Hot to the Touch

And once again, from the depth of her wounded, beaten and still-naive soul came hope that somehow with this man she’d find the love she’d craved her entire life.

7

TROY CAME BACK INTO THE LIVING room, having disposed of the condom, to find Darcy dressed and looking ready to leave.

No. She was not leaving. Not after this miracle of finding her again.

“Got what you came for?”

Her face fell. “I should go.”

He came to a stop a few feet away, jammed his hands on his hips to keep from reaching for her. Touching her was like a drug he craved. She fit his hands. Her breasts, her gorgeous ass, her firm belly, all of her enticed him, called to him. Around her he was completely depraved. “Why?”

“Because…” Her expression became slightly panicked.

“Because if you stay, you might enjoy yourself? And that would be horrible, to have a good time with me, because then you might want to see me again and that would be the worst thing that happened since the black plague?”

She laughed in surprise; he had to cement his hands harder. When she laughed the tension fled from her face and body and she came irresistibly alive. “Maybe not that bad.”

Dylan approached, wagging his tail, sniffing curiously at Darcy’s knees. Troy had a brainstorm.

“Tell you what. I have to walk Dylan. Come with me. Fifteen minutes, half an hour tops. I think even you can handle that level of commitment.”

Her smile faded, but she didn’t look as defensive. “I guess I can.”

Good dog, Dylan. He made sure his face didn’t show triumph. “Let’s go.”

They took Troy’s usual route, out onto his street, toward the lake, then north for a short time on Lake Drive, which wound along Lake Michigan’s shore, dotted with some of the city’s most spectacular homes, then another left. If everything went well, he planned to extend the walk considerably, maybe tempt her successfully into spending the night.

“Nice to live near the lake.”

“It is.” He’d taken the lead from her, providing small talk, hoping to be able to sense the moment when he could take the conversation in a more personal direction. There wasn’t much he didn’t want to know about her, but he knew enough already to understand that if he pushed too hard, Darcy would clam up like a…clam. “Did you grow up in the city?”

“Waukesha. We lived on both floors of a duplex.”

“We…”

“Mom, Dad, my younger sister and me.”

“They still around here?” He paused to let Dylan sniff a particularly inviting spot off the sidewalk, and to add his territory mark if it turned out to be necessary from a dog perspective.

“They are.” She spoke grimly. “Brit lives in Glendale. Married with kids. My parents are still in Waukesha. Not married.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. They split the day after Brit graduated high school. They should have done it years sooner.”

“Not happy together.” Stating the obvious, but he wanted her to keep talking.

“Not happy. Dad’s an alcoholic, Mom’s an enabler. He’d throw fits, she’d respond with passive aggressive crap until she finally blew and threw something at him.”

“Great relationship role model for little girls.”

“I’m sure it’s why I’ve done so well.” She snorted. Their fingers bumped. He stuffed his into his pocket to avoid taking her hand.

“We look for what we know.”

“I know not to look.” She sent him a glance he couldn’t decipher. “What about your family?”

“We lived one of those perfect-family lives that wasn’t so perfect. Dad was not a drinker, but he was something of a dictator. I spent a lot of time trying to protect my mother and younger brother, which wasn’t my place.”

“I did that, too.” Something in her tone made him turn to look at her. She was watching him almost eagerly, and he had to battle again the need to touch her, kiss her, make her his for the rest of time. The least successful way to keep a woman like Darcy was to try to. “I also felt it was my duty to protect my mother and my sister from Dad’s temper and his irrational need to control. It doesn’t work.”