’ve heard worse.”
Darcy didn’t know how to explain. Though McClain stood on a public sidewalk where anyone could see him as they passed by, as she watched, his hair drenched, water dripping from his face, she had the odd feeling she’d stumbled onto a deeply personal moment. She worried if she asked him questions, would her probing be a violation of his privacy?
“He knew I was nearby,” Darcy said. “If he’d wanted to explain, he had the chance. Because he said nothing, neither did I.”
“You’ve developed an interesting dynamic with Mr. Joshua McClain.” Piper sent her a thoughtful look. “Are you friends who work together?”
Darcy frowned. She and McClain were in the early stages of figuring things out. They disagreed all the time. Yet, they were learning to find a middle ground that satisfied them both. Not a small accomplishment for two people with such strong personalities and opinions.
“We’re friendlier than when we started,” Darcy conceded. “If we stay on the same path, real friendship is a possibility.”
“McC
lain could be your lover,” Piper said with a small, knowing smile.
“Could he?” Darcy shrugged.
A few weeks ago, she would have denied Piper’s claim with absolute vehemence. Now, she wasn’t certain. Since they shared a kiss, the lines between them had blurred. If she squinted hard enough, she could see the possibilities in the distance. The question was, how far was too far?
Darcy’s gaze moved to the small dance floor at the back of the room. Several couples moved to the rhythm of slow, achingly romantic; music designed to make your heart soar or break, depending on your current relationship situation.
“I was wrong. I miss another person’s touch, the feel of a man’s bare skin next to mine.” Darcy’s pulse made an uncomfortable leap. “I miss sex.”
“We, the women of the world, have taken charge of our orgasms. You want to fly solo, yay for you. If you want one or multiple partners, take the bull by the horns and go for it.” Piper grinned. “For me, there’s nothing like the weight of a man’s body on mine, pressing me into the mattress, his calloused hand running the length of my leg before slipping between my—”
“You look flushed,” Darcy said. She fanned herself. “Kind of hot in here.”
Breathing deep, Piper slowly exhaled.
“I guess Barbra Streisand knew what she was singing about, didn’t she?” Piper asked. “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”
“I don’t feel particularly lucky at the moment,” Darcy said with a sigh.
“Stop with the poor me routine.” Piper snorted. “I’ve seen at least half-a-dozen attractive men look your way tonight. If you want a little Saturday night fever, pick one and enjoy.”
“I’m the general manager of the Seattle Knights. My reputation matters. Can you imagine the bruhaha if my sex life were splashed all over the internet?” Darcy shuddered at the thought. “Even if I could trust the guy not to sell his story, I’m past the age where I want a random hookup.”
“You make thirty-six sound ancient.”
The Devil Wears Blue Jeans (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 1) Page 12
