Strapless

Walt hadn’t been happy with Darcie, who didn’t show up again until morning. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, in the days since, for his continued sourness or his cool greeting when he finally met Dylan. Her fault. But to be honest, spending her nights with Dylan in his room was like getting a big bag of her favorite red licorice whips as an unexpected present. She’d make herself wait for tonight, anticipate.

She walked through the darkened tunnels holding his hand, feeling the beat of her own pulse against his skin. Or was that Dylan’s heart? Given a second chance, after her original “mystery” and “play it by ear” remarks, she wouldn’t make that mistake again. As long as she was here, she would see Dylan.

At the aquarium. And later, in his bed.

The tunnel bent again, soft classical music piped into the atmosphere as if keeping time with the bubbling water around them. Darcie’s eyes filled with tears. When the magical tunnel ended near an enormous tank filled with coral, anemones, and fish of every description, she spied a set of carpeted steps. She drew Dylan down to sit beside her. For a few moments she listened and felt an inexplicable urge to cry at the beauty of the darkened tunnels, the spectacular life contained within the tanks…or because she’d found this beautiful man all for herself?

For now.

Dylan slipped her into the crook of his arm and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Darcie’s hair slid over his other hand at the nape of her neck. Dylan shuddered a little then pulled her closer. A teenage couple nearby on the steps was making out in the dark. A pair of rowdy toddlers raced up and down the stairs. Their frazzled parents scrambled after them. Darcie sat very still, absorbing the heat and power of Dylan’s embrace. When he lowered his head to kiss her, she felt every cell of her body ignite.

Darcie touched his face. “This is the nicest date I’ve ever had.”

“Ah. So it’s a date now, is it?”

“Definitely.”

Dylan lifted his head. “What if it was more than a date?”

“You mean after this, in the room?” She whispered the words.

“No, in my life,” he said. “Your life.”

Darcie pulled back a little. “My, you’re a fast one.” Her tone sounded flippant, but she was suddenly trembling.

“I like you, Darcie.” I love you, Merrick had said. “We’re…compatible, for sure.” He grinned. That gorgeous grin. Then he bent his head again to take her mouth, and for an instant Darcie forgot what he was saying. “I’ve known you just less than four days and I feel like it’s…forever.”

“That would be a trick.”

“What would?” he asked.

“If you and I tried to…”

“Have a serious relationship?”

“You said it, not me.” She didn’t have relationships. Like Merrick, they never lasted. She had Wunderthings to consider—Walt was right—New York, Gran and even Sweet Baby Jane. That was her life.

Dylan took her hand between his. Strong, lean, callused from his work.

“What are you scared of?”

“I’m not scared. I barely know you.”

He gave her a slow smile. “Pretty well, wouldn’t you say?”

Darcie swallowed. “Three nights in bed, here at the aquarium—” she gestured at a school of zebra fish in the tank “—breakfast this morning in the lounge…” She shook her head.

“Don’t forget dinner last night.”

“That was in bed, too. We didn’t even finish.”

“Doesn’t count, then?” He frowned. “Or doesn’t this mean to you what it means to me?”

“Great sex?” Darcie tried. “Ozspeak lessons? Strine?”

His gaze lowered. “You want to make fun, I can’t stop you.”

“Dylan.” She eased her hand from his. “I’m not trying to hurt you, but after my boss and I find the space we want here, I’ll be leaving for New York. Do you know how far away that is?”

“It’s a big ocean.”

“Yes, and what would be the point of our even keeping in touch?”

“You’ll be back. Won’t you?”

“Maybe, but…” She had no idea when. Or if Walt would suddenly decide—after her wayward nights on this trip—to bring Greta in her place. Then what did she want of Dylan? “I know it seems shallow, enjoying each other for a time…”

He drew back against the next step to rest on his elbows. His face went taut.

“I’m not using you.”

“I’m not using you either. But where…where could this go?”

“Anywhere we want.”

Oh, God, he would turn her into a permanent mess of Silly Putty. That voice, those eyes, his hands, even this new edge to him…

“Besides,” she said, “you seem to want things that I don’t. Not yet anyway.” She waved a hand again. “I don’t want to become my mother.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Nothing, except she lives a very different lifestyle from the one I’ve chosen.”

He cocked his head. “Don’t tell me you pick up strangers in bars everywhere?”

She flushed. “No, of course not. You were the first.” And last. She tried to explain. “Look. My mother named me Darcie. Darcie Elizabeth Baxter. Do you know what my initials make together?”

He looked perplexed. Which only melted her heart.

“D.E.B.,” she told him. “DEB. In the U.S. that’s a girl raised to be socially proper, to “come out” at eighteen at a dance where she wears a white dress and gloves, to meet the exactly right man who will elevate her position—” No, that didn’t sound right, it sounded kinky. “I mean, raise her standard of living to new heights, beyond even her parents’ and—”

Dylan guessed right. “You didn’t want to be a deb.”

“No! That’s such an old-fashioned system. I wanted to be my own person—not that we were rich enough for me to be presented to society. I want to choose the man I’ll marry someday, after my own career is in motion. I need to be able to take care of myself first. I want to be independent.”

“Is this some of that women’s lib stuff?”

She didn’t want to blow this. “It was. Years ago some women—not my mother—took a stand, and because of those women opportunities opened up for the next generation. Now, in my generation I can be anyone I want to be, do anything I wish. This trip to Sydney is my first chance to prove myself.”