Page 5 of Second Chances (Passion and Perseverance #2)

Chapter Three

Boy, he had pulled out all the stops.

It was the first thing that came to mind as Beth stopped short just inside the door to slide her key back into her bag.

There was a giant vase of red roses on the entry table in front of which sat a large glass of white wine.

She set down her bag by the door and walked over to the table.

In front of the glass was a small note: Drink Me.

Funny , she thought as she took a sip of what turned out to be a Riesling, as s he did kind of feel like Alice stepping through the looking glass into Wonderland.

Beyond the table, she could see into the dining room where the table was set, but no sign of Darcy.

The smell emanating from the kitchen was incredible and her stomach grumbled, reminding her that a sandwich from Starbucks probably wasn’t sufficient for lunch.

Out of habit, she took another sip of wine since she was still holding the glass; she realized on swallowing that she really should wait until she had more food in her if she was going to take control of the situation tonight.

Hearing some commotion, she ditched her heels and quietly crept towards the source of the noise: the kitchen.

Peering into the room, her breath caught at what was in front of her; Darcy was standing at the stove, shirtless and in her favorite pair of his sweatpants, with an apron on.

She would have laughed at the ensemble if she hadn’t found it so sexy.

It must be the wine - it’s hitting me already.

She watched him while he finished preparing what looked like a sauce for their meal, the reality of the situation slowly sinking in.

He was cooking for her. He could have just ordered food or hired someone to come in and cook for them, but here he was, shirtless and slaving over the stove.

She smiled at the effort he was putting into the night.

Hopefully, he puts that much effort into our much-needed conversation .

He began to whisk some flour into the pan when some of the sauce splashed up onto his hand.

‘ Fuck,’ she heard him mutter as he set the whisk down and moved toward the sink to rinse his hand. His movement brought her into his view and he stopped and stared at her for a moment, seeming surprised to see her.

“Hi,” she said quietly, taking another sip of her wine.

Shit! She wasn’t supposed to drink anymore without food.

“Hey,” he replied, still awkwardly staring at her. “I didn’t think you’d be home so soon.” His gaze broke with that comment as he moved to wash his hand.

“Sorry, I got a lot accomplished today so I figured I should head out on time. I didn’t know what time dinner was and I didn’t want to be late.” He didn’t sound mad, yet she still felt like she needed to justify why she was back.

“Shit. I’m sorry - it’s fine,” he said, shaking his head at himself, realizing how he had sounded.

“I just was hoping to have it finished and ready before you got here. My meal preparation is a little unglamorous.” He explanation was hesitant, still unused to having to explain himself.

It was a little thing, but she gave him credit for his attempt.

“Dinner will be ready in five. I made chicken and mushroom marsala,” he continued as he pulled a dish out of the oven and began to pour the sauce over whatever was in it, “I hope that’s ok.

” He looked up at her with genuine concern as if it just occurred to him what would happen if she didn’t like that meal.

“Yes,” she said with a small, reassuring laugh, “I love mushroom marsala.”

“Good,” He visibly relaxed and then continued, “if you want to change and relax, I’ll just finish up here.”

He was clearly uncomfortable with her watching him cook and trying very hard to shoo her from the kitchen. As much as she was enjoying herself, she had bigger things to unnerve him about.

She smiled and said, “Ok. ”

Taking one last look at the gorgeous, proud man, who would have thought that having an audience while cooking would make him feel so vulnerable?

She almost took another sip of her wine but realized what she was doing just as the glass touched her lips; she set it on the kitchen counter before turning and leaving the room.

She did actually want to change, but into what was the question.

She only had her work clothes and the clothes from the party; she hadn’t really needed anything else over the weekend but now, she knew showing up naked to dinner, while it might further Darcy’s plans for the evening, would not help hers.

Walking into the bedroom, she opened up the closet, figuring she would have to find something of his to wear.

How did my stuff get here?

The left side of the closet was lined with some of her clothes from her apartment and some clothes that weren’t hers, but were her size and style; she knew because they still had the tags on them.

Looks like somebody went shopping for me.

Opening the drawers below, she found some of her lounge and gym clothes in one and then an underwear drawer below it.

Well, there are definitely some new additions to this one, she thought as she pulled out a pale teal, lace teddy.

While she appreciated the thoughtfulness and the new clothes, she didn’t want to give any appearance of having completely forgiven him yet so she pulled a comfy t-shirt off the hanger and her favorite pair of yoga pants - the ones that had been involved in their kitchen interlude - and threw them on.

“Beth, dinner is ready,” she heard him say from the hall; he hadn’t ventured into the closet to find her.

“Ok, I’ll be right there.”

She went into the bathroom to pee and make sure her hair and ensemble weren’t too sloppy.

Ok, and maybe to reinforce that she wasn’t always going to respond immediately to his beck-and-call .

She needed to take back some control, for herself, and for the sake of any future relationship between them.

So, she took an extra, un-rushed, minute while fixing her hair, making sure she was satisfied with her appearance.

And making sure it was clear that she wanted him to be waiting on her .

She knew how he was – always getting what he wants when he wants it.

She knew that he expected her to walk out the moment he had told her that dinner was ready, and it was probably killing him to sit and wait, without coming to check on her or demand her presence.

She wasn’t trying to be petty about it, but it would take baby steps like this to teach him to respect her enough to relinquish some of his demanding control.

Ok, game time - time to go.

She took a deep breath before walking out of the bathroom and into the arena a.k.a.

the dining room . Instantly noticing the hard stare he gave her when she entered and how his hand was clenched around his wine glass, she knew that he was restraining himself, trying not to blow all of his hard work at an apology.

“Thank you for waiting,” she said with a brilliant smile, knowing that it was just as important to praise his efforts as it was to test his boundaries.

Taken aback by her apology, he returned a small smile and said, “I refilled your wine glass.”

“Thank you,” she responded as she sat down, taking in the rest of the display.

A vase of roses, equal to the one in the hall was in the center of the table, flanked by two lit candles.

There was a larger bowl full of what looked like Caesar salad and then the main course, Chicken and Mushroom Marsala over penne, sitting in front of them.

As soon as she sat, Darcy stood and leaned over to take her bowl and fill it with salad before filling his own.

“So, how did you get my clothes?” Beth asked, breaking the silence.

The wine was already making her less subtle in her attempt to spark conversation.

“I still own the building…” he trailed off with a laugh .

“So you broke into my apartment?!” she said with some indignation.

Not quite how she wanted the conversation to start.

Seeing her agitation, he quickly responded with seriousness, “No, I called your sister first and asked if it would be ok to grab a few of your things.”

“Oh…” Beth muttered. Why did she always jump to the worst conclusion? Usually, because Darcy employed the worst means, even if it was with the best intentions. “Well, thank you. And thank you for the new clothes I saw, too; I don’t need them though.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, his eyes flaring as he continued, “I know you don’t need them, but I wanted you to have them.”

Beth just nodded as she took a bite of her salad to break his gaze.

God, she really turned to mush around him. Even when he was being only slightly overbearing, she still wanted him so badly.

At least he put a shirt on, otherwise, you would have never been able to make it through dinner.

“How was work?” he asked hesitantly; whether the hesitation came from his earlier mistakes or from the simple fact that he probably hadn’t had normal relationship conversation for a long time, she wasn’t sure.

Take it easy, you haven’t eaten dinner yet.

“Good. Busy. There are several events going on this weekend that I needed to prepare my team for. I also met with Phil about some of his, uhh, concerns and then he told me that he’s thinking of expanding the event-planning side of the company and he wants me to head it up, which I would love to do,” she paused to take another bite of her salad, thinking to ask him his opinion of Charles’ sister next.

“Do you have an event this weekend?” he asked; his tone suggesting that he might have had other plans for them .

“I’m covering the private premier party for Renée Zellweger’s new film, Bridget Jones’ Baby.

Well, usually it’s just her birthday party, but this year it happened to coincide with the premier of the film, so everything got rolled into one ” she responded, taking another bite of salad to stop herself from rambling and to watch his reaction.