“We were very young back then,” Darcy said, but she looked into Surlock’s eyes as if Peter and Annette weren’t even in the car.
“Dar and I go way back. We were practically raised together from the cradle. We probably know each other better than anyone. And how long have you known her?”
Darcy stiffened beside him.
Surlock was not intimidated. “Not long, but I’m sure we’ll make our own memories. In fact, we already have.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Peter fisted his hands.
Darcy laughed. “Peter, you’re acting like an overprotective big brother.”
Peter visibly forced himself to relax. “You’re right, of course.”
“Annette, tell us about yourself,” Darcy said, changing the subject.
Annette preened. “I own a hair salon. I’m up to three chairs and a manicurist. If the place keeps growing, I’ll have to rent a bigger shop.”
Her voice was sharp and high-pitched. For a moment, Surlock thought the horrible humming was back, but then she cleared her throat and continued in a softer voice.
“I’m doing very well,” she went on, fidgeting with her hands, smoothing the material of her slacks.
“It sounds like it,” Darcy said.
“Oh, I am. I couldn’t afford to catch the eye of one of the sexiest bachelors in the county if I wasn’t. I spent one hundred and fifty dollars on this pantsuit.”
“It’s very glittery,” Darcy said.
“A girl has to have her bling-bling.” She looked at the others, then slunk down a little farther in the seat.
“We’re here,” Peter called out, looking vastly relieved that Annette would have to stop chattering.
The driver pulled to the curb. Annette started to reach for the door handle, but Peter stopped her.
“Oh, yeah, I forgot,” she said. “I’m not very sophisticated.”
Peter’s face changed colors almost as fast as the tiny lights on the interior roof of the limo.
Surlock wondered why Peter had brought the young woman. They didn’t seem to suit each other very well. Peter acted embarrassed by her.
The driver opened the door and they slid across the seat. Surlock preferred Darcy’s car. It was much easier to get out of. He was grateful to stand on the walkway and stretch his legs.
“Welcome to the Lavender Club,” a man in a dark uniform said, then opened the door.
Peter led the way inside.
“Oh, wow, talk about fancy-shmancy!” Annette breathed.
“Could you please lower your voice,” Peter said between gritted teeth. “And try not to let it show you’re a country bumpkin.”
“I’m sorry.” Annette looked at Surlock, then Darcy, biting her bottom lip. Her hands began to tremble and tears filled her eyes.
Peter sighed deeply. “No, I’m sorry. I’m a little on edge. Problems at the office.”
Darcy glared at Peter, then took Annette’s arm in hers. “It is pretty fancy-shmancy, isn’t it?” Darcy said, staring at the lavender carpet, then the chandeliers. “You know, Annette, I need to make an appointment to get a trim. You’re the expert, what do you think?”
Annette brightened. “Maybe just a little off the ends. You must have a great hairdresser, though. The style suits you.”
“But I don’t have one in Summerville. Well, until now, if you can squeeze in another client.”
“Certainly. It would be an honor.”
“Great, I’ll call this week and make an appointment.”
“If you two are through chatting, our table is ready,” Peter told them.
“Don’t get your briefs in a wad, Peter,” Darcy said in a soft, silky voice before she breezed past him.
Surlock was grinning when he caught up to her. “You handled that very well.”
“I loathe Peter when he gets like this.” She made a face.
“Why did you ever date him?”
She shrugged. “He isn’t always a snob. I think he’s only angry that you’re a part of my life. He’s always been very protective of me.”
Surlock picked up on one phrase. “Am I a part of your life?” He pulled her chair out and she sat. “Am I?” he asked again when she didn’t answer.
“Well, yes.” She fiddled with her lavender napkin, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Good,” he said. “Because I think you’re a part of mine, too.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Peter asked as he pulled Annette’s chair out for her. After she was seated, Peter went to his, gripping the back until his knuckles turned white, then pulling it out very easily, as if nothing brewed inside him.
“Now, Peter, a girl isn’t supposed to tell all her secrets,” Darcy told him.
“So what do you do?” Annette asked Darcy.
“I’m a private investigator,” she said, sitting a little taller.
Peter snorted, then brought his napkin up to his mouth. “Sorry, darling,” he told Darcy, then turned to Annette. “She has the title, but she’s never walked the walk.”
“Actually, I’ve hired her to discover some vital information that I need. I’ve been quite pleased with the job she’s done so far,” Surlock informed him.
Peter’s eyebrows rose. “Does your mother know?”
Darcy frowned. “I don’t need my mother’s permission. I’m over eighteen.”
“Then she doesn’t.”
“No, and you’re not going to tell her. I’ll do that myself, thank you very much.”
“Now don’t get in a tizzy. Of course, I wouldn’t dare bring it up to Mary.” He smirked. “Do you think I’m crazy? Why, she’d have my head for not stopping you.”
“I’d love it if I didn’t have to work,” Annette said with a sigh.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Darcy said. “It makes me feel incomplete.”
“There’s always charity work, Dar,” Peter told her. “No need to get your hands dirty—unless it’s when you’re counting all your daddy’s money.”
Surlock watched and saw the anger beginning to rise inside Darcy. If a man hadn’t come by and asked if they would like something to drink, he had a feeling Darcy might have leapt across the table and strangled Peter. That would make the evening a lot more interesting.
“And for you, sir?” the waiter asked him.
He had no idea what to order. Or maybe he did. “Orange juice.”
Peter snorted again. “What, are you in training?”
“I order what I like. Isn’t that what you did?”
Peter frowned, but didn’t say anything.
By the time their meal arrived, Darcy was ready to call it a night. Peter was being particularly obnoxious, and Surlock was making sure Peter knew which man she belonged to. She felt as though she was being pulled in both directions.
And then there was poor Annette, who was way out of her league, even though Darcy was trying to make her feel more comfortable. The only thing good about their evening was the food.
The band was assembling just as they finished their meal. Darcy used to refer to their offerings as elevator music. Her parents often brought her to this club when they were staying at their country estate. Her mother called the music soothing. Darcy supposed it was, but sometimes she longed for more.
Jennifer, her best friend, knew how to party. She went to all the in clubs. Darcy had been a few times, but she’d always had it drilled into her head how she was supposed to conduct herself. And so she had.
All that was about to change. As soon as she got up the nerve to tell her mother that she was going to get a real job. This time she would do it, too. No matter how many tears her mother shed. She cringed at the thought of her mother getting upset again and all because Darcy wanted to go to work. They would both have to be strong.
“Darcy, would you like to?” Peter asked, breaking into her thoughts.
She blinked, forgetting for a moment where she was. “Would I like to what?”
He stood and came around to her chair. “Dance with me. I’m sure Surlock wouldn’t mind.” He smiled and held out his hand.
Darcy didn’t have much of a choice. It would be impolite not to accept his invitation. She and Peter had been friends for a long time. So maybe he was acting a bit of an ass tonight, but he had always been very protective of her. He’d also saved her butt a few times, if she remembered correctly. He’d never told her mother that Darcy was the one who broke that window when she was twelve, and he was fourteen. Peter could have said something, but he hadn’t.