Hired: Cinderella Chef. Myrna Mackenzie
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didn’t you?” she asked.
Patrick tipped his head. “The directors spent a lot of time choosing the residents. Honor would have been important and they would have gone over every detail of your situation, your personality and your accomplishments. They probably know things about you that you don’t even recognize yourself.”
Her frown grew. “I doubt that very much, but…all right. I’ll give you the abbreviated version of how I came to be where I am. I wasn’t always in the chair, only for the past couple of years. Actually I was born in a very poor part of the city and ended up in an experimental suburban school program where a group of us with meager means but a decent stash of brains were thrown in with the cream of the elite. We were not welcomed or popular, as you might imagine, but the leaders of the program patted themselves on the back for helping the disadvantaged, the elite parents patted themselves on the back for allowing us to mingle with their children, the teachers patted themselves on the back for having to put up with our presence—the administrators hated the extra paperwork. Knowing that we were unwelcome charity cases, we had chips on our shoulders and bad attitudes, and the other students barely tolerated us. In addition, the district had budget cuts and the following year we were sent back to our own neighborhood schools where we were considered to be uppity for having mixed with the rich kids. The whole experience left me with a bad attitude about certain types of philanthropy.”
“And you think Able House is like that?”
“No, but I don’t like to be held up as an example or a poster child.”
“Understood.”
She gave him a small, resigned smile. “But we’re still going forward with this.”
This time he couldn’t smile back. “Darcy, I was nineteen when my parents died and I was left to raise my three sisters. If I’ve committed myself to a cause or to individuals, I don’t want to be like those people who dropped your project after a year. I intend to follow through and make sure that Able House will survive whether I’m here or not.”
“Well, then, you’ve got your woman. Survival is something I know all about.” Her smile and her attitude practically blew him away. He had a feeling it would be dangerous to underestimate Darcy Parrish. Or his reaction to her.
CHAPTER THREE
WELL…this was certainly stressful, Darcy thought as she and Patrick continued on, proceeding down the path toward Able House. She was constantly aware of the man by her side. In a physical way. In an emotional way. She hated losing control of her emotions, but her unexpected and completely feminine and foolish reaction to Patrick Judson was leading her to do just that, and now he wanted her to—
“All right, here’s the rest of my story,” she said, rushing ahead in the hopes that reliving those bad old days would smack some common sense into her. “After that wonderfully humiliating experience I told you about, I turned into a rebel, got in trouble, but quickly realized that was a road to disaster. Eventually I somehow got my act together enough to get into and graduate from the police academy, but just as I was about to achieve that dream, I ended up in a one-car accident that left me with some sensation but minus the ability to walk and chase down the bad guys. And then…a few things happened and I ended up here. So there, now you know everything about me.”
His smile was warm, even as he shook his head. “I said that I was going to trust you. I didn’t say I was a fool. Some things happened, and you ended up here? All right, I won’t ask for the details, but it’s obvious even from that brief introduction that you’re a much more complex woman than you care to admit. So no, I don’t know you.”
“And I don’t know you.”
“Touché. I’m asking you to share, but not reciprocating?”
“I’m not complaining. You’re not really my business, are you?” she challenged.
“Maybe not, but I’m asking a lot of you. So, what do you want to know about me?”
“Why did you fight to get Able House into the neighborhood? Why does it even matter to you?”
Patrick stopped walking. “Partly selfish reasons. My life has been taken up with my sporting goods business and my sisters, and when Lane—who is eighteen and heading off to college—was in a serious accident and we didn’t know what condition she would be in six months down the road, I had to wonder what her life would be like if I weren’t a rich man or if I weren’t around. How would the world treat her? What opportunities would she have? Who would she become? Would the world even realize what a gift she was? And, when I mentioned my concerns to a physician friend and heard that there had been interest in starting something like Able House for several years, it was an easy choice to donate the land and the money. But, I would never have thought of getting involved at all if my sister hadn’t had the misfortune to have a skiing accident.” He shrugged.
But Darcy wasn’t about to let that pass. “Lots of good things wouldn’t happen without a catalyst or a defining, life-changing moment. I haven’t run into her, but I assume she recovered.”
“Completely.”
“I’m glad.” Without thinking she reached out and touched his hand. Instantly awareness of him as a man kicked back in full force. Warmth, pulsing energy, a frisson of excitement ran through her. Was she insane? She’d barely been able to sit still when he’d been holding her hand earlier. Now, she had initiated contact? The instinct to jerk away was strong, but she couldn’t let him know that one totally innocent brush of her fingertips against his skin had affected her this much.
“Almost to Able House,” she managed to say. As if he didn’t know that.
“Lead on. You’re the expert here.” His low voice resonated through her body. Darcy kept moving, hoping none of her friends would notice how flustered she was.
“Hey, Darce, why are you back so soon?” someone called out as she rolled within view of the center. “Aren’t you working?”
“Detour of duties today. We have a visitor,” she said, happy that her voice sounded reasonably normal. As they neared the building, which was surrounded by deep green lawns, winding walkways, fountains, flowers and sculpture, more people appeared. All were in wheelchairs.
“Is that Mr. Judson?” one older man whispered to the man next to him, loud enough to be heard.
The other man smiled. “Sure is,” he said. “You’ve seen his pictures in the paper and he’s been here before.”
“But he’s with Darcy,” the man said.
“Edward, you know I work for Mr. Judson,” Darcy said, raising her voice a bit because Edward’s hearing was less than perfect.
Still, everyone looked a bit perplexed and concerned. “I know what you’re thinking. I didn’t mouth off and get fired. He isn’t here to return me for a better product.”
Patrick chuckled and everyone turned to look at him.
“She’s an excellent product,” he said to Edward. “Not the type to be returned as unacceptable. A great cook. Have you eaten her chocolate mousse?”
“Oh, chocolate,” Maria said, her voice worshipful. “I love that stuff. But ask her to make you a lemon meringue pie next. It’s better than sex.”
Instantly Darcy felt uncomfortable—and hot. She was afraid to look at Patrick but she did it, anyway.
“Better than sex? Well, I wouldn’t want to miss that.” he said with that lazy tone that made Darcy feel shivery. For some reason the fact that she even felt that way when he talked made her angry.
“People think that a person stops thinking about sex when they have a spinal cord injury, but we don’t,” she said defiantly.
“Why should you?” Patrick asked. “Sex is complicated. It involves the mind, not just one or two body parts.”
Darcy