by Nora Roberts
“I want more.” He bent his head to brush his lips over her shoulder. “And I want you.”
“Ive got enough to worry about right now.”
“Whether it worries you or not isnt going to change a thing.” He turned her to face him. “Im still going to want you. Youre still going to know it.” His lips curved as he ran his hands up and down her arms. “Ive always liked that look.”
“What look?”
“That mildly irritated look you get when somebody gives you a problem to work out. The one that puts this little crease right here.” He touched his lips to her forehead, just between her eyebrows.
“I thought we were taking a walk.”
“We did. Now Id say this evening calls for one more thing.” He loved the way her lips curled just as much as he loved the flicker of surprise over her face when instead of kissing her, he slid her into a slow, swaying dance.
“Pretty clever,” she murmured, but she was moved.
“I always liked dancing with you. The way everything lines up. The way I can smell your hair, your skin. The way, if I get close enough, look close enough, I can see myself in your eyes. Your eyes always did me in. I never told you that, did I?”
“No.” She felt herself tremble, and the warning bells were lost under the thunder of her own heart.
“They did. Still do. Sometimes, when we managed to spend the night together, Id wake up early to watch you sleep. Just so I could see you open your eyes.”
“Its not fair.” Her voice shook. “Its not fair to tell me something like that now.”
“I know. I shouldve told you then. But nows all Ive got.”
He touched his lips to hers, rubbed softly. Nipped gently. He felt her body slide toward surrender, and fought the urge to plunder.
He went slowly, for both of them, savoring what theyd once devoured, lingering where once theyd rushed. In the starlight, with her arms lifting to come around him, he wouldnt allow himself to demand. Instead, he seduced.
He was still circling her in a dance. Or was it just that her head was spinning? His lips were warm, and patient, all the more arousing with the hints of heat and urgency she sensed strapped down inside him.
She sighed, drew him closer. And let him take her deeper.
Soft, slow, moist. The chill of the air against her heated skin, the scent of the night, the whisper of her name through lips moving, moving over her own.
If all the years between had formed a gulf between them, this one kiss in a deserted autumn garden began to forge the bridge.
It was he who drew back, then shook her to the core by grasping both of her hands, bringing them to his lips. “Give me a chance, Dana.”
“You dont know what youre asking. No, you dont,” she said before he could speak. “And I dont know the answer yet. If you want one that matters, youre going to have to give me time to figure it out.”
“Okay.” He kept her hands in his, but stepped back. “Ill wait. But I meant what I said before, about helping you. It hasnt anything to do with this.”
“I have to think about that, too.”
“All right.”
But there was one thing she knew, Dana realized as they walked back for his car. She wasnt still in love with him. They were, as hed said, different people now. And what she felt for him now made the love shed had for the boy seem as pale and thin as morning mist.
* * *
JORDAN let himself into the house, switched off the porch light. It had been a very long time, he reflected, since anyone had left a light on for him.
His choice, of course. That was what everything came down to. Hed chosen to leave the Valley, to leave Dana, and his friends and all that was familiar.
It had been the right choice; he would stand by that. But he could see now that his method of making it had been the flaw. The flaw that had left a crack in what had been. Just how did a man go about building something new on a faulty foundation?
He started toward the steps, then stopped as Flynn came down them.
“Waiting up for me, Dad? Did I miss curfew?”
“I see your night on the town put you in a cheery mood. Why dont we step back into my office?”
Without waiting for assent, Flynn strolled back to the kitchen. He took a look around. Okay, it was a hideous room, even he could see that. The ancient copper-tone appliances, the ugly cabinets and linoleum that possibly had looked fresh and jazzy in his grandfathers generation.
But he still couldnt visualize how it could, or would, look when Malory got done with it. No more than he could understand why the prospect of ripping it apart and putting it back together made her so happy.
“The guys are coming in Monday to bomb this place.”
“Not a moment too soon,” Jordan commented.
“I was going to get around to it, sooner or later. It wasnt like I was using it. But since Malory, stuff actually gets cooked in here.” He bumped the stove with his foot. “She has a deep and violent hatred for this appliance. Its kind of scary.”
“You brought me back here to talk about Malorys obsession with kitchen appliances?” “No. I wanted cookies. Malory has this rule against eating them in bed. This is something else I cant figure,” he continued as he got a bag of Chips Ahoy out of the cupboard. “But Im an easygoing guy. You want milk?”
“No.”
His friend was wearing gray sweats and a T-shirt that might have been new during his sophomore year of college. His feet were bare, his expression easy.
Looks, Jordan knew, could be very deceiving.
“And youre not easygoing, Hennessy. You pretend to be easygoing so you can get your own way.”
“Im not eating these in bed, am I?”
“Small potatoes, son. You got the woman in your bed.”
“Yeah.” Grinning, Flynn poured a glass of milk, then sat down, stretched out his legs. “I do. Of course, shes up there reading instead of offering me intriguing and varied sexual favors, but I can bide my time.”
Jordan sat. Flynn, he knew from long experience, would get to his point eventually. “So, you want to talk about your sex life? Is this going to be a bragging session, or are you looking for advice?”
“Id rather do it than brag about it, and Im doing just fine on my own. But thanks for the offer.” He dunked a cookie. “So, hows Dana?”
And there would be the point, Jordan thought. “A little anxious about the task at hand, Id say, but diving in headfirst. You must have seen the mountain range of books shes hiking through when you dropped off Moe.”
“Yeah, I got eyestrain just thinking about reading half of them. And otherwise?”
“It looks like shes steadied herself after what happened to her the other night. She may be spooked by it, but shes just as curious. You know how she is.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Why dont you just ask me how things are with us?”
“And pry into your private and personal lives? Me?”
“Up yours, Hennessy.” “Wow, that was so creative, so succinct. I immediately see why youre a successful novelist.”
“Sideways.” And though he had absolutely no desire for one, Jordan pulled a cookie from the bag. “I screwed up with her, all those years ago. „Im going, its been fun, see you around.”
It caused a low burn in his gut to remember it now.
“Maybe not that cut and dried, but close enough.” He bit into the cookie as he studied his friends face. “Did I screw up with you, too?”
“Maybe some.” Flynn nudged Malorys pretty candle aside so he could move the cookie bag between them. “I cant say I didnt feel a little deserted when you took off, but I got why you had to leave. Hell, I was planning on doing the same myself.”
“The business exec, the struggling writer, and the dedicated reporter. Hell of a trio.”
“Yeah, we all got there, too, didnt we? One way or the other. I never left the Valley to do it, but I thought I was going to, so I could look at you, and Brad, as sort of the advance guard
. But then again, I wasnt sleeping with you.”
“She was in love with me.”
Flynn waited a beat, absorbed the baffled frustration on Jordans face. “What, did thatlightbulb just go off? Youve got some faulty wiring in there, pal.”
“I knew she loved me.” Disgusted, Jordan shoved up to get a glass of milk after all. “Hell, Flynn, we all loved each other. We were as much family as any who share blood. I didnt know it was the big L for her. How the hell is a guy supposed to know that sort of thing unless the woman looks him in the eye and says, „Im in love with you, you asshole. Which would,” he continued, working up to fury, “have been something youd expect from Dana. Thats just how she does things. But she didnt, so I didnt know. And Im the slug because of it.”
Because hed been concerned by Jordans steady cool, the spike of temper relieved him. “Yeah, but youre a slug for a lot of reasons. I could write up a list.”
“The one Id write up on you would be longer,” Jordan muttered.
“Great, a contest.” Not just angry, Flynn noted as he studied Jordans face, but unhappy. Still, it had to be finished out, had to be said.
“Look, when Lily dumped me and took off for fame and fortune in the big bad city, it hurt. And I wasnt in love with her. You and Brad had that one right. But I thought I was, I was ready to be, and her brushing me off messed me up. Dana was in love with you. Youve got to expect that your going, whatever your reasons, messed her up.”
Jordan sat again, thoughtfully broke a cookie in two. “Youre telling me not to mess her up again.”
“Yeah, thats what Im telling you.”
Chapter Nine
DANA tried working off her sexual and emotional frustration with the books. She focused on the goal, and spent half the night sifting through data, words, notes, and her own speculations about the location of the key.
Her primary reward was a massive headache.
What little sleep she managed to get was restless and unsatisfying. When even Moe failed to perk up her morning mood, she decided to give physical labor a try.
She dropped Moe back at Flynns by simply opening the front door with her key and letting him bullet inside. Since it was still short of nine of a Sunday morning, she imagined the household was sleeping.
In her current mood, the machine-gun barking that sprayed through the quiet as Moe charged up the stairs made her lips curve in a dark, wicked smile.
“You go, Moe,” she cheered, shut the door, and strolled back to her car.
She drove directly to the building. Indulgence, she corrected herself as she parked. It was going to be Indulgence, so she needed to start thinking of it that way instead of as “the house” or “the building.”
When she unlocked the door and stepped inside, the strong smell of fresh paint hit her. It was a good smell, she decided. The smell of progress, of newness, of accomplishment.
Maybe the white primer wasnt pretty, but it was sure as hell bright, and looking at it, she could see just how far theyd come already.
“So lets keep going.”
She pushed up her sleeves and headed to the supplies and tools.
It occurred to her that this was the first time, the only time, shed been alone here. On the heels of that came the thought that maybe she was asking for trouble being alone in a place where Kane had already wielded his sorcery.
She glanced uneasily up the steps. And thought of cold blue mist. As if the chill of it crept over her skin, she shuddered.
“I cant be afraid to be here.” The way her voice echoed made her wish shed brought along a radio. Anything to fill the silence with normal sound.
Wont be afraid to be here, she corrected herself as she opened a can of paint. How could she, or any of them, make this place their own if they were afraid to come into it alone?
There were bound to be times when one of them came in early or stayed late. The three of them couldnt be attached at the hip. She—all of them—would have to get used to the quiet of the place, and the settling noises. Normal quiet, normal noises, she assured herself. Hell, she liked being alone and having a big, empty house all to herself. It was tailor-made Dana time.
The memory of Kanes nasty games wasnt going to scare her off.
And since she was alone, she didnt have to compete for the super paint machine.
Still, as she began to work she wished she could hear Malorys andZoes voices, as she had before, turning all those empty rooms into something bright and cheerful.
She comforted herself that theyd finished priming Malorys section and had a good start on hers. It would be a kick to finish her own space with her own hands.
She could begin to play with different setups in her head. Should she shelve mysteries here, or was this a better spot for nonfiction? Local interest?
Wouldnt it be fun to display coffee-table books on, haha , a coffee table?
Maybe she could find an old breakfront somewhere for the cafй section. She could display tins of tea, mugs, books. Should she go with those cute round tables that reminded her of an ice cream parlor, or the more substantial square ones? Wouldnt this room be the perfect place to set up a cozy reading corner, or would it be smarter to use that space for a small childrens play area?
It was therapeutic to watch the clean white paint cover the dull beige, stroke by stroke marking the room as her own. No one could push her out of here as shed been pushed out of the library. She was working for herself this time, and setting the rules herself.
No one could cut her off from this dream, from this love, as shed been cut off from other dreams. From other loves.
“Do you think it matters? A little shop in a little town? Will you work, struggle, worry, pour your mind and your heart into something so meaningless? And why? Because you have nothing else.
“But you could.”
She felt the cold shiver over her skin. It made her breath come too fast, tightened the muscles of her stomach toward pain. She continued to paint, guiding the roller over the wall, listening to the faint hum of the motor. She couldnt seem to stop.
“It matters to me. I know what I want.”
“Do you?”
He was there, somehow there. She could sense him in the chill. Perhaps he was the chill.
“A place of your own. You thought you had one before, all those years of work, of serving others. Yet does anyone care that youre gone?”
It was a well-aimed arrow. Had anyone even noticed she was no longer at the library? All the people shed worked with, worked for? All the patrons shed helped? Had she been so replaceable that her absence hadnt caused a single ripple?
Hadnt she mattered at all?
“You gave the man your heart, your loyalty, but he cast you off without a thought. How much did you matter to him?”
Not enough, she thought.
“I can change that. I can give him to you. I could give you a great many things. Success?”
The shop was full of people. The shelves were filled with books. The pretty tables were crowded with customers sipping tea, having conversations. She saw a little boy sitting cross-legged on the floor in the corner with a copy of Where the Wild Things Are open in his lap.
Everything about the scene spoke of pleasure—the combination of relaxation and brisk business.
The walls were exactly the right shade, she thought. Malory had been on the money there. The light was good, made everything friendly, and all those wonderful books temptingly arranged, on shelves, on displays.
She wandered like a ghost, passing through the bodies of people who browsed or bought, who sat or stood. She saw familiar faces, the faces of strangers, heard the voices, smelled the scents.
Attractive and intriguing sidelines were set up here and there. Yes, yes, those were the note cards shed decided to carry. And the bookmarks, the bookends. Wasnt that the perfect reading chair? Roomy, broken in, welcoming.
It was very clever to use the kitchen as the hub of the three enterprises, with books, candles, lotions, and art a
ll together to illustrate how nicely each complemented the others.
It was her vision, she realized. Everything she was hoping for. “Youll enjoy it, of course, but it wont be enough.”
She turned. He was there. It didnt surprise her in the least to see Kane standing beside her as people moved around them, through them.
Who were the ghosts? she wondered distantly.
He was dark and handsome, almost romantically so. The black hair framed a strong and compelling face. His eyes smiled into hers, but even now she could see something frightening lurking behind them.
“Why wont it be enough?”
“What will you do at the end of the day? Sit alone with only your books for company? Alone when everyone else gathers with their families? Will any of them give you a single thought after they walk out the door?”
“I have friends. I have family.”
“Your brother has a woman, and the woman has him. Youre not part of that, are you? The other has a son, and youll never be inside what they have. Theyll leave you, as everyone else has done.”
His words were like darts in the heart, and as she bled from them she saw him smile again. Almost kindly.
“I can make him stay.” He spoke gently now, as one did to the wounded. “I can make him pay for what he did to you, for his carelessness, for his refusal to know what you needed from him. Wouldnt you like him to love you as he has loved no other? Then, at your whim, you can keep him or discard him?”
She was in a room she didnt recognize, yet somehow knew . A large bedroom, saturated with color. Deep blue walls, an enormous bed covered in a ruby comforter, mounded with jewel-toned pillows. There was a generous sitting area, with two wing chairs facing a snapping fire. It was here that she sat, with Jordan kneeling at her feet. Her hands were clutched in his.
And his trembled.
“I love you, Dana. I never knew I could feel like this, as if theres no point in taking the next breath unless youre with me.”
It was wrong. Wrong. His face never looked weak and pleading. “Stop it.”