Page 64 of A Certain Appeal
He swipes his phone from the table, pausing only to yank hisjacket from the back of his chair. Then he shoulders through the crowd I didn’t realize has packed the bar. The eyes of other patrons weigh on me as I watch him go, the back of his head visible over a flock of women at the door before it disappears for good. I grip the table.
It’s over.
CHAPTER
18
I settle against the wall in the stairwell, just below the top step. Ming’s doing her red number, the same arrangement she wore the first time Charles and Darcy came by. God willing, she won’t kill anyone with that damn shimmy belt.
Barely half my attention is on the performance. I’ve been distracted all day. I haven’t told Jane what happened yesterday. What’s the point? If Darcy was able to persuade Charles that Jane wasn’t interested, how invested could Charles have been?
As much as I know I should be fixating on Darcy’s interference, I keep going back to our final moments together. The heat and intensity of those last few seconds still make me light-headed.
No matter how badly I want her.
I shake it off, taking a second to scan the room. It’s a full house. The crowd has a good energy, though I pray the two rowdy bacheloretteparties are prepared to call it after this, because holy hell are they shattered.
Even the bar—
My blood flashes cold, then hot.
Darcy?
He’s leaning to talk to Michael, who hands him a drink in a rocks glass. Darcy tosses back most of the contents in one go. For a moment, he looks into the glass, his shoulders going slack, then raises it to his lips to finish it off as he turns to face the dining room. Our eyes meet and I stare at him, mouth agape. What in the actual fuck is he doing here?
He freezes, the glass still at his lips, and it sends a hot wave of annoyance across my shoulders. Youdon’t get to be surprised. You came tomyplace of work.
Slowly, he lowers the glass, placing it on the bar without taking his eyes off me, and starts my way.
I shake my head, ignoring the thundering in my rib cage and the sudden rush of blood to southern territories. Damn stupid hormones. I’m already fueled by burning hatred—no need for burning loins. Darcy stops at the edge of the dining room. He looks at the stage, like he’s trying to determine if he can walk over without interrupting Ming.Don’t you dare—
Beside me, a light flares. A guy in his midforties wearing a suit and tie makes his way up the stairs. His eyes are on his phone, the glowing screen illuminating his face as he rubs incriminatingly under his nose. He doesn’t notice me until he’s two steps below me.
I hold up a hand and confirm Ming’s progress. She’s at the bra reveal, and it’d be better if this guy wasn’t milling through the crowd when she gets down to her tassels. I conjure an apologetic smile. “One sec. Ming’s wrapping up and then you can take your seat.”
Mr. Nose Candy gauges my authority with a quick, bleary-eyed scan but doesn’t come any closer. Instead, he rests his back against the wall, tucking his phone into his pocket to watch Ming through the fine bars of the guardrail. I smile my thanks, then nod at Ginn and Tonic, who file up the stairs below him. I raise a finger to indicate the wait time, and they give me a thumbs-up, the casual gesture at odds with their dramatic ensembles.
Ming lets out a whoop and the red sequined bra goes flying, arcing toward the band. As I monitor the trajectory, my thoughts drift to Darcy. I cross my arms as tightly as the boning in my corset can allow and fight the urge to look at him, though his location is branded into my awareness. Yesterday’s parting shots should have been more than sufficient. This bridge has been burned from both ends. What could he want?
When I flit my eyes in his direction, he’s looking at something in his hand. I watch him for a second, observing the furrow to his brow, the high planes of his cheekbones—damn it! I veer back to Ming, who spins her tassels with glee. Why does he have to be so appealing? Why can’t his outsides match his insides?
The guy on the stair says something I can’t quite make out, and I lean closer.
“What was that?” I ask, eyes still on Ming.
“I said it should be you up there. You have the better body.” His voice is slick with amusement; he seems to think this is very clever.Gross.
I don’t even look at him. “Alas, this is as much of me as you’ll be seeing this evening.”
“You sure about that?”
Oh, for Christ’s sake.I peer at the guy, who’s still wiping his nose.His forehead glistens with sweat. “In your case? It’s apromise.” I shift one step higher on the stairs to give myself some space, then return my resentment to Darcy. I glance his way again, prepared to glare if his attention is directed at me, but when I find him, he’s looking past me. His eyebrows are low, and he’s craning his neck as if to see—
Hot fingertips slide up the outside of my thigh.
I start and cut my eyes at the fellow below me on the stair. He watches me, smile defiant as he moves his fingers higher on my leg.
“I like your tights.” His voice is thick and throaty. “Such an interesting texture.”
