Dreams of Perfection (Dreams Come True) Read Free Page A

women, after all. “Thanks. It’ll be out soon. Congratulations. When did you two get married?” 
    Wearing silly grins, the happy couple gazed at one another before saying in unison, “November twenty-second.”
    “Wow. That’s, um, great.” If memory served, that was two weeks after Darcy broke up with him. Either this was the world’s quickest rebound marriage, or he’d been dating Shelley before Darcy broke it off. She narrowed her eyes at him.
    As if reading her thoughts, Steve shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
    “Well, it was good seeing you, Darcy. Josh.” He nodded before practically dragging Miss November up the steps to their seats.
    “November twenty-second.”
    Darcy cringed. She could see Josh’s analytical brain working out the dates. He never forgot a thing.
    “That was only—” 
    “Yeah, I know, only two weeks after I broke up with him.” She slumped back into her seat, and, picking up her beer, took a gulp.
    “Guess you really broke his heart. I can see the guy was just shattered,” he said with a laugh.
    “Shut up.” A sharp elbow to his ribs produced the grunt of pain she’d hoped for. “I’m glad he’s happy,” she said, chin lifted slightly. “I wouldn’t want anyone mooning over me with a broken heart.” 
    Josh snorted, and Darcy elbowed him again. The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd cut off any further gibes.
    “Hey, batter, batter, batter, batter!” Josh grinned as he heckled, thoroughly enjoying himself.
    Darcy swung with all her might as the ball flew past the plate. “Fudgesicle!” She glowered in response to Josh’s taunting.
    Before she could set her feet again, the whack-thump of the pitching machine distracted her. “What is this thing set on anyway, Mach 4?”
    Josh laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s only on Mach 2.”
    Darcy huffed as another ball shot past her.
    Kids and adults alike crowded the batting cages, post-game patrons inspired by the Yankees’ winning performance to hone their own batting skills.
    “Your stance is off. You’ve been wearing too many hooker heels on those blind dates of yours.”
    Darcy skewered him with her patented eat-shit glare. “Manolo doesn’t make ‘hooker heels.’”
    He walked up behind her and, grabbing her hips, pulled them back into a slight squat. His hands burned as if he’d just touched hot coals.
    Ignoring the sensation, he continued his critique. “You’re leaning forward onto your toes. Sit back onto your heels. That’s it.” Nestled up behind her, he closed his hands over hers on the bat and swung at the next ball. Bat and ball made contact with a satisfying whack .
    Now his hands weren’t the only things burning. He stepped back before he gave himself away. 
    Darcy could still feel the imprint of Josh’shands on her hips. His hard chest had pressed into her back as his hands covered hers on the bat, and she wanted nothing more than to lean back into his strength and warmth. Had it been so long since she’d been touched by a guy who wasn’t a family member that Josh’s touch sent her over the edge?
    The palms of her hands stinging from her efforts, she relinquished the bat to Josh, removed her batter’s helmet, and shook out her hair. Confused by her reaction to the feel of Josh’s touch, she stepped out of the way of the supersonic balls, and settled onto a bench to let Josh bat. 
    She’d always admired his form, and his rangy build gave him a long reach. He’d played baseball in high school—short stop—but had given it up to pursue an Ivy League education and become the first person in his family to graduate from college.  
    He’d worked hard to get where he was. Whack. Raised by a single mother, after his father died when he was only twelve. Whack. Now here he was, up for partner in her father’s law firm. Whack. Even though she hadn’t known that twelve-year-old boy, she was proud of everything he’d accomplished.
    Whack.
    “Hey! You hungry?” Darcy shouted