Page 42 of Detained

Darcy jammed her new shoes hard into the wood panel floor scrambling to push away from the table. She had to move now, get out before Will found her.

Robert was in her ear, holding her arm. “Be still, he’ll walk past.”

The older woman sitting next to Darcy leaned across and said something to Robert. He replied, then said, “I told her you had morning sickness.”

Darcy smiled weakly at the woman who nodded, smiled and patted her hand. The next contact she felt was on the top of her shoulder. She knew that touch. It stung like sunburn, it burned like deceit.

; “Darcy.”

She was undone.

She didn’t need to be a lip-reader to understand Robert mouthing, “Shit!”

There was nothing she could do but face her betrayer. She pushed back her chair and stood. His name weighed down her tongue, making it hard to speak. “Will.”

He might have asked why she was here, insisted she leave. He might have called security, or grabbed her by the hair and hauled her out of the room himself. He said, “Dance with me,” holding out his hand, expecting her to take it.

“Don’t mind me,” said Robert, who’d scrambled to his feet as well.

Will laughed. He appeared to notice Robert for the first time. “I’ll bring her back. Darcy?”

After pretending not to know her name, he was intent on wearing it out.

“Go away, Will.”

He stepped in behind her, his hip bumping hers, surrounding her with the citrus tang of his cologne. “What are you doing here?” His hand closed around the back of her neck and her bones started to liquefy.

“I’m here with a colleague.” She tried to pull away, but one thumb rubbed small circles up the column of her neck and anchored her in place.

“I don’t care. Dance with me.”

“No.”

His lips brushed her ear, “You’re divine.”

She angled her face away from him. “I hate you.” Not an adult response. He’d turned her into a sixteen year old, broken-hearted over Nathan Tucker all over again.

He ran his hand down her back till it rested at her waist. “No, you don’t.”

“Stop telling me what to do.” She spun to face him. “Stop telling me what to think.” His arm was around her, he yanked her to him. “Stop making me feel this way.”

The words were out before she understood they told him too much. She saw understanding in the flex of his eyebrow, in the fire in his eyes. He was going to kiss her. She was going to scream.

She pushed against his chest and he captured her wrists, moved backwards between two tables until they were on the edge of the dance floor.

“Let me go, Will.” He wrapped her close, she had nowhere to put her hands but on his shoulders.

“You came to me.” He whirled her around. “I thought you’d never want to see my ugly mug again.”

She played her joker card. “That’s ridiculous. How could I know you’d be here?”

He laughed. “You lie.”

He could see through her. “Let me go or I’ll scream.

“I thought you liked to dance with me. You did before.”