Daring in the Dark

by Jennifer Labrecque

  Her naughty smile wrecked him. “You are wicked, Simon Thackeray.”

  Forget muck. This felt like dangerous sexual flirting and he needed to stop. And he would. Soon. He leaned forward, drawn by the heat in her eyes, lured by her smile. “Perhaps my love languishes unrequited because I’m too wicked to love.”

  She shifted forward, her knee brushed his and the contact surged through him. A seductive smile curved her lush mouth. “I seriously doubt that. Don’t you know that all that wickedness just drives women to distraction?”

  All he truly knew was that she drove him beyond distraction. Beyond caution. “Are you speaking from personal experience?”

  “The last time I checked, I was a woman, so I suppose so.” There was something in her eyes. Something that said she knew how utterly wicked he could be and she liked it, despite herself.

  Which was ridiculous because he’d been very careful to limit his exposure to her. He raised his brow in question. As if she suddenly realized what he’d seen in her eyes, she blinked and it vanished. She leaned back into her chair, putting a distance that existed beyond mere space between them. Thank God one of them had some sense. “What do you do with all of that pent-up…energy?”

  Egad, the woman was relentlessly curious—no trouble at all believing she got herself locked into a wardrobe—which was yet one more reason he’d taken himself out of her and Elliott’s sphere. For one moment he considered telling her he jerked off often, just to see if it would shock her into no more questions, but that tactic had already failed once. And quite simply he couldn’t bring himself to be so crude. He opted for the truth.

  “I run. A lot. At this point, I’m probably hovering in marathon-training range.” He laughed at himself. “And never underestimate the efficiency of the proverbial cold shower.”

  As it stood now, a cold shower sounded better and better on more than one count. Sweat slicked him and her skin glistened with a fine sheen of moisture. He was a sick beast when a woman sweating struck him as sexy.

  “I didn’t know you were a runner. I’m nowhere close to marathon training, but I run five days a week.”

  “Are you sexually frustrated, as well?” He might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

  “No. I have a fat ass,” she said with a cheeky grin that held a smidgen of self-consciousness. He bit back the protest that her ass was perfect, enticing and far from fat. She went on, “We should run together some time.”

  Somehow running with her to relieve the stress of Tawny-induced lust seemed self-defeating and warped. He liked it. “Maybe we should.”

  “How about tomorrow?” she said.

  Depending on how long it took to restore the power, he’d definitely need it.

  “It’s a date then.” Poor word choice. “I didn’t mean a date as in a date.” Yet another reason he avoided being around her. His brain seemed to become nothing more than rat turds rolling around in his empty head when she was near.

  She raised her eyebrows. Amusement at his verbal bumbling danced in her eyes and twitched at her lips. “I knew what you meant.”

  From the other room her cell phone rang. She scraped her chair back, excusing herself.

  Simon stayed in the kitchen to offer her some privacy. He began to clear the table. Without the hum of the refrigerator, the AC and all the other white noise associated with electricity, he couldn’t help but overhear her conversation, even with the radio on.

  “Yes, Mom, I’m fine…. No, he’s not here. He got caught at the gallery…. No. I’m not alone. One of Elliott’s friends stopped by…. Yes. He’s a photographer…. No, they don’t know when they’ll have it back on…. No. No sign of looting or vandalism, but yes, we’re going to stay in.” Her voice lowered. “Mom, improper isn’t the same here as it is at home. And I’d rather not be alone…. Yes, I’ll call you later.”

  Elliott had flown down to meet Tawny’s parents after the engagement and given Simon an earful afterward. Very conservative, very Southern, very proper. Rarified members of the genteel Savannah blue-blood set, her father was a surgeon and her mother was a lifetime member of the garden club. They’d lunched at the country club.

  It took less than a thimbleful of imagination to figure out Mama Edwards had reprimanded Tawny over the impropriety of being alone in her apartment during a blackout with another man. God help them both if her mother had overheard their conversation. And at least her mum called to check on her. Simon doubted he’d even crossed his parents’ minds. He’d been off their radar screen since he left home. Who was he fooling? He’d never registered on their radar screen.

  Tawny walked back into the kitchen just as he finished rinsing and stacking the bowls. “My mother,” she confirmed. “They heard about it on CNN.” She took in the tidied kitchen. “You cleaned up! If I weren’t already taken, I’d keep you for myself.”

  Her teasing words were a dagger to his heart.

  “Ah, but there is Elliott, isn’t there?” He deliberately chilled his tone.

  “Yes, there is Elliott.” She put her cell phone on the counter and turned to him. “But that reminds me, exactly why were you and Elliott coming over this evening?”

  4

  SIMON HAD GROWN UP IN New York City and had never seen an actual deer caught in headlamps, but he experienced a sudden onset of empathy. Bugger. If he’d been thinking with his whole brain instead of sniffing about after Tawny like some lust-driven horn dog, he would’ve seen this coming, should’ve anticipated the question. Instead she’d figuratively caught him with his trousers down. Simon didn’t feel like a very bright boy.

  “It’s a bit of a mystery to me.” He was a terrible liar.“Uh-huh.”

  She clearly didn’t believe him. And he might stretch the truth to protect her from what he perceived to be Elliott’s selfishness, but he couldn’t knowingly lie to her. However, exactly how Elliott planned to handle this impending fiasco was a mystery to him.

  She picked up her cell phone. “Let’s call Elliott. It’s not as if he’s busy or anything if he’s locked in the gallery without electricity.”

  Simon winced inside. She’d be devastated to know just how busy Elliott might be at the moment.

  Tawny speed dialed the number and drummed her fingers on the counter.

  “Hi, Elliott. Everything quiet over there? Fine…Nothing. We ate cold pizza and fruit. I asked Simon what it was you wanted to talk about tonight. Apparently he’s as in the dark as I am…. No, I didn’t intend that as a pun…. So let’s talk now…. I know you wanted to be here, but you might as well tell me over the phone, because you’ve aroused my curiosity. Don’t make me wait. You’ve got to satisfy me.”

  Aroused…wait any longer…satisfy me. She talked to Elliot this way and he still got off on someone else? That told Simon all he needed to know about his friend. Since Elliott wasn’t dead, he must be gay.

  “Yes. He’s right here. Okay.” She huffed out a breath and handed the phone across to Simon. “He wants to talk to you.”

  Simon reluctantly took the phone.

  Tawny planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. Brilliant. Forget a private conversation. Not that he blamed her. She had to feel jerked around.

  Instinct told him he wasn’t going to like where this was headed. “Elliott?”

  “Tawny wants to know what I wanted to talk to her about.” Elliott sounded positively panicked.

  Simon leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “Right.”

  “I can’t tell her over the phone,” Elliott said as if Simon had demanded he do that very thing.

  Simon braved a glance at Tawny’s set features. “I don’t believe there’s a choice.”

  “But there is.” He recognized Elliott’s wheedling enthusiastic tone. Whatever it was, Simon’s instincts were already screaming no. “The right choice. You tell her.”

  Simon damn near dropped the phone. “No.”

  “Yes. The more I think about it, this works out better.”


  Maybe for Elliott. Cold day in hell and all that.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Oh, come on, Si. You two already don’t like one another. And what else are you going to talk about? What have you got to do stuck there in the dark with one another? This blackout could last several hours.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Think about it. It’d be better this way.” Was it only twelve hours ago that he’d declared nothing Elliott did could compromise their friendship? He was rethinking that position. “You don’t know Tawny the way I do. She’s not going to give up on this until one of us tells her. I can try feeding her some line about wedding plans, but when she finds out the truth, that’s just going to make it a thousand times worse.”

  “I don’t see why your conversation can’t wait.”

  “I’m telling you, she’s sexy and sweet but beneath those soft curves and big green eyes she’s relentless when she wants something. She’s a steel magnolia.”

  Simon recognized that truth. He’d experienced it firsthand when she’d sunk her teeth into the topic of his love life. He considered banging his head against the counter or perhaps the cabinet. Anything solid would do.

  Could this night possibly get any better? First he was trapped with a woman he wanted beyond reason. Now said woman was about to hound him to no end for news sure to crush her. And he was the lucky devil doing double duty. Not only was he in the firing line to be shot as the messenger, but who else was around to endure the messy aftermath? And when it was all said and done, he’d wade through hell and back if he thought she needed him.

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Simon, you are the best friend a man could have.”

  “We’ll talk about that later.” This wasn’t for Elliott. This was for Tawny. Because she deserved better than hearing the truth over the phone while Elliott was locked in with his new lover. Because it might render him asunder, but he would give her a strong shoulder to cry on and be there for her.

  “Okay. I’m grateful. Eternally grateful. Let me talk to Tawny for a minute.”

  Silently Simon passed the phone back to Tawny.

  “Yes?… He is?… Okay. Stay safe and I’ll talk to you later,” she said. She flipped the cell phone closed, disconnecting the call. She picked up her glass and polished it off. Putting the empty goblet on the counter, she looked at Simon expectantly, some of her former exasperation lingering in her eyes and the set of her mouth.

  “I understand you have something to tell me?”

  Apprehension knotted Simon’s gut. The proverbial shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

  “Let’s go in the other room. You’ll want to sit down for this.”

  SIMON LOOKED GRIM. SO MUCH for the let’s-all-jump-in-bed ménage-à-trois theory, although she already pretty much knew that was toast. What could possibly warrant that rigid, resigned set to his jaw, and was that a flash of pity in his eyes when he looked at her?

  The truth slammed her. She sucked in a calming breath. Elliott was dying. He’d been handed down some awful diagnosis and the two of them were going to break the news to her. She was the worst human being possible, having erotic dreams about Simon and wallowing in a private lustfest while poor, brave Elliott faced the specter of death alone.Simon leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his fingers linked together. He turned to face her. “Elliott should be the one telling you…. I was only coming to lend moral support…. I’m not sure where to begin.”

  Tawny squared her shoulders and sat straighter on her end of the sofa. She’d be brave. “How long has he known?”

  Simon did a double take. “How long have you known?”

  “Well, just now.”

  Simon slanted a questioning look her way. “Now?”

  “I figured it out and Elliott can count on me to stand by him, even if the wedding doesn’t happen.” He might be too sick or he just might not have enough time to make it to the altar.

  “Tawny, what is it that you think you know?”

  “Elliott’s dying, isn’t he? What is it? Cancer? A tumor? How long does he have? I knew he’d been acting different lately, but I thought…”

  Simon waved a hand, stilling her. “Let’s back up a bit. You think Elliott’s dying?”

  “Isn’t he? You look like the Grim Reaper.”

  “I always look like the Grim Reaper.” Simon sighed. “As far as I know, Elliott’s healthy as a horse.” Whew. She sagged against the sofa, limp with relief. As long as Elliott was healthy, nothing could… “He’s been seeing someone else.”

  What? She shot up. “Bastard.” She’d kill him. Here she’d been feeling guilty over dreams, when all the while Elliott was playing Bury the Bone with someone else. “Is it someone I know?”

  “I think you’ve met him.”

  It took a few seconds for the definitive him to soak through her haze of shock and anger. “Him? Did you just say him, as in Elliott’s seeing a guy?”

  Simon offered a curt nod. “That’s what he told me this morning.”

  “A man? A man! I’ve been dumped for a freaking man?” Another woman was bad enough, but a man? She’d never been so angry and humiliated in her life. And don’t forget betrayed.

  The hot press of tears gathered. Dammit. She didn’t get really mad that often, but when she did, instead of ranting and raving she cried. It sucked.

  Simon shook his head. “I don’t think he necessarily wants to break up. He just wanted to come clean. He says it’s only been once and he thinks he’s bisexual.” Simon looked grimmer than ever.

  Elliott’s nerve floored her. He didn’t necessarily want to break up? That was rich. And it fueled her anger. She didn’t have anything against homosexuals, but she wasn’t marrying one. She tugged at the ring on her finger. It stuck on her knuckle. That was the final detail that totally unhinged her. Tawny, the family screwup, had once again managed to not get it right. Her anger spilled over in the form of hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She tugged again. Finally she yanked the ring off. She shoved it into Simon’s hand. “I won’t be needing this any longer.” The last word ended on a sob.

  She was so angry she was shaking. And blubbering.

  Simon slid across the space separating them. She caught a glimpse of his face. He looked positively stricken. He folded her into his arms, pulling her against the wall of his chest, cradling her, rocking her back and forth. “Please don’t cry, Tawny. It’s going to be okay.”

  Stern, austere, sarcastic Simon offered her solace. That this man who didn’t like her very well was reduced to having to comfort her went a long way in cooling her anger and stemming her tears. Crying when she was angry had proven a curse of embarrassment since childhood.

  That was almost as humiliating as her being inadequate enough to send Elliott to seek male companionship. She ought to have some measure of pride and pull away, but somehow it felt less embarrassing to simply stay where she was, pressed against Simon’s chest. Plus it was a very nice chest.

  “How amusing for me to offer you advice on your love life when mine was down the toilet and I didn’t even have enough sense to know it,” she said against his shirt. “How pathetic.”

  “Tawny, never refer to yourself again as pathetic.” He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head back until she looked at him. He gentled away her tears with his thumbs. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. His jeans-clad knee pressed against her bare leg. “There is nothing remotely pathetic about you. You’re beautiful and sexy.”

  Simon could obviously lie with the best of them. She knew her eyes and nose were swollen from crying. Some women cried prettily. She wasn’t one of them. She was fairly certain she wasn’t looking her level best. And then there was the little matter of Elliott dipping his wick…definitely where it didn’t belong. “Yes, I’m so beautiful and sexy, I drove my fiancé to being gay.”

  “Right now I’m very pissed with Elliott. And even though he’s my friend, he’s an idiot.” He patted her awkwardly on h
er shoulder.

  Poor Simon. Small wonder he’d been so reluctant to broach this subject. “It was bad enough that he stuck you in the middle. You don’t have to say all of this. And don’t worry, I’m through crying. When I get angry, I cry. Charming little quirk.” She dashed away the last of her tears.

  “Elliott is all kinds of a fool.”

  She sniffled. This was the man she’d seen the day he’d photographed her, the man she’d glimpsed behind the wall of reserve. He really could be very nice. “It’s very chivalrous of you to say that.”

  “I don’t have a chivalrous bone in my body. I’m stating the obvious. You’re beautiful and sexy and Elliott’s an idiot,” Simon said.

  Tawny opened her mouth to argue the point and Simon interrupted her.

  “Perhaps this will convince you,” he said, lowering his head and capturing her mouth.

  TAWNY TASTED LIKE EXACTLY what she was—forbidden fruit. Sweet, hot, drugging, addictive. He felt her hesitation and surprise, tasted the brine of her tears.

  Simon pulled away from her mouth and the temptation to plunder and explore. He raked his hand through his hair. “That was out of line. I apologize.”She shook her head. “No.” She linked her arms around his neck and pulled his head back down to hers. “Please don’t apologize,” she said, her breath warming him. Her lips molded to his and a fantasy came to life. Tawny kissed him, hard and hot.

  He knew she was angry with Elliott. Knew he was payback. Knew he should walk away. But while his head said one thing, his heart said another. God help him, he returned her kiss. Six months of pent-up passion unleashed within him. He’d lived with fantasies. And now he held the flesh-and-blood embodiment of those fantasies in his arms.

  Her tongue probed at his lips and the last vestige of his resistence deserted him. He buried his hands in her hair and crushed her to him. She strained against him, her anger, her frustration almost palpable. And then it was gone, replaced by something less volatile—and far more dangerous. She softened, her mouth now giving rather than taking. Offering. He took and gave in return.