Beautifully Forgotten (19 page)

He hadn’t slept a wink because he was trying to figure out how to apologize to her, really apologize. She was right. He was the one in the wrong and he did know better. He pulled a hand through his hair before he walked to the door and yanked it open. He had given her the office just next to his and he found her at her desk working.

“Could we talk for a minute?”

She looked up, and like it was programmed into her, she smiled, but damn if it didn’t look genuine.

“Sure.”

He walked into her office, but didn’t sit because he was feeling too edgy.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a dick.”

Her response to that was to lean back in her chair and link her fingers. “Go on.”

“You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

He had to grin at her honesty. “I have forgiven you.”

“Really? I’m not getting that. I think you want to forgive me, but you just can’t. Any opportunity you have to knock me down, you take it. That isn’t forgiveness, that’s revenge. I get it. I hurt you, but that was fourteen years ago. We aren’t those people anymore.”

“You’re right.”

“I want to work here. I want to work for you. I want you in my life, Lucien, because you were my best friend once. I’ve never had, then or now, anyone who meant to me what you did.”

He moved to sit on the edge of her desk as a grin tugged at his mouth. “I guess you are going to make this easy. You always did have a way of getting right to the heart of the matter and at the same time letting me off the hook.”

“I can’t continue to put myself in a position to get knocked down by you, particularly when my feet aren’t steady enough on their own.”

“I’m sorry, Darcy. I am really, truly sorry. I want you here. And you are right. That was then and this is now. Will you give me another chance?”

She rolled her eyes heavenward, something she’d often used to do when she forgave him, before she said, “Okay.”

He started for the door, but looked at her over his shoulder. “Lunch?”

“Sorry, I already have plans.”

Darcy sat in Allegro listening to Kevin tell her about his day when she felt a sizzling down her spine and just knew that Lucien had arrived. It was a sad state of affairs when her body reacted more to someone clear across the room than the very nice man sitting next to her.

Darcy had been out with Kevin four times in the past week and she so wanted to feel that spark, wanted to move on with her life. He was such a good guy. But it wasn’t him her mind turned to, even when he was talking to her like he was now. She was pathetic, truly pathetic.

And then she saw Lucien doing his walk-through, and immediately her body was vibrating with excitement. She knew Lucien’s eyes were on her, so she kept her gaze on Kevin. Yet her nipples had grown hard and she refused to acknowledge the ache between her legs was due to Lucien undressing her with his eyes from across the room. And then she looked over at Lucien. The sexy, smug bastard winked at her. Winked!

Yep, she was pathetic. Kevin never stood a chance.

It was after her near orgasm from a simple look a week ago that the sexual banter between her and Lucien began. He knew she had been responsive. All too often he would stand just a touch too close, his arm would brush her, or his finger would trail a line down her neck. But it was the looks, the ones that said, “I’ve seen you naked before and I want to again,” that were the hardest for her. Every time he gave her that look she wanted to tackle him to the floor and devour him. She suspected, but didn’t know for certain, that he was battling the same feelings. She hoped so, because it wasn’t right for only her to suffer, even if it were an exquisite torture.

That same day Lucien watched as Darcy struggled to get the printer working. Even from his distance he could hear the cursing, which made him smile. It had been a week since their relationship had taken a very pleasant turn. She was still just as feisty as he remembered and it wasn’t hard for him to recall why he had fallen for her in the first place. Their sparring was verbal foreplay and he fucking craved it.

His eyes moved over her. Her body was nothing like the one he had known, with curves that his hands itched to touch. Her hair was up, though he preferred it down, and tendrils were falling out of the twist. He remembered vividly the sight of it spread out over his pillow.

He had to admit that she was still just as interesting to him as she had been at fourteen. Despite everything, she was still his Darcy—sweet, witty, and guileless, except at the moment. She looked about ready to torch the printer, so he moved to help her. As he approached, she was actually staring into the paper tray, yelling at the creatures that lived inside it.

He chuckled, which must have taken her by surprise, because she leaped backward and landed on his foot.

“Fuck!” he cursed.

“Sorry.”

He looked down at her strappy sandals with heels high enough to stake a vampire and had a vision of those legs draped over his shoulders. Instantly, he was hard.

“I was going to offer to help you. The printer can be temperamental, but now I’m bleeding out from a stab wound.”

She didn’t miss a beat. “It probably didn’t even break the skin. What is it you guys say? Rub some dirt into it.”

He eyed her shoes. “Those things should be listed as lethal weapons.”

“Hardly. There are far cheaper ways to kill someone.” She bent to stare into the printer again and Lucien took the opportunity to check out the curve of her ass in the little black skirt she wore.

“Stop checking out my ass and help me.”

Not at all repentant for getting caught staring, he replied easily, “It’s a paper jam.”

He thought he was being helpful and when she straightened slowly, he entertained the notion that she was struggling with the need to throw herself into his arms in gratitude.

One look at her face, though, and he knew he wasn’t going to be copping a feel.

“Your powers of deduction are astounding. Seriously, you should give a seminar on mastering the obvious.”

He tried not to laugh, but he lost that battle. And she responded by flaying a layer of skin off him with her sharp tongue. “I know it’s a paper jam, Sherlock, I just can’t find it.”

“It’s usually in the back,” Lucien said as he reached for the back of the printer, his arm brushing up against her on purpose. Darcy’s inhaled breath in response had his balls tightening. He dislodged the paper and pulled it free.

He turned to her with a smug smile, which she returned with uncanny accuracy before she said, “Thanks. I almost lost my cool.”

“Almost?”

A slight smile touched her lips. “I should go restart my print job.”

“Probably, unless you can get the little men in the printer to do it.”

“Brownies.”

“What?”

She laughed. “Not the baked goods, the little mischievous mystical creatures.”

“They live in my printer?”

“Maybe.” She started away, but stopped and turned to him. “Thanks.”

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

She eyed him through her lashes before she said, “You’re on.” And then she turned and disappeared into her office.

He took her to a greasy spoon where they ate pancakes and meat loaf. It was the most ridiculous dinner she had ever had and the most enjoyable.

When they were on the curb outside the diner, Darcy turned to Lucien and asked, “Do you do that often—have breakfast and dinner together?”

“Sometimes I can’t decide what I want, so I have both.”

Remembering how food was so limited in the orphanage, she couldn’t really blame him. He must have noticed the change in her, because his voice softened. “Would you take a walk with me?”

Emotion moved up her throat to choke her as she remembered just how many times they’d escaped by going for long walks.

He pushed his hands into the front pockets of his trousers, but held his elbow out to her. She slipped her arm through it before they started along. The night was hot, but the humidity had dropped. It could have been a thousand degrees and she would have absolutely loved it.

“Times Square.” His head turned in her direction and the impact of those eyes made her heart flip over in her chest. “What’s it like living there? It must be madness on New Year’s Eve.”

“The first few, I loved it; now I make sure I’m elsewhere in the city.”

She could tell he wanted to ask something, but seemed to be debating with himself if he should.

“What do you want to know?” she asked.

“How long have you lived there?”

“I moved in right after college.”

She knew what he was thinking, as clearly as if he were speaking the words out loud: What had happened in her life during the years that had separated them? How had she managed college? He didn’t ask, though, and his silence in response hurt. She moved on. “Where do you live?”

“The Upper East Side.”

“I bet it’s beautiful.”

“Maybe you’ll come and see it sometime.”

And in that moment he wasn’t the successful and confident man he had become, but the seventeen-year-old boy wishing to share a piece of his present with a part of his past. She needed him to know she understood that this was a form of affirmation, so she said, “I’ll bring the pudding.”

She couldn’t read what he was thinking, but she knew that he was working very hard to maintain his control. His voice sounded almost strained.

“It’s late; I’ll get you a cab.” But before he did so, he kissed her and she responded out of instinct. His lips moved over hers, molding to her own, and then he licked the seam of her lips before his tongue swept her mouth. He sucked her tongue into his mouth as his arms moved around her to hold her close. Before she wanted him to, he drew away from her, but his fingers lifted to trace the line of her jaw.

A cab appeared as if conjured and Lucien opened the back door for her.

“See you in the morning, Caterpillar.” He closed the door before she could reply. She turned to look back at him standing on the curb watching her, his hands in the front pockets of his trousers and his expression so serious. They were older now, but he was still her Lucien and she was still his Caterpillar. She smiled all the way home.

The following morning Lucien paced in his office. He was fairly certain that he had lost his mind; it was the only explanation for why he’d kissed her when they were still working on being friends. But he liked her—hell, he was able to admit to himself that he loved her. He always had. Being around her again brought it all back, and not just the bad stuff. Even as kids they’d had a connection that so few ever experienced and despite everything it was just as strong.