It was the “Banana Boat” song. And Harry Belafonte definitely sang it better.
“Dariussssssssssssssssssssssssssss, Da-da-dariuuuuuuu-uuuuuuuusss!”
“Oh, my God.” Darius dropped his head between her bare breasts. “No. Just no. This night can’t be doing this to us.”
“Who is it?”
“The scourge that never stops eating.” Darius pulled the covers off the other side of the bed and wrapped her in them as he got to his feet and yanked his pants back up. “I’m surprised he’s looking for Band-Aids, but I guess you can put ketchup on anything. I’ll go get rid of him—”
“Annnnnd I’m also hungry,” came the booming voice. “Dariuuuusssss, Da-da-dariuuuuss—”
Riding a string of F-words, the man whose name was being used to butcher an otherwise very fine song zipped himself up with all the force someone would use to deadlift a hatchback. And as he went to the door, the fact that his strong back was covered with bandages was a grim reminder of where the night had gone.
The roller-coaster ride of surprises was continuing, evidently.
He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I swear, it’s not usually a madhouse around here.”
“It’s okay.”
“Just give me a minute.” He put a hand up. “And no, I’m not going to leave this house again. I’m injured out, for one thing. For another? No one but you and Fritz are going to want to be around me. Trust me.”
Darius was shaking his head as he left, that singing flaring in volume as he jerked things open, then dimming again as he closed her in.
She lasted about a second and a half.
She had to know who else had stopped by for a visit. And a proper-name-a-cappella.
Scrambling, Anne pulled her bra back into place and fastened it. After she contorted herself in order to get her shirt back on, she jumped off the bed and headed for the door. Out in the hall, she finger-brushed her hair into some sort of order on her way to the stairs—
Anne stopped as soon as she could see over the balustrade.
Down in the foyer, just inside the wide-open front door, Darius was standing with a man who… was like nothing Anne had ever seen before. The guy was so handsome, she almost couldn’t focus on him, his blond hair thick and swept back from his beautiful face, his eyes so turquoise they were neon, his body so chiseled that even fully clothed, he seemed both naked and full of sex appeal—
His eyes locked on her. And the smile that was sent her way could have lit up the world.
But it was funny, Darius was the only one she truly saw.
“Hi!” the man said as he waved at her. “What’s going on? How you doing?”
Next to him, Darius put his head in his hands. But the blond man was so welcoming, so irrationally happy to see her, she couldn’t help but like him. He was like a big, beautiful golden retriever.
Anne was halfway down the stairs when she realized his right sleeve was stained with blood. And by the time she was standing by Darius, she noticed that there was another wound on his side.
“Are you okay?” she asked as she wondered whether they were going to have to get that Harvard professor with a doctor’s bag back.
The man made a pshaw motion with his hands. “Right as rain. Not a big deal, just need to plug the holes—and have a sandwich.” He looked at Darius. “You have bread and some cold cuts, right—oh, hey! Fritz! I’m starved, can you—”
“Oh, yes, sire!” the butler said from the dining room with equal enthusiasm. “Right away! I have lamb and beef, and roasted potatoes—”
The blond man leaned in and wagged his brows at her. “Actually, I lied about the sandwich. Of course, I’m looking for a whole meal. Big surprise, I know.” More loudly, he called out, “Fritz, if you’ve got dessert, too?”
“Baked Alaska,” came the cheerful reply.
“Ammmmmmmmmmmmmmmen.” The man lowered his head and placed his palms together as if he were praying. Then he smiled and winked at her. “I knew I could count on that butler.” With another shot of volume, he said, “I’m coming, Fritz—maybe we do both the beef and the lamb? Boeuf and turf? Moo and chew? Except I think that’s moo-and-baaa, but it’s not really funny enough… hey, does anybody know what rhymes with cud—wait! I got it! Meat and bleat!”
With a flying peace sign, he took off after the elderly man, all but skipping, in spite of his wounds.
“Thud,” Darius said under his breath. “Thud rhymes with cud, and it’s the sound of my head going through a plate glass window from frustration.”
“Technically, that would be a crash.”
“Excellent point. And before you ask…” Darius started to shut the front door. “Yes, he works with me, too—”
The heavy panel was caught just before it met its jamb by a strong hand. “Hey, can I use your phone?”
At the sound of the male voice, Darius’s head dropped in obvious exhaustion. Then he took a step back to let whoever it was inside. “Anybody else in the clown car tonight?”
The man who came in next had professional soldier written all over him, from his erect carriage to his short hair and his tired, navy blue eyes. Like the others, he was dressed in black and wearing a loose jacket that she knew was less about the night’s temperature and more about what kind of weapons were under it—
Stopping short, he looked over at her, his stare doing an up and down that was judgmental, but not in a hostile way; more like he was cataloging her attributes in case he ever needed to ID her body. And his focus was so intense, she felt like he was going back through her family tree.
With that over, he touched his brow and inclined his head, as if he were wearing a formal hat. “Ma’am.” Then he glanced back at Darius. “So can I use your phone? I want to call Wellsie so she knows I’m okay.”
“Yeah,” Darius murmured. “You know where it is.”
“My car’s blocking your driveway.”
“At this point, that’s the last thing I’m worried about. And just as an FYI, I’m not leaving this house tonight.”
“I see you got a nice tan on your back.”
“I forgot my sunscreen, what can I say.”
The soldier walked off toward the kitchen while Darius leaned outside and double-checked the entryway. Like he was wondering if there was another wave coming.
As he shut the door, he took a deep breath.
Before he could speak, she reached out and took his hand. “Hi.”
His eyes shifted to hers and he smiled a little. “Hi.”
She traced his face with her eyes. Then brushed his mouth with her thumb. “Listen, I have to go to work in the morning.”
“I know. I’d like to drive you home?”
“I can take a taxi—” She squeezed his palm to cut off an argument. “You have a lot going on here and you’re hurt and I… I’m going to take a taxi.”
He frowned. “I want Fritz to drive you then, okay? I won’t feel right otherwise.”
“Okay. Deal.”
There was a long moment as they stared into each other’s eyes. And then she was smiling even more and so was he—because they both knew it wasn’t ending here. This was just a pause, a speed bump that slowed things down.