by Melissa Hill
Instead, she was greeted with a kiss by the male with whom she was sharing a bed. The first member of the opposite gender who had shared her bed in quite some time, she thought wryly, opening her eyes.
OK, so what if it was a dog.
Katherine was right; her current dating dry spell was lasting a little longer than she’d thought. It wasn’t for the lack of trying – on both Darcy’s and her aunt’s part – and there were a few guys who’d initially set her pulse racing, but she had yet to meet a man with whom she connected – really connected – on an intellectual as well as emotional level. So much so that he could occupy her thoughts night and day and she would count the hours until they were together again. Ultimately, if you didn’t have that, what was the point? Darcy had long since decided that she wasn’t going to settle for second best. She supposed she and her aunt were alike in that way at least. Katherine had never married, and while Darcy recalled her aunt bringing home the occasional suitor to the Brooklyn condo for dinner over the years, she’d got the impression that these guys were always somewhat taken aback by her presence there, and the revelation that Katherine was to all intents and purposes a single mother. Darcy often worried that she was the reason her aunt had never settled down, and this was why she had resolved to get out from beneath her aunt’s feet as soon as she possibly could.
She turned over to find Bailey breathing doggie fumes in her face. She let out a giggle as he licked her cheek and she scratched behind his ears. ‘Did you know that you are kind of a bed hog?’
Bailey sighed, as if to say, ‘Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘Well, unfortunately, I don’t have a California King like your owner; therefore until we get you back home, you are going to have to learn how to share a little better. OK?’
She sat up in bed and allowed Bailey to lay his heavy head in her lap as she rubbed him under his chin, thinking she could easily get used to having a housemate like this.
‘You know, Bailey, I haven’t been around a dog like this since I was a kid.’
He looked up at her with his big blue eyes as if suddenly interested in what she was saying and she smiled. ‘Having you here makes me realise how much I miss it.’
Darcy allowed herself to reminisce about the black and white Cocker Spaniel that she’d had as a child. Timmy (named after the canine star in the Famous Five books) had been a great dog, and Darcy used to devotedly follow the little animal around the family house in Brooklyn.
Having Bailey here brought all of this back – but in a good way.
Darcy quickly ate breakfast, this time giving Bailey a huge helping of his fancy dog food. In truth, it looked and smelled so appetising that Darcy was almost tempted to give it a go herself. But she wasn’t quite that desperate.
Having brought him outside to do his business, she dropped Bailey off at Grace’s apartment once again, then got back on the bike and headed straight to Roosevelt General.
Entering the hospital room, she once again felt hesitant, unsure of the specifics of Aidan’s condition and wondering for a moment if he might since have forgotten her. But those worries were assuaged when he looked up, immediately brightened by her arrival, and greeted her with a smile that made her stomach do a tiny somersault. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’ she asked him. She could see that half the tubes and vials and dials and plugs that had been attached to him the night before were gone.
‘Right as rain, apart from the obvious.’ He knocked pointedly on the top of his head. ‘Thanks for coming in, I really appreciate it. How’s Bailey? I hope you found the dog food OK?’
She guessed he was forcing himself to make small talk, and was no doubt much more anxious to hear what else she might have found at his house the night before.
Darcy was still thinking about his home and all the treasures within, and had spent hours last night analysing the kind of person he must be. In truth, Aidan Harris’s life – or at least the way he lived it – was as intriguing as the first few pages of a good novel, and Darcy knew she wanted to read on in the hope of finding out more. The fact that he also looked like he could have walked out of the pages of such a novel helped too.
But like all heroes in fiction, his perfect other half was also out there somewhere. Darcy just had to try and put the pieces together and help him find her.
Giving him a brief description of the layout and contents of his house, she waited for a reaction, some spark of recognition. But there was nothing.
She then handed him the framed photo of him and the redhead on the ski slope, as well as the picture of the blonde she’d found in his bedside drawer.
‘Ring any bells?’
He studied both pictures for a long time, but by his expression she knew that he was still drawing a blank. ‘Sorry, no. I don’t recognise anyone in these.’
‘No need to apologise to me.’ Still, she couldn’t help but feel bad for him. Clearly, shaking off the memory loss might not be as straightforward as they’d first thought.
Darcy then took out the holiday photographs she’d brought with her; the scuba diving and sky-diving shots. Again he studied them both closely, but after a while shook his head once again. ‘Nothing. It’s like I’m looking at somebody else’s photographs. I really don’t remember doing anything like this ever.’ His expression was strained, the disappointment painfully evident, and Darcy tried to cheer him up by telling him how amazing his house was and what he had to look forward to when he did go home. ‘You have a Rothko in your hallway – a Rothko,’ she repeated reverently. ‘Can you maybe remember where or even why you got that? A landmark occasion maybe? Something major in relation to your job, or your work? A big promotion or securing a major account or . . .’
She had no idea what sort of promotion would enable someone to suddenly decide to buy such an expensive painting but this was his world, not hers, so she had to try and put herself in his shoes.
And what a world it must be. The kind of wonderful, privileged New York society lifestyle that so many people dreamed about when first coming to the city. Where the streets really were paved with gold. Darcy had tasted just a fraction of it last night in Aidan’s house, and she couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like from day to day. To think that you could afford to dine in the best restaurants, were likely to be known by name in the fanciest hotels, and invited to incredible parties held in the most prestigious buildings . . .
It reminded her of one time when she’d met up with Katherine in the Plaza for impromptu drinks. It was a foggy evening around Christmastime and the two of them had sat in the opulent lounge by the window in ornate brocade chairs looking out at the horse-drawn carriages waiting outside a snow-covered Central Park while a white-gloved waiter had served them the finest champagne beneath crystal chandeliers. From that vantage point, it was as if modern life had retreated, and for Darcy it was almost like going back in time, straight into the pages of an Edith Wharton novel, witnessing what old New York might have looked like, back in the early 1800s.
But once she’d explained about the painting, again Aidan heaved a sigh, telling her, ‘I really have no idea.’
The poor guy looked so lost and dejected that Darcy wanted to reach over and give him a hug. But of course it wasn’t her place to do so, and this immediately reminded her of the message on the answering machine. She then went on to recount the message word for word from her notes, watching carefully as he listened to the words.
Nothing.
‘Someone is definitely missing you in any case, which is good to know,’ she assured him, going on to explain about the other missed call and accompanying number. ‘I guess it’s only a matter of time before your girlfriend, or whoever she is, shows up here. But in the meantime, do you want to call that 212 number, just in case that too might be someone important?’
Aidan looked even more frustrated. ‘Well, I would if I had a bloody phone.’ He reached towards his bedside locker and took out an iPhone.
Even at this distance Darcy could tell that the screen had been smashed to pieces. Ah, so at least that answered her query about why he hadn’t been picking up messages on his cell phone.
Darcy grimaced at the damage. ‘You can just add it to my tab,’ she joked nervously. ‘I’m already in for your dry-cleaning bill.’
He waved a bare arm, toned and strong-looking as the rest of him, Darcy noted, gulping a little. ‘Don’t be silly. You’ve been so kind in taking care of Bailey for me, and helping me out last night too.’
‘It was the least I could do.’ But Darcy was guiltily relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about financial – or worse, legal – implications resulting from her part in the accident. Guilt aside, this had been playing on her mind, and she had to admit it was possibly one of the reasons she’d been so willing to help him out in the first place.
That, and the fact that Darcy was unable to resist any kind of mystery.
She took the iPhone from him, curious. Rather like bookshelves, you could tell a lot about a person’s life from their phone.
She pushed the big button at the bottom of the screen, but as expected the display remained black. ‘It might not be a completely lost cause, though; there may be a way to get some of your data off it,’ she assured him, trying to remain positive and upbeat for his sake. The truth was, Darcy had no idea if this was the case, since she had never even used an iPhone before, but Joshua was a real technology whizz and a devoted Apple disciple, and she resolved to ask him about it later at work. ‘Just count yourself lucky it wasn’t dropped in water; according to my friend that’s the kiss of death.’
Aidan looked at her speculatively. ‘I’m so sorry, all this time we’ve been talking about me and I didn’t even think to ask anything about you. What do you do, Darcy Archer?’
When she told him she worked for Chaucer’s, he brightened immediately.
‘So a literature aficionado, eh?’ He playfully raised his eyebrows. ‘Sounds interesting.’
This line of conversation reminded Darcy of something, and she wondered if it was worth a shot.
‘Remember last night when were talking?’ she said to Aidan. ‘I noticed that you kept repeating a particular word – inconceivable.’ She watched his expression carefully as she spoke again. ‘“You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means”,’ she added, her voice hesitant, wondering if the words would mean anything to him.
Aidan looked up sharply, and said straight away ‘The Princess Bride.’
Darcy was delighted that he’d recognised the literary reference from William Goldman’s famous tale. She sat forward, her face eager. ‘Would the book be a favourite of yours or anything?’ Granted, she hadn’t seen any books at the house yesterday, so wasn’t sure if he was much of a reader. ‘Or maybe you’re a fan of the movie?’
Aidan was shaking his head. ‘I have no idea. But if I’m quoting it as you say, it must be significant. I just wish I could remember something more concrete, something that would help get me out of this bloody place.’
Now he looked even more troubled, and Darcy decided it was better to move on and concentrate on things that could help him, rather than have him dwell on what didn’t.
‘What about your wallet?’ she asked. ‘Besides your ID, surely you must have something in there that might help?’
‘No. It was the first thing I checked when the doctors gave me my things back. Just typical stuff – a couple of credit cards, a gym membership access card, a subway card . . .’
‘A subway card.’ This struck Darcy as curious. ‘Why would you need a subway card?’ Judging by Aidan’s house and prestigious address, he was far from the type that would ever need to brave the subway. She’d automatically assumed he would have either a private driver or use a limousine service.
He shrugged, taking out his wallet and showing it to her as if to prove he was telling the truth. Then he flicked through another compartment. ‘Also a pair of theatre tickets, and get this – a receipt for Gray’s Papaya.’
‘Gray’s Papaya?’ she repeated with a surprised laugh, picturing the popular eaterie which was an institution amongst the city’s hot-dog fans. Again, not somewhere she imagined a man of Aidan’s means frequenting. Then she remembered what Grace had said the day before about Bailey getting all excited at the sight of the hot-dog stand while they were out and about.
‘I wouldn’t mind, but I don’t even like hot dogs,’ Aidan continued, ‘or at least, I don’t think I do,’ he added hoarsely, before suddenly he started to cough.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, concerned.
‘Water would be good, thanks.’
There was a mustard-yellow pitcher on the nightstand, and a stack of white plastic cups sitting next to it. Darcy took one and poured it half-full, bringing it to his side. She spilled a little on his chin before using her free hand to lift up his head. His neck was warm and soft as he drank. The intimate act felt oddly comfortable.
‘Not too much,’ she told him, having read something like it before.
‘OK,’ he said, and he stopped. ‘Thanks.’
She put the cup back, filling it again in case he got thirsty later, then feeling stupid about it because of course there were nurses for that.
‘Well, according to my neighbour, Bailey certainly seems to like hot dogs, but I could check out the Gray’s thing in more detail if you’d like,’ she told him once she was sure the coughing had subsided. ‘Give me the receipt and I can swing by there on my way home from work later. You never know, somebody there might remember you, or you could be a regular even.’
He put a tired hand up and said, ‘No, honestly, you’ve already done more than enough and I don’t want to impose.’
‘Seriously, it’s no problem. Like I said, it’s not far from where I work. And I’m curious to know why someone like you would have been enjoying,’ Darcy read from the receipt, smiling a little, ‘a Recession Special earlier this week.’
‘Beats me. And you keep telling me I’m loaded, but there’s only about thirty dollars’ worth of cash in here.’
This too seemed odd; she figured that millionaires usually carried more cash on them. But maybe Aidan wasn’t the type of person who ‘made it rain’ everywhere he went.
All of it – the fact that despite his wealth he still did everyday things like take the subway or eat crappy food – merely made her like him all the more. Yes, he might be loaded but he wasn’t afraid to slum it with the rest of them either.
She looked down at her watch. ‘I’m sorry, I’d really like to stay longer, but I need to get to work.’
‘Of course.’
‘Don’t worry about Bailey. My neighbour’s watching him – he’s in really good hands. I’ll check out the hot-dog place, and come back to you if I find out anything, OK?’ She smiled. ‘In the meantime, you should give that number a call – see if talking to someone who obviously knows you might be able to jerk something loose.’
Aidan was back to being belligerent. ‘Well, I would, but I still don’t have a phone, do I? And the doc’s still keeping me under observation and won’t let me move out of this damn bed, let alone the room.’
Darcy thought about it. ‘How much did you say was in your wallet?’
‘About thirty dollars?’
She held her hand out. ‘I’ll sort you out with a prepaid phone as soon as I can. Something to keep you going until you get your iPhone fixed.’
‘You’d do that?’ He looked so grateful, it almost brought tears to her eyes. ‘Honestly, Darcy, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.’
‘It’s not a problem, and no thanks needed,’ she said, though inwardly she was childishly pleased by his gratitude. ‘I can only imagine how lost and scared you must be feeling just now, and seeing as it’s my fault you ended up being hurt in the first place and got separated from your dog and it’s Christmas—’
Suddenly Darcy remembered Aidan’s package; she hadn’t given it a se
cond thought since putting it her drawer. ‘Oh, I almost forgot – I have something else of yours.’ She went on to explain about the beautifully wrapped gift she’d found at the scene of the accident. ‘I’ll bring it to you tomorrow. Maybe whatever it is might trigger something?’
He looked thoughtful. ‘Yes, but from what you said you’re not sure if it’s even mine.’
‘I do remember you carrying something though. Do you think you might have been on your way to deliver it or . . .?’
Then something struck her – that woman’s annoyance and frustration on the phone message the day before. It certainly sounded as though Aidan had been a no-show for something important, a date or a business lunch.
Of course!
‘Aidan,’ Darcy said breathlessly, feeling stupid for not having made the connection when she played back the phone message yesterday: ‘I wonder – would you have been on your way to deliver that package to somebody when I ran into you?’
Chapter 13
I don’t approve of surprises. The pleasure is never enhanced and the inconvenience is considerable. Jane Austen
‘So, what’s the latest with your victim?’
Later at the bookshop, Darcy had to laugh at Joshua’s bluntness. Typical. It was early afternoon, just after lunch – often one of the slowest times of the day in Chaucer’s for customers but a good time for stickering and restocking. Upstairs from the café, she could smell gingerbread scones baking and the peppermint scent of the special ‘Kringle Cup’ roast they’d been offering since the week before. It was making her mouth water.
‘He’s not my victim, Joshua. And he’s fine, stable, just . . . still not remembering anything.’
He cocked one carefully manicured eyebrow and straightened his reindeer antlers. ‘Very Jason Bourne.’
‘Stop it, this is serious. It must be scary not remembering anything about your life, or the people you love.’
She smiled as a customer approached the desk with a purchase.
