Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) (2 page)

Chapter 2

After Darcy shut the door, Josh resumed his prone position on the couch and picked up the remote, then set it down again before dragging a hand through his hair. These conversations wore on him. He’d heard them a thousand times before. And now her upcoming birthday was making matters worse. Why did people—especially women—feel it necessary to mark their lives by some arbitrary number?

He couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but he was in love with Darcy, and probably had been since the day she’d walked into his law school class and claimed the empty seat next to him.

She’d been young and fresh-faced, lacking the hangdog look of a third-year law school student. Professor Jacobs had introduced her as a creative writing major who was auditing the class to learn about copyright law. Little did Josh know then that at age twenty-one she’d already published her first novel,
Love’s Sweet Revenge
, a break-out success.

Josh hadn’t been able to concentrate the entire class. The delicate floral scent of her perfume nearly drove him mad. Rather than taking notes from the professor’s lecture, he’d mentally catalogued the many endearing characteristics and quirks that had intrigued him on that first day.

How she’d flipped her long golden brown hair over one shoulder and tucked it behind her ear; the way she chewed her full lower lip before jotting something in her notebook; and the dimple that flickered at the corner of her mouth when she smiled.

But it had been her eyes, heavily lashed and moss-green, like the cool shades of a summer forest, that had captivated him. They’d sparkled with such energy and intelligence. When she’d introduced herself after class, he could barely get a word out around the knot in his tongue, a rare occurrence for a third-year law student with aspirations to litigate. 

They’d become fast friends, much to the envy of the other male students in the class. Well, with the exception of Steven Birnbaum, who had been so focused on achieving top honors that an earthquake wouldn’t have distracted him.

A few weeks into the semester, just when Josh had drummed up the courage to ask her out on an honest-to-goodness date, she’d come to class with an enormous rock on her left hand.

Engaged.

Josh had been devastated, especially since she’d never mentioned a boyfriend. By the end of the semester the engagement was off. Darcy had caught her sports caster fiancé demonstrating his version of the quarterback sneak with the TV station’s bombshell meteorologist. Bastard.

Even though he didn’t know Darcy well at the time, he could see the difference in her. Where a once sunny, confident Darcy had been, he saw someone filled with self-doubt, and her face bore a shadow of pain and heartache. Josh wanted nothing more than to be the friend she needed.

So after her break-up, Josh gave her time and understanding to help her heal, to allow that vivacity to shine again. The next thing he knew he was studying for the bar and trying to make a name for himself at her father’s law firm. Then, over time, things got comfortable between them, and he was afraid to shake things up for fear of losing her friendship. That, and you just didn’t sleep with your best friend. It was one of the first rules of the Top Secret Guy Code, and, as the Code demonstrated, the consequences could be disastrous.

Friend. Baseball buddy. Shoulder to cry on. He’d never be more than that to Darcy. But he could be happy with that, as long as it meant she was part of his life.

Picking up the remote, he pressed ‘play’, thankful he didn’t have to make that argument in front of a judge.

Darcy dropped her keys on
the console table in her small foyer as she dug in her purse for her cell phone. The strains of “Promiscuous” alerted her that the caller was Laura.

“Hello,” she huffed.

“Um, am I interrupting something?” Laura didn’t sound the least bit sorry if she had been.

“No. I just got home.” She wearily climbed the stairs to her bedroom, stilettos in hand.

“Eleven-fifteen . . . you two must have found
something
in common. How’d it go?”

“No, we didn’t find anything in common. His sister went into labor, or so he said, and he had to leave. I’ve been at Josh’s.”

“What was wrong with this one?”

“Is there an echo?” Darcy sniped.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Darcy muttered.

“Oh yeah, he hates baseball,” Laura continued with her third degree.

“And romance novels.” Darcy dropped her purse on the bed before plopping down herself. “And apparently romance novelists.”

“Well, he doesn’t have to
read
your novels.”

“No, but he has to at least respect my profession.”

“I’ll be sure to add that to the ever-growing list of candidate prerequisites.”

Darcy could practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the phone.

“Jesus, Darcy, no one’s perfect, so you might consider lowering your expectations just a bit.”

“Kettle, meet pot.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Laura’s voice rose with her indignation.

Darcy stood to pace the length of her bedroom. “Who is it you’re madly in love with this week, Laura? Jonathan from Britain? That is until next week, when Philipé from Spain or Maurice from Lichtenstein comes along.” 

“That’s not true.”

“Right.” Darcy snatched a nightie out of her dresser drawer and tossed it onto her bed.

“At least I get somewhere with the guys I meet.”

“If by getting somewhere, you mean into bed, you’re right.”

“Boy, you really need to get some yourself—and soon.”

“Good night, Laura.” Darcy hit ‘end’ and threw the phone onto her bed in frustration. The phone bounced up, knocking over a delicate crystal water decanter her mother had given her, which had the audacity to shatter on the hardwood floor. 

She flopped back onto the bed with a groan. “Super.”

Her oldest friend, Laura Armstrong was an account executive for Giddings-Rose, one of Madison Avenue’s oldest ad agencies, and had her sights set on a VP position. Not that Laura’s father would notice.

Darcy thought of Laura as the female version of
Mad Men’s
Don Draper—well, minus the chain-smoking, the infidelity, and the shadowy past. But still, Laura worked hard and played hard, especially when it came to men.  

Laura had said she needed to get some, and maybe she did, but unlike Laura, cheap sex didn’t interest Darcy, so until Mr. Right came along, she’d just have to remain celibate. And if Laura’s opinion counted—which it did not—grouchy.

She groaned, rolling over onto her stomach and dragging a downy pillow with her. Hugging the pillow, she wondered again if Laura was right about her expectations being too high. She couldn’t imagine settling for someone less than who she wanted, or spending her life with someone who didn’t know her inside and out and love her in spite of her foibles. Or maybe even because of them. Someone who would never tell you he loved you and then cheat on you. Someone perfect. Someone like Blake.

She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep, clothes and all, with visions of Blake Garrett, the Perfect Man, dancing in her head.

Chapter 3

The crowd roared as A-Rod’s two-run homer sailed over the outfield wall. Josh smacked Darcy’s hands in an overhead double high-five.

Darcy, thumb and index finger in her mouth, let out a very unladylike whistle, while Josh hooted his approval.

From their seats along the first-base line, they’d watched the Yankees play season after season, hoping to catch a coveted foul ball, since Josh took a job in her father’s law firm and could afford the tickets. It was the one activity he made time for in his demanding schedule as a law firm senior associate, and the fact that it involved Darcy made it all the better.

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Josh clapped his hands. 

Resuming their seats, they clanked beer bottles in a toast to their beloved Yankees.

Darcy closed her eyes and lifted her face to the warm April sun. “I just love baseball season,” she said with a wistful sigh.

“Me, too,” Josh said with a grin. “And the Yankees are in top form. Look out, Red Sox.”

“Darcy?
”

She opened her eyes to see a guy in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt. “Steve. Hi.”

He pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. “You’re looking good.” He glanced over at Josh before leaning over to kiss her cheek.

“Thanks.” Steve was one of the rare guys she’d dated more than once. Given her dating record since Cheating Bastard, one might have even called it a long-term relationship—two weeks. But things took a turn for the serious and rather than invest more time in a relationship that would likely end, she broke it off. Besides, she’d just begun writing
My Tender Passions
and laid-back Steve just couldn’t compete with dark, brooding Derek, and it didn’t seem right to string Steve along.

He’d appeared devastated when she broke it off, telling him she needed to focus on her work, which wasn’t exactly a lie. She had been keenly focused on her obsession with Derek.

Darcy introduced Josh then tilted her head, considering. Steve was still a hunk. Maybe now that she’d gotten over her ‘brooding hero’ stage, she’d ask him for a drink. And he was a doctor just like Blake.

“Darcy, this is my wife, Shelley.”

Doh!
So much for that drink.

A beautiful blonde with a big smile and an even bigger chest extended her hand. Was it possible for someone’s mouth to actually reach from ear-to-ear? Darcy took Shelley’s hand and shook it briefly. She looked a little like one of those scantily clad models you see draped over the hood of a sports car in some tawdry motor oil calendar.

“You’re Darcy Butler. I just love your books. I can’t wait for
The Doctor’s Dilemma.”

A fan. Maybe Steve had good taste in women, after all. “Thanks. It’ll be out soon. Congratulations. When did you two get married?” 

Wearing silly grins, the happy couple gazed at one another before saying in unison, “November twenty-second.”

“Wow. That’s, um, great.” If memory served, that was two weeks after Darcy broke up with him. Either this was the world’s quickest rebound marriage, or he’d been dating Shelley before Darcy broke it off. She narrowed her eyes at him.

As if reading her thoughts, Steve shifted uncomfortably on his feet.

“Well, it was good seeing you, Darcy. Josh.” He nodded before practically dragging Miss November up the steps to their seats.

“November twenty-second.”

Darcy cringed. She could see Josh’s analytical brain working out the dates. He never forgot a thing.

“That was only—” 

“Yeah, I know, only two weeks after I broke up with him.” She slumped back into her seat, and, picking up her beer, took a gulp.

“Guess you really broke his heart. I can see the guy was just shattered,” he said with a laugh.

“Shut up.” A sharp elbow to his ribs produced the grunt of pain she’d hoped for. “I’m glad he’s happy,” she said, chin lifted slightly. “I wouldn’t want anyone mooning over me with a broken heart.” 

Josh snorted, and Darcy elbowed him again. The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd cut off any further gibes.

“Hey, batter, batter, batter, batt
er!” Josh grinned as he heckled, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Darcy swung with all her might as the ball flew past the plate. “Fudgesicle!” She glowered in response to Josh’s taunting.

Before she could set her feet again, the
whack-thump
of the pitching machine distracted her. “What is this thing set on anyway, Mach 4?”

Josh laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only on Mach 2.”

Darcy huffed as another ball shot past her.

Kids and adults alike crowded the batting cages, post-game patrons inspired by the Yankees’ winning performance to hone their own batting skills.

“Your stance is off. You’ve been wearing too many hooker heels on those blind dates of yours.”

Darcy skewered him with her patented eat-shit glare. “Manolo doesn’t make ‘hooker heels.’”

He walked up behind her and, grabbing her hips, pulled them back into a slight squat. His hands burned as if he’d just touched hot coals.

Ignoring the sensation, he continued his critique. “You’re leaning forward onto your toes. Sit back onto your heels. That’s it.” Nestled up behind her, he closed his hands over hers on the bat and swung at the next ball. Bat and ball made contact with a satisfying
whack
.

Now his hands weren’t the only things burning. He stepped back before he gave himself away. 

Darcy could still feel the imprint of Josh’s
hands on her hips. His hard chest had pressed into her back as his hands covered hers on the bat, and she wanted nothing more than to lean back into his strength and warmth. Had it been so long since she’d been touched by a guy who wasn’t a family member that Josh’s touch sent her over the edge?

The palms of her hands stinging from her efforts, she relinquished the bat to Josh, removed her batter’s helmet, and shook out her hair. Confused by her reaction to the feel of Josh’s touch, she stepped out of the way of the supersonic balls, and settled onto a bench to let Josh bat. 

She’d always admired his form, and his rangy build gave him a long reach. He’d played baseball in high school—short stop—but had given it up to pursue an Ivy League education and become the first person in his family to graduate from college.  

He’d worked hard to get where he was.
Whack.
Raised by a single mother, after his father died when he was only twelve.
Whack.
Now here he was, up for partner in her father’s law firm.
Whack.
Even though she hadn’t known that twelve-year-old boy, she was proud of everything he’d accomplished.

Whack.

“Hey! You hungry?” Darcy shouted to be heard over the din.

He turned as another ball rocketed past him. “Sure.” He pulled off his batter’s helmet and ran his fingers through his hair, before adjusting his Yankees cap. Rubbing his flat stomach, he gave her a grin. “I could eat.”

Laughing, he threw his arm around her shoulders as they left the batting cage, the warmth of his body an unsettling reminder of her extremely long dry spell.