Finding Symtaria was proving harder than Darcy could have imagined. “I’ve Googled it and there is no Symtaria.” She spun her computer chair until she faced Surlock. “Nothing, nada, zip. This proves it. We’re both crazy.”
“No, we’re not crazy,” Surlock told her.
“Okay, then neither one of us exists.”
He reached over and pinched her.
She frowned and rubbed her arm. “Ow, why did you do that? It hurt.”
“So you did feel it,” he said.
Okay, Surlock won hands down. He was crazier than she. “Of course I felt it.”
“Then you exist.” He suddenly grinned.
For a moment, she forgot that he’d pinched her and just lost herself in his smile, the way the gold flecks twinkled in his eyes—the way his mouth turned up on one side. It was all she could do to draw her attention away from him and back to the screen.
“So maybe we do exist, but Symtaria doesn’t. I can’t fathom a whole race of people who bear the same birthmark, either, if you want to know the truth.”
“Why not? There are people on earth who share the same characteristics.”
He was right again. It still didn’t change the fact that this place she was searching for was nowhere to be found. Life was getting too complicated. She longed for simpler times when she only thought she’d make a good P.I. A time when the dream was still alive within her. Now she wondered if she had been totally off the mark. She hadn’t found anything of significance so far.
“Maybe we only thought we heard the name Symtaria,” he said. “It was a dream. If we’re off on the spelling, wouldn’t that make a difference?”
She brightened. “You’re right. It would.” Just as quickly as her heart began to pound with excitement, it slowed to a slog. Again, Surlock had found the problem, not her. He made a better P.I. Her confidence slipped another notch.
Her cell phone rang. She slipped it from her pocket and looked at the caller. Eddie. Maybe now they would discover Surlock’s identity.
“Hi, Eddie. What did you find out?”
“Hi, Darcy. Well, as far as I can tell, the guy has a clean record.”
Adrenaline rushed through her. Great, she wasn’t harboring a criminal. Not that she’d really thought Surlock was a serial killer or anything.
“Did you find out who he is?” she asked.
“Not exactly.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?”
“It means he’s clean. Although, his prints were kind of strange.”
“Strange? As in?”
“Just what I said, they’re different. Not intentionally so. Some criminals will burn the pads of their fingers so you can’t run their prints.” He chuckled. “That usually sends up a red flag. No, Surlock’s are just… different. Like he was born that way. We still don’t have him in the database. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”
“Well, at least we know he’s not a criminal.”
“True. If you find out who he is, let me know. Now I’m curious. Has he remembered anything at all?”
“Little things. I don’t suppose you’ve ever heard of a place called Symtaria.”
“Is that in Africa?”
“I have no idea.”
“If I can be any more help, just let me know.”
“Will do.”
She slipped her cell back inside her pocket and looked at Surlock. “At least you’re not wanted by the law.”
Her cell rang again. She brought it out and glanced at the caller I.D. Peter. Ugh! Knowing him, he would keep calling until she answered.
“It’s Peter,” she said.
Surlock didn’t say anything. His expression was as bland as low-calorie ice cream.
So much drama. “I’ve known him all my life. Yes, he can be an ass, but sometimes he was the only friend I had.”
He continued to stare.
“Why are men so damn stubborn?” She answered the persistent ringing. “Yes, Peter, what do you want?”
“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to marry me. You’re my best friend, Dar. I would never do anything to jeopardize that. Say you forgive me.”
“I forgive you.”
“And Surlock, will he forgive me, too?”
She glanced at Surlock. His face was still devoid of all expression. Well, except for the barely discernible twitch in his jaw. “That might take a little more time.”
“I was afraid of that. He’s quite taken with you.”
“He’ll come around.” She was probably lying through her teeth.
“I hope so. I’m having a party at my house this weekend. Say you’ll come. Please, please, please. It’s a masked costume ball. It will be great fun, and you know I give the very best parties.”
She hesitated.
“I couldn’t bear it if you didn’t.”
He was whining again. “Okay, okay, we’ll be there. Now, I really do have to go.”
“‘Bye, Dar.”
“‘Bye, Peter.”
She slipped the phone inside her pocket, and went back to the computer without saying a word.
“Where will we be?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” she stalled.
“You said we’d be somewhere. Where?”
“Peter is having a party.”
“We’re not going.”
She slowly turned in her chair. “I beg your pardon?” She crossed her arms in front of her.
“Peter is in love with you. He might be the person I need to protect you from.”
“Peter? That’s highly unlikely. Besides, your protecting me has to be connected to the James Bond movie we watched. Believe me, I don’t need protecting. And, I am going to the party. You’re invited if you want to come along, but it makes no difference to me.”
He pulled her chair closer to his, and cupped the back of her neck. His lips brushed across hers, sending flames shooting down to her lower regions. She lost herself in the kiss, the way his tongue stroked hers, the way his fingers caressed her nape.
When the kiss ended, it took her a few seconds to regain her senses, and then a frown turned down the corners of her mouth.
“It won’t work,” she told him.
“What?” he asked, all innocent.
“Kissing me until I forget who I am.”
“Did I do that?” His voice turned silky, seductive. “Do I make you forget who you are?”
She swallowed hard, then turned away. “You know damn well you do.”
“Does this party mean that much to you?” he finally asked.
“No,” she told him. “But it’s Peter’s way of saying he’s sorry.” She hesitated, then continued. “Peter is Peter. He’ll never really change. He’s spoiled because his parents have given him everything he could ever need or want. The only thing they haven’t given him is responsibility … and their trust. His place in the company is just a title. He has no real authority. The only major decision he’s been allowed to make is where he wanted to place his furniture in an office he rarely uses.” She wanted Surlock to understand that Peter wasn’t a threat. That he was just Peter, her friend.
“Whenever I’ve needed him, Peter has always dropped everything to be there for me. It’s not because he loves me or anything. He just doesn’t have anyone else that he’s close to. I understand who he is, and I accept him and all his flaws.”
He studied her for a moment. “We’ll go to his party.”
Darcy grinned, liking the man even more. She got up out of her chair and went to his, parking herself on his lap. “You’re a pretty great guy, did you know that?”
He seemed to think over her words. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “I had started to suspect as much.”
She rolled her eyes. “Lord, save me from men and their egos.” But when he kissed her, she knew there was one thing she didn’t want to be saved from.
Annette fastened the cape over Darcy. “Your shop is really cute,” Darcy said. It was done in black with pink polka dots. The floor was black and white checks. There were wigs on white Styrofoam heads sitting on shelves.
Annette beamed with pride. “I was going for a sixties look.”
“I think you did a fantastic job.”
“Thanks.” Annette ran a brush through her hair. “What do you want me to do today?”
“What do you think? Just a little off the ends?” Darcy wasn’t too sure about having Annette cut and style her hair, but she’d made a promise, and she never went back on one.