“I’ve learned the hard way to be cynical.”
Darcy tilted her head to one side. “How did that happen?”
One eyebrow rose at that question. “Again, not very enterprising of you, my dear. Don’t you memorize the social registry and Forbes Top One Hundred list as soon as it comes out each year?”
She laughed. “Goodness, no. What a tedious activity. I’m guessing you’re on the lists, but what does it do for you?” she asked.
“It’s a royal pain in the ass,” he said without thinking, then regretted it when her laughter floated across the darkness.
“Why is that?” she asked gently. “Too many women trying to get into your bed?”
“That’s never a problem,” he countered.
Her smile faded and her eyes softened. “Except you never know if a woman is after you or your money, is that it?”
He didn’t deign to answer that question, preferring to ignore anything that didn’t fit with her image. And her perceptive comment was a bit too close to the mark. “You had trouble this morning learning to windsurf. You need lessons.”
Darcy knew that the moment had passed but felt bad that this man was so angry about the women chasing him. It should have been a proud moment when he realized that he’d succeeded to the point where women were pursuing him, but she knew from experience that people rarely looked below the surface to see what truly made a person who they are. Most people preferred the superficial. It was easier to swallow if everyone was placed in their appropriate box.
“I had a great deal of trouble using that ridiculous contraption, thank you very much,” she replied with a great deal of amusement over her foibles. “I’d rather not humiliate myself by trying that again.”
“Lessons will help. You just need a few pointers,” he said and set his glass down on the table. Picking up his fork, he tried to ignore the warmth seeping into his body at her smile and laughter. She was a toy, an amusement, he told himself. Nothing more and if he started to believe there was more to her than was there, it was only going to serve him as yet another lesson in not dreaming.
“What else did you do?” he asked, stabbing a piece of the fish with his fork.
“I took a nap, which is why one side of my face is red. I also read a fabulous book, which I never would have suspected would be in your personal library, but I’m glad it was because I’m enjoying it immensely.”
“What book is that?” he asked, trying to remember which guests might have left a romance or mystery here on the island. He seldom had visitors, preferring to keep this island more of a secret, but there had been a few over the years. Or maybe one of the servants had put it there from their own collections.
She named the book and his fork stopped midway to his mouth. “You’re reading that?” he asked, his eyes sharp. The title was one that he’d picked up over a year ago at the recommendation of a friend. It definitely wasn’t of the romance or mystery genre though. “It’s a bunch of emotional tripe!” he challenged.
That got her hackles up. “Maybe for someone who thinks of emotions as a triviality. But for those of us who acknowledge that life is hard and challenging, reading about how one person goes through the same issues and overcomes is not only wholesome and good, but also inspiring. Emotional tripe, indeed,” she said with outrage.
He was having none of that and came back with specifics on how the woman in the novel could have avoided most of the hardships she faced if she’d only thought with her head instead of following her heart. Darcy countered point by point, arguing that the character had found more happiness, even if it was short lived, by letting her emotions rule her decisions. By the time Manuel came back to clear their dinner plates and bring in the dessert, they were heatedly arguing back and forth different points in other books where their side of the issue was proven. Darcy didn’t even realize that she’d eaten everything on her plate and was more than halfway through her dessert before he sat back, looking across the table at her admiringly.
Blushing at arguing her point so forcefully, she set her fork down next to her dessert plate, the silence becoming a bit uncomfortable as she wiggled under his intense gaze. “Women are too emotional,” he said as if that finished the argument.
Not willing to let him have the last word, she came back with, “Men refuse to allow emotions into the argument, to their detriment.”
With that, she stood up and cleared her throat. “Thank you for dinner. It was…” she searched for a word that would describe the meal and for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what they’d eaten. She settled on , “stimulating,” finally and took a step back, leaving the patio quietly.
“Darcy,” his deep, masculine voice stopped her as she reached the French doors leading inside. She turned to face him, not able to meet his gaze after their loud arguments of only moments before. “Thank you for a delightful evening,” he said, surprising her. She’d expected him to give her orders for tomorrow, not to compliment her with both the words and his soft, gentle, admiring tone.
She nodded and left the patio, almost running inside to her room, closing the door on her hammering heart as she thought about all of his arguments and how challenged she’d felt sitting there over dinner debating with him.
And how cherished she’d felt when he thanked her for the evening. She’d never felt that way around a man before. Certainly her father had never engendered that feeling. Her brother had tried to protect her as a child, stepping in the way of her father’s slaps or grabbing her out of the way at the last moment. But he’d gone off to college and left her when she was younger so she hadn’t really known him very well. And he’d never made her feel this way.
Certainly no man she’d contracted with for a night had done that. Some were fun, some even witty. But none had made her feel special and intelligent. And tingly.
Chapter 8
Darcy pulled on a pair of black shorts and a black tee shirt, determined to master the art of windsurfing today. She greeted Adele early in the morning and quickly moved to the table to start slicing the fruit for the morning meal. They chatted amiably as they worked and Darcy didn’t even bother asking what was on the menu for the morning. After yesterday, Darcy knew that Adele enjoyed teasing, but in such a manner that Darcy never knew whether she was serious or not.