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“Yes. What’s the matter, Darcy? Don’t you believe me?”
“You told me you’d moved in a bed and your piano. But you actually have an entire bedroom suite, and an office with computers that probably run twenty-four hours a day.”
“Yes, they do, but so what? Didn’t you realize I’d probably have a fan or two?”
“Don’t be flip,” Darcy cautioned. She was convinced he’d have a reasonable answer for any question she might pose, but, rather than being relieved, she was growing increasingly uneasy. In so many ways, he was too good to be true, and this eerie room filled with softly humming computers gave her chills.
“I really need to get down the hill,” she said as she scooted by him. She picked up her breakfast tray and carried it down the stairs at a near run.
Griffin reached the bottom of the stairs a second behind her, took the tray and again set it aside on the floor. “I didn’t mean to spook you, but this isn’t Blue Beard’s castle. Will you come back tonight?”
“No, let’s not overdose on each other.” Darcy swung open the heavy front door and dashed through it.
With his long stride, Griffin easily overtook her. “There’s no danger of that.”
“Let’s not take the risk.” Darcy made straight for her truck and yanked open the driver’s door, but Griffin reached around her to slam it shut.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asked. “Are you sorry you slept with me? Is that what this is all about?”
He looked more confused than angry, but with all her senses tingling, she felt like Spiderman and couldn’t wait to get away. “I’m not in the least bit sorry,” she exclaimed. “You’re an amazing lover, but I need to get to work.”
“Women complain men cut and run after sex, but damn it all, Darcy, you look scared to death. Go play with your plants, if you must, but I’ll come into town later. We can have a thoroughly civilized talk, and maybe you’ll have calmed down enough to be honest with me.”
He stepped out of her way, and she drove off without yelling at him for keeping what she feared were gigantic secrets, but she couldn’t understand how the day could have begun so well and then spiraled into abject terror.
When she returned to work, she sipped half a bottle of water and took a dozen deep breaths before she peeked into the gift shop and waved to Christy Joy. Then she went into her office, closed the door, sat at her desk and let her forced composure crumble.
All too soon she heard George talking with one of their teenage workers and knew she couldn’t avoid him indefinitely. She reached for a tissue and dried her eyes seconds before he rapped lightly at her door.
“We missed you this morning. You want to talk?” he asked.
Darcy glanced through the open doorway to the soothing greens of the nursery and shrugged helplessly. “I don’t even know where to begin. Did you ever have a hunch about something, or an uneasy feeling that things just weren’t right?”
“Sure, everybody does. I’ve learned to heed them too. What’s got you so jumpy?”
Darcy recalled Griffin’s insistence upon secrecy, but she hadn’t actually agreed to his demand. Now, with the sun bouncing across her office floor, she was reluctant to describe how frightened she’d been to discover a roomful of coldly efficient computers. It would sound too silly.
“I just got scared,” she murmured.
George nodded thoughtfully. “Are you talking about Griffin Moore?”
“Yes and no, but it wasn’t anything he did. In fact, he’s treated me almost embarrassingly well.”
George appeared to be weighing his words carefully before he spoke. “I read an article in one of Marge’s magazines that might apply here.”
Darcy rolled her eyes. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Don’t be so quick to judge, Missy. A noted psychologist, whose name I’ve forgotten, wrote that some singles, they could be men as well as women, long to meet Ms. or Mr. Right. But when they actually do, they use every barrier they can haul into place to prevent that special person from getting close.”
“In other words,” Darcy added, “they sabotage the dream relationship for which they’ve been praying. Is that what you think I’m doing?”
George glanced out at the nursery. “I really can’t say. I’m just offering one expert’s opinion that made sense to me. You might want to give it some thought.”
Darcy shook her head. She’d been fine with Griffin, better than fine, until she’d opened the door to the war room and been scared half out of her wits. “I appreciate the thought, George. Marge is a lucky woman to have such a thoughtful husband.”
“Well, I’m sorry to say it wasn’t always the case, but she trained me right. You ought to do the same with Griffin Moore.”
“I could just as easily teach the Statue of Liberty to polka.”
