And she knew that Patrick realized her distress just as sure as she knew that darkness fell every night. Once that registered with him, the man was going to go into all-out, full protective mode. He would be worried about her; he’d try to save her. That was the very thing she had come over her to put a stop to.
“Pick me up, please,” she said.
“Darcy?”
“Well, it’s totally clear that I’m not going to roll or walk in there, isn’t it? And I’ll bet you’re almost strong enough to carry me.” She said this rather loudly as a couple was passing. When they looked at her, she smiled and waved as Patrick was lifting her into his arms, holding her against his heart.
“Do they have good desserts here?” she called out in her very bad French.
“Oui, mille feuille,” the woman said.
“Ah, merci,” Darcy said with a big smile. She waited until the couple had gone. “What did she say?” she asked.
Patrick laughed and pulled her closer. “She implied that they had good Napoleons here,” he whispered near her temple.
Darcy fought to keep breathing. “I love Napoleons. Let’s go inside.” Oh, she needed to get inside. She needed Patrick to put her down. If he didn’t do it soon she would grab him and press her aching lips to his.
But the little shop was closed when they tried the door. The man was just locking the door. “Demain,” he told them. “Tomorrow.”
Which only served to remind Darcy that there wouldn’t be a tomorrow with Patrick. She had already asked him what was on his schedule tomorrow and he had a ball he had to attend. The day after that she’d go back to Chicago.
By the time they got back to her room she was so weary that she could barely keep her eyes open. Patrick saw her to her door. “I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” he told her.
She blinked.
He smiled. “I’ll bring the Napoleons. And coffee.”
Then he kissed her on the forehead and left her.
Dratted man. Now she would never be able to sleep.
Patrick stood back and watched Darcy work the room. He had been with her since early morning and she was still going strong. She was simply amazing. And different. In a sassy, sexy way that he found incredibly tempting.
Was this the same woman who normally hid in the kitchen? Couldn’t be, because she had been roaming the room for the past two hours, making sure dishes were replenished and that everyone got a taste of each dish. She even talked with apparent ease about the preparations and the history of some of the dishes. She supervised the staff she’d made arrangements for and stayed until the last dish was cleaned and put back on the rental truck.
Then she said an affectionate goodbye to the hosts.
“You are adorable,” the woman said.
“And a fantastic cook,” her husband agreed.
“And a good judge of men,” the woman went on. “Your husband is very handsome.” Just as if Patrick wasn’t there.
For the first time Darcy looked flustered. “We aren’t married,” she said.
“But he desires you. I see it in his eyes when he looks at you,” the man said.
“And you look at him the same way,” His wife added.
Total panic filled Darcy’s eyes. “Desire isn’t nearly enough,” she said. And didn’t that say everything he needed to know about how she felt about him?
He should just let her go about her business, and he should go on to his affair tonight. “Come with me tonight,” he whispered as they neared the hotel.
She looked up at him with confusion. “I can’t.”
He gave a curt nod. “You have things to do.”
“Not a thing, but…” She looked down at herself.
“Not a problem,” he told her. “I have to warn you, though. There will be a lot of people there.”
“Angelise?” she asked. “I—Cara called me today to check in, and she said that she’d heard Angelise was here.”
Cara had called Darcy and not him? What was that about?
“Angelise gets around.”
“She wants to marry you.”
“We’re friends.”
“But there are other women here who wouldn’t mind wearing your ring, either. I’ve seen them. They’re like you.”
What the hell did that mean? Was she talking about her wheelchair? Her social status? Patrick wasn’t quite sure he cared. Darcy had told him that he should marry. She’d made it very clear over and over that she wasn’t interested in marriage.
“I’ll be dancing with you tonight,” he said. It was a dare, a claim. He wanted her last night here to be spent with him.
“I’ll take you up on that,” she said.
“I can’t wait.” And that was no lie.
Focus, focus, focus, Darcy told herself. She had come here with a goal in mind, to demonstrate to Patrick that she was a woman on the move, a woman who had her life together and who no longer feared being the center of attention, so tonight she had to make her case. Cross any t’s and dot any i’s she hadn’t managed to cross or dot yet.
But she also had another goal: to grasp this last chance to soak in as much of Patrick as she could. When she got home she had one more very important task. She had to make sure that everyone at Able House was committed to Patrick’s plan for them. Then she was going to leave Able House and set out on her own. She couldn’t stay connected to Patrick and have any chance of happiness.
Tonight really would be their final goodbye, at least in person, so Darcy rolled into the ballroom prepared to act her heart out and make as many memories as possible. That strange sensory trick that made her instantly aware of him helped her locate him almost immediately. He was surrounded by men, but there were also a number of beautiful, willowy mobile women with perfect hair and makeup and shoes crowding close to him. Lots of them sported bare shoulders, cleavage and dresses to die for whereas she was wearing a very simple and inexpensive red gown. No cleavage. Not that she had much in the way of cleavage.
Don’t think that way, she told herself. Remember, you have to be the new Darcy for Patrick. Paste on a confident smile.
The magical thing was that the second he saw her and smiled at her, her smile became real, too. She looked up and down that tall, broad-shouldered form. She remembered how that dark hair had felt against her fingers, how those green eyes had gazed into hers as he caressed her, how that mouth had felt against her skin.
Nothing could have stopped her from entering that crowd then. For once Darcy was happy that her wheelchair attracted attention, because the sea of people parted to let her pass.
Patrick met her halfway. “Darcy, you look amazing.”
“So do you. You look…hot,” she said as the people closest to them laughed. Darcy blushed. “Sorry,” she said to everyone. “I have a big mouth.”
“Don’t apologize. Who are you, beautiful lady? Judson, introduce us,” some man said.
Patrick looked askance at her, and Darcy nodded.
“This is Darcy, a wonderful chef and a wonderful friend. If you ever need a caterer—”
“I’m your woman,” Darcy said, dipping her head in a mock bow.
“Interesting,” another man said.
“Where has Patrick been hiding someone as gorgeous as you?” another male voice called out.
“In his kitchen, but I’m a free agent now,” Darcy said, remembering that conversation with Angelise.
“Well, then—”
“Time to go,” Patrick said. “Didn’t you promise me a dance, Darcy?”
She smiled up at him and was surprised to see that he was frowning at her. She’d thought that conversation had gone pretty well. It took some deep breathing to put herself out there in such a public way, but no one had seemed to be offering pity. The banter had been light.
“I hope I didn’t embarrass you with that comment about you being hot,” she said, as she and Patrick left the crowd behind.
He shook his head. “I think you just made my reputation,”
he said with a chuckle. “Every guy who heard that is going to be envious. I walked away with the girl in the red dress with the wild, wicked mouth. Half those guys want to sleep with you now.”
“What do the other half want to do?”
Patrick laughed. “They want to sleep with you, too.”
“My, your friends certainly have one track minds. How do they get any business done?” she teased.
“I haven’t a clue. They’re total boneheads. Don’t even look at them,” he teased right back, and when she looked up into his eyes and saw him smiling at her, Darcy’s heart felt as if it was expanding so much that her chest wouldn’t be able to hold it.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” she said. I’ve missed you, she thought. “I don’t have time to look at them. You and I are going to dance, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’ll be okay with the wheelchair?”
“I can’t believe you’re even asking me that. By now you ought to know me better. I want to dance with you, and your wheelchair is how you get from place to place. If anything, you’ll be the one having a problem with me. You know what you’re doing, while I don’t have a clue.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle with you,” she teased.
“Then there’s no problem, is there?” he asked. “I’ll trust you to give me cues. I did watch a few wheelchair dance videos on the Web in anticipation of this moment.”
“Then you do have a clue.”
“Seeing isn’t doing,” he quipped. But in the end, Darcy decided that Patrick must have either watched those videos carefully or he was just a fast learner. All that natural athleticism of his was unleashed, and when the music began and he took her by the hand, everything clicked.
She twirled and swooped and he met her. He became her shadow, her other half, her mirror image. They touched, then broke away and returned to meet each other again.
The music swelled and, at one point, Darcy realized that people were watching them, but she didn’t care. Patrick was totally focused on her, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
When the music rose to a crescendo, he took her hand, twirling her around three times, then pulling her toward him in one fast, fluid movement. She rolled into him, pressing her palm and forearm flat against his chest in a controlled, sensual movement as she slid closer into his body, then pushed off of him, rolling backward and motioning to him in a come-hither gesture. He followed her, sliding on one knee to meet her and drawing her to him for a slow, swirling embrace as the music faded away.
The applause was instantaneous, and Darcy blinked. Her heart was pounding, and she looked at Patrick, not at the gathered guests.
He had stood and he was staring down at her, his hair falling over one brow, his green gaze intent.
“Let’s get out of here,” he whispered and she nodded.
“That was wonderful,” someone called.
“Beautiful,” someone else added.
“The sexiest thing I’ve ever seen between two people who are fully clothed,” another person said.
“Oh, come on, take a bow,” someone finally said.
Patrick looked askance at Darcy. “Your audience,” he said.
“And yours.” She tipped her head to him. “All right.”
“Thank you,” she called to the crowd as Patrick twirled her around one last time and nodded to his friends.
“Hey, you’re not stealing her away, are you, Patrick?”
“Sorry, Cinderella and I need to rest,” he called.
Out of the corner of her eye Darcy saw Angelise watching them, but she didn’t come close. Then, Patrick opened the door, and the two of them moved out into the darkness beneath the stars. “That was amazing,” Darcy said.
“You were amazing. You astound me. Constantly.”
They wandered farther into the empty gardens, down a lonely trail lit only by small solar lanterns. The roses were dark shadows in the night.
“I astound you because…I’m not hiding from the world anymore?” Okay, she was pushing him, but that was the thing she wanted him to key in on, that she wasn’t hiding. He didn’t have to be concerned about that aspect of her life from now on.
His chuckle was incredibly sexy in the darkness. She couldn’t see him clearly and the sound slipped through her bones, touching her and turning her to fire.
“When you decide to do something, you don’t do it in a small way, do you?” he asked.
She smiled, but then realizing that he probably couldn’t see her, either, pulled up short. He dropped to a bench on the path and she drew up beside him. “It wasn’t so much that I decided,” she whispered. “It was that you made it easy for me. You never treated me like an oddity.”
“Why should I? You’re a beautiful, intelligent and talented woman. That’s not odd. It’s pretty darn great.”
“Thank you, but…even before you knew much about me, you saw me in a different light than other people had.”
“You underestimate your ability to impress,” he said. “I always knew that you were special.”
Darcy closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that he was special, too, that she had loved him for longer than she had even realized, but that was the opposite of what she needed to do. She had come a long way to make a point and she wasn’t trying hard enough, so she took his big hand in both of her own. She faced him in the darkness.
“You’ve given me so much, Patrick and I’m so…so incredibly grateful, but I want you to know that I’m much more confident now than I was when we met. I owe you for that, but you don’t have to champion me or protect me anymore. I can do that on my own.” Even as she was saying the words, she knew that this was her farewell to him, the last time she would see him. Angelise—or someone like her—was waiting in the wings, and that was as it should be, but that didn’t make the pain in Darcy’s heart any less powerful.
“I don’t want you to be grateful.”
“But I am.” She could barely get the words past the ache in her throat. “Thanks to you I’m ready to proceed on my own. I don’t have to have you beside me anymore.”
“Dammit, Darcy.” He leaned forward and framed her face. He brought his lips to hers.
The fire was instantaneous. She twisted closer, looping her arms around his neck.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, and he kissed her again. Darcy’s consciousness began to retreat. In a minute she was going to beg him to make love to her. She should stop now.
Instead she pressed into him. I missed you, too, she thought, but somehow she managed not to say the words. If she said them, if she even let him discern one tiny inkling of how she felt about him, he was going to feel so guilty eventually. Because he had that damned innate sense of duty.
Closing her eyes, Darcy breathed him in. She pushed back.
“I—I have to go. This is—” Heavenly, wonderful, everything I want. “It’s wonderful,” she said, deciding for honesty, “but not the right thing for me.”
He stared at her, his chest heaving. “Of course,” he finally said. “I’ll see you to your room.”
All right, she had to say it, to do it. She had to make the break.
“By leaving, I didn’t actually mean my room. I’m going home. It’s a bit early, but—” And there she stopped. Her throat began to clog with tears and she couldn’t proceed. She had meant to tell him that she would be leaving Able House, too, but—she couldn’t tell him. Nor could she stay at Able House waiting for him, knowing that she was going to turn into one of those many women who followed Patrick with their eyes, hoping for a few kisses and wishing for things that could never be.
She should at least tell him of her intent to find a new home in another part of the country. She owed him that much, but the words would have to wait for an e-mail or a letter. As it was, she was barely able to retain her faux composure.
“Say something,” she said. “Tell me goodbye. Wish me a—a great flight home.”
“You
’re leaving because I kissed you again. I took things for granted and pushed you,” he said.
“No. I wanted you to kiss me.”
“And now you want to leave.”
No. She didn’t want to leave at all. “I just need to leave.” And it was all she could do not to beg him for one last kiss.
He stood, and she realized that this was the last walk they would take together. Her heart hurt, her throat ached, her eyes…she would never make it back to the hotel without crying.
Dammit, yes, she would. She wasn’t coming this far only to mess everything up at the end. So, they moved in silence to the door, he rode up to her room with her in the elevator. “When is your flight?” he asked.
“Tonight,” she said. “I have a limo booked to take me to the airport.” Both lies. Her plane left in the morning, so there was no limo tonight. But there would be. If she had to, she would sleep at the airport, because she didn’t trust herself to stay in the same hotel as Patrick and not do something that would spoil all the progress she’d made.
Now, she had only one more thing she had to do before she severed her ties with Patrick forever and looked for a job in another town.
“I have a favor to ask of you,” she said, forcing the words out. “I have an—an event planned for next Saturday. It’s a bit different in scope from my usual, and you’ve always given me good feedback. I’d like to ask for your opinion on this, too.”
He cleared his throat. “Ask.” His voice was like a bullet, fast and hard and devoid of emotion.
“We’ll have a live feed. If you’re willing, I can set up a transmission. I’ll send you a message with the details.”
“That must be some event if you’re transmitting it.”
She nodded. “It’s the biggest thing I’ve done yet.”
He nodded. “I see. Yes, of course. You’re moving up and on and this will be your big break. I promise you I’ll watch, and I’ll contact you afterward.”
No. Don’t contact me, she wanted to say. Don’t tell me you’ll call. If you do, I’ll wait for the phone to ring. I’ll die every time it rings and it isn’t you, and if you call and I hear the sound of your voice…
Hired: The Cinderella Chef Page 15
