Hot Wheels and High Heels (23 page)

“So,” he said, eyeing the gift basket on the bar. “I take it Rich Boy is hitting on you?”

“It’s just a housewarming present.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You met him for two minutes.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t like him.”

“That’s because you’re not a woman.”

“Why would you want a guy like him?”

“Gee, John, I don’t know. Maybe because he’s worth
millions?
”

“That money thing again. You really do need to get over your fascination with the color green.” He glanced at the basket again. “So, what’s in there, anyway?”

Darcy shrugged. “Just a few luxuries. Chocolate. Caviar. That kind of thing.”

“It’s like I told you before. Expensive gifts mean that someday he’s going to expect something in return.”

“You bought me half the clothes at Amaryllis. What’s the difference?”

“I didn’t give you those clothes because I wanted to sleep with you. I gave you those clothes because I acted like an ass.”

Darcy sat back with surprise. “Did you actually say that out loud?”

“What?”

“That you acted like an ass.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But you just said—”

“I think you’re hearing things. Better have that checked out.” He grabbed three pieces of pizza and put them on his plate. Darcy just stared at him.

“So are you going to eat or what?” John asked.

Darcy took a piece of pizza, smiling to herself. She had a feeling that witnessing an admission of asslike behavior from John was like seeing a falling star. It happened only once a blue moon, and if she blinked, she’d miss it. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t tuck the memory away to savor for some time to come.

As John dug in to his pizza, Darcy picked the pepperoni slices off hers and pushed them aside.

“What are you doing?” John asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Now you have cheese pizza.”

“You didn’t bother to ask me what I liked. You just showed up with a pizza.”

“Who on earth doesn’t like pepperoni pizza?”

“See, there you go. You naturally assume everyone shares your point of view about everything. Probably just about
nobody
does, but you’re so bullheaded that you won’t listen to see if they do or not. So you just go on thinking you’re right about everything.”

“Just because other people don’t share my point of view doesn’t mean it’s not the right one.”

“How would you know if they share it or not if you never listen to what anyone else has to say?”

“You’re exaggerating.”

“Not according to Amy.”

“Oh, yeah? What evil things has my sister been saying about me?”

“Actually, I was the one saying evil things. You might have told me she was your sister before I told her how crabby and dictatorial I thought you were.”

John had the nerve to smile at that.

“But it ended up being okay,” Darcy said. “She agreed with me.”

“That figures.”

John chomped into a slice of pizza, consuming half of it in one bite. At that rate, she figured he’d have eaten half the pizza before she’d even nibbled on one piece.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“No. I’m an only child.”

“Why did your parents stop with one kid?”

Darcy laughed. “Are you kidding? My parents didn’t even want
me
.”

“What?”

“I was born seven months after they got married. My mother always told me that if she hadn’t gotten pregnant and had me, she would have been a movie star or a socialite or something equally important. So instead she tried to drive me down that path. Did you know I was once a runner-up for Miss Texas?”

“Oh, yeah? Almost went to the big one, huh?”

“My mother had me in pageants from the time I was four. Dressed me up in silly costumes. I could do a baton routine before I was six years old. By the time I was eight, the batons were on fire. That impressed the hell out of the judges. I never made Miss America, but I did do my mother proud and marry a rich man.” She sighed. “And look what happened with that.”

“We don’t always get what we want. Sometimes we just have to play the hands we’re dealt.”

“So what did you want that you didn’t get?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. John seemed like the kind of man who went out and took whatever he wanted and didn’t let anything get in his way.

“I got what I wanted,” he said. “And then I lost it.”

“What?”

“All I ever wanted to be was a cop.”

“So why did you quit?”

Darkness settled over his face. “Blew out my knee.”

“On the job? What happened?”

“I’d love to say I was chasing down a murder suspect and was shot as I was taking him out. At least then I’d have a good story to tell. But no. I was playing softball three years ago. I slid into home, caught my cleat in the dirt, twisted my knee, and that was that.”

“The limp is barely noticeable.”

“Doesn’t matter. It slows me down. When you can’t pass the physical, you can’t be a cop.”

“So you miss it a lot.”

“Every day of my life.”

“And stealing cars is the next best thing?”

“There is no next best thing.”

Darcy heard a note of wistfulness in his voice. How hard must it have been for him to watch the only profession he’d ever wanted go by the wayside in a freak accident?

“My family thought I ought to open a Subway franchise,” he said.

Darcy laughed. “You? Making sandwiches?”

“Supposedly it can be pretty profitable.”

“Well, then. By all means consider it.”

“Some days I actually do. The repo business can get a little ugly sometimes. Then I think about being trapped behind that counter for the rest of my life . . .” He sighed. “Just can’t see it.”

Darcy couldn’t see it, either.

“Your mother wanted you to be Miss America,” he said. “What did you want?”

She shrugged. “I didn’t have any big dreams.”

“Oh, come on. Everybody does.”

Darcy thought about it for a minute. “I did have something when I was a kid. But it sounds silly now.”

“What?”

“I watched the Olympics when I was nine years old. I never missed one second of the ice-skating competition. I wanted to be Dorothy Hamill.”

“Oh, yeah? Did you take skating lessons?”

“God, no. My mother wouldn’t let me within ten feet of a pair of ice skates. What if I fell and bruised my knee? Broke my arm? Cut myself? How would I ever cover that up in my baton twirling outfit?”

“Ah.”

“I wanted Dorothy’s haircut, too, but of course I couldn’t have that, either. ‘The judges like long hair,’ she kept telling me, and that was that. She always thought that would be my meal ticket. Making it to Miss America. I’m afraid if my fortunes don’t turn around pretty soon, she’s going to have me dusting off my twirling routines and running for
Mrs
. America.”

“Except you’re not a Mrs. anymore.”

“I am until I can get a divorce. My mother’s going to have to work fast.”

Darcy heard the jingle of dog tags and turned to see Pepé peering around the doorway.

“Well, look at that,” John said. “It’s Micro Mutt.”

At the sound of John’s voice, Pepé crouched down, making himself even smaller than he already was. John grabbed a pepperoni from Darcy’s plate and leaned over, holding it out.

“Hey, you want a pepperoni? Looks like we’re going to have plenty.”

Pepé considered it, only to have fear overcome his usual food curiosity. He scurried back into the entry hall, looking up at John like Fay Wray staring up at King Kong.

“So he won’t eat pepperoni either?” John said. “What’s wrong with you two?”

“You just scared him earlier.”

“I did?”

“With the drill. He’s not crazy about loud noises. Warren used to yell at him.”

“Why?”

“Because he got underfoot. Because he shed. Because he peed on the rug. But he only peed on the rug because Warren yelled at him. Once that cycle got going, it was tough to break.”

“Your husband sounds like a real jerk.”

Darcy almost disagreed with John out of sheer habit, but how could she argue with that?

A few minutes later, they finished the pizza. As Darcy rose from the table and grabbed their plates, John crushed the empty pizza box, twisting and smashing it until it wasn’t much bigger than a softball, then tossed it into the trash can. She had no doubt he could tear a telephone book in half and never break a sweat.

“It’s getting late,” John said. “I should go. But I want you to be careful around this place. Night and day. Watch going to your car. And don’t leave anything lying around outside your apartment, or it’ll be gone.”

“Aren’t you being a little paranoid?”

“I was a cop, remember? I know what I’m talking about. When I was in patrol, we once broke up a meth lab in one of these apartments.”

Darcy decided this probably wasn’t the time to tell him a new generation of that particular brand of entrepreneur just might be living next door.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I have a watchdog.”

“Uh-huh. One who runs from power drills and pepperoni. Have you considered getting a real dog? A big one with teeth and a bad attitude?”

“Hey! Pepé’s got attitude! He once bit the mailman’s ankle.”

“Did he draw blood?”

“No, but he did snag the guy’s sock.”

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

“I’ll be fine,” she told him as she stuck the dishes in the dishwasher. “At least Pepé barks. That’s a good thing. And I always carry pepper spray.”

“Forget pepper spray. Tomorrow I’ll bring you a gun.”

“Will you
stop?
”

He held up his hand. “Fine. I’m out of here. Just remember what I’ve told you.”

He went to the counter to pick up his toolbox. As Darcy was leaning over to close the door of the dishwasher so she could follow him out of the kitchen, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She spun around. Something was crawling along the counter.

The biggest, ugliest roach she’d ever seen.

She screamed and backed away, banging her leg on the open dishwasher and almost falling into it. John turned, saw the roach, grabbed a newspaper Darcy had left on the kitchen counter, and smacked the bug. Then he ripped off a paper towel, scooped up the carcass, and deposited it, along with the newspaper, in the trash.

As John was wiping the counter, then washing his hands, Darcy just stood there with her hand at her throat, frozen with revulsion. She’d seen genetically enhanced creatures in horror movies that weren’t that hideous.

“Are you”—she swallowed hard—“are you sure it’s dead?”

“Yep,” John said. “Flat as a pancake.”

Slowly her eyes drifted closed. “I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“I can’t live here. I know I talk big, like it’s nothing, but I can’t.”

He turned around, drying his hands with a paper towel. “It was just a bug, Darcy.”

“No. It’s everything. This place is horrible. It smells funny. The neighbors are insane. And those who aren’t insane are probably criminals.” Tears came to her eyes. She tried to fight it, but she couldn’t. “There are holes in the wall. The plumbing hasn’t backed up yet, but you can bet it’s going to. Gross things crawl out of the woodwork.
I can’t do this
.”

“Sure you can.”

“No, I can’t. Even though I’ve got a barking dog and pepper spray and you were so sweet to come over here and install that deadbolt . . .” She let out a shaky sigh. “Maybe I should go back and live with my parents.”

He took her by the shoulders. “No. You’re staying right here.”

“But you said it yourself. This is a hellhole.”

“And you said something, too. It’s
your
hellhole. And that means a lot.”

Something was wrong here. John was supposed to be saying things like, “
If you see another bug, just whack the damned thing. You’re bigger than it is
,” and “
Hey, you were the one who wanted move into a place like this, so don’t bitch
.”

Instead, he eased closer and rubbed his hands along her upper arms. “I know you didn’t ask for this. But you can do it. I know you can.”

She wasn’t convinced of that, but whenever John declared anything, it always sounded like something you could take to the bank. His grip softened until it was more like a caress, those big, strong hands surprisingly gentle. But the gentler he became, the more awkward she felt. Being with John when he was tough and authoritative was one thing. Being with him when he was like this was something else entirely.

“You’re a complicated woman, Darcy,” he murmured. “Sometimes I have a hard time keeping up.”

She had no idea what he meant by that. She couldn’t imagine John having a hard time keeping up with anything, and she’d never thought of herself as complicated. On the outside, maybe. It took a lot of intricate rituals to keep herself looking good. But she’d never stopped to think much about what was on the inside.

“Complicated?” she said.

“Bridges expected you to go with him tonight, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Actually, the answer to that wasn’t complicated at all, and thinking about it made her feel warm all over again. Jeremy had brought her what she wanted.

John had brought her what she needed.

“Because I love pizza, of course,” she said. “But just for the record, if I’d known it was pepperoni, I’d have opted for the limo.”

To her surprise, his mouth softened into a warm smile. “Then it’s a good thing I didn’t open the box before he left, isn’t it?”

It was the first time she’d seen a smile on his face that wasn’t accompanying a sarcastic remark. As sexy as his rugged, tough-as-nails demeanor could be, that smile catapulted his already-handsome face into an entirely new realm.

“You don’t do that very often,” she said.

“What?”

“Smile.”

“I have to do it sparingly,” he said. “I have a reputation to protect, you know.”

A long silence stretched between them, but their eyes were locked together in some kind of mutual expectation that gave Darcy goose bumps.

“Did I hear you correctly earlier?” he murmured.