times before.
When he came to the end of the talk, he met her gaze, and once more he was reminded of sitting next to Darcy in algebra, when Mr. Green was explaining a new concept to the class.
Mitch’s grasp of the subject always suffered because he’d end up watching Darcy. No one listened the way she did. She would lean forward, like now. Her eyes widened, and when she had her moment of comprehension—that great aha!—she blinked rapidly for several seconds. If she didn’t understand something, she nibbled on her lower lip.
He’d dreamed about that.
She sat back in the suede wing chair, sighed, and as if she’d read his thoughts, nibbled on her lower lip. He forced his gaze away from her mouth. “You have questions?”
She nodded. “The donors,” she said, her voice a little timid. “How does the woman select which sperm…”
“Assuming it’s not going to be the husband’s?”
“Yeah. Assuming that.”
“We have a sperm bank here, on the premises. Each donor is screened very carefully, and we keep up-to-date profiles on each one.”
“Wow,” she said, more to herself than him.
“Darcy?”
“Hmm?”
“You want to tell me what this is about?”
She nibbled a little more on that lucky lower lip, then she took a deep breath. “I’ve quit modeling. For good. I bought the Kendrick place. In fact, escrow closed this morning. I’m not married, and I don’t think I ever will be. I’ve come back to Austin to have a baby. And I want you to help me.”
CHAPTER TWO
DARCY HELD HER BREATH as she watched Mitch go into shock. She wished she knew for sure which tidbit had made him pale. That she was giving up modeling? No. Mitch wouldn’t care about that. He’d never been particularly impressed with celebrities or fashion.
That she’d bought the Kendricks’ house? They’d played on the great expanse of lawn that was Marjorie and Bob Kendrick’s front yard so often, it was like their personal playground, right around the corner from the Maitland house. Darcy had told Mitch that one day she would live there. He hadn’t believed her. Frankly, she hadn’t believed it, either.
Who was she kidding? The shock had nothing to do with careers or houses. It had everything to do with babies.
Mitch came out of his stupor with a jolt, then coughed to cover his lapse. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, then shook his head as he shut it once more.
“Surprise,” she said, trying to lighten the mood.
“To say the least.” His voice sounded a bit funny, but at least words had come out this time.
“So, can you help me?”
“Can I? Yes. Should I? I have no idea.”
“Why?”
He blinked at her as if she’d missed something incredibly obvious. “Because I— You and I— Because we—”
She grinned. It had always been fun to make Mitch sputter. She’d found that out in sixth grade and had used the knowledge to torment him on a regular basis.
“What are you smiling about?”
“It’s good to see you, Maitland.”
His shoulders relaxed visibly. “It’s good to see you, too. I think.”
“Hey, you remember the time capsule?”
His brows furrowed for a moment, and then it came to him; she could see it in his face. “God, I haven’t thought of that in years.”
“I found it.”
“No.”
She nodded. “Right where we left it.”
“What’s in it?”
“I don’t know. I figured we’d better open it together.”
He leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be damned. We buried that…when?”
“Nineteen seventy-seven. September. Right before school started.”
“Right.” He nodded. “We’d read that book.”
“Yeah.”
For several minutes, he didn’t speak. He’d locked his gaze on a stack of folders on his desk, but she didn’t think he was really seeing them. Instead, he was looking at the past, just as she had the moment her shovel had hit the tin lunch box buried under the juniper bushes at the Kendricks’ house.
She wondered how long it would take for it to become the Taylor house. Certainly all the people she’d grown up with wouldn’t be able to call it that. But her daughter’s friends… Or her son’s. She wasn’t picky.
Mitch caught her eye as he leaned forward again. “What does your mother have to say about this, uh, plan?”
“I guess you haven’t heard. My mother died eight months ago.”
Again, she’d managed to shock him. “What? I would have heard.”
Darcy shook her head. “She was in a nursing home in New York. She’d been sick for a long time.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me, too.”
“So it’s just you, now, huh?”
Darcy nodded. It was just her now, but not for long. Not if she could help it. Not if Mitch would cooperate. He looked as if he wanted to ask her something. Something awkward, if the doodles on his desk blotter were any indication. “Go on,” she said.
“Pardon?”
“Go on and ask me whatever it is. It’s all right.”
He grinned his acknowledgment at being caught. “I was just wondering…. Is there a donor?”
“No. There isn’t.”
“What about that veterinarian?”
“You knew about that?”
He nodded, somewhat guiltily. “It was kind of hard to miss.”
“Swell. I just love having my personal tragedies broadcast on national news. But no. We’re not together anymore. We got divorced almost two years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s much better this way.”
“What— Never
