Nothing.
She was gone.
It had happened, hadn’t it? He hadn’t dreamed it, had he?
Just like he’d dreamed that he could see again.
Of course, he couldn’t see. He’d found that out when he woke up just seconds ago.
Disappointment washed over him. He’d so wanted to wake up and see Brittany in his bed beside him.
He supposed that either was too much to hope for.
9
CALLING IN SICK had been a mistake.
She was being made to pay for her lie simply by working to catch up. This Wednesday felt more like a Monday.
She glanced at her watch. It was three-thirty and her assistant wasn’t back from lunch yet. Sandy was taking advantage of the situation.
Brittany had inherited Sandy from the editor who’d held the position before her. Sandy had believed the job would be hers, and resented Brittany’s getting it. Sandy was being ridiculous: assistants didn’t move into senior editor jobs.
But Sandy, with the trust fund, was used to getting everything she wanted, when she wanted it.
She couldn’t imagine Sandy waiting ten years for a man, as she had for Ethan. No. When Sandy was ready for a man, she would probably just call up Lord & Taylor and order one on the charge account that Daddy paid.
The phone rang in the outer office.
Since her assistant wasn’t there to answer it, Brittany picked it up. It was the agent conducting the auction they were bidding in with two other publishing houses. It was Brittany’s turn in the final round.
She had to pull everyone involved in the decision-making process out of meetings because they couldn’t afford to miss this negotiation.
In the end they wound up passing on the book. The consensus was that while the book was very good, the author was more trouble than she was worth. No one wanted to work with her. And since Triple Knight had a lot of inventory, they decided not to tie up that much money with what could be a real problem project.
Sandy finally got back from lunch with the West Coast agent who’d dropped in unexpectedly. Brittany couldn’t complain. She’d sent Sandy off with her because she hadn’t had the time to do lunch with the woman herself.
After exchanging some business news, the agent left and Brittany locked herself in her office to write her speech for the sales conference. She didn’t get much speech writing done, however. All she could think about was Ethan—about the way his abdomen tightened when she’d kissed him “there”; about the way he looked after sex… so carefree.
She’d called Dawson on Tuesday and told him to tell Ethan she had to work Tuesday night, so she hadn’t seen Ethan last night. But she would tonight.
Her pen slashed out the lines of copy she’d written. She balled the paper up and tossed it in the trash.
She was going to duck out early. Maybe buy something new to wear. She was feeling both excited and anxious about seeing Ethan in a few hours.
How would he feel about her now that he’d had some time to think about it?
Brittany glanced at the clock as she gathered up her things. It was only four-thirty. Closing her office door behind her, she called out to Sandy, who was on the phone, “I’m leaving for the day.”
Sandy covered the mouthpiece on her phone. “But it’s—” she started to object.
“See you in the morning,” Brittany said, with a careless wave. She was enjoying being bad.
“IS THAT ALL THE MAIL then?” Ethan asked, sipping a glass of Chardonnay to relax.
“Yes, the invitation I just read you was the final piece of mail,” Dawson replied.
“Good. Answer the other pieces as we discussed, if you would, and leave the invitation you just read to me on the desk.”
“I’m going to the stables, Ethan. Would you like to come along? Riley would be happy to see you.”
“Not today, Dawson. But soon,” he promised, as Dawson left the library.
Ethan was nervous. He took another sip of wine.
Had Brittany really had to work late last night? Or was she having second thoughts about what had happened between them? He really hoped not. He desperately hoped not.
He certainly wasn’t.
Hiring Brittany was the smartest move he’d ever made in his life. She had challenged him, and made him see for the first time that in a worst-case scenario he could live a fulfilling life even without his sight.
Brittany’s imagination and spirit had inspired him. She’d refused to accept his melancholy. She’d dragged him kicking and screaming into the possibilities.
Her flirtation had charmed him. He’d been a more than willing partner in their dance of seduction. And last night had been like nothing he’d ever felt before. Talking with a woman in bed, laughing with a woman in bed.
Trusting a woman—something he’d never thought he’d do again.
WHEN BRITTANY ENTERED her apartment she was assaulted by music, music so loud it bounced off the walls.
“What’s going on?” she yelled to Francesca.
Francesca jumped up and pulled her in front of the television. “You’ve got to see this. It’s the best pelvis since Elvis, Would you look at Dwight Yoakam get down? He must put those jeans on wet.”
Brittany didn’t answer. Instead, she stared at the images of the music video on the television. The guy had charisma, no doubt about it. Charisma and jeans were an unbeatable combination.
The video ended and Francesca turned down the sound so they could talk.
“Is that what you’ve been doing all day?” Brittany asked. “And if so, where do I apply for the same job? I’ve had the world’s worst day.”
“But you’re home early.”
“I fled.”
“What happened?”
“What didn’t? Don’t ask,” Brittany said, holding up her hands, palms out. “Tell me your day instead. It had to be better than. mine. And tell me you have something great I can borrow to wear tonight to see Ethan. I was too bummed out even to stop and shop on the way home. I just set the tractor beam on this building and zoned out.”
“Oh, poor baby. Well, let’s see what I have in my closet. I think I’ve got a new Azzedine Alaïa.”
“Forget it, I’m not wearing one of those dresses,” Brittany assured her.
“Why not? You’ve got a great shape.”
“Yeah, right. To wear an Azzedine Alaïa you can’t have eaten a french fry within the past year. Let me see what else you have. You haven’t said how your day went, or did you spend it in front of the television trying to find Tucker Gable videos?”
“No. Well, at least not all of the day. I checked with my booker this morning while I had a bagel with cream cheese and juice. See, I do eat,” Francesca declared, making a face at Brittany. “I had a ‘go-see’ to show my book at eleven and the client put me on hold for first option. I left my composite with them and I came home to watch music videos on television just in case I do get a shot at the part in Tucker’s video. I want to know what I’m trying out for.”
“What about Chelsea Stone? I thought she always did Tucker’s music videos with him,” Brittany said, considering a short black dress and then passing on it, continuing to rifle through Francesca’s closet.
“Chelsea married Dakota Law, remember. And now she’s nine-and-a-half-months pregnant or something. So Tucker’s hiring a model to play the love interest in the video because the first single from his new album is a love song.”
“So, do you think you can fake being attracted to Tucker Gable, him being a rock star and all…?” Brittany teased.
“Do you want to borrow my clothes, or not?”
“Sorry. Not another word about Tucker Gable will cross my lips,” Brittany promised, selecting the short black dress after all. “Okay, accessory queen, do your thing,” Brittany said, holding the dress up to herself.
“All right, but remember I plan my outfits around my shoes.”
; Brittany groaned. Francesca was probably talking about thigh-high suede boots.
“What would you think if I told you I’m toying with the idea of taking acting classes?” Francesca asked, searching through boxes of shoes for just the right pair.
“You mean because you turned twenty-eight? I wish you’d quit obsessing about your age. Even Calvin Klein used one of his original models this year. Modeling isn’t the youth-obsessed career it once was.”
“That’s true enough. But I’ve got this feeling I’m going to need a new career, anyway. Computer technology isn’t far from creating the images now done with photography. Just think of the cut in cost. And reducing models’ fees is very much in the news. I don’t know, maybe you’ve got the right idea, after all, Brittany. Maybe we should just get a cat. We can be spinster sisters, sharing an apartment with our cats,” Francesca said, coming up at last with a pair of impossibly sexy black pumps styled with satin ribbon crisscrossed in front.
“Great. You can come shopping with me next week for the cat I’ve been wanting.”
“I was kidding, Brittany. Here, take the shoes, and add my Chrome Heart jewelry. Ethan will be on his knees by morning.”
“Francesca!”
“Oh, please. You’re the one who stayed out all night, not me.”
Brittany wondered if Ethan was spending his day remembering. Wondered if he was smiling at the oddest times like she was. Wondered if she was letting her hopes and dreams fly too high like a hot-air balloon that would come crashing back to earth.
No, she couldn’t be wrong about what they’d shared.
Not now. Not after all this time.
“What are you daydreaming about?” Francesca asked.
“I was thinking that you’ll have to corrupt Tucker Gable, big sister,” Brittany improvised and ducked away from the sneaker Francesca threw at her.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Tucker’s more likely to corrupt me out of my job. The man eats nothing but junk food. He went through a half-dozen jelly doughnuts on the shoot. I’m clueless about how the man stays so lean and mean.”
“Maybe if you ask him real nice, like, he might show you.”
“Well, it’s not nervous energy he’s burning. He’s the most laid-back person I think I’ve ever met. I think he could sleep through a plane crash.”
“Maybe it’s all that sex and rock and roll. I understand making love burns up about three hundred calories. Just holding the guitar pick probably burns up—oh, I don’t know, say an extra fifty.”
“Brittany!”
“Well, I owed you for that crack you made about me being a spinster with a cat.”
“Meow.”
“YOU’RE LATE,” Ethan said when Brittany entered the library to join him.
“I had a terrible day at the office.”
“I was afraid you’d decided not to come back.”
“Why?”
Ethan shrugged. “You could have had second thoughts. Decided it wasn’t a good idea. Decided it wasn’t what you wanted, after all. It’s not like I haven’t had any experience with a woman changing her mind.” His last words were said under his breath, but Brittany heard them.
“I stayed with you because I wanted to,” she told him. “And I came here tonight because I wanted to.”
“Come here and show me how much….”
She went to join him on the sofa, settling into the comfort of his embrace.
“So tell me about your terrible day,” he said. “And when did you start wearing short sexy dresses to the office?”
“How do you—”
“I copped a feel.”
“I thought if I dressed up tonight I’d feel better.”
“Believe me when I tell you you couldn’t feel any better to me. So tell me about your terrible, rotten, no-good day.”
“Trust me, Ethan, you really don’t want to hear about my day. Let’s talk about something much more interesting. Say, for example, why you whistle after sex.”
“Yes, I do want to hear about your day. I’d like to know what an editor’s day is like. Don’t you have a cushy job where all you do all day is sit and read books?”
“Okay, you asked for it. I’m in a meeting this morning and my book gets bumped up on the list.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” Ethan asked, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Yes, that’s good. But because my book was bumped up on the list, I’ve got to write more catalog copy for it since my book will now take up a whole page in that month’s catalog.”
“So did you get the copy written?” he asked, kissing her neck.
“Not before my boss, the executive editor, summons me to tell me she needs me to get her an overnight promotional quote on another book.”
“Not good, huh?”
“It gets better. I have to get the quote from a big-name author who not only hasn’t read the book, but who doesn’t have time to read the book because she’s on deadline for her own book.”
“Is it time for lunch yet?” he asked sympathetically.
“Lunch? Today there was no lunch. My assistant had lunch. She had a three-hour lunch with a West Coast agent who happened to drop in unannounced to see me about one of her clients. Since I was also involved in an auction for a book my publisher wanted to acquire and couldn’t leave, I sent my assistant to lunch with the agent on the company tab. And my assistant didn’t even bring back a breadstick.”
“Did you fire her?”
“I’m hopeless—I couldn’t fire a serial killer.”
“She’s not—”
“No, of course not. She’s harmless. Except she wants my job. Though now that I think of it, I can’t imagine why anyone would. Where was I? Oh, it was time for a strategy meeting, which I was pulled out of ten minutes later because it was my turn to bid in the auction. The agent conducting the auction tells me the bid is up to $50,000 and I have to gather all the pertinent people together to see if we want to match or raise it.”
“Come here, stretch out on the sofa. Put your head in my lap and relax.”
“That’s what all the boys say.”
“So the answer is no?”
“You do have a pretty irresistible lap….”
“So, your terrible, rotten, no-good day is over. You deserve a treat.”
“Who deserves a treat? And my day isn’t over. I still have to work on my speeches for the sales conference. I diligently promised myself that I wasn’t going to write it at the last minute like I always do.”
Brittany knew she was rattling on. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself. She was by turns nervous, excited and afraid.
It was hard having a chance at getting what she’d always dreamed of having. So much could go wrong. And then she’d have nothing at all. Not even her dream.
“No more work today,” Ethan insisted. “I have a surprise for you.”
“In your lap?” Brittany groaned inwardly, not believing what she’d blurted out.
Ethan laughed. “Maybe later. But for now I had Dawson order something sent over from Houghtaling’s Mousse Pie Ltd. Do you think you could manage a bite of truffle pie?”
The trouble was, the delicious chocolate-espresso flavor Ethan had ordered didn’t exactly calm her down. With no coaxing at all she was in his lap after dessert. With even less coaxing, she was engaged in heavy petting.
“Hold that thought,” Ethan said, coming up for air.
“Where are you going?” Brittany asked, as he shifted her from his lap and rose from the sofa.
“I need to do a couple of things. First, I need to put away the rest of the pie. Maybe if Dawson has a piece in the morning, it will improve his mood. And second, and more important, I need to get some protection.”
“Oh.” Brittany was embarrassed that he’d had to be the one to think of it. He really did kiss her senseless.
“I think you ought to know in case you were worried about it, they did a lot of bloo
d work on me when I had the accident. I’m safe.”
“And, ah, so am I, because…ah, well, there hasn’t been…”
“And I’m glad,” he said, bending down to kiss her.
“Why don’t you put on some mood music while I take care of things.”
Ethan felt his way to the kitchen, while Brittany went to look through the collection of CDs next to the stereo. She didn’t see Dwight Yoakam’s latest release, so instead chose a CD of chamber music. She needed to chill. Take it slow and easy. Collect her wits about her.
“What is that?” Ethan asked, rejoining her in the library a few moments later.
“I don’t know. One of your CDs.”
“It’s not one of mine. It must belong to the owner of the brownstone.”
“Do you want me to put on something else?” she asked, returning to the stereo to look again through the CDs.
He came up behind her, nuzzling her neck, his hands on her hips pressing her back against him. “I was thinking more along the lines of you taking something off,” he whispered hoarsely, turning her into his arms to dance.
“I’ve been thinking of nothing else all day. I was so distracted, Dawson finally gave up in frustration before we’d finished answering the mail.”
“Umm… you’re good on your feet,” she murmured, as he did a smooth fancy step.
“I’m even better off them,” he promised, pulling her close and spinning them, his lips on hers in a slow, eating kiss that had her weak with desire.
“You’re not playing fair,” she said, dizzy.
“I warned you about that, didn’t I?”
He had. But she hadn’t listened. Hadn’t wanted to hear anything that would make her think twice about what she was doing. About wading into dangerous emotional waters. It was time to finally know if her love for Ethan would sink or swim.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked, after they’d danced in silence for a while.
“I was wondering if you’d— Oh, never mind.”
“What?”
“When I was sitting at my desk today, thinking about us, I had this wicked thought….”
Brittany didn’t hear anything he said past the word us. Her heart beat rapidly with excitement.
A Kiss in the Dark Page 10