of her champagne flute, and went with impulse. 'But it seems wise for me to engage an agent to discuss the matter with you if I decide it interests me. To be frank, Trevor, I don't know as I want to make a living singing, but I'll listen to your offer.'
He should have left it at that. Every business instinct ordered him to simply nod and move on to some other topic. But he leaned forward. 'I'll make you rich.'
'That's a particular ambition of mine.' She scooped up more dessert, offered it to him. 'And it may be, in the end, that I'll let you help me achieve it.'
He took her wrist. 'You'll have everything you've ever wanted. A hell of a lot more than you've ever dreamed of.' And felt her pulse scramble.
'Christ, you know how to make the mouth water. But I'm not one to leap without looking.'
Relaxed again, he nodded. 'No, you're not. I like that about you. I like damn near everything about you.'
'Are you speaking to a potential client, or to your lover?'
He cupped the back of her neck and brought his mouth to hers, lingering long enough to make a few heads turn. 'Clear enough?'
'I'd say that was crystal. Why don't you take me back and make love with me until neither of us can think about anything at all?'
'Why don't I?' he agreed, and signaled for the check.
In the morning he rose while she was sleeping. He wanted to clear away the rest of his business as quickly as possible and spend the remainder of the day with her.
Shopping, he thought as he dressed. She'd enjoy that. He'd turn her loose in one of the boutiques and buy her whatever caught her fancy. Take her to tea at the Ritz, then seduce her into a private dinner at home.
If it made him a little uncomfortable, even a little ashamed to realize that he was showing off, trying to dazzle her with what he had at his disposal, he'd just have to live with it.
Damn it, he wanted another day with her. Two. A week. Somewhere they could be alone, without any distractions, any interruptions, any thought of business.
They'd burn each other out, he supposed, but Jesus, it would be a hell of a ride before they crashed.
On a whim, he pulled one of the white roses from the vase, scribbled a quick note and laid it on the pillow beside her. Then he found himself sitting on the side of the bed watching her. That perfect face, serene in sleep. All that glorious hair tumbled from his own hand in the night. The bracelet he'd given her flashed and blinked on her wrist, and he knew she wore nothing else.
But his blood didn't leap with lust. Rather it ran warm. Affection, he told himself. It was just affection, running alongside the desire he felt for her. He hadn't been glib when he'd told her he liked almost everything about her. She was a woman who attracted, entertained, challenged, annoyed, and amused. He understood her materialistic streak and didn't blame her for it.
But for a moment, just one foolish moment, he wished they'd met and clicked just as they had without her knowing the generosity of his bank balance.
She'd told him her mind right at the beginning. She wanted money, she wanted luxury. And she was willing to slide into a union with the right man, as long as he was willing and able to provide them.
He didn't intend to be taken for his money. Not now, not ever. Even if he was willing to use it to entertain them both in the short-term.
Shrugging that off, he leaned over to brush a kiss across her cheek, then left her sleeping.
She didn't stir for more than an hour after he'd gone, then rolled over lazily. The first thing she saw when she blinked her eyes open was the rose.
It made her smile, and it made her yearn. She reached for it, stroking its petals as she sat up and read his note.
I'll be done by two, and pick you up. I'm hoping you'll put yourself in my hands for the rest of the afternoon. Trev.
She'd certainly put herself in his hands the night before, she thought now and contentedly settled back against the pillows. What a lovely, lovely way to wake, she mused and stroked the rosebud against her cheek. She considered wandering down for breakfast, or being completely indulgent and ordering it up so she could have it in bed like royalty.
The second picture had such appeal that she reached for the phone. When it rang, she jerked back, then laughed at herself.
She didn't think she was supposed to answer it, so she climbed out of bed for her robe. The knock on her door came as she was belting it.
'Yes, come in.'
'Excuse me, Miss Gallagher, but Mr. Magee's on the telephone and would like to speak with you.'
'Of course, thank you.' Darcy picked up the rose again and feeling blissfully romantic and lazy, lifted the receiver. 'Trevor, hello. I've just read your note, and I'd be happy to put myself in your hands.'
'I'm on my way back now.'
'This minute? It's a while till two.'
'Darcy, I have to get back to Ardmore right away. Mick O'Toole's been injured on the job.'
'Injured?' She leaped to her feet. 'How? Is he all right? What happened?'
'He took a fall. He's in the hospital. I just heard and I don't have all the details.'
'I'll be ready to go when you get here. Hurry.'
She hung up without another word, dragged out her suitcase, and began throwing clothes inside.
The trip back seemed hideously long. Darcy alternated between praying and listening to Trevor as he gathered more details about the accident.
'He was up on the scaffolding,' Trevor told her. 'One of the crew tripped, as far as we can tell, and Mick was knocked off or slipped off. He was unconscious when the ambulance came for him.'
'But alive.' Her knuckles went white as she locked her hands together.
'Yes, Darcy.' He took her hands, soothing them apart. 'They think concussion and a broken arm. They'll have to check for internal injuries.'
'Internal injuries.' Her stomach rolled, then went to slippery knots. 'That always sounds so dire, so mysterious.' When her voice broke, she shook her head. 'No, I'm not going to fall apart on you. Don't worry.'
'I didn't realize you were so close.'
'He's like family.' Tears rushed into her eyes and were viciously willed away. 'The closest thing to my own father. Brenna- all of them, they must be frantic. I should be there.'
'You will be.'
'I want to go straight to the hospital. Can you arrange for a car to take me there?'
'We'll both go straight there.'
'Oh, I thought you'd need to go to the job. All right.' She pressed her fingers to her eyes, took several breaths. 'I'm scared. I'm so awfully scared.'
He put his arm around her and held her until they landed.
And he watched her gather herself, steady herself on the drive from the airport. Her eyes were dry and calm, her hands quiet in her lap. By the time they arrived and walked down the corridor where they were directed, she was completely composed.
'Mrs. O'Toole.'
Mollie looked over, rose from where she sat with all five of her daughters. 'Oh, Darcy, there you are-and had to cut your lovely trip short.'
'Tell me how he is, won't you?' She took Mollie's hands, held fast and tried not to think that both Maureen and Mary Kate were crying.
'Well, now, he took a bump. They're doing some tests on his head and so forth. You know the man has a mighty strong head, so we're not going to worry about that.'
'Of course not.' She gave Mollie's chilled hands a squeeze. 'Why don't I see about getting us all some fresh tea? You just sit down now, darling, while I organize that for you. Brenna, why don't you give me a hand with it and we'll get us all a nice hot cup.'
'Bless you, Darcy, that would be a godsend. Mr. Magee.' Mollie worked up a tremulous smile. 'It's so kind of you to be here.'
