Playing the Part

by Darcy Daniel

  The anticipation alone almost sent her over the edge. She covered his hands with her own and moved them higher still, until his thumbs finally made contact between her legs. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding forward. Then his thumb slipped inside her panties, sliding over her damp heat. And that was all it took. She exploded, squirming shamelessly against his thumb as the contractions engulfed her. As she groaned into his mouth, his breath rushed in and out just as quickly as hers.

  When the pulsing between her legs began to subside, she broke the kiss and pressed her forehead to his. And reality came crashing in.

  What had she done? Teasing Cole in the playground had been one thing, but this sort of teasing was an entirely different matter. Shame burned her cheeks. She straightened, and couldn’t help but look between them—at her hands covering his on her thighs, at the erection straining against his denim jeans.

  Apart from his rapid breaths, he remained motionless, waiting for her to make the next move.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she slid off his lap and stood on trembling legs. “I didn’t mean—” She cut herself off. Didn’t mean what? To take it that far? Who was she kidding? Before he could say anything, she bolted to the front door and ran inside.

  In the bathroom, she paced back and forth. “Stupid, stupid idiot!” she screamed on a whisper. She knew exactly why she responded to Cole so readily, why she lost control so willingly. She was no longer falling for him. She’d plummeted heart first, and had just landed with a resounding thump.

  Chapter Eleven

  Cole sat on the porch swing, trying to understand what had happened. There was no denying he’d just had the most mind-blowing encounter of his life. He could recall every physical detail, yet what he really wanted to know was what was going on inside Anthea Cane’s head.

  Until now, he’d believed there was a slight possibility she’d been putting on an act, pretending to like him more than she did. But she’d just well and truly shattered that belief. Even though he couldn’t see her face, he’d been fully aware of her sighs and groans. And even with his inexperience, there was no mistaking how her body responded to his touch. Was she that good of an actress that she could fake such a response? No, he didn’t think so. She hadn’t been pretending to like him. She really did.

  And she’d succeeded in tormenting him yet again. The bulge in his jeans still refused to deflate. He supposed as long as he kept replaying what happened between them, it wouldn’t.

  But why had she run away? Had she realized she’d made a terrible mistake by letting him touch her, letting him get close? Surely she would have stopped things a lot sooner if she felt that way. So why flee?

  He ran a hand through his hair, slouched into the porch swing and listened to the night. When the faint sound of her movement inside grew quiet, he knew she’d gone to bed.

  Standing, he felt his jeans tighten across his crotch. There was no way in the world he could lie beside her in this state. He’d have to take another shower and remedy the problem.

  * * *

  Anthea’s face once again burned with shame when she heard the shower start to run. It didn’t take a genius to guess why. It wasn’t what Cole was doing in there that embarrassed her, it was the fact that it was all her fault.

  By the time he moved quietly into the room and settled in on the other side of the cushion barrier, she knew sleep would be something she’d have no luck falling into any time soon. As the minutes drifted by, she listened intently to the sounds of his breathing.

  When she thought he was asleep, she eased her head from the pillow and looked over her shoulder. He lay on his back, his face just visible over the tops of the cushions. As if sensing her stare, his eyes snapped open. They glinted in the moonlight streaming across the bed.

  “You awake?” he whispered.

  The shame she felt was still so strong, she didn’t want to answer, but found she couldn’t help herself. “Mmm,” she murmured softly, hoping he wasn’t angry with her for taking her own pleasure and leaving him unsatisfied.

  To her surprise, he asked, “What made you want to become an actress?”

  She rolled onto her back and, as she tried to get comfortable, her hand slipped beneath the cushions and brushed against his. She withdrew it slightly and watched the shadows dance across the ceiling.

  Except for the shrink she’d seen when she was sixteen, she never talked about her mother with anyone, preferring instead to keep that information inside. But with Cole, she found herself wanting to tell him everything, from the warmth of Mattie’s love, through the highs and lows of their family life, and the misery and heartache her death brought. But so much of her mother was linked with Mayfield.

  The physical pain of withholding that information lodged tight in her throat and remained trapped there in a prison of her own making. She opened her mouth, desperate to set it free, then snapped it shut again. She couldn’t tell him the truth. She couldn’t tell him how her father had closed the Mayfield pharmacy for two days in a row just to get her to an audition in the city. She couldn’t tell him how Mattie tried to hide the relentless pain the cancer inflicted on her just so she could go with them to see her daughter audition. She couldn’t tell him so many things, but she could try to tell him some.

  “It was my mother,” she said, and smiled. “When I was young, she always encouraged me to show off, perform for her. She called me her little actress. It seemed to make her happy, so I decided that’s what I wanted to be. I started asking to go on auditions, and it wasn’t long before I was hired.”

  “She must be very proud of you.”

  Her smile slipped. “She died when I was young.”

  His hand moved beneath the cushions between them, found hers and held on.

  “I’m sorry,” he said gently.

  “Yeah, me too.” Although thinking about Mattie caused her pain—pain that Ethan and her father had always discouraged—she felt safe and protected lying here next to Cole. Safe enough to tell him anything.

  “I never gave much thought as to why she called me that, but now I think she believed her life was small and insignificant, that she didn’t matter. I think she was worried I’d end up like her. I wish I could tell her how wrong she’d been. She might have lived in a small town, but to me, she was the most important person in the world.”

  Damn it, she hoped he wouldn’t notice her slip about living in a small town. She hated hiding her identity, but she couldn’t tell the truth. If she did, everything would be ruined.

  As tears slid from her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Sorry. I’m blabbering.”

  His hold on her hand loosened, and then his fingers entwined with hers. “I want to know.”

  Her muscles tensed and she had to fight off the urge to burst into tears. Why did he have to sound like he actually cared?

  When she remained silent, he asked, “What’s your favorite memory of her?”

  Her muscles loosened. He was clever, making her think of the good things. “She used to read to me. Every night, she’d snuggled into my bed with me and read her favorite book. The Farmer’s Wife.”

  “That’s why you want the role so badly.” It wasn’t a question.

  She nodded, then remembered he couldn’t see. “That’s why. It’s funny, though. When she used to read it to me, I had no idea she’d changed the ending. It wasn’t until I picked up the book again—I think I was about fifteen—and read it myself that I discovered it ended in tragedy. Mum had invented her own ending. A happy one.”

  “She was protecting you.”

  “I think so. It’s a shame she didn’t get the chance to do it for longer.”

  His thumb brushed over her wrist. “You miss her,” he said. “I know how that feels.”

  She held her breath, knowing from what he’d said that his mother had also p
assed away. Was he about to open up?

  “The night I lost my sight,” he said, then paused. She waited, not wanting to push him. “My father… he killed my mother.”

  She drew in a sharp breath, tightened her grip on his hand. She hadn’t imagined anything so horrific. Now she knew what Karin meant when she’d warned her that Cole had been through enough pain in his life.

  “Oh, Cole.”

  “They used to fight all the time. Terrible arguments, mostly just screaming at each other. But when my grandparents weren’t home, it would get worse…physical.”

  He stopped, and she wondered if he’d changed his mind about telling her everything. When she turned her head on the pillow to look at him, she saw a tear slip from his eye and roll toward his ear. He blinked, swallowed, and she knew he was reliving the memory in his mind.

  “Most of the time,” he continued, “I’d get out of the house, run into the forest and hide until my grandparents returned. But this time, the last time, it started suddenly. I was doing my homework in my room when I heard them start arguing. My grandmother always told me that if I couldn’t leave of the house, then I should hide until they settled down.”

  Anthea watched his face, waiting.

  “So I hid under my bed. I wanted nothing more than to stop my father, but I was a scrawny kid, no meat on my bones. I knew that if I tried, it would’ve made him even angrier. So I hid and listened to them rage. They were saying awful things, wishing each other dead. Then came the silence. That silence seemed so much scarier than their voices.”

  She tightened her hand on his and he returned the grip.

  “Then I remember my mother screaming and her feet pounding on the floorboards, growing closer and closer until I saw her legs run past my door. I could hear my father calling her name, his boots thumping. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Something about the whole thing was very different from their normal fights. I didn’t know what it was, but I knew the dread I felt was real.”

  Anthea’s throat closed again, but this time with fear. She could imagine him under his bed, so small and frightened. She realized in a flash that his childhood bedroom was the same room he kept locked.

  “Then she screamed, and I could hear something dragging along the floorboards, getting closer. That’s when my father pulled her into my room and dumped her on the floor… She saw me then, hiding under that bed, scared out of my brain. You know what she did?”

  “What?” she whispered on a shaky breath.

  “She smiled. Like that smile would make it all okay. Funny thing was, for just a second, I believed it.”

  His hand tightened almost painfully on hers, but she didn’t move away. He had to get this out.

  “And then there was this deafening explosion, and her face… it was just gone. He’d shot her. When I heard the next explosion—when he killed himself—I remember shutting my eyes so tight…and I haven’t opened them since.”

  The enormity of the horror he’d witnessed took her breath away. This was what he’d meant when he said there was nothing in the world worth seeing. That’s how he’d coped. He’d decided that if he couldn’t see the world, its beauty and its horrors, then he’d never have to feel that pain and terror again.

  An overwhelming wave of empathy for the little boy he’d been, for the man beside her, swept through her. “Oh, Cole. I’m so sorry. I…” Before she could say any more, she burst into tears.

  “Hey, hey,” he said softly. “It’s all right.”

  She shook her head, but couldn’t stop the sobs from escaping.

  “Damn it,” he said. Then the cushions covering her arm disappeared. She managed to open her eyes enough to see him tossing them aside. He rolled onto his side and reached for her. He touched her stomach, snaked an arm around her waist and brought her closer. Gently, he rolled her so she faced away from him, and pulled her against his front.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ve never told anyone before. Maybe I shouldn’t have.”

  She placed her hand over his. “No. You had to. I wanted to know. Thank you.” Sniffling, she swallowed, tried to get herself under control.

  “You weren’t wrong about being a sook, were you?” His tone was light, teasing.

  She jabbed him with her elbow. “Not the time for making jokes.”

  “I think it’s the perfect time,” he murmured as he gently pressed his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  There was nothing sexual about it, just a simple expression of comfort. It made her feel warm all over. Then he rested his head on the pillow behind her, folded his legs against hers until her knees bent, spooning her, enclosing her in a safe cocoon. He wanted nothing from her other than to be close. She snuggled against him, and felt the tension leave her body.

  Raising his hand to her lips, she kissed it, placed it over her heart and held it there.

  “’Night,” he whispered.

  “’Night,” she murmured.

  Chapter Twelve

  When Cole woke, a heavy weight seemed to have lifted from his chest. He hadn’t realized he’d been weighed down until that moment. He remembered telling Anthea about the worst day of his life, something he’d never told anyone and never thought he would. It hadn’t been easy, but it felt right. That psychiatrist his grandparents had made him see had been right after all. He understood that talking about his trauma had done him the world of good, though he wished he hadn’t made her cry.

  The lightness in his chest wasn’t the only change. A dim glow shone behind his eyelids. It was happening again. The episodes seemed to be getting closer together. He knew he should call Karin and let her know what was happening.

  But he didn’t want to change what was going on here, and he couldn’t deny why. Anthea Cane was the reason he wanted to see again. How many times had he wished his vision would return over the last couple of weeks? Too many to count. And he’d never once thought about it before she arrived on his farm. He’d always convinced himself that living in the dark was better than witnessing another horror.

  But he wanted to see Anthea, needed to see her. Not because of her beauty, but because he wanted to see the expressions on her face, wanted to know what she was thinking whenever he moved close to her, whenever he touched her.

  Cautiously, he opened his eyes. As the room swam into focus, he squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust. Curious as to why the light was so dim, he checked the clock. Dawn had just broken.

  He turned toward Anthea, and there she was, curled on her side, facing him, fast asleep. Very carefully, he rolled toward her, studied her face and smiled. For once he had the advantage. For the first time he could watch her while she had no idea she was being observed.

  Her eyes moved slightly beneath her lids and a tendril of hair lay across her cheek. He reached out to tuck it away, but the thought of waking her stopped him. He wanted to take advantage of this gift of sight before it left him in the dark again.

  His eyes slid to her smooth neck and over her bare shoulder, where a thin strap held her red nightgown in place. Her slender arm lay across the sheet. His fingers itched to touch her soft skin. Resisting, he fisted his hands and let his eyes slip lower. The sheet covered her, but revealed the dip of her waist and rise of her hip.

  Sweeping his gaze to her face, he noticed her eyes no longer moved beneath their closed lids.

  He couldn’t deny that she was stunning, but the feelings he’d developed for her had nothing at all to do with her looks. The emotions stirring in his chest had started long before he ever laid eyes on her last night.

  Last night.

  He smiled as his eyes drifted to her lips, plump and soft and inviting. He could barely believe she’d allowed him to kiss them. And what a kiss. He’d been so turned on by that kiss and the weight of her on his lap. If she
had scooted closer and pressed herself against him, he would have lost it. So he’d put his hands on her knees to make sure that didn’t happen. But the feel of her warm skin beneath his palms only made him want more. Surprising himself, he’d slipped his fingers beneath the hem of her dress and started a slow exploration up her silky thighs. He’d never felt anything so inviting. When he realized just how intimate the moment was, he stopped, knowing that by straddling his lap, she was completely exposed to him. Apart from her underwear, there had been nothing between his hands and the very center of her. The thought of being so close made his mind reel. Doubt flooded through him and the experience he lacked began to eat at his confidence.

  Then she took away all doubts and guided his hands to the place she wanted to be touched. He’d been more than willing to give her what she wanted. Her panties, so warm and moist, made him ache to explore beneath them, and to his own surprise, he’d done just that. But it seemed her control had been about as weak as his, because the moment he touched her beneath that thin material, she fell apart.

  She’d been embarrassed, but he couldn’t understand why. It was wonderful to know he affected her the same way she affected him.

  As he sighed at the memory, her eyes fluttered open. He froze, reminding himself that she had no idea he could see her. When her gaze traveled from his chin, to his lips, then to his eyes, her face lit up. And in those blue spheres, he saw love. He saw the way his grandmother looked at his grandfather. An unmistakable expression that left him with no doubt she had fallen just as hard as he had.

  His heart thundered with the possibilities. He always believed he’d be alone, had wanted to be alone because of his parents’ brutal relationship. And he’d made peace with that, but now…

  He watched her smile as she studied his face. How he wanted to pull her into his arms, kiss her senseless and tell her exactly how much he loved her. But he couldn’t do that, not yet. One giant barrier remained between them. They were both lying to each other. And until he could be completely honest with her, he didn’t feel like he had the right to put her in a position where she’d have to either keep on lying to him about her identity, or reveal the truth.