her that she had been having the same argument with herself over the wisdom of traveling down that road again. And he knew she was going to come to the same conclusion that he had—they could fight it all they wanted, but it was a battle they wouldn’t win.
Her eyes lifted to his and she smiled like she’d used to, so effortlessly and sincere. “Good morning.”
“I have a fund-raiser tonight. Will you come with me?”
If possible, her smile grew even warmer. “I would love to.” And then it looked as if she remembered something, adding, “I’ll have to meet you there because I have a prior engagement.”
He didn’t like that at all. He snarled at her, “What engagement?”
“It’s just a commitment I’ve made, but I’ll be yours for the rest of the evening.”
Some of his ire left him. A man could dream.
“It starts at seven at the New York Public Library on Fifth. I’ll meet you inside at the entrance to Astor Hall.”
“I’ll be there.”
He started out of her office, but peered at her from the door. “Oh, and it’s black tie,” he said with a smile.
“Of course it is.”
The cemetery was empty and Darcy was thankful for that, since she liked her time alone with Sister Anne. She carried with her a tray of plants and her shovel and gloves. This was her way to remember not only Sister Anne, but Lucien too. She felt closer to him here, touching the same stone he did countless times throughout the year, walking the same path that he walked.
She’d had only two years with Sister Anne—and, sadly, for much of that time the nun had been battling cancer—but the woman had left her mark. In a world where even the clergy were caught up in appearances and politics, Sister Anne had been a refreshing change because she was more interested in what was on the inside of a person.
Lucien often referred to her as his mother and, having witnessed their relationship, it was a beautiful thing to see. Darcy envied him that even as she felt happy for him to have found it. Sister Anne was more a mother to Lucien than her own mother had ever been to her.
Darcy settled in front of the grave and pulled the dying plants from the soil before she started to plant the new ones: yellow lantana, purple heliotrope, pale pink petunias, and white stock. As was her habit, she filled Sister Anne in on current events.
“It’s funny, but it doesn’t feel like fourteen years have passed. It’s not the same as it was, but I think it has the potential to be even better.” She reached for the small watering can and watched as the water beaded on the flower petals.
“I think he’s happy, in his way, and I know you would be happy with the man he has become. You did a fine job with him, Sister Anne.” She checked her watch, prompting Darcy to rise. “I should go. I’m going to be late to this function and Mr. Black doesn’t tolerate tardiness.” A smile touched her lips at the memory.
She kissed the gravestone in farewell before she gathered her things and headed from the cemetery.
Lucien paced the entrance of Astor Hall, checking his watch every few minutes. He was going to wear a trench in the marble floor. She was late, which was completely out of character for Darcy. He wondered what was keeping her. Whatever it was must be very important to her. The fact that he didn’t know what that something was, particularly whether it involved a man, made him clench his jaw.
Ten minutes passed; just as he was reaching for his phone, the door opened and in she walked. He had planned on lecturing her about tardiness, but the words fled at the sight of her. She was breathtaking. Her black gown hung low in the front and dipped in the back, hugging her curves and sweeping the ground; but it was the slit up the left leg that made his mouth go dry. With her hair up, her delicate neck was exposed and suddenly he wanted his mouth right where her neck and shoulder met. He knew how it drove her wild.
The sight of her was like getting sucker punched, so to help regain his balance, he decided to throw her off hers. Instead of telling her how beautiful she looked, he furrowed his brow and said, “You’re late.” He brought her hand to his lips and