by Cindi Myers
“I have one more thing to show Darcy,” Taylor said. “I almost forgot.” She ran to the dresser and picked up a framed photograph. “This is me, right after I got my new heart.”
The picture had been taken only a few hours post-transplant. The girl in the hospital bed was dwarfed by the machines around her, tubes and wires trailing out of her. Despite all this, the image was precious to Mike because Taylor was pink cheeked and smiling, a marked contrast to the sad, blue-tinged girl she’d been only hours before.
Darcy stared at the picture and all color left her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Alarmed, Mike took the picture from her. She swayed, and he put his arm around her to steady her. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, I…” She tried to smile, but the expression was more of a grimace. “I didn’t recognize you, Taylor,” she said. “You look so…so healthy now.”
“Taylor, put the picture back on the dresser.” Mike handed it to his daughter and steered Darcy toward the door, still supporting her with his arm. “Let’s go into the living room and sit down. There are a couple of glasses of wine on the counter in the kitchen. Taylor, why don’t you get those for us.”
Taylor raced ahead while her father and Darcy made their way slowly down the hall. “I’m sorry,” Mike said. “I didn’t think about how much of a shock that picture can be. As a doctor I forget.”
“No, it’s okay.” She was still very pale, but her voice was stronger. “I just…” She shook her head.
They sat and Taylor brought the wine. After a few sips, Darcy’s color returned. “Thanks,” she said.
“Are you okay?” Taylor asked, eyes wide, lower lip trembling.
Darcy squeezed her hand. “Come sit here with me and tell me what you did today.”
While the two talked, Mike returned to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. It didn’t take much imagination to realize the kinds of memories that picture must have conjured—memories of her son in a similar hospital bed, hooked to similar machinery, before he died.
It was also easy for him to imagine how the revelation of Taylor’s identity as the donation recipient had hurt her, as she’d been forced to relive the circumstances that had led to the donation.
“Is everything okay?” he called. Maybe he should go back into the living room….
“I’m fine,” Darcy answered. She sounded stronger. “What are you making?”
“Steaks. How do you like yours cooked?”
“Well-done.”
“That’s the only way Daddy will let me eat mine,” Taylor said. “He says there could be germs or some thing in undercooked meat, but then he eats his steak all pink in the middle. Yuck.”
Mike shook his head. He and Taylor were going to have to have a talk about boundaries and what constituted proper conversation with strangers.
The doorbell rang again. Mike let Taylor answer it, and heard Melissa greeting her daughter. He wiped his hands on a napkin and went to begin what he hoped wouldn’t be another awkward evening balanced between the adoration of his daughter and the judgment of his ex-wife.
THE FORMER MRS. MIKE CARTER was tall and beautiful, with stylishly cut dark brown hair, and expensive boots and coat. “I can’t believe you’re wearing that shirt,” she said to Mike as he stepped into the living room. She laughed, the sound loud in the sudden stillness.
“It’s a beautiful shirt,” protested Taylor, who stood between her parents in the entryway.
“Yes, it is, dear, but it’s so not your father.” Melissa turned and noticed Darcy, who was still seated on the sofa.
Darcy set aside her wineglass and stood. “I’m Darcy O’Connor,” she said, moving forward, hand outstretched. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
“I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to meeting you,” Melissa said, gripping Darcy’s hand firmly. “All I’ve heard since Taylor started classes was Darcy this and Darcy that. And then to find out you’re the mother of that dear boy who gave her his heart—it’s just too amazing.”
Darcy tried not to wince. It wasn’t as if Riley had voluntarily handed over his heart to Taylor.
“Can I get you some wine?” Mike asked Melissa.
“Yes, please.” She settled on the sofa next to Darcy, Taylor on her other side. “So you’re a belly dancer,” she said. “Such an unusual occupation. And you really make a living dancing?”
“Dancing and teaching. And I sometimes do temp work to bring in extra money.” Darcy could tell by the way Melissa’s nose wrinkled that she didn’t think much of Darcy’s financially precarious lifestyle, and her next words confirmed it.
“I suppose you artists don’t really care that much about money,” she said. “I could never live that way. I’ve grown too used to my luxuries, I suppose.”
By the time Mike called them to the table, Melissa had revealed her current relationship with a senior pilot and described her latest shopping trip in Paris.
“That sounds wonderful,” Darcy said, continuing the conversation as they took their seats, she to Mike’s left, with Taylor on his other side and Melissa at the opposite end of the table.
“Even though I wear a uniform to work, I like to look my best in my off hours,” Melissa said.
Darcy purchased most of her clothes from thrift stores and the sale racks at discount merchants. “I’ll admit, I don’t worry much about clothes,” she said. “Except for my costumes.”
“Darcy has some lovely costumes,” Taylor said. “All silky and shimmery with all kinds of jewels and sequins.”
“Not much call for that sort of thing in my line of work,” Melissa said with a chuckle.
“Darcy dances at a restaurant sometimes,” Taylor said. “What was the name of it again? I want to come see you there.”
“Arabica. They serve Middle Eastern food. It’s very good.”
Taylor looked skeptical. “I’ve never had Middle Eastern food before.”
“It’s different, but good,” Darcy said. “Though not as good as this steak, I’m sure.”
“Mike always was a good cook,” Melissa said. “I never wanted to waste the little spare time I had in the kitchen. With my travel schedule I have to eat out too much. But the other night I had dinner in the most fabulous restaurant in Naples….”
Darcy was able to enjoy her steak in relative silence, as Melissa took over the lion’s share of the conversation, segueing from a description of the menu at the Naples restaurant to a long story about her latest trip to Antwerp. Taylor watched her mother with adoring eyes. Why didn’t Melissa pay more attention to the girl? Why didn’t she ask her daughter about school or dancing, to include her in the conversation? The one time Taylor tried to share something that had happened in class, Melissa turned the conversation back to herself.
As for Mike, he focused on his plate. What had this quiet, solemn man ever seen in this outgoing, self-centered woman?
At that moment, Mike looked up and met Darcy’s gaze. A spark of unmistakable warmth lit his eyes. “Let me get you some more wine,” he said, leaning forward to refill her glass. She waved him away.
“I should have warned you, I’m a real lightweight when it comes to alcohol. I can only have one glass if I’m going to drive home later.”
“You could just spend the night here,” Taylor said. “In my room.”
Melissa’s laughter was too loud, and Darcy felt her face heat. “That would be fun, but I need to get home.”
The awkward silence stretched only a few moments before Taylor came to their rescue. “Next Saturday my mom is taking me to Disney On Ice.”
“Is that the one with all the Disney princesses?” Darcy asked. “And the Olympic champions?”
“Yes. I can’t wait. I always watch all the ice-skating at the Olympics. It’s so beautiful.”
“I’m able to get tickets through the airline,” Melissa said. “It’s one of the perks of my job.”
“I wanted to go last year, but Mom wasn’t in tow
n,” Taylor said. “And Dad didn’t want to take me in such a big crowd—that germ thing.” She made a face. “He still doesn’t really want me to go, but now that they’re not married anymore, he can’t tell Mom what to do.”
“I never told your mother what to do before,” Mike said.
“Your father is not that dumb,” Melissa said. The words were complimentary, but her tone imbued them with a sting. Darcy cringed.
“What will you wear to the show?” Darcy quickly asked Taylor.
The rest of the meal was filled with talk of clothes, from the story of how Mike had come to own a Jonas Brothers–style shirt to Darcy’s various dance costumes.
By the time Mike announced dessert, Darcy was feeling more relaxed. Melissa wasn’t the type of woman she’d normally have befriended—she was too brittle and self-centered—but she clearly loved her daughter and had the facile charm of someone used to navigating a variety of social situations.
“What are we having for dessert?” Melissa asked as Mike cleared the table.
“Strawberry tart.”
“From Michelson’s? That was always my favorite.”
“Taylor’s, too,” he said drily. He caught Darcy’s eye and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
With dessert, Melissa had more wine—too much wine, Darcy thought. Her teasing tone with Mike took on a harder edge. “He’s a better cook than I was and he certainly makes more money,” she said at one point. “Taylor and I will have to put our heads together and see if we can’t find him some equally studious teacher or librarian, someone who will appreciate his good qualities.”
“I’m sure plenty of women appreciate Mike,” Darcy murmured.
“You, for instance?” Melissa laughed before Darcy could answer, as if the idea was ridiculous.
Across the table, Mike looked ready to spit nails. Darcy rose. “Thank you for the lovely dinner,” she said. “I really should be going now.” She nodded to Melissa. “It was nice to meet you.”
Mike made no protest. “Thank you for coming,” he said as he walked her to the door.
“I had a nice time,” she said. “And it was nice to meet Taylor’s mother.”
“I’ll make sure she takes a cab home,” he said. “She doesn’t always behave like this.”
“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize.”
She hurried to her car, wanting nothing more than to be home in her pajamas, her hand wrapped around a mug of tea. She’d need more than flannel pj’s and tea to soothe her, though. The evening had shaken her—starting with Taylor dragging her into Mike’s bedroom. Yes, it was just a room, but seeing his books on the nightstand, his clothes on the floor and his razor on the edge of the sink had felt so intimate. It made him less intimidating, more accessible.
When he’d joined them in the bedroom, she’d felt the attraction between them heating up.
But that picture of Taylor in the hospital had been like a whole refrigerator truck of ice dumped on her. Seeing the child connected to all those machines—the way Riley had looked the last time she’d seen him—had jerked her back to that moment of horror.
And now she’d run away from him and from his happy family. No, he and Melissa were no longer married, but they had a child they both clearly loved. A happy, but fragile child who took handfuls of pills multiple times a day and who was one bad cold away from ending up back in the hospital, hooked up to those awful machines. Darcy shuddered at the thought. She wasn’t ready for that. No matter how much she was attracted to a man, she would never be ready for that again.
CHAPTER FIVE
MIKE HATED the weekends Taylor spent with her mother. He tried to fill the hours with work, but more often than not dealing with other sick children only heightened his worry over Taylor. Not that he didn’t trust Melissa to look after their daughter, but she wasn’t a medical professional. She might not realize something was wrong until it was too late.
This was the weekend of the long-awaited Disney On Ice spectacular. “I’m really too old for this,” Taylor had confided to Mike as she’d packed for the weekend away. “I mean, I’d rather go to a concert or something. Hannah Montana’s coming to town.”
“Is that a hint?” he asked.
She grinned. “Maybe. Anyway, Mom wants to go to this, so I guess it will be all right.”
Mike knew she was secretly excited about the show, with all its glitter and glamour and exaltation of everything princess. She wore her purple boots and, at the last minute, had added a sparkling tiara someone had given her in the hospital.
The hospital made him think of Brent. The boy had been back in the office this afternoon. Mike had changed his medication and ordered a blood workup, but he was worried. Every sick child was a potential Taylor. Mike didn’t want to make the same mistake with others he’d made with her. Was he missing something that might turn out worse because of his oversight? Should he send the boy to a specialist, and if so, which one?
He continued to ponder this as he made his rounds at the hospital Friday evening. He only had two patients to see: a girl recovering from pneumonia and a boy who’d crashed his dirt bike at a racetrack. Both were doing well and Mike left the hospital in a good mood.
Usually on nights when Mike had the house to himself, he indulged in takeout and beer while watching a ball game or a movie on TV. But there was no game on tonight, and no movie he wanted to see.
Maybe he’d go out to eat. Someplace nice. The kind of place he’d take a date, if he dated.
As he drove away from the hospital, he kept an eye out for a likely looking restaurant. He’d order a good steak, and one glass of red wine. Then a red neon sign caught his eye and he tapped the brake. Arabica. The restaurant where Darcy danced. Not giving himself time to change his mind, he put on his blinker and turned into the parking lot.
He asked for a table near the small space at the front of the room that served as a stage. He ordered lamb kebabs and a Scotch and water and waited until the lights dimmed. The sounds of flutes and drums and a woman singing in Arabic filled the room.
Darcy arrived in a swirl of purple and gold, sparkling with sequins and jewels. A many-paneled skirt hung low on her hips, framed by a jeweled, fringed girdle. A jewel glinted at her navel and more fringe trimmed the bra from which the tops of her breasts spilled. Mike had a flash of memory of the first time he’d seen her dance, that day in her studio, when the air around him had seemed charged and he’d realized how empty his life was of all things sexual.
As the music rose now she began to shimmy, the fringe and sequins shuddering, her flesh quivering, mesmerizing him. She moved in time with the music, first fast, then slow, tracing arcs and circles in the air with her hips, then her breasts, making the fringe jump and dance along with her. She undulated with snakelike grace, then pranced across the stage, hips bouncing provocatively. All the while she seduced the audience with her smile and teased them with her eyes. They cheered and whistled and applauded. One man’s voice rose over the others. “Baby, you are gorgeous!”
Mike craned his head, trying to find the guy in the crowd.
The music switched to a more modern rock number and she vamped, acting out the words of the song, in which the singer chided her man for not treating her right. She promised to make him pay for his mistakes and find a man who would treat her like a queen. Mike had no doubt she’d have plenty of willing candidates in this room if she issued an invitation.
The music changed again and she ventured into the audience, moving among the tables, stopping to dance for appreciative diners. At one table she invited a young girl to join her, applauding as the girl twisted and shimmied. Mike thought of Taylor, and how quickly she and Darcy had hit it off. Darcy had an easy way with children, and Taylor, who so often missed her mother, basked in attention from an adult female who was equal parts fantasy princess and mentor.
She moved on, twirling and gliding, and stopped directly in front of Mike. As her eyes met his, he felt certain she�
��d been aware of his presence for some time, and had deliberately sought him out.
The music slowed and she slowed with it, her moves becoming more controlled. More sensual. The two of them might have been alone in the room, for all Mike noticed the people around them. The exotic music and the seductive sight and scent of her filled his senses. He was no longer a single dad and doctor….
Then the spell was broken by a man who inserted himself between them. “Come dance with me, honey,” the man said. He wiggled his hips and laughed.
Darcy tried to move away from him, but he grasped her arm. “Wait. I’ve got something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled bill and tried to stuff it into her top.
Mike was out of his chair and had a hold of the man before he realized what he was doing. The guy released Darcy and turned toward Mike. Mike landed a blow on the jaw, then watched as the man sank to his knees and toppled over with a groan.
The next thing he knew, Darcy was dragging him out of the dining room and down a dimly lit corridor. “What are you doing?” he protested. “I haven’t paid for my dinner. What about the rest of your show?”
“The show’s over. And don’t worry about your dinner. I’ll talk to Dileep.” She opened the door to a storage room that apparently doubled as her dressing room, dragged him inside and shut it firmly behind them.
He stood with his back against the door, breathing hard, his hand throbbing. She stood a scant foot away, arms folded under her breasts, her accentuated cleavage and bright costume in sharp contrast to her disapproving schoolmarm expression. “Well?” she said.
“Well what?” He rubbed his throbbing hand.
“Why did you hit him?”
“I’d think that would be obvious.”
“I would have handled him. Dileep was already on his way to help.”
“Who is Dileep?”
