Peyton followed him. “How can you be so sure? And how do you know they’ll come in twenty minutes?”
Was she oblivious to the matchmakers in Trinity Falls who were trying to push them together? Why did she think Foster had singled her out to take him to the archives? He knew it was against policy to have non-university personnel in the records room alone. However, the vice president could have accompanied Darius himself or asked his administrative assistant to escort him.
Darius sank into a crouch in front of the bookcases. “The people who locked us in here aren’t malicious. They want to give us time alone together. They’d think twenty minutes was long enough.”
Who had convinced Foster to trap him in here with Peyton? Was it Doreen? A better suspect would be Megan McCloud. The owner of Books & Bakery was the girlfriend of one of his childhood friends and a seasoned strategist. She’d shaped six independent, struggling town center enterprises into the Trinity Falls Town Center Business Association, a unified voice for their business community.
Or perhaps the responsible party was Ramona McCloud, Megan’s cousin and mayor of Trinity Falls. Ramona was a meddler as well as the girlfriend of another of Darius’s childhood friends, Dr. Quincy Spates.
Or maybe Quincy was involved. As a former Trinity Falls University professor, he and Foster knew each other well. Besides, the strategy was so lame, it had Quincy’s fingerprints all over it.
“This is absurd.” Peyton blew a disbelieving breath. “You’re talking as though you know who these people are. If that’s true, who are they and why do they want to trap us in here together?”
“They’re trying to make a love connection between us.” Darius plucked from the archive box a folder labeled HONORS PROGRAM, 1981.
Success! It was always fifty-fifty whether he’d find what he was looking for among the decaying files. Triumph made him light-headed . . . or maybe it was the mold.
“A love connection?” Peyton seemed puzzled.
Darius left the box on the ground and stood with the folder. He turned to Peyton. She looked as though she was about to burst into laughter.
“Why is the idea of being set up with me funny?” He stepped around her and crossed to the clerical desk.
“They’re trying to set us up? You and me?”
Darius eyed her over his shoulder. “Obviously, they don’t realize you’re uncomfortable around me.”
“No, I’m not.” Peyton rubbed her arms.
“Are you cold?” Darius plucked his coat from the chair behind the desk and offered it to her.
She lifted her right hand, palm out. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”
Darius stepped forward, settling the garment on her shoulders. “My coat doesn’t bite. Neither do I.”
Peyton was drowning in Darius’s midnight gaze. His lightweight winter coat surrounded her. She drew a deep, steadying breath and inhaled his scent—soap and cedar—clinging to his coat. His eyes searched hers.
Peyton looked away. “Thank you.” Their voices echoed in the room . . . or was that her imagination?
“Don’t mention it.” Darius consulted the blue binder before crossing back to the bookcases to continue his search.
Peyton tracked the newspaper reporter’s progress. He was a pleasure to look at: tall and slim with lean muscles his lightweight, bronze crewneck sweater and navy Dockers couldn’t mask. When he hunkered down again to reach a box on a lower shelf, she swallowed hard, then asked for mercy. She let the silence soothe her for several long minutes.
“According to you, someone should be here in about ten minutes to let us out of this room.” Peyton broke the silence, snuggling deeper into Darius’s coat.
“Give or take.” Darius appeared to have located the box he needed. He tugged it onto the floor and started sifting through its files.
“And you think this rescuer will be the same person who locked us in here in the first place, one of the matchmakers?”
“Probably.” He seemed distracted.
“Don’t you think that sounds just a little paranoid?”
Darius arched a brow. It was one of the sexiest expressions she’d ever seen. “Do you think Megan confuses other customers’ purchases?”
Peyton was a little concerned that her last two hold requests from Books & Bakery had ended up with Darius. And Doreen was always trying to give her his food. Still . . .
“Why would Megan think you need help getting a date? She knows every woman in town is chasing after you.”