The Wrong Mr. Darcy

by Evelyn Lozada

She laughed. “You’re right. I might have overreacted. A smidge.”

  “A skosh.”

  “A speck.”

  “A touch.”

  “A soupçon.”

  Hara and Derek turned to see who had added the last in the synonym list.

  Gus, the blond point guard, grinned and tipped his drink at them. “You know. Soupçon. A touch or a drop,” said Gus. At their silence, he said, “What? I like to do the crossword puzzle with my grandpa on Sundays.”

  Derek nodded as if unperturbed but Hara grappled with the shock trying to play out on her face. She didn’t want to disrespect Gus. Not when he’d just revealed he was literate and good to his family, despite Hara’s earlier impression of him. He wasn’t who she thought he was.

  Naomi, standing on the other side of him and having heard the exchange, mouthed I told you so, tilting her head to Gus, but then also to Derek.

  Hara pondered that. Derek had opened up unexpectedly but she wasn’t sure he’d actually revealed anything that made her alter her opinion.

  One of the WAGs approached Naomi and said something to her, quietly. The young woman’s dark skin turned ashen. She came closer to Hara, leaving Charles to talk with Gus. “Maybe it’s time we go, huh?”

  “You okay?” asked Hara.

  “Just not wanting to get my ass beat. Tina didn’t leave. She’s waiting in the lobby for Charles. Maybe we could sneak past her?”

  Derek put down his bottle. “I guess my man has a ride after all. You ladies need a ride?”

  Hara was as eager as Naomi to shed the crush of people and the unrelenting beat of loud music. Her shoulders relaxed as she got her jacket and they made their way outside and waited for the valet, away from the fun and the dancing and the drinks. The mist blowing in from the harbor felt good on her hot face.

  “Thank you for coming with me, Hara,” said Naomi, head down, no longer the strong, confident woman from earlier. Rejection and conflict seemed to have made the young designer shrink into herself. Her red lipstick was suddenly stark and unsettling against her skin. It was hard to watch this transformation. Hara knew exactly how it felt to be publicly shamed and mocked.

  “I’m glad I came.” Hara put an arm around her new friend’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze, not sure if it was a lie or not, especially when she shifted and caught sight of Derek. He was with the doorman a few feet away, signing an autograph and politely shaking his hand before walking over to them. The man was a seething mass of contradictions. Hara sighed. “But I’m ready to go, I guess.”

  “Maybe,” said Derek, moving close, making her shiver. “If the valet ever gets here.”

  “Derek, I have to admit, I’m kind of surprised you don’t have a car service, or even a driver.”

  “I like to be in charge of my own destiny. I don’t want someone else driving me around. And I’ve never had much of a posse. I’ve got servants at home, if that’s what I want. Most of those guys hanging around Charles and the others, they call themselves homeboys or crew and claim to be loyal, but they bail at the first sign of trouble. That is, if they’re not the cause of the trouble.”

  “You’re a real glass-half-empty kind of guy for someone who was born with a silver spoon and the skill to make it into the NBA.”

  Anger flitted across his face. “Maybe so. Or maybe I’m just realistic. Most people are not worth putting time into.”

  Hara stopped her tongue. He’d admitted it was hard for him to talk to people, but, seriously, couldn’t he hear himself? The black SUV finally arrived. It was a quick trip to Naomi’s door, and then only a few minutes more before they were at the O’Donnells’.

  The ride was silent.

  * * *

  Derek didn’t know what to think. Or what to feel.

  The beautiful woman in the seat next to him had done something to him. Maybe she’d slipped a molly into his beer.

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken so openly. Not even with Charles. If he was going to be honest with himself, however, he’d have to admit it felt good. Damn good. And unless she was a fantastic actress, she’d really been listening to him, even seeming to find him interesting—not his fame or his money, but his true self. Sure, that could have been a facade, but it had felt real.

  You know what else is real? She’s a reporter, you idiot.

  Derek hated that little son of a bitch in his head. He didn’t want to believe he was just a story to her. She’d treated him like a human being. He liked it. But he knew he couldn’t give in to this kind of truth-telling again. It was just too risky. Hara was a risk. A lovely, intelligent risk.

  As they approached the O’Donnell residence, deep disappointment made his blood sluggish.

  “Who’s there?” said a tinny voice over the intercom at the outer gate. A camera swiveled onto them.

  “It’s Darcy.”

  The gates creaked open. Derek parked and turned off the car. He floundered silently behind the wheel for a second, dismayed that the evening was about to shut down and he’d probably never see her again. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

  The energy coming off Hara was confusing. She turned to him and bit her lip, her blue eyes searching his quizzically. He couldn’t help her, though; he felt the same way, and her biting her lip in that tantalizing way was only serving to fog up his logical side.

  “Thank you for the ride.” As she spoke, she lifted her hand, possibly to touch the basketball player like she had earlier, at the bar. The place where she had clasped his arm in the bar was still warm. But, unfortunately, her hand dropped back to her lap this time. “It was really nice of you to go out of your way like this.”

  “I didn’t. It’s on my way.”

  “Oh. Okay, then. Well, good night.” Hara started to open her door.

  Derek shook himself into action. No matter what, he’d be courteous. He could at least do that for her. He swiftly opened his own door. “Wait.”

  He could see Hara pause and half frown, but he reached her side of the vehicle before she could protest. Derek opened her door and offered a gallant, dramatic sweep of his arm. Holding out a hand to help her out, he tried to pull it off as if he were always this smooth and debonair. Talk about acting.

  “Thank you.” After a second’s hesitation, she brushed a dark lock of hair behind her ear and placed her long fingers in his. From her seat, she peered down at the ground. “It is quite a drop.”

  “Life is so much easier when you’re not wearing high heels. Women can’t even get in and out of cars.” He heard it come out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Maybe one day he’d learn how to land a joke, but that moment was not now.

  Hara looked at him for a second, a steeliness sliding over her features. “Maybe if guys didn’t jack up their rigs to ridiculous heights just to drive down city streets, that wouldn’t be true.”

  She tried taking her hand out of his.

  Derek considered holding on but let go. “I’m not good at conversation. I’m sorry.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “Let me help you down.” Before Hara could argue, he reached slowly into the car and put his hand lightly on her hip, directing an arched eyebrow at her, seeking permission. He didn’t want to offend her again. Nor did he want to get punched. She seemed like the type of girl who could take care of herself.

  “Okay?” Derek asked, and then, suddenly, the sheer intensity of her sexiness hit him, simply from the feel of her hip bone and the trim waist under his palm. Oh my God, please do not get an erection right now. It was too late; his body wasn’t listening to reason, only basic animal instinct.

  Hara nodded and moved to the edge of the seat.

  He inhaled sharply, struggling with desire as he grabbed her by the waist and gently set her on the ground. There was less than an inch between them.

  Neither of them moved. Derek’s long fingers remained wrapped around her, just below her rib cage, under her jacket; her breath was on his neck, driving him crazy. His mind
skittered across all the logical courses of action he should be taking right now. But then Hara tilted up her head and all thought left; he was stunned by the intensity and shifting light in her eyes. Her clean, heady scent made him dizzy—that, and the fact that the blood had left his brain, settling much farther south. The air between their bodies heated up and then the space between them disappeared. His length was against her. He wasn’t sure who closed the gap, but she did not seem to mind, pressing against him, creating a flash of lust in him that ran up his spine and set his nerves on fire.

  Hara, her breathing ragged, put a hand on his chest and looked up at him, her mouth soft and waiting. She licked her lips and Derek nearly lost it. His hands on her waist tightened.

  “Don’t do that,” he growled, one hand sliding to her lower back, pulling her closer, his length and his hardness fully against her …

  The heavy front door of the O’Donnell residence creaked open.

  The basketball player blinked, dropped his hands, and stepped back.

  What am I doing?

  * * *

  Hara realized her hands were grabbing at air; she let them fall awkwardly back to her sides. The cold void where Derek had been just a second before made her shiver, a shock to her system. But that cold emptiness was the only evidence she had that the past few moments had actually happened, that she hadn’t been dreaming again.

  Not that she was 100 percent sure either way. Maybe not a dream. A mini seizure? Her mind whirled around and around. Had she just been about to make out with a famous athlete? With a guy who ran more hot and cold than a faucet?

  She had felt his heart beat under his shirt, the hard pounding. She’d done that. Derek Darcy, a man who admittedly didn’t like “most people,” had physically responded to a girl like her. And it wasn’t just his heartbeat that was hard. Crazy.

  The logical side of her mind had been screaming at her, but her body had leapt into a tingling, hot place the second he laid a hand on her, and it was definitely not related to the heated seats in the SUV.

  Derek!” Madeline called out from the door, a dark shape in the square of light. She stepped out quickly to greet them. Her words were directed at the ballplayer, as if Hara weren’t there. “I am so glad you made it! I feel terrible I didn’t get a chance to drop by the club tonight.”

  His tone was polite but Hara was close enough to see him frown. “You didn’t miss much.” Without looking at Hara, he started around to the driver’s side. “Well, good night.”

  She stared after him. That was it? She pursed her lips and blew out her breath, frustrated. Once again, life had reminded her that professional athletes were not to be trusted. Certainly not with her emotions, anyway. She could not believe she had let down her defenses like that in the first place. What had she been thinking? Obviously nothing. Lesson learned. Good riddance.

  But Madeline wasn’t about to let him go so easily. Before he could get into his vehicle, the assistant called out, “Oh, Derek! Mr. O’Donnell has asked that you join us for a moment. He’d like you to come inside.” Then, finally, she acknowledged Hara, her tone turning crisp. “Hara, I see you’ve made it safely back. Good.”

  Walking into the house, Hara could not remember a time she’d felt more awkward. Her movements were jerky, almost robotic, knowing Derek was right behind her. Luckily, the O’Donnells met them in the foyer and the attention shifted to their star rookie, not her. They did greet Hara quickly before turning to Derek, but she was not offended by their obvious lack of enthusiasm at her presence. She shifted from foot to foot like a schoolchild, wondering how long she had to stand there before it no longer seemed impolite for her to disappear.

  “Mr. Darcy, how nice to see you. Quite a game tonight, dear,” said Molly O’Donnell.

  O’Donnell puffed on a pipe, his thumb hooked into his vest, doing his best to project a Victorian-era lord of the manor. “Boy, you had some bright moments. A lot to work on, but you’ll get there.”

  “Thank you, sir. If you don’t mind, I think I should be going,” said Derek, but he was ignored.

  “Nonsense. You’re young, you’ll live. I just need a few minutes of your time.”

  Madeline laid her hand on Derek’s arm, while peering directly at Hara, her face devoid of warmth. “Is there anything you need for the night, Hara?”

  All eyes turned to the young reporter. Hara bit her lip. “I’m good, thanks. Super-grateful for everything, but I just can’t keep my eyes open. Good night.”

  No one tried to stop her.

  Her first steps were slow; she was stupidly hoping Derek would call out to her, at least to offer a real “good night.” The silence rang in her ears, pushing her faster up the stairs and down the maze-like hallways to her room.

  Locking the door with a sigh, Hara shuffled into the bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and then her skirt before attacking the corset. Long, angry moments of struggling to get the laces loosened and the neck ruff unhooked left her on the verge of screaming in frustration. Finally, she wrenched the neck piece and the last closure came free, leaving her panting and drained, a hand to her throat.

  She dropped onto the bed in her underwear. As images from the night, especially the last few minutes, tumbled around in a confused jumble, her face became hot again.

  Hara sat up, her palms chilly against flushed cheeks. I’m not ready to parse this.

  She changed into her old, comfortable pajamas and washed her face, moving on autopilot, choosing not to think, not yet. She picked up a book, hoping to live in another world for the next few hours, but her stomach let out a startlingly loud rumble, and then another as she tried to get comfortable on the bed. Groaning with frustration, Hara found she could no longer ignore her hunger. She’d meant to grab something at Tunnel, but then, well, the beautiful elite had surrounded her and she’d lost track of herself. But stomach pangs weren’t going to allow her to stay in that alternate reality any longer.

  She quietly crept into the hall, barefoot. O’Donnell and Madeline and Derek would be in the library or the living area, on the other side of the house, quite separate from the kitchen. She should be able to sneak into the pantry for some bread and peanut butter with no one knowing.

  The wood floors were cold under her feet, yet she found herself dithering more than once to appreciate a lovely painting or sculpture. Hara was probably standing next to something famous, like a Picasso or Matisse. She had no idea. I guess I really am a country bumpkin.

  Anything to keep the conflicting thoughts of Derek at bay, until she was ready.

  The graphic sex painting didn’t help matters. She hurried her steps.

  Hara was halfway down the back stairs leading into the kitchen when she realized she could hear voices. Damn. Derek and the others were in there. Glancing down at her grungy pajamas, she grimaced. She would rather starve than have Derek see her this way. Or, worse, Madeline.

  She’d backtracked only a few steps when Hara heard her name. She paused, wrestling with her code of ethics. Listen or not listen; what was the right thing to do? The first time she’d listened in on a conversation of Derek’s, she’d hit her head on the door. The second time she’d eavesdropped on him, outside the library, she’d taken a big hit to her ego. Karma was surely telling her something.

  Madeline’s voice, with its overdone posh cadence, carried clearly up the staircase. “You have no idea who that girl is.”

  “I know she’s a reporter. What do I care? I don’t have anything to hide.”

  “But she does. You should steer clear of her.”

  Oh. My. God. What a classist bitch. There was no way she was leaving now.

  “What are you talking about? She’s totally normal. Way more normal than most of the people I’ve met lately.”

  “You’re wrong,” said O’Donnell. “She’s only here because her father worked out a deal. He’s in prison. I’d think you’d have recognized the name. Isari?”

  “Are you talking about Thomas Isari? The bookie who ratted on
all those athletes? Jesus.”

  The blood left Hara’s head. She put her fingertips on the nearest wall, steadying herself, praying she did not faint. Or maybe she was asleep. Dreaming.

  The hard, solid wall and the silky feel of the wallpaper stole that hope away.

  “She’s shifty, just like her father,” said Madeline. “Thank God she’s leaving tomorrow.”

  Derek was silent. No one spoke for a few seconds.

  What did that mean? Her father had worked out a deal? He was locked up. He couldn’t have had anything to do with this.

  “We kept up our end of the bargain.” This was the gentle, breathy voice of Mrs. O’Donnell. “We brought her in, a no-name hack, to talk to Butler. Now we’re off the hook. We don’t have to deal with her again.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  O’Donnell interjected, “There’s not much more to tell. Isari and his daughter gamed the system so she’d win that stupid contest. We kept her here, to keep an eye on her, having no idea she’d weasel her way into an invitation to your after-party. But now it’s over. I’m sure you can see why it’s a bad idea to be seen with her again, Darcy.”

  There was another pause. Hara had her head against the wall, trying to get her heart rate under control. Nothing made sense. Her dad set this up? How? She struggled to breathe normally. Why?

  “Can I make you a martini?” Madeline asked, presumably to Derek, her voice dropping into that smoky purr she must have thought was seductive. “We were going to go to the library to watch the game footage. Care to join us?”

  “I don’t think so. Thank you for your hospitality, but I better be going.”

  “You be careful out there, son. Need to protect my investment, don’t I?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If you need anything,” Madeline jumped back in, “anything at all, you call. Anytime, day or night. You have my number, right?”

  Hara fled.

  CHAPTER 9

  It was necessary to laugh,

  when she would rather have cried.