Maybe This Time (26 page)

Gary grinned, hands on his hips. “Anything’s possible if your pockets are deep enough.”

“What if I did it in stages?” Darcy asked, thinking of Emma’s suggestion. “Do the cosmetic changes, maybe put in the kitchen this year and save the garden room for next year. Does that make sense or not?”

“Not really. You’d be ripping out nearly new carpeting and paintwork. Waste of time and money.”

“That’s what I thought. So I pretty much have to do it all at once.”

“Unless you didn’t include the garden room. If it’s light you’re after, you could throw in bigger windows, a few skylights. It would be a lot cheaper.”

“No, if I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.” The plans had taken hold of his imagination. It wasn’t about beating Wayne and his wine bar anymore, it was about fulfilling the original dream of the pub’s designer. When Darcy was finished, the building would be a real landmark.

They talked a little more about the specifics of the garden room. Darcy had a couple of changes he wanted to make to the bar, too, to make it more efficient. Gary promised him a detailed quote in a couple of days and rolled up his copy of the plans.

Darcy walked him out to the parking lot. “If you were to get the job, how soon could you start?”

Gary got out his smart phone and scrolled through the calendar. “If I juggle a couple of things, I could get underway before Christmas, get the bulk of it done. You’ll be looking at, say, end of February for completion.”

That was faster than Darcy had expected. The pub would have limited seating over the lucrative Christmas season but having the garden room open before the end of summer would be worth it. “Sounds good. Thanks for coming by. I’ll be in touch by Friday.”

That night Darcy took a rare evening off from the pub. It felt strange to be upstairs while customers were downstairs, but Kirsty and Brad were both working and now that he’d begun on the renovations project, he wanted to make more progress.

He had a notepad and a pen and paper and was compiling a list of steps in the process. First he would need permission from the local council to extend the building. He also needed to see Renita Thatcher at the bank to apply for a loan to cover the costs and work out a realistic repayment plan.

Billy was in a bouncy seat on the floor in front of the TV, enthralled with
Dancing with the Stars.
The volume was down low in deference to Emma, who was working on her term paper in the bedroom.

Her breakthrough in her relationship with Billy was obvious even though she hadn’t said anything. She was playing with him more and cuddled and sang to him the way she used to with Holly. Darcy felt better knowing she would be able to love and care for her baby the way she longed to when she was on her own again.

Darcy tried to focus on his plans but the show was doing a special on Latin dancing and before long his gaze drifted to the dancers on the screen. The rumba reminded him of dancing with Emma on the cruise. He reached for the TV control and turned the volume up a little. “Pretty cool, hey, Billy? You should see your mum and I on the dance floor.”

Emma walked into the room and perched on the arm of the couch. She wore a simple sleeveless dress of some soft material. Her hair was loose and her feet bare. “I heard music. What’s this?”

Darcy reached for the control again to turn it down. “I didn’t mean to disturb your work.”

“It’s okay. I could use a break.” She watched for a moment and within seconds her foot was tapping to the beat. “What do you say we show Billy our moves?”

“Em, you know what happens when we dance.” He wanted to, no question, but regrets always seemed to follow the high of intimacy. Their relationship was way out of balance and had been for a long time.

“I know it doesn’t jibe with what I said yesterday.” Now her shoulders were moving. “I know we’re not going anywhere. But when we dance, I feel good. I forget about the bad stuff.” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

And he did, because he felt the same. When they were one with the music and with each other, everything else fell away. For a time.

He got to his feet and took her hand. “We’re our own worst enemies.”

In answer she twirled beneath his arm to finish snug against his front, her face tilted up to his. Her smile kicked his heart rate up a notch. He turned up the volume and tossed the control on the couch.

The floor space was tiny but that only made the holds tighter, the spins more controlled. Darcy was breathing shallowly even though they weren’t exerting themselves. Doing the rumba on the spot was kind of like making love standing up—without removing any clothes.

That could be rectified. He slipped down the strap of Emma’s dress and pressed a kiss to the hollow between her shoulder and neck. In the privacy of this room he reverted to the way they used to dance in their own home—as if no one was watching. His hands moved over her, roaming boldly from breast to hip to linger at the junction of her thighs while his hips swiveled and pushed against her back.

The song ended and a commercial came on. Before the mood could be broken he grabbed the controller and flipped the amp onto a radio station that played Latin music. Effortlessly they adjusted their steps to a tango, wrapping their arms around each other’s waists and, cheek to cheek, arms outstretched, glided across the floor.

Turning to face him, Emma held his gaze as she undid the buttons on his shirt. No woman did sultry like Emma. He could feel his pulse rate soar as she slid her hand slowly up his bare chest. Then tweaked his nipples. He’d been hard from the opening bars but now his cock was like granite. He reached around and undid her zipper. The dress slithered down with a little help over her gyrating hips and she kicked it away.

Her face was raised to his, and Darcy leaned down to take her mouth in a long slow deep kiss that lasted until the rest of their clothes were abandoned.

“You’re beautiful.” He trailed kisses down her neck as he cupped her breast. “Sexy.”

Mine.

Where had that come from? At one time he’d thought they were soul mates. She wasn’t his anymore, no matter how much he wanted her. But she was his for this dance, for this night.

Thoughts fragmented under the demands of his highly aroused body. An element of possessiveness tempered by tenderness crept into his touch. She would be leaving him soon. He wanted her to remember him when they were both alone in their beds, and know that at their best they were sublime.

Her hands were moving over him, too, touching and stroking and kneading. Their bodies rubbed against each other in another kind of dance they knew as well as the rumba or the tango. Her breath was in his ear as she licked up the side of his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest and grinding her hips against his. His erection pushed against her soft belly. He needed to sink into her, now.

He pulled her onto the couch and pushed her onto her back, nudging her legs apart with his knee.

“We can’t do this in front of Billy,” she whispered.

Darcy glanced over his shoulder. Billy’s eyes were fluttering closed, as if he was trying and failing to stay awake.

Darcy rolled off the couch and gently removed him from his seat. “Time for little boys to be in bed.”

Emma sat up as he carried the baby past, nestled against his shoulder. “I usually nurse him to sleep. Or give him a bottle.”

“He’ll be fine.” Disturbing Billy as little as possible, Darcy carried him to his room and tucked him into the bassinet. The baby started to fuss. “Easy now, mate.” Darcy found a pacifier and inserted it in his mouth. Billy’s eyes closed again as he sucked contentedly.

Darcy hurried back via the bedroom, picking up a condom on the way. He hoped Emma hadn’t changed her mind in the minute or so he’d been gone. He rounded the doorway and stopped dead, his breath stolen. She was lying naked full-length on the couch, her arms lifted behind her head, one knee bent. Her pose was an unmistakable invitation. His erection, which had started to flag, leaped to attention.

She opened her arms to him and he lowered himself on top, propped on his elbows. She parted her legs and he entered her slowly, their eyes locked. He dropped kisses on her cheeks and temples, trailed them down her neck. They often enjoyed sexy banter while lovemaking, but his heart was too full to speak.

Spanish guitar playing in the background, he made love to her, the thrum of the strings echoing the passionate beating of his heart. He took his time, pleasuring her every way he knew how, his tongue and fingers strumming her till her body vibrated to a crescendo.

His world contracted to Emma. His body began and ended with hers. He began to climax as she began to fade and his strong final thrusts quickly brought her to another peak. Afterward he lay atop her, breathing hard, slick with perspiration.

Slowly he came back to the room, to the quiet voice of the radio announcer speaking in Spanish and the soft creak of the leather couch with their small movements. And downstairs, the faint clink and buzz of the pub. Funny how he’d heard nothing a few minutes ago.

He turned his face into Emma’s neck and simply breathed her in, shutting his ears to the outside world. For now it was only him and Em.

* * *

“
O
H,
B
ILLY
. How did I let things get this bad?” With the baby on her hip, Emma picked her way through her apartment, horrified at the mess everywhere. “I must have been completely out of it.”

“Ga, ga!” Billy waved his arm energetically.

“I know. Cleaning this will be a big job.”

The doorbell rang. Emma buzzed Alana up.

Her sister wore old track pants and carried a shopping bag of cleaning supplies. “Holy moly, Em. What happened in here?”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you suddenly remembered a class you have to teach.”

“Nah, we can tackle this, no problem. I’ve got three hours. Should be able to get the worst of it cleaned up.” Alana tickled Billy under the chin. “Who’s a big boy? Do you want to come to Auntie Alana?” She held her arms out.

Billy buried his head in Emma’s neck. “He’s tired. It’s time for his morning nap.”

Alana stroked his head. “How old is he, three months?”

“Fourteen weeks,” Emma said. “He’s over the colic.”

“And you look like you’re feeling better. In fact, you’re damn near glowing.”

Heat crept into Emma’s cheeks. Averting her gaze from Alana’s, she stroked Billy’s cheek. “Darcy’s taking good care of us, isn’t he, Billy?”

A grin spread over Alana’s face. “You dog! You’ve been sleeping with him again, haven’t you?”

Emma headed into the living room. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

Alana snorted. “Did you dance again? I blame it all on the rumba.”

“It’s not only the Latin dancing.”

“Then it’s worse than I thought. This is what comes of me not keeping an eye on my little sister. While we clean you can tell me all about it.”

Emma put Billy down for his nap in a bassinet. When she entered the kitchen she started running water into the sink to wash dishes. She made a mental note to call someone to fix the dishwasher.

“So, are you two getting back together?” Alana found a large black garbage bag and started picking up rubbish. “Is that what you wanted to chat about?”

“For the zillionth time, no. I’m getting tired of having to clarify that.” Emma told her about visiting Darcy’s family as she placed glasses in the hot sudsy water. “The good news is, I’ve finally started to bond with Billy.”

Alana paused, the rubbish bag hanging from her hand. “I didn’t realize that was a problem.”

“Well, it was. I didn’t find it easy to talk about, even with you.”

“You wouldn’t, because you’re supermum and Super Working Woman all rolled into one.”

“Am I really that bad?”

“I’m teasing.”

“Seriously.”

“Seriously? You are. You put the rest of us to shame.”

“Hmph. I think you’re exaggerating.” It still rankled that she hadn’t met her own standards, even if no one else expected her to. “The other good news is that Darcy is taking an active role with Billy.”

“I saw he was carrying him around.”

“Not just that. He’s hands-on taking care of him, even the yucky stuff.”

“Really?” Alana raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Mr. I’m-too-busy-having-fun-to-change-a-diaper is handling the yucky stuff?”

“Honestly, he’s fantastic with Billy. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. He even got up in the night to give Billy a bottle so I could sleep.”

“I thought you were breastfeeding.”

“I am. So I was ticked off at the same time as I was delighted. But he’s genuinely trying to help me, and help Billy. He never did that with Holly.” She rinsed a glass and placed it in the drain tray.

“But you’re not getting back together with him. Don’t get me wrong—that’s probably a good thing, but what’s the problem? The sex isn’t good any longer?”

“The sex is great. Better, if anything.” She let a beat go by. “Part of me would like to be with Darcy.”

“Oh, Em. Don’t get sucked in. He has this magnetic hold on you. You have to stay far enough away that you don’t feel the pull.”

“What if I like the feel of the pull? He’s fun to be around.”

“Have you seriously forgotten how angry, upset and crazy he made you when you were married?”

“It was after Holly died. We were grieving.”

“And all those problems are resolved?”

“No. I said
part
of me would like to reconcile. I know we’re not ready for that, if we ever will be.” She lowered a stack of plates into the sink. “What’s going on with you and Dave?”

“We’re talking—”

“Great!”

“About splitting up.” Alana glanced away, but not before Emma saw that her eyes were glistening.

“Oh, no. No, Alana. You can’t. You and Dave are solid. He’s a real family man.” She pulled her dripping hands out of the soapy water and hugged her sister, rocking her back and forth. Alana’s raw grief reminded her of her own marriage breakup. She hated that her sister had to go through that.

“Yesterday we had another big fight.” Alana blotted her eyes. “He said he hadn’t signed up for an only-child family. And he reminded me that before we got married I’d wanted at least three kids.”