One Night of Scandal

“Sounds like a plan.”

With his fingers loosely hooked on his belt loops, he walked alongside her toward the tables of vegetables to their right. For the next half hour, they embarked on a health-conscious shopping spree, Reed carrying their overflowing bags without Darcy even having to ask. The whole time, he chatted easily about nothing in particular, while she did her damnedest to avoid any deep conversation. Despite the fact that she’d choked down so many potential questions her throat had run dry from the constant gulping, she was proud of herself for resisting temptation.

But the dark side finally called her over. They’d just stopped at a table piled high with Red Delicious apples when Reed broke out in laughter.

“Shit. I still can’t look at apples without thinking about this girl I knew in middle school.”

Darcy had to grin. “Why, was her name Apple?”

“Actually, it was,” he said smugly. “Apple Schulman, the product of a hippie mom and Jewish dad. She was skinny as a rail with big brown eyes and a mouthful of braces, and I was utterly and completely in love with her.”

“How old were you?”

“Twelve, I think? It was the sixth grade. She sat in front of me for every class, and I’d spend hours daydreaming about her and trying to work up the courage to ask her out. All the grades had their own annual dances, and I’d already chickened out about inviting her to the sixth grade one, but there was also this big school-wide dance at the end of the year.” Reed chuckled. “I was dying for Apple to go with me, but I was too terrified to ask. Every time I walked up to her locker, I’d freeze up like a Popsicle and then scurry away.”

Darcy laughed. She had trouble picturing the scene he was describing. The Reed she knew oozed confidence and sex appeal. She couldn’t imagine him ever being too nervous to talk to someone, or that any girl, old or young, would ever turn down an offer to date him.

You did.

She banished the internal accusation. That was different. She was a grown woman, not a sixth grader who’d shriek in delight if she scored a date to the school dance. Darcy was smart enough to know what she wanted from her future. And sure, Reed was great in bed, but she wasn’t entirely convinced he could be what she needed out of it—dependable, compassionate, cautious rather than impulsive.

Some women liked a man who was reckless. God knew Darcy had liked it last night when Reed ravished her in the backseat of her car after throwing the equivalent of a temper tantrum. But just because he excited her didn’t mean he could satisfy her emotionally.

“Anyway, in the end,” Reed continued, “after I realized talking to Apple wasn’t a viable option, I decided to give her a note.”

“What did it say?” Darcy asked curiously.

He snickered. “It said do you love me? And underneath the question were two boxes, one for yes and one for no. I told her to check the box that best described her feelings.”

Darcy burst out laughing. “Dude, that’s pretty bold for a sixth-grade boy.”

“That’s how I roll, baby. Bold and ballsy to the bitter end.”

Her tone softened. “Awwww. Was it a bitter end? Did she check the no box?”

“Nope.” Reed grinned. “She added a new box that said maybe. And below that she wrote I’ll tell you after you take me to the dance.”

“Go you,” Darcy said, clapping her hands in teasing applause. “So you got the girl.”

“Sure did.” He released a glum breath. “At least until the dance. Halfway through the second Mariah Carey ballad, this kid named Scotty Dawson cut in and whisked Apple away, and they were boyfriend and girlfriend by the time her parents came to pick us up. As you can probably guess, that was one awkward car ride home.”

“Oh, that’s so awful. I can’t believe she did that.” Darcy glowered in defense of the twelve-year-old Reed. “What a bi-otch.”

“Naah, she wasn’t a bi-otch. Just a fickle sixth-grade girl. I actually have her on my Facebook.”

Darcy snorted. “Really?”

“Yup, but she’s Apple Shulman-Schwartz now. Married a nice Jewish boy, popped out five kids, and works as an estate lawyer at a fancy-pants firm in Beacon Hill.”

“Impressive.”

“I know, right? And then there’s me,” he said wryly. “A total bum, not even paying a mortgage because I’m living in the house I inherited from my uncle. And running a night club, which, by the way, is a job Apple would probably consider scandalous.”

Darcy snapped to his defense again. “Hey, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. First of all, you’re a business owner, which is just as impressive as being a lawyer, and who cares if you inherited your house instead of buying it? You’re still responsible for all your household bills, and insurance, and all that important stuff. You’re smart, and responsible, and—” She halted, feeling like scolding herself for letting the conversation take such a dangerous turn.

She was supposed to be making an effort not to see him as any of those things. Reed was the bad boy hottie she was sleeping with, the man who was giving her a crash course in passion before she moved on and reverted back to her relationship ways.

“And sexy,” she finished, hastily veering back to safe territory. “Like, ridiculously sexy. Did I tell you how hot you look today?”

“Nope, you didn’t. But I sure would love to hear it.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.