Hot Wheels and High Heels (21 page)

Well, at least her father thought it was okay. Then again, Gertie was his idea of an acceptable mode of transportation, too, so what did that say about his opinion?

Lyla walked into the living room, and her face crinkled with disgust. “This furniture is awful.”

“Rental furniture doesn’t tend to be attractive.”

“The blinds are bent.”

“I’m lucky there are any at all.”

“And look at this dreadful carpet.”

“It has plenty of old stains, so any new ones won’t show.”

“Darcy, why did you insist on moving? You could have stayed with us as long as you needed to.”

Not and keep my sanity.
“I just needed my own place.”

“What is a man going to think when he comes here to pick you up for a date?”

Darcy closed her eyes with frustration. Well, at least there was one good thing about her mother coming for a visit. It gave Darcy the absolute assurance that getting a place of her own had been the right thing to do.

Then she heard another knock at the door. She went back to the entry hall and looked out the peephole. She blinked with surprise. Blinked again. Was that who she thought it was?

“It’s Jeremy Bridges,” she told her mother.

Lyla’s jaw dropped. “Jeremy Bridges is here?
Now?
”

“Yes.”

“You can’t let him in,” her mother said. “The moment he sees this apartment, he’ll turn right around and leave again. He’ll be gone, Darcy. Don’t you dare open that door!” Then she grabbed Darcy’s arm. “No. Wait. On second thought, you have to. If he made it through the front gate and wasn’t scared off . . .” Then she groaned. “My God! Look at you! You’re a mess!”

She pulled the elastic out of Darcy’s hair.

“Mom! What are you—”

“Be still.” She fluffed Darcy’s hair around her shoulders. “There’s nothing you can do about what you’re wearing. Just be sure to stand up straight.” She shook her finger at Darcy. “And don’t screw this up!”

With a roll of her eyes, Darcy opened the door. Through the peephole she hadn’t gotten a good look at Jeremy, but now that she did, she couldn’t believe the transformation.

Gone was the Hawaiian grunge look. Instead he wore a pair of khaki pants, a Lacoste shirt, and loafers. Casual yet stylish. It looked as if he’d gotten a haircut. A shave. In one hand he carried a basket wrapped in blue-tinted cellophane and topped with a satin bow. She had no idea what
that
was all about.

Now that they were both standing, she had to look up to meet his eyes—sharp, intelligent, nothing-gets-past-me eyes she’d been wary of from the first time she’d climbed into his limousine.

And then there was that smile.

“Hello, Darcy.”

“Hello, Jeremy.” She eyed him up and down. “Was a trip to Margaritaville not on the agenda today?”

“This is millionaire casual. I thought you’d enjoy the look.”

Actually, she did. What woman wouldn’t? But even though he had the money of a millionaire, he was someone else at heart.

In the distance, Darcy saw the tail end of his limousine inching away, the driver probably looking for a place to park. Her advice: west Plano.

She glanced around warily. “So where’s your guard dog?”

“I persuaded Bernie to stay in the car. But don’t worry. I cracked the windows.”

“Darcy!” her mother said. “Don’t just stand there! Invite Mr. Bridges in!”

Darcy sighed and opened the door wider. He came across the threshold and strode past the kitchen doorway and into the living room.

“Jeremy, this is my mother, Lyla Dumphries.”

Her mother lifted her hand, limp-wristed, her head cocked. “Mr. Bridges. What a
pleasure
to meet you.”

“Why, I had no idea I’d be meeting your mother, Darcy,” Jeremy said. “It’s easy to see where you get your beauty.”

Then he kissed her mother’s hand. He actually
kissed her hand.
Darcy thought she was going to barf. And her mother
giggled.
Toss one millionaire her way, and she turned into Blanche DuBois.

“So . . . ,” Lyla said. “I understand you and Darcy have been getting to know each other?”

“Why, yes, we have,” Jeremy said.

“No, we haven’t,” Darcy said. “I’m simply a means by which Mr. Bridges entertains himself.”

“Well,” he said, “good entertainment
is
hard to come by.”

“I find that hard to believe from a man who could buy Disney World.”

“Darcy!” Lyla whispered angrily. “Show some respect!”

Respect? Just because the guy was made of money?

Well, okay. That
was
a good reason. If only he’d get real about being interested in her, with the kind of interest that might eventually lead to the altar, she might take him seriously. But until he convinced her he wasn’t just yanking her around, she had no intention of putting up with it.

“To what do we owe the honor of this visit?” Lyla said.

“I just dropped by to see your daughter’s new place.”

“How did you even know I moved?” Darcy asked.

“Come on, Darcy. I’m disgustingly rich, and money talks. Is there anything I can’t find out?” He gazed around the room. “Love what you’ve done with the place. It’s stunning.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, “it stunned me, too, the first time I saw it.”

“It’s temporary, of course,” Lyla said. “My daughter has met with difficult times of late caused by that scheming husband of hers. But of course you know that. He also caused you some problems.”

“That embezzling thing? Haven’t given it another thought. If it got Warren out of the picture”—he turned and gave Darcy a suggestive smile—“it was worth it.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “You are
so
full of crap.”

“Darcy Elaine Dumphries!
What
did you say?”

“Trust me, Mom. He’s probably got a battalion of private investigators looking for Warren and that three hundred grand.” She turned to Jeremy. “Why are you here? Really?”

“I brought you a housewarming gift.”

He set the basket down on the bar between the kitchen and the living room.

“Did you hear that, Darcy? A gift! How nice!”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Nice.”

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” her mother said.

Letting out a sigh, Darcy pulled the bow loose until the cellophane fell away. That was all it took for her mother to dive right in. She pulled out a small tin.

“Beluga caviar! That’s the expensive kind, isn’t it?”

“Outrageously so,” Jeremy said.

Okay. Now Darcy knew why he was here. He was at it again. A thousand dollars’ worth of Starbucks coffee and now Beluga caviar. She’d had it only once before, and it had been exquisite. At a hundred and fifty dollars an ounce, it better have been.

Lyla extracted a silver box from the basket. “Oh, my
God.
Waterford wineglasses?”

Waterford? This from the man with Mountain Dew in his limo fridge?

“Tell the truth,” Darcy said to Jeremy. “There’s no Waterford around your house, is there? I’m thinking . . . Tupperware?”

“God, no,” Jeremy said.

“
God,
no!” Lyla echoed.

“I just bring home those big plastic cups every time I go to a Cowboy’s game.”

Lyla stared at him blankly for a moment before she figured out that he was joking. Or maybe he wasn’t. With this guy, it was hard to say. Finally she giggled nervously before turning a scolding glare to Darcy. “You’re lucky Mr. Bridges has a sense of humor. I wouldn’t blame him if he took back his generous gifts.”

She fished through the basket some more. “Ohmygod! Darcy! Godiva chocolate!”

“It’s only four pounds,” Jeremy said. “I’m afraid that’s the biggest box they make.”

Darcy thought about how she always went for the dark chocolate ganache first and how the flavor made her taste buds quiver with joy. But she wasn’t going to give Jeremy the satisfaction of going gaga over it. She’d wait until he was long gone before eating the majority of it in one sitting.

“Oooh! Perfume!” her mother said.

Darcy looked at the box. It couldn’t be. Clive Christian No. 1?

The last time she was in Nordstrom, she’d looked longingly at the lead crystal bottle trimmed with gold-plated sterling, knowing full well Warren would have heart failure if she bought two-thousand-dollar-an-ounce perfume. And for the cost of one ounce of that perfume, she could pay her rent for months. Why was Bridges doing this to her?

Lyla pulled out another box. “Dog biscuits?”

“They’re from the Pampered Pet,” Jeremy said. “Treats for the discerning dog.”

“How did you know I had a—” Darcy sighed. “Oh, never mind.”

Jeremy opened the box, pulled out a mini dog biscuit, and called Pepé over. He wolfed it down, then looked up at Jeremy with total adoration.

“Look at that,” Jeremy said. “Your dog has good taste.”

“Uh-huh. Pepé’s a real connoisseur. He also eats rubber bands and carpet fuzz.”

“And one last thing,” Jeremy said, reaching into the basket and pulling out an envelope. He handed it to Darcy.

“What’s this?”

“A gift certificate for a consultation with Hiro Kasamotsu, feng shui master to the stars.”

“Huh?”

“Just say the word, and I’ll have him on a plane from Los Angeles to Dallas. First class, of course. No butt-to-butt coach seat or Motel 6 for Master Kasamotsu.”

Darcy looked at him dumbly. “You’re kidding, right?”

Jeremy grinned. “I knew you’d be surprised.”

“A
what
master?” Lyla asked.

“Feng shui is an ancient art,” Jeremy explained. “Supposedly if you get all your furniture and mirrors and plants in the proper place in your house, it brings good fortune.” He leaned toward Lyla and spoke confidentially. “From what I’m told, all the big celebrities have their houses feng shuied.”

“Ohh!” Lyla said, even though she didn’t have a clue what Jeremy was talking about. The only master her mother was familiar with was Thigh Master. She wouldn’t know a thing about feng shui until they started selling how-to videos on the Home Shopping Network.

“Feng shui?” Darcy said. “In this place? Are you out of your mind?”

“What?” Jeremy said. “You don’t want your new home filled with harmony and prosperity?”

“Forget the harmony. Let’s talk prosperity. How about some cold, hard cash? That I could use.”

Jeremy smiled. “Who was it who said, ‘Take care of the luxuries, and the necessities will take care of themselves’?”

“A woman who wasn’t dead flat broke.
That’s
who.”

“Darcy!” Lyla snapped, then turned back to Jeremy. “I hope you’ll overlook my daughter’s surly attitude. She’s been under a lot of pressure lately.” She gave him a simpering smile. “The gifts are just lovely.”

“Thank you, Lyla.”

“Well,” Lyla said, looking back and forth between them. “I suppose I should be going.” She held her hand out to Jeremy again. “It was so nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Lyla. I hope we see each other again sometime soon.”

Her mother smiled coquettishly, then turned her back to Jeremy and gave Darcy an evil eye that could have withered a redwood tree, mouthing the words
Behave yourself.

Darcy could already hear her mother at the next potluck. She would be telling everyone that her daughter was seeing
the owner of several big corporations
who lived in a
five-million-dollar mansion
and owned
an island off the coast of Belize
and had a
bodyguard
because he was such an
important man.

Yeah, that sounded pretty good. But when all Darcy got out of the deal was the opportunity to smell good while her hips expanded from eating fish eggs and chocolate in a harmonious environment, what difference did it make?

After her mother left the apartment, Darcy went back to the basket and stuffed all the items back inside it.

“Call me paranoid,” Jeremy said, “but I’m getting the impression you don’t like my gifts.”

“Yeah? What was your first clue?”

“I sure did impress your mother.”

“That’s because my mother is easily impressed.”

“I give you all these
lovely
housewarming gifts, and this is the thanks I get? I do believe you’ve hurt my feelings.”

“Come on, Bridges. You don’t have any feelings to hurt. All this is just ridiculous, and you know it.”

“Ridiculous, huh? Tell me, Darcy. Would it have been so ridiculous a few weeks ago coming from your husband?” He inched closer. “Tell me that if you hadn’t lost everything, somewhere along the line you wouldn’t have had some weird Asian guy flitting through your house, moving furniture around and creating a water garden in the middle of your living room.”

Darcy opened her mouth to object, only to close it again. Yes, she probably would have. But now that her life had turned upside down, spending money for things like that seemed kind of . . . silly.

“I just thought a woman who’s used to the finer things in life would jump at the chance to have a few of them again,” Jeremy said.

“What I’d be happy to have right now is food on the table, gas in my car, and rent in my landlord’s pocket.”

“You’re talking about maintenance.”

“You bet I am.”

“Gifts are free.” He inched closer. “Maintenance has . . . strings.”

As he said the words, his eyes seemed to darken with sexual suggestiveness, and suddenly the overgrown kid looked very much like the man he was.

Darcy looked away. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, Darcy. You’re a lot of things, but clueless isn’t one of them.”

She faced him. “What do you really want from me?”

“Why, sex, of course.”

“You give me useless gifts like these and then expect me to sleep with you?”

“So you’re saying you have a price, but I just haven’t found it yet?”

“I’m not interested.”

“Sure you are.” He opened the Waterford box and extracted one of the wineglasses. He held it up, the light playing through the cut crystal. He traced his finger slowly around the rim. “Did you know if you wet your finger, then run it around the rim of a crystal glass, it sings?”

Yes, she did. When she and Warren first got married and he’d shown her that, she remembered thinking,
When you’re rich, the glasses sing. Imagine that
.