The Devil Wears Blue Jeans (One Pass Away: A New Season Book 1)

by Mary J. Williams

  Darcy’s tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth. She had a hard time pushing her words past her lips. They came out rushed, one tripping over the other.

  “Who said anything about marriage? Not me. Nope. Never crossed my mind. Why would it? I mean, I barely know the man. He’s practically a stranger. One I’ve seen naked, but still, I—”

  “Inhale,” Riley said in a calming voice. “Now, exhale. Repeat. Repeat. One more time. Good. Feel better?”

  “Whoa.” Darcy raised her hand to her head. “Oxygen rush.”

  “Feel better?” Darcy asked with a chuckle.

  “Other than lightheaded and foolish, I’m fine.” Darcy sighed. “Can I add confused to the mix?”

  “Add any emotion you want,” Riley said. “You’re allowed to feel the way you feel. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

  “I’m not worried about anyone else’s opinion. Well, McClain, but that’s a given.” Darcy smiled. “I don’t know if what I feel is love. But if I decide it is, what then? How do I tell a man who’s spent his entire adult life moving from sexual conquest to sexual conquest that I want him to stop with me? How do I say, pick me? Let me be enough.”

  “One thing I learned the hard way with Sean is that I couldn’t change him.” Riley smiled, a sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. “I waited almost ten years for him to grow up. I was young and impatient. He was young and clueless. Finally, we found our moment and never let go.”

  “I don’t want to wait ten years,” Darcy said.

  “All the things I said, and you latch on to the time frame.” Riley shook her head. “You aren’t seventeen, Darcy. You’re a mature, thoughtful, compassionate adult. Open your eyes, and your heart. See the possibilities.”

  Interesting, Darcy mused. She’d always kept an open mind where her career was concerned. If she zagged when she was prepared to zig, she adjusted because to do anything else would have meant the end of her dream.

  Unlike her mother, Darcy hadn’t linked her future to the idea of finding the perfect man. Her life was full and fulfilling. She had friends; she had the occasional lover. She was more than content alone.

  So, what had changed? Perhaps the answer wasn’t that she needed a man. She just needed someone who was the right match for her. Was that man Joshua McClain?

  “Odd,” Riley said. “I wonder why Lieutenant Bronson is here?”

  Darcy didn’t have a hard time finding the policeman in the crowd. Tall, commanding, and rocking his usual killer suit, Malachi Bronson stood out.

  “When the man in charge of my stalker case arrives after nine o’clock on a Saturday night, it can’t be good news.” Hoping for a word or two of reassurance, Darcy looked to Riley. “Maybe I’m wrong?”

  “We won’t know until we talk to the lieutenant,” Riley said with an understanding smile. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  MAC SEARCHED THE crowd for Darcy, frustrated when he couldn’t find her. He glanced at his watch and frowned at the hour. Didn’t people have homes to get to? If everyone would just move on their way out the door, he could find his woman and take her back to his place. Or hers. He wasn’t fussy.

  “Have you seen Darcy lately?” he asked as he passed by Logan, Gaige, and Sean.

  “A few minutes ago. She and Riley were together.” Logan looked around. “There she is.”

  Turing his head in the direction Logan nodded, Mac found Darcy—just in time to watch her jump into the arms of another man.

  “What the hell?” Mac growled. “Who’s the suit?”

  Mac didn’t wait for an answer.

  “You couldn’t have waited another minute or two before you pointed Darcy out to him?” Gaige asked as he, Logan, and Sean raced after Mac.

  “Am I suddenly psychic?” Logan demanded, matching Gaige stride for stride. “I can’t anticipate Darcy’s every move.”

  “Well, if I give you the signal, grab Mac. I don’t want to spend the rest of the night trying to bail him out of jail. Decking a police officer is a definite no-no.”

  Mac didn’t hear Gaige and Logan’s conversation. He wanted to know why Darcy was suddenly so touchy-feely with another man. Was he an ex-boyfriend? An ex-lover? Or did she already have someone lined up to fill his place in her bed? The thought did nothing to stem his rising temper.

  Riley was the first to see him coming and unlike Logan, when she noticed the fire in his eyes, she had no problem reading his mind.

  “Good news, Mac,” Riley said as she stepped between him and the man who just wouldn’t let Darcy go. “Lieutenant Bronson caught Darcy’s stalker. He just brought us the good news.”

  If Riley had been a man, Mac would have pushed her aside. Instead, he stopped, crossed his arms, and glared.

  “I hugged him first,” Riley declared, waving her hands in front of Mac’s face.

  “Not something you should brag about, sweetheart.” Sean pulled his wife to his side. He eyed Lieutenant Bronson and sent Riley a frown. “We’ll talk later.”

  “Can you believe it, Mac?” Darcy asked.

  The relief on her face was palpable and since she finally stepped away from the pretty boy policeman, Mac decided not to rearrange the other man’s too perfect features. It helped when Darcy threw her arms around him.

  The hug was brief, and she quickly moved on to Gaige, then Logan, then Sean. However, Mac was mollified. Or he was until Bronson opened his big mouth.

  “I’m glad I brought the news in person,” the lieutenant said. “It’s not every day I end up in the arms of two such beautiful women.”

  “Why you—”

  “Easy. Good news, remember,” Gaige said, grabbing the back of Mac’s shirt and holding tight.

  “Bloodshed would be a bad idea,” Logan whispered. “Though I can’t say I’d blame you. That guy is just too good looking for anyone’s good.”

  “You aren’t helping,” Gaige hissed at Logan. “Defuse, don’t incite.”

  Unaware of the drama playing out around her, Darcy’s excitement bubbled over.

  “I was so happy with your news; I forgot to ask for any details. Tell us everything.”

  When Darcy beamed at the lieutenant, Mac’s lip curled into a sneer.

  “The person who sent letters and emails is a local reporter. Turns out he had the not so bright idea of generating a juicy news story to advance his career.” Bronson shook his head. “Planned to say Darcy sent the threats to herself to garner sympathy.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Gaige scoffed. “Is the bastard crazy or stupid?”

  “Both,” Bronson told them. “We caught him because he bragged up his hair-brained idea at a local bar. A concerned citizen turned him in. Between the handcuffs and the fingerprinting, the guy was a sobbing mess.”

  “Not exactly a mastermind,” Logan said.

  “No,” Bronson agreed. “He confessed to everything. Including having his cousin who worked at the hotel in Indianapolis leave that message on the mirror in your room.”

  “You said he’s a reporter. Anyone I know?” Darcy asked.

  “Roger Templeton,” Bronson answered. “Ring any bells?”

  “We met a few months ago,” Darcy said. She couldn’t picture him but remembered their brief conversation. “He wasn’t a fan, but I had no reason to think he’d do something so outrageous.”

  “Because he used the United States mail to threaten and intimidate, Templeton will be charged with a felony,” Bronson smiled at Darcy. “I wanted to let you know right away so you can finally relax.”

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Bronson.” Darcy shook his hand. “I know how hard you’ve worked.”

  “Call me Mal,” Bronson said. “And I was just doing my job. I’m glad the ending was a good one.”

  “Call me Mal?” Mac muttered. “Really?”

  “Won’t you stay and have something to eat, Mal?” Riley asked when Bronson was about to leave. “We have more than enough
.”

  “Another time,” Bronson said. “I need to get back to the station. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  “Did you just sigh?” Sean asked Riley once Bronson was gone. “Over another man?”

  “You have to admit, he’s awfully pretty.” Riley shrugged. “Add the suit and the fact that he carries a gun. Kind of hot.”

  “Don’t forget the handcuffs,” Darcy said with a laugh.

  “Women are so damn easy.” Mac rolled his eyes. “Parade a good-looking guy in front of them and they drool like the world is coming to an end and he’s the only man left on earth.”

  “Pretty faces have never interested me,” Darcy said, leveling a pointed look at Mac. “Until recently.”

  “Bronson’s your type?” Mac snorted. “Typical.”

  “Get a clue.” Darcy rapped her knuckle against his temple. “I meant you.”

  Mac’s mouth fell open. He swore his chin scraped the ground. As he watched Darcy stalk off, he snapped his teeth together with a discernible click.

  “I’m pretty?” he asked in a dazed voice.

  “I don’t see it,” Sean said with a derisive snort which earned him an elbow in the ribs from his wife.

  “Doesn’t matter what we think. Darcy told you how she feels on the subject.” Gaige sent him an incredulous look. “What are you waiting for. Go after her.”

  Mac didn’t need to be told twice. Darcy was out there. He didn’t walk or jog after her. He ran.

  Damn, who would have guessed? Mac grinned. The most beautiful woman in the world thought he was pretty.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ▲ ▼ ▲ ▼ ▲

  DARCY WASN’T ANGRY. Her feelings weren’t hurt and she didn’t want to cry. What she wanted was to shake some sense into Joshua McClain’s thick head.

  Jealous jerk. How could he think she would look at another man when she was more than happy to only look at him?

  Taking the back steps, Darcy left the party and headed back to her place. No more bodyguard. No more looking over her shoulder or dreading what kind of filth she might find in her emails. She could have hugged Lieutenant Bronson for bringing her the news.

  Darcy’s brisk walk slowed to a stop. Wait a second. She already hugged the lieutenant. The extremely attractive in a too-smooth yet undeniably sexy kind of way lieutenant.

  For a moment, Darcy put herself in McClain’s shoes and she found the fit to be uncomfortable. If she witnessed him throw his arms around another woman, whatever the circumstances, she would not be happy.

  Murder might come to mind—his first, then the other woman’s.

  Darcy understood why McClain might get the wrong idea. And though she wouldn’t want him to make a habit of the behavior, she found his reaction kind of cute and endearing. The fact that he cared enough to make an ass of himself warmed her heart. And gave her hope.

  “Darcy. Stop.”

  Darcy smiled. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him quite yet. Her expression blank, she turned.

  “Does it look like I’m moving?” she asked.

  “No. But you’re fast and your stamina is freakishly good,” McClain explained. “You could take off at any second and I don’t want to chase you for next hour or two. I would, if necessary. But I’d prefer not to.”

  “You just said a lot of words that amounted to nothing,” Darcy said, turning to go.

  “I complimented your speed and lung capacity.” Mac went to grab her arm but wisely reconsidered. Instead, he walked by her side, adjusting his pace to hers. “Will you let me explain?”

  Darcy shot him a sideways glance and bit back a smile. He was so cute.

  “Did I tell you to stop talking?” she asked.

  “No.” Mac rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. “I’d prefer to look at your face. Your, beautiful, beautiful face.”

  “Ya, ya. I’m beautiful. I’m smart,” Darcy scoffed. “Actions speak louder than words, Mr. McClain.”

  “Call me Joshua.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Fine. You want action? I’ll give you action.”

  In one sweeping and rather impressive motion, McClain swept Darcy into his arms. He didn’t break stride, or break a sweat. She couldn’t read the expression on his face. Either he was massively pissed off or turned on.

  “Put me down,” Darcy said. “I’d rather walk.”

  “And I’d rather throw you on the ground and rip off your clothes.” He kept walking. “Neither of us will get our wish.”

  Darcy had her answer. McClain was pissed and excited. She wouldn’t want a steady diet of rage mixed with passion. For a change, she didn’t mind. A shiver of excitement raced up her spine. Not at all.

  “My place is closer,” she said when he turned and retraced their steps.

  “Did I give you a choice?”

  “You have no right to be snarky, Mr. McClain.” Darcy poked his chest for emphasis. His nice, hard chest. “I’m the injured party.”

  “Where?” McClain asked as he took the steps to his cottage two at a time. He let himself in before setting Darcy on her feet. He stepped back. “Show me your injury.”

  “Mental anguish,” she explained with a huff.

  “Please,” McClain rolled his eyes. “You were slightly ticked off and more than a little pleased by my momentary bout of jealousy.”

  “Pleased? Pleased! Ha! Don’t flatter yourself.” Darcy latched onto his words. “You admit you were jealous?”

  “I do.” Mac nodded. “The guy had on a suit.”

  Darcy stared at Mac, wondering what he was talking about. He was jealous of a couple of pieces of clothing?

  “What does his suit have to do with anything?”

  “You want a man who dresses up all the time? A man who doesn’t wear a steady diet of blue jeans?” Mac paced the floor. “I clean up pretty good when I want. But the GQ look isn’t me.”

  You can’t change him. Riley’s advice popped into Darcy’s head as she looked at McClain. The ubiquitous faded jeans with a rip here and there. Along-sleeved button-down shirt the color of a starless midnight sky. Scuffed army boots. His hair was tousled and he looked as though he forgot to shave that morning.

  No, McClain didn’t look like a fashion model. He wasn’t picture perfect. But the truth was, he made her heart soar the way no one else could. Darcy wouldn’t change a thing.

  “Keep the jeans, Mr. McClain. You fill them out nicely.” Darcy winked. “Workplace eye candy.”

  “Good answer,” he said.

  McClain slid his hand around Darcy’s neck and covered her mouth with his. She sank into the kiss as her fingers gripped his waist. Just when she was ready to melt he pulled away.

  “Wait,” Darcy complained. “I wasn’t done.”

  “To be continued.” McClain tossed a couple of pillows from the sofa onto the living room floor. “Sit.”

  “I will. But, I’m not happy.”

  Darcy kicked off her shoes and plunked down on the pillow. McClain joined her, sitting back to back.

  “What’s the deal?” Darcy asked.

  “This?” He showed her another pillow before placing it between them. “We’ll call it the cushion of confession.”

  “Don’t be silly.” Darcy shook her head. “If you want to say something, you don’t need a cushion.”

  “Need I remind you of the day you dragged me into the wilderness? If you can have a tree of truth, I can have a cushion of confession.”

  Darcy suppressed a laugh. McClain was seriously adorable.

  “My tree made sense.” Darcy argued the point because that’s what they did. “A cushion is just plain silly.”

  “For once, humor me,” McClain said with a heavy sigh.

  “I humor you all the time,” Darcy muttered.

  “Please.”

  The magic word—the one Darcy couldn’t ignore.

  “Fine,” she acquiesced. “How does your cush
ion work?”

  “Each of us gets a turn. There’s no time limit. Confess to your heart’s content.” Mac cleared his throat. “I’ll go first.”

  Darcy was intrigued. More so when music filled the air. Soft, sensual, and romantic. Very nice.

  “When we met, I didn’t like you,” McClain began.

  “Ouch.”

  “Don’t interrupt,” he warned.

  “Sheesh,” she said under her breath. “Strict.”

  “I wanted you at first sight.”

  Darcy smiled. She liked where this was going.

  “Wanting you pissed me off. Of all the women in the world, the one I couldn’t get out of my head had to be a bossy, opinionated feminist.”

  “Feminists rule,” she whispered.

  “I tell you not to talk and you talk even more.” McClain laughed. “Just can’t help yourself, can you?”

  “Stop provoking me, and I’ll stay quiet.”

  “Fine. Comments are allowed,” he said. “But try and keep them to a minimum.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “Boss my ass,” McClain scoffed. “You take orders from no one.”

  “Now who can’t keep his mouth shut?” Darcy reached around and poked him in the ribs. “Back to your confessions. You want to tell me I’m pretty. Right?”

  “And her ego keeps expanding,” he said with a snort. “What I wanted to say next is, I like you, Ms. Stratham. You’re funny and snarky and my day is always better when you’re around.”

  McClain caught her off guard. Afraid her voice would crack with emotion, Darcy stayed silent.

  “You’ve taught me patience and humility. More than anyone else, I love talking football with you. The passion on your face when we look at old game tapes is a sight to see. The way your eyes glow. The little smile on your face. Watching you is a joy.”

  “I feel the same about you,” Darcy said with a sigh and wondered if her heart could take any more.

  “The next time it rains, I want to go for a walk and hold your hand.”