Allure

by Nina Lane

  I tilt my head back to take another drink. I’m tempted to tell her. That realization unnerves me. She’s my ex-wife. We had a lousy marriage, filled with anger and grief. We never wanted to see each other again after we got divorced.

  Why should I want to tell her anything?

  “I know you like to do stuff when you’re upset, Dean,” Helen says. “I remember that well enough. Is this all because of what’s going on at King’s?”

  Even though there’s no one around, I appreciate her veiled reference. I shove the mower forward with one hand. The blades snap and rotate.

  “Yeah, that’s all,” I say.

  “Bullshit. If you only had one tiger by the tail, you wouldn’t be mad as a hatter and busy as a bee.”

  I can’t help chuckling.

  “You want to come clean?” Helen asks. “Have you told Liv yet?”

  Jesus. My fingers dent the soda can.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” Helen searches my face for a moment, then shrugs. “Let me know if you want to talk.” She starts back to the house, then pauses. “Just so you know, I’ve got nothing to gain by screwing you over.”

  “I never thought you would.”

  “Just making sure you know that.” She turns back to the house.

  I watch her go for a moment before the confession breaks loose.

  “She had a miscarriage.”

  Helen stills. Turns slowly. She’s pale. “When?”

  “Tuesday.”

  “Oh, Dean. I’m so sorry.”

  “We weren’t… didn’t plan it. The pregnancy.”

  “I’m sorry.” She hesitates. “Your genetic tests were all normal, Dean. Sometimes no one knows why a miscarriage happens. So don’t think this is your fault.”

  I can’t think anything else.

  “When it happened with us…” I look past her to the house. My chest burns. “What did you want from me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I never felt like I was giving you… what you needed.” I swallow hard. “I don’t want that to happen with Liv.”

  Helen studies me for a second, then says, “Liv and I are different people, Dean.”

  “I know.”

  “So what I needed from you might not be what she needs.”

  I force my gaze to hers. “But what was it?”

  “Well, we were never in a good place when it came to getting pregnant,” she admits. “I realize that now. I had this idea that we should have it all, be this young powerhouse couple with perfect, illustrious careers, a great marriage, two kids, et cetera. That was why I pushed it so hard, even though our marriage was bad. I suppose it was a blessing in a very rough disguise that we never had a successful pregnancy.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “Whatever I did or didn’t do to screw it up.”

  “You always kind of… shut down, you know?” Helen says. “I know we didn’t have a good relationship, but it would have been nice if you were there. That third time it happened, you left the following week for a research trip to Spain. By then, we were totally broken, but it still sucked to deal with it alone.”

  “I thought you wanted to be alone.”

  She blinks. “Why would I have wanted to be alone?”

  “We had that huge fight, remember? You wanted to try again, go to a fertility clinic. I didn’t. We were both stressed out about work, our dissertations, money, our parents. You said we never should have gotten married.”

  “And you took that to mean I wanted to be alone?”

  “How else should I have taken it?”

  Helen shakes her head. “Oh, Dean. No. We didn’t work at all together, did we? I don’t think you even realized that the miscarriages didn’t just happen to me. They happened to you too. Maybe that’s what you need to realize now.”

  I’m silent. Not sure I get it.

  “Look, even I can see that you and Liv have something strong.” Helen retreats a few steps. “And you don’t need me to tell you what your wife needs. You already know. You just have to stop running.”

  She walks toward the house. “Shit happens, Dean, and sometimes no one can do anything about it. Not even you.”

  That is exactly what makes me want to break something.

  I finish the lawn and put the mower back in the garage. A bunch of people are in the living room, voices rising in a chatter, and I go through the kitchen to the stairs. Liv is in the bedroom packing her suitcase.

  “Just getting a head start,” she says, reaching to close the lid.

  I see the maternity clothes she bought last week. Folded neatly in the suitcase, their tags still on.

  Words crash in my brain. There is nothing I can say, nothing I can do, to make this better for her.

  “Are you all ready for the lecture?” Liv asks.

  I nod. “I confirmed our flight reservations too. I’ll check us in tonight so we don’t have to bother in the morning.”

  After my lecture at Stanford on Friday, we’ll head directly to the airport and be back in Mirror Lake by evening.

  I go to change into a clean T-shirt. I know I can’t put this off any longer.

  “Liv.”

  Sensing the tension in my voice, she turns.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  “What?” Wariness sparks in her expression.

  “Sit down.”

  She sits on the edge of the bed, curling her hand around the bedpost. Her gaze never wavers from my face as I tell her the whole sordid story—how Maggie Hamilton implied she’d do something sexual, the emails from Frances, the Office of Judicial Affairs, the questions, the reason I had to go back to Mirror Lake, the possibility of an investigation.

  When I’m done, part of me feels lighter, as if telling my wife has alleviated some of the burden.

  “Dean, I—”

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” She’s quiet for a minute, her jaw tight, her gaze on the floor. “There’s no way to confront her?”

  “No. She could go to the OJA and use it as proof of further harassment. I can’t have any contact with her at all. I don’t want to.”

  “What could happen?”

  My heart is pounding. “It could… if she files a formal claim, it could end up in court.”

  “How long does she have to make a formal claim?”

  “I don’t know. Right now it’s not… not public knowledge or anything. They try to keep it confidential because they don’t want it to affect the university’s reputation. Though there’s nothing to stop Maggie from spreading rumors.”

  Liv pushes away from the bed and comes toward me, reaching to take my hands in hers. I can see the anger sparking in her brown eyes, but I know it’s not anger toward me. It’s anger for me.

  “Okay, professor.” She squeezes my hands and takes a deep breath. “Let’s get ready for defense. Pull up the drawbridge, boil the oil, station crossbows along the allure.”

  My tension eases a little more. I disentangle one of my hands from hers so I can brush my thumb over the notch just beneath her lower lip.

  “The allure, huh?”

  “I’ve learned a few things about castle architecture over the years.” Liv wraps one arm around my waist. “The allure is a passage behind the parapet of a castle wall. Great for defense when the enemy is approaching. You know you’re safe on the allure.” She tucks her head beneath my chin, twining her hand with mine. “Like we’re safe with each other.”

  “No doubt about it, beauty.” I press my face against her sweet-smelling hair. “You’ll always be my allure.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Olivia

  ean and I didn’t fall in love. We fl
ew in love. Swift and soaring, warmed by the sun glowing in a sky the color of bluebells.

  For a couple who took the first months of their relationship so slowly, it was both a shock and a relief when we gave ourselves to each other so unreservedly after that Thanksgiving visit with his family. It was as if we both knew we were done with the past. And that our future was with each other.

  As he’d asked, I waited until winter break to move into his apartment, and we enclosed ourselves in a private bubble of intense attraction, confessions, and sexy explorations. It was so easy for us to shut the rest of the world out. So easy to be alone together.

  Before Christmas of that year, before winter’s first snowfall, we took a trip to Door County on a romantic getaway. We stayed in a cozy hotel, bundled up to go hiking, went to craft fairs, wine-tasting events, concerts, and a Christmas-tree-lighting ceremony.

  We were driving back from an early dinner one night when Dean parked on the crest of a ridge surrounded by trees. The sun had just sunk below the horizon, leaving the sky mostly dark but painted with streaks of red.

  “Are we parking?” I asked. “You know, parking?”

  “You ever parked before?”

  “Are you kidding?” I shook my head. “I was too busy being a straight-A student and editor of the Opinion page of the school newspaper.”

  Dean grinned at me. “I wish I’d known you back then. I would’ve shown you some stuff.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet you would have. But good girls don’t park.”

  “What do they do, then?”

  “Study and bake pies.”

  “Will you bake me a pie?”

  “Someday, maybe. If you’re good too.”

  “Oh, I will be.”

  I couldn’t help smiling back, my heart fluttering. I had it bad for him, even as I was beginning to realize that my heart was breakable.

  I’d never had my heart broken. Not by a man, at least. I’d protected it too well. My mother had broken my heart in ways only she could, but over the years I’d managed to patch it up again by avoiding contact with her. And by not letting anyone else get close enough to hurt me.

  But sitting there in the dimly lit car with Dean, I realized he was the only man on earth who had the power not only to break my heart but shatter it into bits.

  I also knew he wouldn’t. Not if he could help it. I would never have allowed him to get so close if I thought he might one day deliberately hurt me.

  I could feel his gaze. “What?”

  “You thought about it, didn’t you?” he asked. “Parking?”

  “Most girls probably did.”

  “But you weren’t most girls.”

  “No.” I glanced at him. “But yeah, I thought about it. Thought about a lot more than just parking.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know.” My flush deepened. The interior of the car was getting warm from more than just the heater. I pressed back against the seat, running my hand over the butter-soft leather.

  “Tell me,” he said.

  “No.”

  “I might do it.”

  My breath caught. “You would?”

  “Maybe.” He drawled the word as if he weren’t certain, but the gleam in his eyes told quite a different story.

  “Okay.” My heart pounded faster with a combination of nervousness and anticipation. “I’ve thought about… uh, doing it in the backseat of a car. Like they did in the fifties.”

  Dean laughed. “You think they only did that in the fifties?”

  “Well, I mean, I saw it a lot in movies set in the fifties.” I frowned. “Stop laughing.”

  “Sorry.” He tempered it down to a grin. “Just so you know, people have been doing it in the backseat way beyond the fifties.”

  “Have you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Recently?”

  “Not recently, no.” He tilted his head toward the backseat of his car. “So do you want to?”

  “Here?” My heart was beating hard now. I swallowed and glanced out the windows. It was past sunset, and we were surrounded by trees with no one else around, but still…

  “Well.” I pressed a hand to my chest. I was starting to throb between my legs. “Um… I’ve always thought it was one of the things I wanted to do before I die.” I winced. “Wait, that didn’t come out right. I mean in an adventurous way. Like I want to visit Machu Picchu, go up in a hot-air balloon, see the Northern Lights, have sex in the backseat of a car…”

  My voice trailed off. Silence filled the car. Dean just sat there with his hands on the steering wheel. Waiting.

  Finally I pulled off my shoes, unbuckled my seatbelt, and crawled ungracefully over the console between the seats to get into the back. Dean opened the glove compartment and took out a package of condoms.

  “You keep condoms in there?” I asked.

  “It is called the glove compartment,” he replied with a wink.

  He got out of the car and opened the back door to get inside.

  It was a close fit. His car was a sedan, but with the two of us in the backseat, the confines felt tight. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I was already warm just from thinking about the idea, and now sitting so close to him I began to get downright hot. And even more nervous.

  I scooted away until I reached the opposite door. “This is a little silly.”

  “Is it?”

  “We’re not teenagers.”

  “Teenagers don’t have a monopoly on backseat sex.”

  True. Dean and I had been together for four months. We’d had sex on the bed, the sofa, the floor, in the shower. One memorable night on the kitchen table. But never anywhere outside his apartment, my apartment, or a hotel room.

  “Okay, so… what should I do?” I asked.

  “Relax, for one thing.”

  I looked at him. His posture was loose, his beautiful mouth curved, his eyes gentle and amused. He reached out and drew a lock of my hair between his fingers, then tucked it behind my ear.

  “You’re with me,” he said.

  It was such a simple, obvious statement and yet it was weighted with implications of comfort and reassurance.

  The strain in my shoulders eased. If I was ever going to be comfortable enough to have sex with anyone in the backseat of a car, it was going to be Dean. Which meant this could be my only chance, although I didn’t dare consider the horrible possibility that we might one day no longer be together.

  I scooted back across the seat until my thigh pressed against his, then I leaned in to kiss him. His mouth met mine in a soft, lovely kiss that made my body shimmer with light. He settled his hands on my waist and drew me closer until I was in his arms with my breasts pressing against his chest. He eased my lips apart with his tongue, stoking the burn of lust. My skin prickled with need.

  I sighed and wiggled closer as his hands came up to caress my breasts. He slid his thumbs around my nipples through the fabric of my blouse, then hooked his fingers under the hem and pulled it off. Cool air brushed against my skin.

  “Do we get completely naked?” I asked.

  “We don’t have to.” He tugged at the waistband of my jeans. “As long as you can get these off.”

  “What if a police officer finds us?”

  “No one’s going to find us.” He started kissing my neck.

  “How do you know?”

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere.” His breath brushed against my ear, his thick hair tickling my cheek.

  I shivered. “The middle of nowhere is… is where alien abductions happen.”

  “Good, so worry about that instead of the police.” He palmed my breasts through my bra. “You have the most incredible breasts.”

  The windows were getting steamy, but there was
still enough dim light to see. I pressed my hand against his crotch and sucked in a breath at the feel of his erection. Before he could undress, I sat back and unzipped my jeans, shifting around to try and get them off. Dean finally helped, then chucked them into the front seat along with my underwear. I was left wearing nothing except my bra. My heart pounded with a combination of nerves and excitement.

  “Your turn,” I said.

  If we suddenly found ourselves illuminated by the beam of a police flashlight, I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the only one buck naked.

  My hands shook as I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down to his thighs. His erection pressed against the cotton of his boxers. I reached into the fly and wrapped my hand around his smooth, hard shaft.

  Dean winced with pleasure. “Ah, Liv, this won’t last long.”

  Probably for the better, I thought, given the potential threat of police and aliens. Not to mention the urgency pulsing between my legs.

  I shifted to try and lie back, but he stopped me and pulled my leg over his lap.

  “Ride me,” he said. “It’s the easiest position back here.”

  I didn’t want to know exactly how he’d discovered that fact, but then he took hold of his cock and my attention snapped to the lithe movement of his hand. My pulse beat a crazy rhythm.

  “Makes me so hot to watch you do that,” I whispered. My throat was getting dry.

  “Uh huh.” A wicked glint lit his eyes. “Just one of the reasons I do it.”

  I rubbed my hands over his chest, tracing the muscles down to the hem of his T-shirt. He cupped his hands around my bottom and pulled me closer. I slipped my hands beneath his shirt and splayed my palms over his taut skin. Heat spread clear up my arms. I squirmed on his thighs.

  He tightened his grip on my ass. I shrugged my bra straps off my shoulders and pushed it down far enough to expose my breasts. A groan rumbled from Dean’s chest, which emboldened me to spear my hands into his hair and tug him forward. Shivers rained down my spine when he flicked his tongue over one nipple, twisting the other between his fingers. The smells of sweat and leather filled my head.