“Me causing a scene? You were the one causing the scene, Darian. Do you know who you were dancing with?”
“Emiline Harris.”
Shocked, Blaire simply stared at him. “You knew?”
“Of course I knew.”
“Then why?”
He turned a cool look toward her. “Because I wanted to set her straight on a few things. Would have too, until you had to go butt in.”
“Butt in, butt in? She’s a piranha, Darian. She eats little people for snacks. She saves the big ones like you for her main entree. She would have torn you from limb to limb in her column tomorrow.”
“And you don’t think she will now?”
Blaire fell silent and stared out the window. He was right and she knew it. They would both be prime targets for her column. Probably her father too. Uh-oh, poor Mastin. And just when things were going a lot better between the two of them.
“Well?”
She turned to him with narrowed eyes. “Just don’t read the paper, then we’ll never know.” Then she turned back to the black night sailing by her window. “Where are you taking me?”
“Home.”
Home? “What?” she studied his profile as he drove. “Where are you taking me?’
“Where do you want to go?”
She was confused. “What is this, twenty questions? Take me home, Darian.”
“I thought you wanted to talk.”
“We don’t need to now.”
“Oh.”
About ten minutes later they passed the corporation sign that said they’d entered Trenton. Darian turned to her, breaking the silence. “Where’s your apartment?”
Blaire indicated directions and then sat quietly beside him. She hated being this close to him. It confused her. The kiss confused her. It had been the single most arousing kiss she’d ever experienced. And she didn’t know what to do about it. Soon, Darian pulled up in front of her apartment. Blaire opened the door.
They should talk; she knew it. They needed to talk about the kiss, how it made each of them feel, about how their lives were going to go from here. About how miserable they both were. About the baby. They needed to talk.
She looked into his eyes. He simply stared back at her, stone-faced. No expression. The beast.
“Good-night, Darian,” she murmured.
The car door slammed behind her and she never looked back as she opened the door that led to her apartment above the cafe. Climbing the stairs in the tight dress was awkward, but she made it. Then after she let herself into her apartment, locked herself in, and dropped the dress to the floor, she collapsed onto the bed in exhausted tears and cried herself to sleep.
Chapter Eleven
The Sunday morning paper laid lifeless on the stoop, staring back at her, begging her to open it up and read about the fiasco of her life. Icing on the cake, she thought. Just one more disaster to add to the growing list. And now her pregnancy would only add fuel to an already growing fire. And she’d yet to talk to Mastin. Knowing him, he’d come barreling in here any time now, ranting and raving about the votes she’d cost him last night. It was clear now; she had to get out of Trenton. To save both hers and her father’s reputations. She’d be the laughing stock of the entire county, quite possibly, the state, by noon. And they didn’t even know the half of it.
It was time to go.
But there was one thing she had to do. One little, well, not so little, thing. Actually, it was quite a big thing. She had to talk to Darian. She had to know, finally, if there was hope for them. She had to give it one more chance. And if all went well, then she’d tell him about the baby. If not, well….
She’d thought about it all night. After she’d had her crying jag, she’d woke an hour later and lain in her bed thinking about it—about Darian, about how she felt about him, about why he picked her up and took her out of there last night, about why he had stepped toward her when she entered the room. It just seemed they could never sit down and talk about things rationally. Not since…not since they’d made love.
And now there was so much they could share. So much they should be talking about, making decisions about. So much both of them were missing out on. If only things could be different. But she doubted very much if they ever would be.
There were times back at the cabin where they could talk. They did talk. They talked about…about his childhood, a little, and about Angelina and Nicky. Then it dawned on her: Angelina and Nicky were still at the root of the problem. He had come home. He had evidently resolved his feelings about his grandfather and Reva to his satisfaction, but he hadn’t resolved a thing about the death of his son.
He was afraid.
It all became strikingly apparent. He was afraid of letting someone into his life again. He was afraid of losing his memory of Nicky. He was afraid to love her, afraid to lose again. And if he didn’t take the chance, he wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. He wouldn’t take the risk.
She picked up the paper, backed through the door and into her apartment, shut it, then whirled her body, and tossed the paper in an empty garbage can. She’d made her decision.
She had to talk to him. And it had to be today.
****
Darian watched the Sunday edition of the Trenton Sun society page curl into black ashes as the newsprint burst into flames. Burn, baby, burn, he thought and smirked as the smoke curled up and around toward the flue.
It was not that he gave a damn about what they said about him, but he cared what they’d implied about Blaire. Emiline Harris had done her job, all right, and Blaire would probably have no business come Monday. She’d spared her father though, indicating that he was extremely upset over his daughter’s actions the prior night, but of course, Emiline argued, last night was no different from any of the other scrapes he’d managed to get his daughter out of over the years.
Then she went on to cite them, one by one. That’s the part Darian found increasingly amusing: Blaire’s getting tossed out of boarding school because she put a frog in her teacher’s underwear drawer; the prom fiasco that caused her to spend a night in jail; the night she and a girl-friend “borrowed” her father’s car and spent the night in Montpelier; the various career moves that never worked out; and a recent encounter with a senator from Oregon who was quite dissatisfied with his dinner companion. He frowned at that one. Recent encounter? Was Blaire dating?
Suddenly the notion struck him painfully. Dating? Then he shook his head and stepped away from the fire. Of course. She was a beautiful, available woman. Of course she’d be sought after. Of course she’d be dating. Why wouldn’t she? He made no claim on her, did he? In fact, he’d pushed her away too many times to count. Why wouldn’t she see other men?
But he didn’t like it. An angry pain growled up from somewhere deep inside him, which made him increasingly grouchy. Blaire. With another man. He couldn’t stand to think about it. It nauseated him. He pictured another man’s hands on her, stroking her back, touching her breasts, sliding that slinky black dress down over her shoulder….
He knew what was happening. The green-eyed monster was rearing its ugly head. He was jealous! Dammit! He didn’t want to be jealous. This was the one reason why he hated relationships. Jealousy always got in the way. He wasn’t jealous, dammit. He was just…he was just…just…horny as hell and wanted Blaire so bad he could hardly stand it!
That’s all it was. Lust, physical lust. Hormones. Desire. He was horny—simple as that. He didn’t love Blaire. Never did. It was just that damn celibate lifestyle he’d lived for the past four years. Well, he knew exactly the remedy for that situation. And he bet he knew just where he could find a willing participant.
Stalking across the room to the desk that held the phone, he picked up the phone book and leafed through the pages searching for Miss Emiline Harris’ phone number. Then he found it. He jotted down the numbers. He lifted the phone to his ear.
Then he put it down again. He was a liar. A damn idiotic liar. After making love
with Blaire, nothing would ever compare again. No one could ever tamp down the fire burning within him for her. He had to accept that. And he had to get her out of his mind. He couldn’t love her. He wouldn’t let himself.
His head jerked up at the sound of the buzzer in the entryway. Someone was at the gate. Slowly, he crossed the room and entryway and flipped on the switch that activated the closed-circuit monitor. Soon, the fuzzy image cleared and he saw who sat at the bottom of his mountain. Blaire. He watched with a scowl on his face as she reached out and pushed the button on the speakerphone again. Then he flipped that switch also.
“Who is it?” He knew damn well who it was.
“It’s Blaire, Darian. I…I’d like to talk to you.”
He let her sit for a moment before he responded. “I thought we had nothing to talk about.”
“I was wrong,” she replied. “Please, I won’t take up much of your time.”
After a moment, he pushed all the access buttons to allow her entry, while not saying a word, he saw the gates open, and her drive through.
****
When the door opened, Blaire knew that Darian had obviously not slept much the night before either. His hair, grown out somewhat from when she first saw him in Vermont, was disheveled. His beard needed trimming. His clothes were wrinkled, like he’d slept in them. She knew then that they needed to get this thing settled today, for both their sakes.
“Hello, Darian,” she said as he ushered her in the door.
“Blaire…” he answered and then led her into the den.
She seated herself on one side of the sofa, he on the other, facing the fire. It was the same room in which she’d first seen him when she met with Reva. Warm, cozy, the fireplace lit, the only light in the room. It reminded her of the cabin in Kentucky. And suddenly, she realized that she missed it incredibly.
Turning, she noticed that Darian had been watching her. His gaze held hers and her heart picked up its pace a little. She had to do it, now or never.
“Darian,” she began, “since you’ve been here…really since the night we made love, we’ve done nothing but growl at each other. I think we need to sit down and talk this out rationally.”
He nodded. “I agree.”
He agreed? Blaire let her hopes escalate just a little. She swallowed hard. “We… I need to know something.” She wasn’t going to beat around the bush. She was tired of wasting time.
“Which is…?”
Her gaze held his. “Which is… Darian, is there a chance for you and me? Do you love me?”
****
Blunt and to the point. Darian studied her haggard and drawn face. She was suffering as much as he. He had to put it all to an end. He shook his head and stood to face the fire, his hands shoved deep into his pants pockets. “I love you, Blaire.” He sensed her jump up behind him. He turned to her then. “But there is nothing for us. We are not going anywhere.”
He saw the tears again, and then quickly, she swiped them away with the palm of her hand. He turned away; he couldn’t stand to see her cry.
“Why?” she asked meekly. “I love you, Darian.”
He squeezed his eyes tight. “You know why.”
Blaire stepped up closer behind him. “Because of Nicky? Because of Angelina? Darian…” She pulled at his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and look at her. “Darian, I’m not Angelina. I’ll not leave you when the going gets rough. I can help you. I’ll help you deal with Nicky.”
“No,” he said quietly, his softened gray eyes penetrating hers. “No, I’ll not burden you with my problems.”
“But I want them to be my problems. I want to help you get over this, Darian. Let me.”
He jerked away and paced a few steps away. After running all ten fingers through his hair, he looked back at her. “We need to settle this, Blaire. For you and for me. And it’s got to be now.” He paused for a moment as he studied her frightened face. “It’s over. It never began. We can’t go any further than this.”
****
Blaire shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. She was sure she had convinced herself on the drive out that all she needed to do was confront him and he would renege. All he needed to know was how much she truly loved him, and he would love her back. “What is it, Darian? What is it about me? Why can’t I make you love me? How can I help you get over Nicky and Angelina?”
“That’s not your place, Blaire.”
Stunned, she sucked in a breath. Of course it wasn’t her place. She was nothing to him. She loved him, and she was nothing to him right back.
Oh God, she was about to beg…
“Darian, Please. I love you.”
“And I love you.” Blaire absorbed his words, let them roll over her, but the feeling was bittersweet. She settled on his gaze.
His soft voice floated back to her, his face laden with pain. “I do love you, Blaire. There’s nothing more you could do. It’s not you. It’s me. I’ve not… I’ve not dealt with this. I’m far from healing. And I could never give you what you deserve.”
She moved closer, for the first time frantic now at what she was hearing. “I don’t care, Darian. I’ll take what I can get. I want us to be together. I want…” She reached for him, grasped his arms and tried to pull him closer.
He pulled away.
She wasn’t going to let him and grasped his shirt. “Don’t you see what you are doing? Please, Darian! You’re still the recluse. You haven’t changed your life, you’ve just changed locales!”
He unsnarled from her clench. “What do you want from me, Blaire?” he growled. “I can’t give you a damn thing. Aren’t you listening to me?”
Something snapped inside her. Of course she was listening. He wasn’t the one listening!
“What do I want from you? What do I want? I want you. I want marriage. I want a home and a dog and a cat and a picket fence. And I want children. Your children.” Her stomach clutched at the thought of what he didn’t know and she almost felt ill. “I want us to love each other and be happy for the rest of our days. I want to grow old with you and sit in a rocking chair on the porch and rock away our retirement with grandchildren at our knees. I guess I’m selfish, Darian. But I want it all. You. All of it. I want it all.”
Her eyelids stung. “Please,” she pleaded softly. “Say we can try. Say we’ll give it a shot. Please, don’t throw us away. Let us try it together. There’s so much you don’t…” Her words trailed off. She couldn’t. She couldn’t say anymore. She had to know if he wanted her alone, before she could even think about his wanting both her and their child. She didn’t want him to love her just because of the baby.
Darian just stared at her, his gaze transfixed on her face. No expression. No movement. Not a muscle jerked along the firm jawline. Then he broke the gaze and stepped closer to the fire and stared into it for quite some time. When he finally turned back, his face devoid of any expression, he spoke. “That will never happen, Blaire. Not with me. Give it up.”
She answered ever so softly, “I don’t want anyone else, Darian.”
But he didn’t answer; he simply turned back to the fire. “Go home, Blaire,” he said resolutely. “Forget about me.”
“I can’t.”
“You have to.”
“It’s impossible.” She could never forget about him. She would have a constant reminder. Always. Blaire waited for him to turn back around, to say he’d been a fool, that he not only loved her, but wanted her, too.
But he didn’t.
Then after a moment, she did exactly what he wanted. She turned on her heel and left, without looking back.
****
On Monday, Blaire broke the lease on her office, boxed up all her things and put them into storage. On Tuesday, she did the same with her apartment and moved in with her father. No use paying rent and bills for things she wouldn’t be using, she reasoned. On Wednesday, she had a heart-to-heart with Mastin and told him she needed to get away for a while. He argued, but finally relent
ed. She swore she wouldn’t be gone too long. She couldn’t. On Thursday, she left, swallowing her pride and wallowing in her self-pity, searching for some answers to the questions in her life. Knowing that she’d probably find none. Praying she would.
Chapter Twelve
He’d had a long time to think about it. Too long, in fact. And as Darian stood on the hill behind his mountain home, he thought about it even more. He was comfortable here, nestled among the trees, at one with nature, watching the animals going through the motions of a spring-like day. It was the first warm day that had broken through since late last fall. A rare February warmth, and like the animals, he had to get out of this self-induced hibernative state and experience the fresh air, the songbirds, and the scurry of activity in the woods.
So far he’d seen two skunks, a ground hog, birds galore, a family of squirrels, and a doe. Grouching down against the stump of an old oak, he blended with the scenery and became very still. Like one of them, he became a part of the forest. He respected every minute particle of life here, and knew that he was respected as well. He’d been here long enough for the flurry of activity to begin again and soon, a small squirrel came skittering by at his feet, stopped, gnawed on an acorn dropped there last fall, and sat back on his haunches to look at him. Darian smiled. It almost felt like…home.
Home. What was home? Home is where the heart is, they say. A man’s home is his castle. Where was his castle? Where was his heart?
His heart? His heart was not here, he was sure. It rested somewhere with Blaire. For it had left the day she drove down the mountain and out of his life. And he knew then that he’d never find it again. Unless… Unless….
He started thinking about it again, picturing it in his mind. The vision. The main house would be a like a lodge, game rooms, activity rooms, dining room, overnight accommodations for guests, his quarters. Their quarters. His gaze spanned the land before him. To the left there, by that thick grove of pines, would be the cabins. Large ones for the campers and few smaller ones for the counselors and the director. By the lake there would be a gazebo. He’d have to dig out the lake and level off a beach for swimming. The opposite side would be great for canoeing. He’d build a pier for fishing.
Body Heat (Vintage Category Romance) Page 15