“What’s up, Darcy? Can it wait? I’m about to meet a client for lunch,” he said, straightening his tie.
“I got another call from Mr. Finch.”
That stopped Jim in his tracks. “Is he here?” he asked.
“No, he wants me to meet him for lunch.”
Jim slid his arm through the sleeve of his jacket, then straightened the collar before replying. “I guess that’s okay. I would mention this to Michael though. He might not like the idea.”
“That’s a good idea. I’m not sure about this guy,” she said, letting Jim hear her suspicions.
“No, he’s not really playing by the rules. Is there anyone you can take with you?”
Darcy shook her head. “The only people who could go are the tech leads but they’ve been working so many hours, they basically come into the office in jeans and rumpled tee-shirts. They don’t have time to press their clothes lately.”
Jim chuckled at the picture she painted. “You’ve got a dedicated team, but they haven’t given you much to help with for your lunch meeting, huh?”
“Any other ideas?”
“Not really. But definitely let Michael know about today’s meeting.”
Darcy nodded and went back to her office to call Michael. They had been leaving voice mail messages for each other for the past few days, but had so far missed each other. And she missed him. Missed him painfully.
Unfortunately, he was out again but his secretary promised that he would be back in the office by three that afternoon. That was too late to ask his advice on her lunch appointment so she decided to risk it anyway. She left a message, telling Michael what was happening, then grabbed her purse and left, already leaving a few minutes later than she should have.
Darcy arrived at the restaurant only five minutes late but Mr. Finch was not impressed. He was pacing the hostess area and scowled at her as she opened the door. Darcy threw him her biggest smile and stuck out her hand to shake his. “Mr. Finch, I apologize for my tardiness. I had to inform my superiors about this meeting and had a little trouble getting in touch with them.”
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, I should be considered your highest superior if you want to stand a chance at winning this work,” he snapped.
“You’re right,” she said, taken aback by his anger but trying to make the best of the situation. “This is my first effort and I didn’t show you the proper respect. Please let me fix that situation. Can I buy you lunch?”
He seemed slightly appeased. “Well, I should be furious,” he hesitated and looked around to see who was near them, “but you’re a beautiful woman and I’m a reasonable man. I guess you’re in high demand everywhere. I forgive you this time,” he said and put a hand in the small of her back. “Just don’t let it happen again.”
She didn’t like the way he was touching her but couldn’t move fast enough to get away from him. The hostess led the way to their table and Mr. Finch ordered a bottle of wine. “You’ll have to pay for that yourself. You can’t buy me anything over twenty-five dollars and since you’re buying lunch, you’ll already have to get the bill for the food,” he said smugly.
Darcy didn’t want wine, afraid it would slow her down this afternoon. But she smiled and took notes, trying to get a grip on what this man was trying to pull. What he was saying was obviously illegal, but she didn’t want to argue with him in a restaurant.
Once their food was ordered, Darcy took out some papers and demonstrated their progress over the past month, describing the solution she was proposing in greater detail. “I have the financial numbers for you as well, but they are only preliminary.”
“I don’t want to discuss financials at this point. We’re looking for a solution that will work and if we have to spend more to get it, that’s what we’ll do,” he said, straightening his polyester, baby-blue tie. “Our agency only wants the best.”
Darcy smiled yet again, ignoring the pain in her cheeks from the continuous forced grin. “Well, hopefully our solution will fit your needs,” she said professionally, putting her credit card on top of the bill.
His smile was greasy and he put his hand on top of hers over the bill and her credit card. “I’m sure you’ll fit the bill, Darcy. You’re definitely correct in all the right places.”
She immediately pulled her hand out from under his and sat back in her chair. Darcy didn’t squirm although she wanted to jump up and run or at least rush to the ladies’ room and wash his touch off her hand. His comment, coupled with the look in his eyes, made her think he was referring to her rather than the proposal and solution she was suggesting.
She pointedly looked at her watch. “I need to get back to the office, Mr. Finch. Do you have any other questions for me?”
Norman Finch’s eyes flashed but the moment of anger was gone instantly. “Not right now. I’ll be in touch,” he said and, without another word or a thank you for his lunch, the short man walked quickly out of the restaurant.
Back at the office, Darcy immediately phoned Michael to get his opinion on the encounter. But he was out again. She left him another voice mail, wanting to ask if he would come over for dinner at her house tonight.
Michael phoned her back later that afternoon, but she missed his call. She’d been in the computer lab, getting an update but her spirits picked up when he accepted dinner at her place.
She got home late, close to eight o’clock and almost fell onto the floor when she got Michael’s message that he had to cancel for the night. Something had come up and he needed to fly out of town for the night. He apologized and gave her the phone number of his hotel.
Darcy was too depressed at the idea of not seeing him that night. She couldn’t call him. She was afraid she would cry out her feelings for him over the phone. Although she and Michael spent as much time together as possible, she didn’t think he was ready to handle her emotional breakdown. She wasn’t sure she could handle them right now.
Instead, she crawled into bed without making any dinner for herself. She was asleep by the time her head hit the pillow.
It was finally Friday afternoon and Darcy was exhausted and depressed. She had only spoken to Michael by answering machines all week, she had run into a wall on her proposal that she couldn’t figure out a way around and she was tired of working all the time. All she wanted to do is go home, crawl into bed and cry herself to sleep.