Not likely.
Her car door handle stuck; she used her shoulder to open it and stepped out into the darkening evening, which had turned chilly. The Kia’s door contributed a loud thunk to the silent neighborhood when she closed it. Wild Tuesday night in Whitefish Bay, huh.
So.
Darcy stood staring at the house opposite. All she had to do was cross the street, walk up to the front door and ring the bell. So simple, even a child could do it. Why did it feel as if she needed a Ph.D. to manage? She should be excited, hot with anticipation for a night between the sheets with a sexy older man.
There was some of that, yes. But also an odd resistance. Nerves? Instinct?
Troy.
No. She crossed the street in exasperation, heels chock-chocking across the asphalt. She’d had her usual day off today, and had taken care with bathing and dressing, wearing a dark, flowery skirt with shades of red and blue and a clingy low-cut top in the same burnt-red color she’d painted her lips.
Troy was ancient history. A memory, even though it, yes, was a powerful one. It drove her crazy that she could barely remember Quinn’s face, while Troy’s features still haunted her with startling clarity. In weak moments she thought she should get his address from Justin, re-establish contact and see what this was about. In stronger moments she laughed at herself for even considering it. Reliably, like a Swiss watch, she was drawn to men who appointed themselves number one and couldn’t be bothered to adjust their schedules or priorities or emotions for her sake. What made her think Troy would be any different? Just because she was hornier for him than any guy she’d met in a long time?
No. She was here, she was going to be with Quinn. They’d have a great evening, which would effectively erase any and all temptation to get herself involved with another guy who’d end up only appreciating that she cared for him because he cared so deeply for himself, too.
Up the front walk, the house loomed larger, almost spooky in its silence. Up the front steps, one, two, three, hand toward the doorbell and…
Darcy closed her eyes. She couldn’t do this. Whether it was fear or solid instinct or what, resistance hit her like a meteor.
She turned and reached the first step toward retreat. The door swung open behind her.
Ugh! Busted. Quinn must have heard her. Fight or flight kicked in. She wanted flight, to sprint back to her car and pull out in a screech of tires away from her terrible mistake coming here, back home to solitude and safety.
“Darcy.”
She stiffened. Whirled around.
Troy. Tall and killer handsome in the warm glow from the front light. Her fight or flight instinct tripled, but this time she chose fight.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here.”
Darcy gaped. She’d gotten the wrong house? But she was sure the number matched what Quinn wrote down for her the night before at Roots. His handwriting had been clear and masculine, nothing scrawled or easy to mistake.
“I’m sorry. I was looking for—”
“Quinn.” He stood solidly, feet planted slightly apart, hands on his hips, very much the immovable object. And an irresistible force, all in one dreamy, dark-eyed package.
Damn it. She was confused, horrified, pleased and hot for him, all at once, and it was confusing the heck out of her.
“How did you know I was looking for Quinn?”
“Sorry to say you’ve been punked, Darcy.”
“Punked.” She was still gaping, trying to figure out what the hell was happening while her brain was noticing all the sexy and oddly endearing things about him. Like the—
Wait, Darcy?
“How do you know my name is—” The obvious details clicked; she fisted her hands. “I am going to kill Marie.”
“Marie, Quinn, me, we were all in on it. Triple homicide is a pretty bad deal.” He gestured to the open door behind him. “Maybe you’d rather come in?”
“For what?” She was angry, tempted, repulsed, furious, excited, outraged, thrilled…and therefore going to be exhausted when all this was straightened out. At which point Marie would be lying lifeless, having just been fatally shrieked at.
Troy folded his arms across his beautiful chest and looked at her intently, which made her even more breathless and shaky than she already was. “Whatever would make you feel comfortable.”