Chapter 2

After she finished her conversation with Nathan, Darcy ditched the tired dress and slipped into a splashy sapphire sequined gown she reserved for New Year’s Eve. With its plunging neckline and high slit skirt, she felt twenty years younger. A glimpse in the full-length closet doors confirmed her judgment. Fifty looked like the new thirty.

At the convention center, Darcy stepped underneath an archway of red and white balloons shaped like a heart. The theme of the event matched the name of the sponsor, “Desire Our Hearts.” Dozens of couples—men in their tuxedos and women in their evening gowns—swarmed the check-in desk. The clash of floral perfume and musky cologne tickled Darcy’s nostrils. To prevent an unpleasant sneeze, she wiggled her nose.

Darcy usually attended these events with Betty who volunteered as a divorce attorney with Legal Aid, but Betty missed tonight’s event in favor of attending one of Chuck’s senior softball tournaments. Sometimes, Darcy questioned Betty’s excessive devotion to Chuck. What other wife insisted on being a ball girl at her husband’s games? Who else worked double time during the week in the hopes of making partner so her husband could retire early? Darcy blushed. What gave her the right to criticize Betty’s relationship? After all, Darcy’s only attempt at marriage ended in divorce.

Fidgeting with the clasp on her clutch purse, she glimpsed Victor Costello, another attorney at Betty’s firm, in the main ballroom. He always looked good, but tonight he seemed spectacular. His black hair swept in a wave above his forehead. He wore a classic tuxedo with a ruby red bow tie. The tailored suit emphasized his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long, lean legs. But Victor’s kind smile dazzled Darcy the most.

He lifted his glass and winked.

Warmth invaded her chest with the brief acknowledgment. She had only met Victor a handful of times, but their professional encounters always left her feeling welcomed. Since she dreaded feeling alone, Darcy appreciated his attention tonight.

“May we have your credit card information for bidding purposes?” the check-in clerk asked.

With a sigh, Darcy fumbled in her clutch for her credit card. She wished she didn’t have to relinquish her credit card information. If she didn’t, then she would be dismissed from the event.

“Did you bring a guest, Ms. Madison?” the clerk asked.

“He’s already checked-in.” She motioned to the ballroom.

The clerk chuckled. “A little impatient, isn’t he?”

“Better impatient than late.” Darcy laughed. Before sauntering into the air-conditioned ballroom, she grabbed her auction paddle and a glass of champagne. She shimmied past couples circling the silent auction tables to Victor, who stood talking to a server carrying a tray of crab cakes.

“Want one?” Victor plucked a crab cake off the tray with a napkin and offered it.

Darcy nibbled the crispy, spicy crust and tender, flaky center. “Mmm…delicious.”

Before he smiled, Victor gave her the once-over. “I thought coming in a tux would be overkill until you arrived.” He lifted his glass of champagne. “Nice dress.”

“Thanks.” Darcy touched the neckline. “I usually wear it on New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m glad you’re wearing it tonight.”

The compliment rippled up her body and filled her with pleasure. She glanced away and blushed.

“Are you here alone?” Victor glanced around the room.

“Yes.” She cocked an eyebrow. “And you?”

“Not anymore.” He offered his arm. “Let’s mingle.”

As she stared at his arm, apprehension clenched her stomach.

He chuckled. “Afraid of seeing me outside the office?” He leaned closer. “I promise to be a complete gentleman,” he whispered.

His reputation as an excellent attorney earned him the designation as one of the top forty professionals under forty by the North Bay Business Journal. She remembered reading the article last year, taking note of his interest in antique collecting. His memorable quote left an impression. “I enjoy the quality found in vintage wine, turn-of-the century furniture, black-and-white movies, and the wisdom of older people.” His reputation of being conscientious and compassionate with his clients, but swift and merciless in the courtroom, intimidated even Betty, the best attorney she knew. “I’m not scared of you.” She lifted her chin.

“Good.” Again, he offered his arm.

She drained her glass of champagne, plunked it on an empty tray, and linked her arm through his.

With a smile, he directed them through the crowd, stopping every now and then to talk to someone they both knew.

Judge Newman, a portly man with a wicked sense of humor, nudged Darcy in the elbow. “You surprised me, Madison. For all those years you’ve been coming with Betty, I had you pegged for a lesbian.”

She forced a titter. She hated when men assumed her lesbian status because she seldom dated. “I hope your judgment doesn’t extend to the courtroom, or your caseload will evaporate.”

Victor squeezed her arm closer. “Darcy’s a tough woman, Your Honor. A guy from the Special Forces of the Leagues of Disillusioned Divorcees is needed to break through her resistance.”

Judge Newman narrowed his gaze. “You don’t come from that League, Costello. You’re the only family law attorney I know who hasn’t been married or divorced.”

“I didn’t say I was the guy.”

Judge Newman pointed to their linked arms. “You’re together now?”

Flashing a tight smile, Darcy waved her auction paddle. “I won him in another auction. He’s mine for tonight.” She pecked Victor’s cheek.

The muscles in Victor’s jaw flinched.

Judge Newman glanced back and forth between them. “You guys make an interesting couple, whether you’re together or not.” He stomped off to the silent auction tables.

“Let’s not mingle anymore.” Darcy turned toward the dining room tables. “Deflecting the rude comments I always get because I’m single is exhausting. People don’t understand I never want to remarry. They just assume things.”

“Ditto,” Victor said. “Just because I’m thirty-seven, people think I’m a confirmed bachelor. I used to be called the George Clooney of Sonoma County.”

“George Clooney is married now.” Darcy cocked her head to the side, wondering how he could be ignorant of the celebrity’s current status.

Victor raised his eyebrows. “Not when people compared me.” He led them to their table and slid back the chair.

She waited for him to scoot her chair close to the table before she placed her auction paddle beside her plate and waved for a server to bring her a drink. The clock against the wall stated the time as seven. Dinner was served in a half hour.

“Would you like to browse the auction tables with me?” he asked.

“No, thanks.” She waved her hand in dismissal. “I never bid on anything.”

“I didn’t say bid. I said browse.”

“Why browse if you can’t bid?”

“People spend most of their shopping time browsing.”

“Not me. I have a list. I go in, and I come out. No extras.”

Narrowing his gaze, he frowned. “You’re not a typical woman.”

She shook her head. Oh, life would be simpler as a typical woman, she thought. Primp, pamper, shop, and repeat.

“The service here is terrible.” He stood and touched her shoulder.

A frisson of electricity zipped through her body.

“Let me get you something from the bar,” he said. “I hear their appletinis are good.”

She shifted in the chair.

His hand remained on her shoulder.

The heat of his skin against hers tingled. “Please, no appletinis. I don’t like sweets. If you’re getting us martinis, make mine gin, extra dry, with two olives.”

His hand fell from her shoulder. “Why two?”

The shock of cold air on her bare skin rippled through her. She craved the comfort of his tender touch. “So the first olive doesn’t get lonely.”

He winked. “You, my dear, are a man in a woman’s body.”

She stiffened. Was he complimenting her or disparaging her? To refrain from asking, she bit her lower lip.

With purposeful steps, he wove through the crowd.

Heat flamed her cheeks. She glanced away and fiddled with her auction paddle. She’s not on a date. She’s working. Nothing else.

“What’s the look of petulance for?” He placed her gin martini with two olives on the table and sat.

“I failed to come up with a clever remark to your comment I am a man in a woman’s body.”

“You can’t work at being clever. Humor comes naturally.” He patted her hand. “Don’t worry. You’ve been mighty clever tonight. Your banter with Judge Newman thrilled me.” He nodded toward the martini. “Try your drink.”

She sipped the martini and sighed. It tasted as cold and stark as a starless sky in winter. The sharp aftertaste lingered on her tongue, begging for another sip. Why couldn’t her life be as perfect as that?

“I take it you like it,” he said.

“Of course, I do. It’s perfect.” She admired his thoughtfulness. “Like you.”

He stood, turned his chair, and straddled the seat.

She pinched the skin between her eyebrows. “Why are you straddling the chair like a cowboy?”

He stood, turned his chair, and sat with his legs crossed. “I wanted to prove a point.”

“You’re an uncouth imbecile?”

“No. I’m not perfect.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t place men on pedestals. We’ll fall and bruise our egos. We’re actually very fragile.”

She laughed.

When he frowned, the lines cupping the sides of his mouth deepened. “I’m serious. That’s why I’m not married. Every woman I’ve met treats me like a superhero. They want me to rescue them.” He pointed to his chest. “I can’t even rescue myself. I’m a hopeless boy trapped in a man’s body.”

She swallowed, ashamed of the fire of desire sweeping through her body. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “We all have our issues. You’re gifted and talented at working with basket cases. Like the woman who attempted suicide when her husband left her for her brother. You swept into the situation and found her the help she needed. Did you know she’s now a psychologist specializing in post-traumatic stress disorder, and she’s engaged? Last week, I met with her and her fiancé to write a prenuptial agreement. She kept talking about how you saved her life and how grateful she still is. That’s why I can tell you anything. I respect you.” He flashed a wide smile. “Even though you’re a man trapped in a very attractive woman’s body.”

Confident in the compliment, she laughed. A soft glow of satisfaction incited her, and she smiled. How delightful to know Sonya recovered from depression and transformed her life.

By the time the first course arrived, Darcy relaxed enough to ignore her physical attraction toward Victor and just enjoy his company. Sure, he lacked Betty’s enthusiastic retelling of courtroom dramas and softball escapades, but he entertained her with his quick-witted banter and chivalrous hospitality.

Before dessert, the auctioneer announced a raffle for a $50,000 Desire Our Hearts diamond ring. Tickets cost one hundred dollars each. Volunteers walked from table to table selling tickets. The beautifully cut diamond sparkled in a white gold setting. Darcy shuddered when she thought of the plain yellow gold wedding bands she and Nathan wore for eight years. Would she still be married if she sported a two-carat princess-cut diamond ring? Or would she struggle to pawn it once the marriage ended?

“Would you like to buy a ticket?” the young lady asked.

Darcy stared at the facets and marveled how each one reflected a tiny rainbow. As a young girl, she thought rainbows meant magic and magic meant miracles and miracles meant anything she wanted to happen could happen. She shook her head. “No, thank you,” she mumbled.

“The money helps a good cause,” the young lady said.

“I know, but I can’t.” She cringed, ashamed of her financial situation.

“I’ll buy you a ticket.” Victor removed his wallet and handed the young lady his credit card.

“No, don’t.” She grasped his wrist to stop the transaction.

Frowning, he yanked away his arm. “Please, what woman doesn’t believe diamonds are a girl’s best friend?”

She glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Confident she would not be overheard, she leaned closer. “A man trapped in a woman’s body.”

“Touché.” He flashed a crooked smile. “But I’m still buying you a ticket.” He placed the red raffle ticket in the palm of her hand.

A bolt of energy zigzagged up her arm. She curled her fingers over the ticket and held it against her heart, secretly hoping she might win. If she wore the ring, people would constantly ask about her engagement. Some would react like Judge Newman and say, “Aren’t you lucky lesbians can marry?” She cringed. If she won, then she would lock the ring in a safety deposit box until she died. She uncurled her fingers and gazed at the crumpled ticket. What a waste of money, she thought. She wished he spent it on more gin martinis.

“Why the sour face?” he asked.

She hesitated. “What will I do if I win the ring?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Keep it, I guess. Or donate it to someone who really wants it.” He caught her gaze. “Maybe your lesbian lover.” He winked.

She picked up her auction paddle and swatted his arm.

He lifted his almost-empty martini glass for a toast. “You really are clever.”

“Not as clever as you.”

Wagging his head, he shook his finger. “Now, now, don’t be a man and turn this into a competition. Just take the compliment like a lady.”

Darcy sighed. She never took anything graciously. “Maybe you’re right, and I am a man trapped in a woman’s body.”

Victor leaned over and kissed her lips.

Her whole body flooded with excitement. “Why did you do that?”

“To see if you would turn into a man.” His gaze swept over her body. “You still look like a woman to me.”

Biting her lower lip, she could taste the bitterness of his martini on her tongue. She wanted him to kiss her again.

He finished his drink.

After dessert, the auctioneer walked onto the stage to announce the winner of the diamond ring. He plunged his hand into a silver bucket and withdrew a ticket. He read the winning number.

She checked the numbers on her ticket, her palm sweating. She lost. Sighing, she handed Victor the ticket.

Again, the auctioneer read the numbers.

Victor studied the ticket and frowned.

“Are you disappointed?” she asked.

He held her gaze a moment longer. “Not really.”

“And why is that?”

“I only bought one ticket. The odds were stacked against us.”

“But one ticket is all we needed.”

“Sometimes, winning takes more than just one try.”

“I hope you don’t say that to your clients.” Yawning, she slid back the chair.

“Are you leaving?” He stood.

“Yes.” A flash of disappointment descended over her shoulders. “I think I’ll go.”

“Let me walk you to your car.”

“But you’ll miss the live auction and the dancing.”

He offered his arm. “I’d rather spend the time with you.”

A touch of kinship united them.

She wove her arm through his. How delightful to find someone who enjoyed her company as much as she enjoyed his.

Matching strides, they walked around the tables of guests. A few people stopped them to comment on how cute a couple they made.

She blushed from the compliments.

He nudged open the double doors.

A gust of cool summer air blasted against her face. She shivered.

He tugged her closer. “Would you like my jacket?”

“No, thank you. I’m parked over there.” She waved toward the left.

They strode over to an ancient sports sedan.

Darcy unlocked her door and tossed her clutch inside. As she turned to say good night, she trembled with anticipation. Would he kiss her again?

Standing in silence, he gazed into her eyes.

A flicker of desire lapped at her feet and licked up into her belly. She had never seen eyes so big, so bold, and so beautiful. Oh, why wouldn’t he kiss her?

Finally, he pulled her into his arms and squeezed her. His tender lips brushed against the tangle of her hair. Every fiber of her body melted against his firm muscles. Waiting, she held her breath.

“Good night,” he whispered.

No kiss? “Good night.” She stumbled out of his arms and grabbed the car door for balance as she sank onto the car’s cracked leather front seat.

“Drive safely,” he said.

The excitement from the evening deflated like a leaking helium balloon. She closed the door and fumbled with the ignition. She backed out of the parking spot and glanced in her rearview mirror.

He strolled to the convention center with his hands thrust into his pockets.

Fighting against the impulse to brake and shift the car in reverse, she clenched the steering wheel. After all, she couldn’t invite him to her place to spend the night. She lived in a rented room in someone else’s house. Humiliation slapped her face. What was she thinking? She was too old for him anyway. She shuddered and sped away, desperate to save herself from the heartbreak of falling in love.