Hot to the Touch

He threw off the covers, hurled himself out of bed. The sitting room was uninhabited; bathroom was dark, its door left ajar. He opened it anyway, sick with dread, flipped on the light and faced the inevitable emptiness of the room.

She was gone.

3

“CHAZ, THANKS FOR COMING IN today.” Marie shook the strong, beautiful, masculine hand of strong, beautiful, masculine Chaz Hunter, and escorted his strong, beautiful, masculine body out of her office, barely closing the door behind him before she was pumping her fist. “Yes!”

This was the man for Darcy. Intelligent, articulate, funny, drop-dead gorgeous, built like an Olympic diver, divorced five years, didn’t want kids and guess what he did for a living? Sold wine to stores and … wait for it … restaurants. He could not be more perfect. Marie could already envision long, sensual dates for the two of them spent tasting wine and food and each other. Chaz even loved the same kind of alternative rock music she did. Plus, from what Marie could tell, he came from money. So if Darcy ever needed a little cash infusion in her business, maybe to open a second location …

Okay. Marie was getting ahead of herself. But this guy was worth pulling out all the stops for, really attacking Darcy with how fabulous he was. And then when Darcy put her foot down and went mulish, as she very predictably and very annoyingly would, Marie could start thinking how to make this happen some other, less direct way. Some other, behind-the-scenes way. Some low-down, sinfully sneaky way.

Desperate times …

She pounced on her phone and dialed. Ten in the morning, Darcy wouldn’t be at the restaurant yet, or if she was, she wouldn’t be crazy busy and could talk. With any luck she’d even be able to listen.

“Darcy, it’s Marie.” She tried to keep the excitement out of her tone.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Not much.” She sat back in her desk chair, grinning smugly. “Oh, except I just met your future husband.”

“My—” Darcy groaned. “Well, isn’t that fascinating, seeing as how I don’t plan to get married ever.”

“He’s handsome, sexy, funny, sexy, rich, sexy—”

“Marie, what part of ‘I don’t want to date’ doesn’t get through your filter?”

“And, he sells wine to fine establishments such as yours. You’d have tons in common.”

“We have one thing not in common right off the bat.”

“You’re female, he’s male?” She laughed. “Honey, that’s the best part. Or maybe you forgot.”

“No-o. That’s not i-i-t.” Darcy sang the words as if she were taunting a sibling. “The difference is that he wants to date, and I don’t.”

“You don’t have to date. Just meet him.”

“Oh, like that’s going to—”

“Just look at his profile.”

“Not interested.”

“His picture.”

“For heaven’s—”

“How about listen to me saying his name?”

“Marie! You are a menace.”

“Aren’t I?” She was so enjoying this, twisting her chair side to side, sure she was finally on her way to victory, be it fair or foul. “You know I’m going to wear you down eventually. Why not give in?”

“Because.” Darcy made a sound of frustration. “I don’t need any more male complications right now.”

Marie’s chair stopped; her eyes shot wide. “More male complications? What do you mean ‘more’? You met someone?”

“No. No, I didn’t meet— For God’s sake, Marie. You are obsessed. I think you need to see someone about this. A friend has a therapist who has helped her a lot with her complete and total insanity, yours can’t be much worse. Or maybe it is.”

“Chaz Hunter.” She picked up a pen and wrote the name in the air with giant flourishes. “Chaz-z Hunter-r.”

“Chaz? Oh, ew, what, his great-grandfather founded the Milwaukee Yacht Club?”

“His great-grandfather came over from Germany. They made money in construction. A lot of money.”

“How nice for them.”

“Just take a look.” She suppressed a giggle, sensing Darcy was about to blow. “I’ll send his picture to your—”

“Marie. I do not want—” A sharp thwack came across the line. Had a fish or chicken part just been severed while Darcy imagined Marie’s head leaving her body? Silence, then a long suffering sigh. “Send it if you want, but I’m deleting upon receipt.”

Excellent. She was weakening. Marie pulled up an email and attached Chaz’s profile picture. “Darcy, in all seriousness, he seems like a really good guy. I can see you enjoying him a lot. And he’s very hot.”

“And therefore incredibly full of himself.”

“Darcy, Darcy.” Marie tsk-tsked. “You are horrifically sexist.”

“I have to go. Delivery guy is here. Thanks for thinking of me, but I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Watch for his photo. Chaz Hunter.” She hung up, sent the email and let her head drop back, swinging the chair side to side again. Well. That was progress. Darcy’s curiosity would undoubtedly prompt her to look at the picture, which was pretty fabulous. Chaz, standing on top of a spectacular mountain, clear blue eyes visible, strong chin shown to advantage, thick ashen hair ruffling sexily in the wind.

Sadly, Marie was pretty sure it would take a stronger push to get Darcy to talk to the guy even if she found his picture attractive. The first step would have to come from Chaz. But since Darcy didn’t have a profile up on Milwaukeedates, Marie had nothing to show Chaz in order to interest him.

She stopped swinging the chair. Lifted her head. Stared at her laptop screen.

Now was the time.

Hadn’t she recognized at the Women in Power meeting last week that she’d probably have to resort to fighting dirty in order to get Darcy to admit that love was what she deep down really wanted?

If Marie put up a Milwaukeedates profile for Darcy and steered Chaz in her direction, maybe he’d take it from there. What girl could resist being courted by a handsome, wealthy guy with loads of charisma and common interests? Certainly not Marie. If her friend Quinn, who met each one of those criterion, ever glanced romantically in her short, plump, average-woman direction, she’d melt into a gooey puddle.

There was always the chance, however, that Darcy, faced with the same irresistible combination, might freeze into a column of ice.

Marie’s assistant buzzed. “Candy Graham on line three.”

“Thanks, Jane.” She connected the call eagerly. The perfect person to consult when hatching diabolical plans. “Hey, Candy.”

“Marie, I had a completely fabulous idea.”