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Griffin drew in a deep breath. “I’m doing my best here, Darcy. Help me out.”
That Griffin Moore would even make an appeal for sympathy made it difficult to form a coherent reply. “Let’s not do this now, please. I’m too tired to think straight on any subject, let alone one as important as this.”
She was still wearing the pretty quarter note necklace he’d given her, which was far more revealing than her hesitant excuses. He leaned down and kissed her lightly, pulled her into his arms and rested his cheek against her shiny dark hair.
“All right, we’ll postpone that discussion, but for now, I’ve realized this is a poor location for a recording studio. It’s not been difficult to move your stock to the back and, if we need to, we can carry the bird houses, garden angels, ceramic fountains and all the other cute stuff upstairs. The electronic equipment I’d planned to install for recording would be next to impossible to move, to say nothing of the concert grand I’d intended to buy.”
“You could put everything upstairs,” Darcy murmured against his chest. While he sounded sincere, she refused to get her hopes up only to have them shattered with the first ray of sunshine.
“No, there’s not enough room. I’d have to be on the ground floor, and thi
s rain has proven that’s simply not practical.”
“Storms this bad don’t come along often.”
“It would only take one to ruin a significant amount of work. I’m not willing to take that risk. I’ll extend your lease another year, or five, if you like. What do you say?”
Darcy snuggled against him rather than admit it might already be too late to save Defy the World with the losses they’d sustained that week alone. Perversely, she wished he’d chosen to extend the lease simply because he loved her far too much to crush her dreams. Still, whatever his reason, she was too grateful for his change of heart to quibble over the cause.
“I’m overwhelmed. Give me a minute or two to get used to the idea, and then I’ll thank you properly.”
Griffin grasped her shoulders and took a step back. “Have you eaten anything today?”
“No, but—”
“Either go upstairs and make yourself a sandwich, or go back to sleep on the couch.”
“I don’t recall putting you in command here.”
“You did when you called me this morning. Now look, if you’re too tired to think, you’re much too tired to put in any more work, should your help be needed.”
He was right, of course, and a wide yawn stopped what would have been only a token argument at best. “Maybe I could do with another little nap,” she agreed reluctantly. It seemed as though she’d merely lain down when hours later J. Lyle woke her with a frantic pounding on the backdoor.
Christy Joy ran up the stairs with the flashlight to let him in. He was dressed in a trench coat and hat, and wrestling with a black umbrella. He pushed past her to drip water in a splattering oval all around them.
“I had to park the car a couple of blocks away and walk into town. A policeman tried to stop me at the corner, but when I explained why I was here, he told me that you’d reported Catherine missing last week. Why wasn’t I called before the police?”
Christy Joy fought not to cringe under his accusing frown. “We found her almost immediately,” she swore. “Really, there was no need to upset you.”
“Oh no? How did you expect me to react when I finally found out about it? Never mind, it’s plain you’d no intention of ever admitting you can’t keep track of our daughter.”
Darcy had been a bridesmaid at their wedding and seen J. Lyle on several occasions since. He’d never been one of her favorite people, and now she liked him even less. While fair-haired and blue-eyed, he was as striking an individual as Griffin. Unlike Griffin, however, who appeared largely uninterested in his remarkable good looks, J. Lyle made a point of dressing as well as any GQ model. She couldn’t even imagine him in a pair of Levi’s.
Upset by how rumpled she must appear, she stepped out of the apartment just as Twink bounded up the stairs and leapt into her father’s arms.
“Catherine! I’m all wet,” he scolded. He set her down quickly and pushed her away. “You’re coming home with me. Help your mother pack your things.”
J. Lyle recognized Darcy standing in the shadows and nodded curtly. “Why make yourself miserable here, Christy Joy? You and Darcy should come home with us.”
“Thank you, but no,” Darcy replied.
Griffin had heard more than enough and, seeing how easily Twink had distracted her father, he climbed the stairs and extended his hand. “Good evening, I’m Griffin Moore.”
At first startled, J. Lyle’s expression slid from pinched spite into a relaxed grin. “It really is you, isn’t it?” He pumped Griffin’s hand warmly. “I attended one of your concerts last year in San Francisco. Transcendent is the only way to describe the whole experience. I’ve bought several of your CDs. I had no idea you lived here in Monarch Bay.”
Darcy caught Christy Joy’s eye and shook her head. Her ex-husband was doing his best to schmooze Griffin, but he would have overheard the way J. Lyle had greeted Christy Joy and Twink and not been pleased by it. Expecting the worst, Darcy held her breath.
Rather than respond to J. Lyle, Griffin looked to Christy Joy. “Would you like to send Twink home with her father for a few days while we clean up here?” he asked.
