Strapless

Greta’s hand stilled on the next to last paper in the pile.

Aha. So Nancy was no brighter than Darcie. No more resourceful.

It took Greta Hinckley to pull things off. Someday Walter would reward her.

The medium-size yellow note had nearly escaped her notice.

Just as Walter, and the board, and everyone at Wunderthings failed to realize her talents. Oh, Nancy, she thought. You shouldn’t have done this.

Walt, the message read, using the familiar form of his name. I’ve just seen Darcie’s proposal—attached—in Greta Hinckley’s in-basket. This idea is Darcie Baxter’s. Maybe you should reconsider Greta’s “suggestions” for global expansion.

How dare she?

Furious, Greta tore the note into pieces, then into smaller scraps until not a single word remained intact. Darcie Baxter had already been on her list. Now, Nancy Braddock joined her.

Greta shoved the paper pieces into her gray slacks pocket. She grabbed her coat from the chair, draped it over her arm, aand marched down the hall to her own cubicle. In her other hand she carried her cardboard container of coffee, the greasy bag with the cruller swinging with it. No one would mistake her space for an anteroom, surely not for an actual office.

But someday…

She would triumph.

Darcie had no idea who she was dealing with. None at all. Nancy, either.

Bitches.

She would plow them both under. Laughing all the way.

In the night-dark acrylic tunnel of the Sydney Aquarium, Darcie gazed up in wonder. Above and to either side along the curving route past one tank after another, manta rays, sharks and eels dipped and glided and flowed around her. Their graceful motions tightened her throat in awe. The variety of the coral reef that decorated the display made her mouth water. So did her companion.

She couldn’t believe she had linked up again…and again…with Dylan Rafferty. He seemed too good to be true—most of the time. Like this splendid place.

“What I wouldn’t give to capture these colors,” she told Dylan. Meaning, Take you home in my luggage and keep you for myself.

His hand squeezed hers in the darkness, his gold signet ring imprinting her skin. She doubted he knew what she meant about color, but his broad-shouldered presence beside her enhanced the Saturday sight-seeing experience. It had been a wonderful few days.

“I’d use them at the new store. I’d reproduce them in scarves, in lingerie. Wunderthings would churn—like these magnificent animals—with spectacular hues and shades, all light and shadow….”

Dylan slipped his arm around her.

“Don’t tell me I’m drongo,” she murmured. “It’s my job.”

Instead, he said, “Walt Corwin doesn’t like me.”

Surprised, she said, “Walt doesn’t like anyone.”

That wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t want to hurt Dylan’s feelings. He’d been quiet during their tour of the aquarium—her choice of activity—and at first she’d thought he was simply, like Darcie, taking in the beauty of their surroundings. Apparently, he’d been brooding.

“He took one look at me and nearly hauled you off to your room. Alone.”

“Dylan, we had a one-minute chance meeting with him in the hotel lobby. No big deal.” Or was it? She sounded just like Merrick Lowell about his marriage. “Walt’s not my father, either.” She didn’t know which would be worse, him or Hank Baxter. “You’re not upset, are you?”

“Nope.” His mouth tightened.

“You sound upset.”

The crowd funneled around them, and Dylan drew her off to the side, midway down a straight stretch of tunnel. He pointed out a yellow-and-black striped tiger fish. “Nice pair of briefs,” he suggested, then, “I’m not upset.”

“Just because that wouldn’t be macho, or because you’re really not?”

“Really not.”

He leaned to kiss the nape of her neck and a thrill shot along her nerves.

“Oh. Look.” She didn’t want their outing spoiled. Darcie dragged him by the hand to another section of the tank where a brilliant clump of fuschia waved in the water. “What is that?”

“Anemone. See?” He pointed again. “The purple one? The blue?”

“It’s teal.”

“Looks plain blue to me.” With a laugh, Dylan stood beside her at the glass while Darcie counted colors and sighed in appreciation.

“They’re gorgeous.”

He bent to nuzzle her throat. “So are you.”

She spun to face him, feeling hot color in her own cheeks, and nearly clipped his chin with the top of her head. Was he serious? Her, gorgeous? Dylan liked to speak his mind, and he didn’t bother to hide his impressions—of her or anything else. She liked that about him—loved it, really—at the same time he took her by surprise. Darcie was accustomed to men like Merrick who either didn’t share emotion or didn’t feel it in the first place. She never knew which. Her father, too.

Darcie blinked.

“My eyes are too far apart,” she said. “My fingers are stumpy and I—”

Dylan looked around, saw that they were relatively alone in the dark tunnel, and drew her close. “Last night, all night, you seemed exactly right to me.”

At the heated memory she could barely speak.

“You’re a charmer, Dylan Rafferty.”

How did I get this lucky, for once?

So why not overlook the little differences she’d discovered during the past few days? Dylan’s outspoken opinion of men and women and the roles they should play was…antiquated, courtly. Likewise, his attitude that children should be uppermost in a couple’s relationship, and quickly. And his continuing praise of his mum. Darcie agreed with him about a love of children, but she’d soon realized he was thirty years behind the times. And stubborn. As for his views on women with careers, like Darcie…

“Not by half as charmed as I am. By you,” he said, linking his strong hand with her fingers. He led Darcie around a bend to the next aquarium where a school of reef fish in even more vibrant colors swam and turned and glided through the water. Sparkling and bright, it appeared sunlit from above. “You want to leave soon? Go back to the hotel?”

His suggestive tone dissolved Darcie to mush.

“Pretty soon. Let’s see the rest first.”

If he wasn’t upset, was he bored? She hoped not. But maybe his interest in her was in bed, nowhere else. Darcie wouldn’t let it matter. Three nights ago she had come home after “house hunting” with Walt at The Rocks to find Dylan in the hotel bar. Not that she’d looked in hoping to spot him…or run back downstairs the instant Walt dropped onto his bed for a quick nap before dinner. She almost didn’t need the elevator.