All the other machines were filled with other employees. She paid no attention to them, but when Mitch arrived in the room, somehow she sensed it. Biting her lip, she tried to stay focused and ignore him. But finally she had to turn her head, just in time to see him begin to pull off his crisp white shirt. She held her breath, and when she realized what she was doing, she closed her eyes for a moment, cursing softly.
When she opened them again, she saw that beautiful body and steeled herself. And then she saw something else. There across his chest was a jagged line of scarring that she knew hadn’t been there when she’d known him. It looked fiery and painful and she gasped so loud, heads turned all up and down the room. He looked up and her gaze locked with his, but only for seconds.
She stumbled on the treadmill, losing her pace and almost losing her balance, her heart beating wildly. That beautiful body and that ugly scar. His skin had been smooth and flawless when she’d last seen it, touched it. What on earth had happened to him?
She drew a deep breath, reminding herself she wasn’t going to let emotions tangle up her life again. Whatever had happened to him was none of her business. She had two babies to raise and protect and that was enough for her to deal with.
Turning up the mileage on the treadmill, she worked harder, hoping to blot out his presence on the other side of the room. But she was beginning to wonder if she was ever going to be free of him again. And suddenly her mind was full of what it had been like two years before, right after Mitch had left for South America.
She’d been walking on air. Of course he’d told her he wasn’t in the market for a lasting relationship, and she’d accepted that at the time. But something deep inside had whispered lies of wishful thinking to her. Those two days had been magic. She’d never known a man like Mitch, never felt the crazy excitement, the overwhelming affection, the deep and undeniable need she’d felt with him. They had been so good together. She knew he felt the same way. She knew he was just as reluctant to leave her as she had been to let him go. She’d been so sure he would contact her again, despite everything he’d said. How could two people fall madly into love for a weekend and then walk away without a backward glance? It just didn’t seem possible.
One week went by. Then another. She was still so sure that she would hear from him soon. With Jimmy totally wrapped up in his racing, spending every free moment at the track, and things at work more difficult than she’d ever expected, she felt very much alone. And then came the horrible afternoon when Jimmy’s Formula One car crashed during a practice run. He was rushed to the hospital and died later that night. Darcy had been the one to call his mother with the news—the one to accompany his body back to Texas, the one who supported his mother at the funeral. For days that was all she could think about.
And then she realized she was pregnant.
By then Mitch had seemed very far away. And when she couldn’t find him or get in touch with him, she began to resent him—as though he’d done this to her and then run out on his responsibilities. Again, it was like something out of a book or a movie, only now it had turned from romance to dark drama. A character study in male dependability.
She’d had her babies. She’d gone through it all alone. It wasn’t easy, but she was managing. And suddenly, he’d turned up again.
It was all wrong. Things weren’t happening in the right order. If only she’d been able to get hold of him right when she realized the babies were on the way. She knew he had no interest in being a father. He’d told her as much that night in Paris—and by the time she knew she was pregnant, she was ready to believe what he’d said was the last word after all. She wouldn’t have asked all that much of him. But at least he would have been moral support. She wouldn’t have had to make all the decisions on her own. There would have been someone to share things with, even if just in letters or phone calls.
Okay, she was starting to sound whiny now, even to herself. Enough. This was a situation, but she could handle it. She’d toughened a lot over the last two years. She’d handled everything up to now pretty well, hadn’t she? And she could do this, too.
Turning off the machine, she grabbed a towel, wiped her face, then threw it around her shoulders, turning to step off. And there was Mitch, waiting for her.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t stop.
“Are you stalking me?” she asked, brushing past him and trying to ignore the lovely bulging muscles his company tank top revealed.
“I’d only be doing that if you were avoiding me,” he pointed out. “Are you?”
Turning back, she looked at him. Her first thought was that he had some nerve accusing her of being ellusive. He was the original Houdini in her life. But as her gaze met his, she felt her resentment melting. It was those huge blue eyes with those gorgeous dark lashes. She was a sucker for that look—always had been.
“No, of course not,” she said. And silently, she raged at herself. “Wimp!”
“Good. Because I think we need to talk. Why don’t you meet me in my office in half an hour?”
She nodded. This was it. Her heart was pounding. “Okay,” she said, then turned and marched toward the women’s locker room.
He was right. They did need to talk, about so many things. The question was, should she tell him now? Could she tell him now?
“We’ll play it by ear,” she told herself reassuringly as she slipped into her work clothes. But that was no good. She knew she was just giving herself an out that way. With a sigh, she rejected that and got back to business. There had to be a hundred different ways to broach the subject and get it over with. Why was it that she couldn’t think of any?
Focus! she ordered herself as she started walking back to her desk. Think! And once she started trying a little harder, ideas began to come to her. Not that any of them were any good. Still, she’d started the juices flowing.
There really were so many options. There was the blunt method. She could walk into his office, plunk a picture of the almost-fifteen-month-old twins down on the desk in front of him and say, “Look at these. See any resemblance?”
Dropping down into her chair, she made a face. A bit crass, perhaps. But it was a start. Leaning on her elbows, she frowned, deep in thought.
How about writing him a memo—make it businesslike? “Attention Mr. Carver: This memorandum is meant to inform you that you are the father of twins. Please deal with this situation immediately.”
She wrinkled her nose.
Well then, how about using the office loudspeaker? “Attention employees. All fathers of twins please meet with Darcy Connors in the conference room right away. Mitch Carver, this means you.”
A more subtle approach? “Uh, Mitch, you know when you left me in Paris? You didn’t just leave me. In fact, you left behind a legacy, and it’s been growing ever since.”
Too obscure. He would think she meant the Parisian waitresses were still talking about him. And they just might be, but that wasn’t the issue here.
She glanced at the clock and her heart jumped. She didn’t have much time left. She had to think of some way to do this, fast, and do it right. Closing her eyes, she tried to concentrate. Her twins deserved a father who didn’t completely reject them. And it was up to her to provide that for them. The way she approached this might make all the difference.
A few minutes later she was walking into his office and she still didn’t have a plan. She did have a rough idea of what she might say, but she didn’t get a chance to say it. Mitch rose from behind his desk to greet her, taking her hand in his and staring down into her eyes in a way that reminded her of how he’d looked in that Parisian doorway, blasting all thought right out of her mind and leaving only a thrilling electricity running through her veins and a bittersweet yearning in her heart.
“I’ve got to tell you right up-front, Darcy,” he said, not releasing