Still the One Read online



  were beneath her shirt, the answer was a big, fat yes.

  “Shit,” he said again, brilliantly repeating himself, and rolled to his back.

  “That’s quite the expansive vocabulary you’ve got there.”

  “I thought I was dreaming,” he said.

  With a laugh, Darcy hit the lamp this time. Her hair was Girls Gone Wild and the tee she’d stolen from him slipped off one creamy shoulder.

  Her nipples were just about boring holes in the soft material and made his mouth water.

  Jesus. He settled his arm over his eyes to block the view. He could feel most of his business hanging out in the chilly room air because at some point in the night she’d hogged all the covers. He needed to right them and get her back to sleep before she started asking questions he didn’t want to answer.

  “You dream about me?” she asked.

  Like that one. “Shit,” he said for a third time and sat up.

  “That’s so annoying.”

  He slid her a look. “What?”

  “How when you sit up your abs do that stupid sexy guy crunch thing because you have no body fat, you bastard.”

  She might as well have been talking at him in Chinese. He rolled out of the bed and stalked toward the bathroom.

  “Aw, don’t go away mad,” she said, sounding amused. “Just go away.”

  He slammed the bathroom door in tune to her low laugh.

  The next morning Darcy pushed the lobby button and felt the elevator begin to glide. She stared at the numbers on the display as they raced toward the ground level, incredibly aware of AJ standing at her side.

  He’d been gone when she’d woken up a half hour ago.

  She hadn’t yet addressed the teeny tiny stab of disappointment that had hit her. By the time she’d come to terms with his absence and the winter wonderland outside the hotel window, he’d been back in her room with a coffee in each hand.

  She’d gratefully downed the caffeine but still didn’t feel ready for this breakfast gig. She hadn’t been nervous last night at dinner. She’d still been pissy about being there in the first place.

  But apparently she’d moved past the pissy stage into the anxiety stage.

  “Do we need to talk about it?” AJ asked. His voice was still morning gruff, which somehow slid across every single one of her nerve endings. And apparently she had many.

  “No,” she said firmly. The less talking the better.

  He turned her to face him. He wore jeans and a gray Henley, looking disturbingly laid-back and easygoing and … hot.

  Dammit.

  “We don’t need to talk at all,” she assured him. “In fact, let’s practice not talking, all the way home.”

  “Okay,” he said, annoyingly game. “But there’s something you should know.”

  Great. “I’ll behave myself.” Probably.

  He shook his head, a tiny quirk at the corner of his mouth suggesting that he sincerely doubted her ability to behave herself. “Not that,” he said, and waited a beat, his hazel eyes holding hers prisoner. “We got more than the forecasted six inches.”

  Uh-oh. “How much more?”

  “There’s two feet of fresh powder on the summit.”

  “And?”

  “And it’s still coming down,” he said. “The pass is still closed.”

  She stared at him and then dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling. “Seriously?” she asked karma, fate, destiny … whoever was in charge of the joke that was her life. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Besides drive me crazy on a daily basis?” AJ asked.

  “Not you!”

  Now he did laugh. “You talking to God?”

  “Trying.” She met his gaze. “I’ll call Zoe and make her fly her boss’s plane down here to rescue me right this very minute.”

  “You don’t want her flying in this weather.”

  Yeah.

  Dammit. “Fine. We eat quick and get on the road before it gets any worse. Got me?”

  “Got you.”

  Finally they were in sync.

  The elevator door opened and she stepped off, only to be yanked back into AJ, who had a grip on the back of her sweater. “I still think we should talk,” he said, staring down into her face.

  “Sure. When hell freezes over.” And with that she shrugged free and marched into the café.

  Trent was seated at a table with a pretty, petite blonde two decades younger than him. She smiled a shy greeting. When she did, only the left side of her moved. The right side was marred by scars and skin grafts that stretched from her forehead to her neck.

  Darcy’s chest squeezed. She didn’t realize she’d frozen until AJ came up behind her and put a warm hand at the small of her back, nudging her forward.

  “Summer,” Trent said, “this is AJ, the physical therapist I’ve told you so much about, and also the love of his life, Darcy.”

  Darcy nearly swallowed her tongue on the “love of his life” thing, and when she coughed, AJ slid her a look that said he wouldn’t mind if she did swallow her tongue.

  “AJ and Darcy,” Trent went on, “meet the love of my life: my wife, Summer.”

  At the sweet words, Summer beamed at him and then gestured to the empty seats. “Join us,” she said. “I’m starving.”

  Trent leaned in and kissed her scarred cheek. “That’s because we worked up an appetite this morning.”

  She smacked him lightly as she laughed, a sweet, musical sound. “At the hotel gym, you silly man. You always leave that part off.”

  Trent just grinned at her.

  Darcy and AJ sat and the two men engaged in conversation about the storm. A waitress came and brought coffee and tea, and Summer leaned forward toward Darcy. “We have the two most handsome men in the room.”

  Darcy glanced around and saw a lot of other handsome men but her gaze caught on only one—the man sitting on her other side.

  “And your man is particularly gorgeous,” Summer whispered.

  Yeah, and that it was true didn’t help. “That’s a beautiful necklace,” she said in a desperate attempt to change the subject, nodding to the huge solitaire hanging from Summer’s neck.

  “Oh, isn’t it?” Summer ran her finger over the diamond. “It was supposed to be my engagement ring, but then I got into the accident and …” She set her right hand on the table. Like her face, it was scarred, her fingers gnarled like a woman in her nineties instead of mid-thirties.

  Little flashes of what Summer must have suffered hit Darcy in strong images. Strong, because she had an unfortunate amount of images in her brain to draw from. You’re recovering, a voice inside her head said. Soon nothing will show of your accident—unlike Summer, who’ll always bear those scars.

  From beneath the table AJ squeezed her fingers. She squeezed back, grateful for the silent support, and drew a careful breath. “It makes a stunning necklace,” she said. “It’s like it was meant to be that way.”

  “I think so, too,” Summer said and her smile faded. “After the accident, I wasn’t sure how I was going to get back to a happy place. It’s hard to be happy when every inch of you is in agony twenty-four/seven.”

  Trent stopped in mid-sentence from his conversation with AJ and grabbed her hand. “Honey, you don’t have to go back there or talk about it. AJ and Darcy will understand.”

  “I want to talk about it.” Summer looked into his eyes. “I want to tell people how you saved my life.”

  “But I didn’t,” he said. “I wasn’t even in town when that drunk driver hit you head-on.” His voice hardened. “Or I’d have killed him with my own bare hands.”

  “No, stop that,” she murmured. “We’ve been over this. I’d never have wanted that. He got what he deserved; he’s sitting in a jail cell. And I meant you saved me after. You were there with me every second of recovery, through rehab, through surgeries, through everything including paying for the PT I so desperately needed, even after my insurance company cut me off.”

&n