Page 23 of Her Snowbound Hero

“Why do you ask?”

It was none of his business what she wore—or who she dated. “Never mind.” He moved down the ladder and shoved aside the thoughts of Garret and Jocelyn together. He had no right to think of her that way.

“Sweats would be more comfortable, but Daddy hates them. Says women should look like women, not sports jocks.”

“You’d still look like a woman, trust me.” He said the words deliberately, knew it would send her into a tizzy of ums and ohs and fussing hands. She smoothed her fingers over her hair to capture all the baby-fine strands that had escaped, tugged at her jacket and pulled it down over her small breasts and raised her eyebrows high, her smooth forehead wrinkling.

“He says it’s one of the rules of business, to always be presentable. I never know who might walk through the door whether here or at home. He insists Mother and I look our best at all times. Guess old habits don’t die.”

“You’re presentable.” Toby stepped off the ladder and walked to where she stood. “Your father’s rules aren’t the be-all and end-all, Jocelyn.” He lifted his hand and tortured himself by grasping a flyaway tendril between his thumb and forefinger and tucking it behind her ear. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Some men don’t mind a woman looking a little ruffled.”

“Garret—”

She stopped whatever it was she’d been about to say.

But the spell was broken. At the mention of his best friend, he berated himself for playing with fire. The diamond studs winked at him beneath the gallery lights, the reminder that she was out of his league transmitted loud and clear.

“I’d better go.” He meant to step away. But the allure of Jocelyn—all striking blue eyes and full lips that he’d bet his hard-earned money had no collagen assistance—held him in place. Sophistication rolled off her from her pointy, spiky-heeled boots to her sculpted nose—another present from Daddy because, heaven forbid, her nose hadn’t been perfect the way it was.

He’d like to see her in sweats. And drunk, just once. She’d be a silly drunk.

“You’re staring again. Are you sure nothing is wrong?”

Something was wrong, all right. Having these powerful feelings for Jocelyn—for his best friend’s almost-fiancée—was more than wrong. He’d best get used to wanting but never getting because the situation wasn’t going to change. Jocelyn would never leave Garret, and eventually Garret would marry her. “Positive.” Toby glanced at his watch. “I need to get out of here. And you should think about doing the same.”

“Of course. Thank you again.”

Needing air, Toby headed for the door. If he were a gentleman he’d wait for her. He’d lock up and clean the snow from her car. He’d drive behind her to ensure she arrived home safely. But he wasn’t a gentleman. He was a man grasping for a shred of decency so he didn’t give in to the urge to do all kinds of wicked and sinful things with this woman.

“Tobias, wait.”

Hand on the door, he gritted his teeth and paused.

“I meant what I said earlier. About everything that happened years ago,” she said in a rush. “I’d like us to be friends. For Garret’s sake if nothing else.”

He couldn’t stop the smirk forming on his lips.For Garret’s sake.“Okay. Sure, why not.”

“Really?”

Toby pulled the door open, resigned. “Yeah.”

THAT EVENING Darcy lifted her finger to her nape and smoothed lavender oil on her pulse point, inhaling deeply and appreciating how the scent instantly soothed her.

“Are you feeling okay?”

Garret’s voice startled her. After a day spent alternately working, helping her with the meals, he’d disappeared into his thoughts. He’d been sitting here looking at the movie playing on the plasma screen yet he didn’t appear to be actually watching it. Something was obviously on his mind, but the remote expression on his face kept her from asking. “I’m fine. What about you?”

He flashed her a fake I’m-okay, you’re-okay smile. “Sorry, I’ve been distracted.”

“Headache?”

“Yeah. I get them sometimes.”

“Want to talk about whatever’s stressing you?” Darcy twisted the lid on the tiny bottle of expensive oil before returning it to the case and pulling out another. She repeated the process, tipping the bottle until a drop of oil sparkled on her finger, rubbing it on her neck and inhaling the fragrance.

“There’s a lot on my plate right now.”

She looked at him, taking in the little lines of strain around his eyes and mouth. Poor guy really was hurting. He needed a good massage or a long vacation. Better yet, both. “Do you work every weekend? Ever take any time off?”

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