The Blue Link

by Carol Caiton

  "I . . . yes. It was time to move on."

  "I was a bookkeeper myself," the other woman said. "That was before I met Ethan's grandfather, when accounting records were posted by hand on ledgers." She chuckled. "I would have loved working at a computer. I have one in the den and I use it quite often because it fascinates me. Ethan's friend Michael set it up for me. He programmed something in it so it wouldn't be susceptible to viruses." She shook her head. "Viruses. What a multi-faceted word. Have you met Michael, Nina?"

  "Yes I have."

  They spent part of the meal laughing over the differences between archaic accounting methods and surprising one another with some of the same frustrations and similarities.

  Nina hadn't expected to enjoy herself as much as she did. Georgiana Vale was a warm, friendly woman and they sat at the table long after dessert, skipping from one topic to another.

  Ethan joined the conversation on occasion, but for the most part he sat back and listened. And ate. And while they drank their coffee afterward, Nina thought he appeared more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.

  He helped clear the table, and while his grandmother put away the leftovers, Nina filled the dishwasher and pushed up her sleeves to wash the pots and pans by hand.

  "Nina," G said, "I can't help but notice that bruise on your face. Do you mind if I ask how you got it?"

  Nina paused, hands in the hot water. Before dinner, when Ethan brushed his thumb across her cheek, it hadn't stirred up memories of fear and helplessness. She'd been caught up in the intimacy of the moment. Now, however, the unexpected memory of a hand clamped over her mouth took her back to the violence of finding herself beneath the body of an animal who tore at her clothes.

  Two warm hands settled lightly on her waist.

  Looking over her shoulder, she saw quiet reassurance in Ethan's eyes and calmed. She knew his touch well enough now to sense the difference between playful teasing and this soothing support he offered.

  Shifting her eyes to his grandmother, she kept it simple. "I was mugged," she said. "It happened in a parking lot after dark."

  G's brow furrowed with concern. "I'm so sorry. Were you badly hurt?"

  "No, not badly. More than anything I was afraid."

  "I'm sure you were. Did you report it to the police? Did anyone stop to help you?"

  "Yes. Yes they did, and yes, I reported it."

  Ethan gave her waist another brief, reassuring squeeze. "G, I want you and your friends to start playing Bridge here at your house on Saturday nights."

  His grandmother's expression became exasperated. "Ethan, we've had this conversation too many times."

  "And we're having it again."

  "I was perfectly safe. Nothing to worry about."

  "Was?"

  G released an exaggerated sigh. "Sometimes you're too quick for my peace of mind."

  "What did you mean was?

  "I won't be going out on Saturday nights anymore," she confessed. "Do you remember Martha Kipperton?"

  "The woman with purple hair?"

  His grandmother chuckled. "Fay decided to move in with her daughter, so Martha will be making up the fourth now."

  "And?" He began drawing circles on Nina's spine with both thumbs.

  "And we'll be playing cards at her house instead, on Wednesday afternoons."

  "Well why didn't you just say that? Martha lives right across the street."

  "Because you've been badgering me for the last three years and I don't respond well to tyranny."

  "I'm not a tyrant." His thumbs slipped beneath the waistband of Nina's sweater, absently caressing her bare skin. "I'm trying to keep you around for another fifty years."

  "Fifty? Heaven forbid."

  She went on to tell him her friend no longer had purple-tinted hair, but Nina only heard part of the conversation. Ethan's fingers had joined his thumbs under her sweater and she felt every point of contact. If she'd sensed this was another prank she would have pushed him away. But his touch this time was caring and affectionate, as though they were in fact a couple. If she turned around she'd be in his arms. But if she pushed him away, it would seem callous.

  Telling herself to ignore the deep voice above her ear and the hands that felt almost possessive, she tried to pretend this show of intimacy was a natural extension of the game he'd begun. She didn't want to feel the tenderness he was capable of giving. She didn't want to learn this side of him because it left her confused and disoriented.

  Sinking her hands deeper into the soapy water, she forced herself to pick up the sponge. But he laughed at something G said and the rumble of his chest vibrated along her spine. She could no more resume washing dishes than she could control her heartbeat.

  "What do you think, Nina?" he asked.

  Startled by the question, she turned to look up at him and her hip brushed against a very unexpected, very hard erection.

  Her eyes flew to his.

  She completed the turn to break the contact and set her wet hands on his sweater.

  "Ethan?" she whispered.

  Dark intelligent eyes stared down her. Time lapsed into a void and he seemed to be waiting for a reaction from her. But she didn't know what to do, what he wanted, or what to think. The fingers at her waist dug in. Then the solid heavy length of him pulsed against her abdomen and her heart nearly stopped beating.

  In the next moment, everything changed. His mouth thinned. Anger replaced the awareness in his eyes. A foul curse whispered through his lips and he shifted. Then he cursed again, swung away, and strode out of the kitchen.

  Struggling to gather herself, uncertain and a little afraid, she glanced over at his grandmother, wondering if the older woman guessed what had occurred and wondering if that overly industrious, state-of-the-art hearing aid had picked up his profanity. Unfortunately, the knowing expression in G's eyes said she knew exactly what had transpired.

  Hot with mortification, Nina turned back to the sink. She wished she could be anywhere else.

  "Nina?" Ethan's grandmother approached and gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "Relationships are never easy. My best advice is to try to understand the other person's point of view." She paused for a moment, then said, "And if it helps to know this, you're the first girl Ethan has ever brought home to meet me. Ever."

  Nina kept her eyes on the soapy water. Georgiana Vale had opened her home and had welcomed her without reservation. She'd allowed Nina to share in a family holiday and Nina had deceived her. She was still deceiving her, even knowing the other woman was delighted to believe her grandson had found someone special.

  "He cares for you," his grandmother said quietly. "More deeply than you know."

  Oh, God. Ethan absolutely did not care for her. She was a shield, that's all. And just for today.

  She forced herself to turn and meet the other woman's eyes. Then she wished she hadn't because G looked back at her with a wealth of tenderness.

  "I've been waiting a long time for this," his grandmother said. "When Ethan's mother left him in my front yard with a suitcase and drove away . . . . It took two years for him to accept his grandfather and me as his family. And even after that, I wondered if he'd ever form a close attachment to anyone else. It was as though his mother drove off down the street and took his ability to love and trust with her."

  Nina's agony stretched. Shutting her eyes, she turned away again. She had no right to hear this. Ethan didn't want her to know anything more about his family. He'd been blunt to the point of cruelty while communicating that.

  But she couldn't say as much to his grandmother and undermine everything that had taken place through the day. Whether his game had been a teasing form of payback or the shield she thought it was, it would hurt this woman to know she'd been deceived.

  But neither could she remain silent. She couldn't let his grandmother think she hadn't been touched by the sharing of his private history.

  Turning once more, she looked into the older woman's eyes and with quiet conviction she said, "
If Ethan's mother stole his capacity for love and trust, then you gave it back to him." She offered a shaky smile. "And he may be a tyrant, but he gives his affection freely when he cares about someone. He's playful and protective, and he's a good man. He's a very good man. You loved him well I think, and he learned that from you."

  His grandmother's eyes grew soft and moist. "That was a beautiful thing to tell me. Thank you."

  Movement from the doorway caught Nina's eye and she turned to see Ethan's tall frame standing there, his gaze fixed on her intently.

  Heart lodging in her throat, she could do nothing but stare back. His grandmother looked over her shoulder as well, and smiled. Then she gave Nina's arm a gentle pat, reached for a dishtowel, and began drying the pots Nina had washed.

  He wasn't happy. Nina knew that right away. Obviously he'd been standing in the doorway long enough to hear everything she said. She didn't understand why he hadn't interrupted, but he hadn't. Well, he'd left her to deal with the aftermath of what had happened so she'd done the best she could.

  Still, she wanted him to tell her no harm had been done. She wanted him to say she'd been a good sport and that he'd enjoyed the day.

  In turn, she wanted to tell him how much she liked his grandmother and that his private life would remain private. She had no intention of speaking about his past to anyone.

  But most of all she wanted to clear the air. He had taunted her all day, enjoying himself at her expense. He was arrogant and domineering, but the bully in him had a spirit of fun. Between rolling her eyes, slapping his hands, and nudging him aside, his game had become enjoyable to her as well . . . until he'd sensed her distress and that protective nature she'd mentioned to his grandmother had shown itself. That's when everything had changed.

  He didn't touch her after that until he helped her into the car while she balanced the leftovers G had given them. And once they were on their way his smile disappeared. A new, underlying tension existed between them, an added layer that hadn't been there until today, and neither of them spoke.

  Simon might be her only point of reference when it came to sex, but that didn't mean she was ignorant. Ethan's response to her could have been due to the proximity of their bodies. What had started out as a comforting gesture had innocently advanced to something a little more. That was all. It was no one's fault. Not his and not hers. She wanted back the easygoing man she'd come to like over the course of the day.

  But he sat behind the steering wheel in stoic silence, his face a mask. Mile after mile passed until at last they drove through the security gate at Isleworth. The garage door opened on cue as he turned the Audi into the driveway and in just a few minutes he'd head for the wet bar and morph into the bad-tempered drunk she was more accustomed to. Then she'd go off to her bedroom, trying to think up some way to lure him from his liquor long enough to eat.

  "Nina."

  She started.

  He shut off the engine as the garage door closed behind them, then turned in his seat to face her. His eyes were cool and hard and unfeeling.

  "Today never happened," he told her.

  She stared back at him and said nothing.

  "It never happened. None of it."

  The timed overhead light blinked out. Sparse rays of sunshine filtered through the small panes of glass in both garage doors, enough to see the harsh lines in his face, the determination in his eyes.

  Disappointment rose up inside. Was this really what he wanted? To go back to being two reluctant acquaintances who tolerated one another because they shared a house? For a single afternoon he hadn't been drunk. He hadn't yelled at her or issued ultimatums, and the day could have ended so differently if he'd allowed it. But she couldn't force him to accept her friendship any more than she could control his drinking.

  "Nina," he pushed for a response.

  Why did she hesitate? In another hour or so she wouldn't even like him anymore.

  "All right, Ethan." She gave him a clipped nod and reached for her seatbelt. "Let's forget the whole thing." It was his house, his grandmother, his choice. "Today never happened," she confirmed in a tone equally as cold as his had been.

  Not caring one single bit about courtesy or whether or not he had anything else to say, she pushed the car door open and got out, leftovers notwithstanding.

  He caught up with her as she stretched a hand toward the security pad. He gave her a small nudge and swept her fingers out of the way. Obviously he wanted to act the gentleman and open the door for her. But she nudged right back and shoved at his hand. She could open the damned door herself.

  Her temper lasted as long as it took to stuff his grandmother's leftovers into the refrigerator and take herself off to her bedroom. Then her softer side took over.

  Shutting the door, she sank down onto the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. Ethan had hurt her. For no good reason. Did he think she planned to make an issue out of what happened? Did he believe she'd think that bulge in his pants meant something it didn't? Yes, she was inexperienced, but she was mature enough to deal with the entire day if he'd just give her the chance.

  Sliding out of her shoes, she stretched out on the comforter and thought about home. Did everyone who moved out of their parents' houses undergo so many life changes all at once? At twenty-two she'd been ready to test her independence but she'd been so utterly unprepared. And right now she missed the security of feeling loved and wanted. She missed her father.

  A knot of emotion gathered in her throat so she rolled to her side, stared at the door, and thought about Simon instead. He was somewhere in New York, spending a long holiday weekend with his parents but she wished he was back in Florida. Her relationship with him might be rocky and inconsistent, but after today and the intimacy she and Ethan had shared, she wanted to see him. She didn't like this feeling of unrest and confusion. She wanted everything to be normal again . . . and the need to apologize to him gnawed at her.

  She'd given a lot of thought to the night she ran away from him. The conclusions she'd jumped to were reasonable given the timing of what he'd said. But Simon wouldn't have used sexual blackmail as a weapon if he wanted a future with her. She might not know him very well, but blackmail of any kind didn't make a solid foundation for anything and he was too intelligent not to know that.

  So she'd misjudged him. Badly this time. She'd assumed the worst and insulted his character. Given his determination, he'd probably chalk it up to one more misunderstanding between them, but he deserved an apology and she wouldn't feel better until she gave it.

  Half an hour later her stomach growled. A hot meal served at two in the afternoon could be considered a late lunch or a very early dinner. Right now, her stomach told her it was the former so she pushed up from the bed. Ethan was probably hungry as well.

  As soon as she entered the kitchen, the sweet smell of whiskey met her nose. A quick glance around, however, showed the room was deserted, but the smell grew stronger when she walked over to the sink. There, off to the left, sat a small puddle of liquid and she sighed, disheartened. Was he already so drunk that he couldn't hold his glass steady? Apparently he was making up for lost time. At his grandmother's house he'd only had one glass of wine. She knew because she'd paid attention. But just as expected, he'd reverted to form now that they were home.

  Removing the turkey and side dishes from the refrigerator, she made up two plates. Then she decided to heat hers first and eat alone. Intoxicated, Ethan wasn't pleasant company and the truth was, she'd had a good time today and it would just make her sad to see him drunk.

  He wasn't in the game room when she went looking for him. She checked the front of the house, the home theatre, then thought to check the garage. He might have gone out again.

  But the Audi was right where he'd parked it and the Hummer sat in the far bay, so he was somewhere in the house. The only place she hadn't looked was his private wing.

  Frowning, she contemplated the wisdom of venturing back in that direction. He'd made it clear she was
n't welcome there, but she wanted him to eat. She didn't have to go inside his bedroom. She could call to him from the doorway and tell him dinner was ready.

  Feeling none too sure of herself though, she forced her feet to take her to the other side of the house and peeked around the doorway into his room. She expected to find him as she had before, lounging on his bed, drinking. But the bed was empty and neatly made, the dark green bedspread undisturbed. Twin bedside lamps lit the room, matching lamps, which told her he'd replaced the one he'd broken or he'd purchased two new ones.

  Taking a cautious step inside, she peered around the corner toward the other end of the room and saw him. Standing beside the sofa, hands in the pockets of his slacks, he stared out through a set of French doors at an in-ground swimming pool she hadn't known was there. Red, blue and green ground lights glowed amid the shrubbery casting a colorful, inviting glow. Coupled with those that lit the pool to a sparkling shimmer, it reminded her of RUSH.

  But it was Ethan who drew her gaze. He was a handsome man, tall, broad-shouldered, his dark hair trimmed neatly along the nape of his neck. He wasn't as handsome as Simon, but few men were. Yet they shared the same solid build, the same dynamic presence, the same confident bearing.

  Aloneness surrounded him tonight, however, and she stood in silence, considering this quiet, contemplative side of him she hadn't yet seen.

  He had several sides, she realized. He was the fun, gentle, and affectionate man he'd been that day, the angry, yet generous man who had pushed his way through a nasty hangover to offer her a place to live, and, of course, the bad-tempered ogre who made an appearance every night, courtesy of a liquor bottle.

  She spotted his glass on the coffee table and was surprised to see it there, ignored. Shifting her gaze back to him, watching him, feeling his solitude, she wished she could offer the same comfort he'd shown her earlier, maybe take his hand and stand with him in the silence, quietly letting him know she cared.

  "You like my bedroom, sweetheart?"

  His words sliced into her, making a mockery of her compassion. Apparently, he'd already crossed the line from sobriety to inebriation.