Strapless. Leigh Riker

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      “Corruption, Incorporated.”

      “Yes. Well. You may smirk but it’s true. Eden is a bad influence.” She dragged the cup back for another swallow, and another little frisson of discomfort trickled down Darcie’s spine. “Your father and I are adamantly opposed to Annie’s wishes—unless, as her big sister, you could look out for her. If you shared an apartment—”

      “Mom, Annie’s a slob.”

      Clearly defeated for the moment, Janet surged to her feet, then ruined her exit by stumbling in her Via Spigas. “I’ll be late for the theater. Please think about what I’ve said.” Recovering her balance, she gave Darcie a tight smile. “It was good to see you. I’ll phone tomorrow. Perhaps we can do something together before you leave.”

      “I leave tomorrow night.”

      “Sunday brunch, then. We’ll talk more about Annie.”

      Darcie rose, too, determined not to make any logical decision until after her trip to Sydney. But the devil rode her heels. “And I can tell you all about Julio.”

      Darcie was still smiling to herself when she whipped through the revolving doors at FAO Schwarz into the Saturday afternoon chaos that always reigned there. She didn’t often venture into such stores—after all, she didn’t have kids, as Janet might point out—but before she left the States she wanted to buy a gift for Claire’s new baby. Her goddaughter.

      A little thrill went through her. She’d only seen the baby once, but already she loved the tiny girl. And the promise she represented. Maybe this one fragrant little human being would get everything right. No errors, no strikeouts. Just a solid crack of the bat, and a home run down the center line of life into the bleachers.

      Darcie wasn’t a sporting person. “I’m the last one chosen for the softball team,” she murmured and swept past a display of basketballs and soccer pads. “You should have seen me when I took horseback riding lessons. Ever watched someone end up backward in a saddle? And don’t forget swim camp. I sank like a rock.”

      “May I help you, miss?”

      A clerk stepped into the aisle, his gaze curious.

      “No, thank you.” She gave him a bland, unfocused smile.

      “I heard you talking….”

      “Was I? Oh, I must have forgotten to take one of my medications.” She zipped onto the escalator to the second floor, and waved at a mountain of Bob the Builder toys on display. “Gotta watch it, Darce. Even in New York.” She grinned. “But gee, he noticed.”

      She wandered through the video games department, then stopped to watch two boys tap out a tune on the giant keyboard that had become famous years ago when Tom Hanks played it in Big, still one of Gran’s favorite movies. Eden espoused its same whimsical, youthful view of life. By the time Darcie located the baby area, she had nearly forgotten tea with Janet. An apartment with Annie? The possibility raised the hairs on her neck.

      Darcie lingered over a table full of stuffed animals. She tried to envision herself holding an infant like Claire’s daughter, standing at an altar for the christening beside her own husband—handsome, well-dressed, with a look of absolute devotion on his face as he gazed at his new family. The image was her mother’s, not Darcie’s right now…but was she seeing Merrick?

      The fantasy ended when she remembered Merrick’s vagueness about his nephew. And her need to figure out her own life first. Darcie surveyed the pile of animals, discarding the usual bears and bunnies. She had just paid for a cross-eyed zebra sporting a huge red bow when, across the aisle in the doll department, she spied a familiar form.

      What would he be doing here? In a toy store?

      It didn’t fit his image, but Darcie sidestepped a woman pushing a stroller so she could get a better look. Dark-blond hair, not a strand out of place, that recognizable GQ look even on Saturday in khakis and an Irish fisherman’s sweater. Her heartbeat tripled in alarm. Since leaving Janet, she hadn’t combed her hair, couldn’t have any lipstick left. And her dark-green eyeliner, which tended to run when she got warm, probably streaked her face. It was too hot in the store. She must look a mess.

      What difference does it make? You’re you, with or without makeup.

      He moved and so did she. Darcie saw a flash of profile—straight nose, not a bump or deviation—that tilt of his head, a little imperious, a lot commanding, even arrogant. The set of his shoulders. And wouldn’t she recognize those hands anywhere? Especially on her bare body. It must be…

      “Merrick,” she called softly just as he lifted a hand to someone—not Darcie. Mad at her? He’d left in a mood yesterday morning. So did she. Once he saw her, and they talked… She didn’t want to leave for Australia in a snit. Claire was wrong about him, she tried to tell herself. So was Gran.

      When a little blond girl rushed toward him, Darcie didn’t react. Someone’s child had run headlong into a stranger—not unusual here, except that he seemed to know her. Merrick caught her slight shoulders with a laugh, said something, then watched her skip away. An odd look on his face…like adoration.

      Her pulse thudding (the zebra’s head sticking out of its bag with apparent suspicion, too) Darcie crossed the aisle into the doll department. It was pink. Hundreds—thousands—of Barbie dolls dominated the display space. Dentist Barbie. Wedding Barbie. Olympic Barbie. A host of international Barbies, the Dolls of the World collection. A little too crowded for Darcie’s taste. She wouldn’t make that mistake in Sydney. “Her” store would be clean, uncluttered, sophisticated.

      “Merrick.” He stood in front of a rack of miniature clothing, his back to her, and Darcie saw him stiffen. When he turned, his smile looked wooden.

      “I thought I heard your voice.”

      She shrugged. “Just talking to myself again. Or Buster.” She held up the zebra bag then closed the distance between them, wondering why she didn’t feel better about this chance meeting in a city they both shared. “Shopping for your nephew?”

      Again, he looked blank. Carefully blank this time.

      “Guess not,” she said, gazing at the pink all around them. Like onlookers at a circus, scores of Barbies smiled at her, at Merrick from their plastic-windowed boxes. “I mean, what would an eight-year-old boy want in this department?”

      “What are you doing here, Darcie?” His voice sharp, his eyes harder.

      “Talking to you. Now.” She brightened her tone. “I wondered…before I leave town…if we might…” Fall into bed again in apology?

      “Daddy!” The same little girl pelted full-tilt into his knees.

      Merrick set her away, smoothing her dress—Saks Fifth Avenue, Laura Ashley…?—running a hand down the length of her sleek blond hair. Hair almost like his. She wore a blue plaid ribbon to hold it back, and had Merrick’s eyes, too.

      Darcie’s unwanted coffee sloshed in her stomach. No, this wasn’t a circus for the Barbies to watch. It was the Roman Colosseum. Lions, gladiators, victims…

      Daddy. Darcie bent down until she reached eye level with the child.

      “Hi.”

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