Dancing In the Dark

by Kathryn Shay

  She chuckled at his response, like the old Clarissa.

  “Snorkeling? Yes, the fish were so colorful in the Caribbean.” They’d had fun that day, and she’d gotten sunburned. He remembered putting the cooling gel on her back.

  He longed to tell her they’d made exquisite love in their suite at night, but Cathy was with them, so of course it was inappropriate. But by the time they finished, Jonathan had achieved his goal. Surrounded by so many good memories, Clarissa stayed close to him, their knees touching. It was as if she’d forgotten their estrangement.

  At ten, still suffering from jet lag, Cathy went to bed, leaving Clarissa all to Jonathan.

  She squeezed his arm where the sleeve of his red shirt was pushed up. “Those are lovely memories, Jonathan. I can see we had fun.” She sighed. “This was just what I needed.”

  “What happened in the pictures isn’t the only fun we had, honey.”

  She stiffened a bit but didn’t pull away. “You mean in bed.”

  “Uh, huh.” He leaned over and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. “Tell me you remember us together like that,” he whispered against her lips.

  It was subtle, but she inched back. “I wish I could, Jonathan. I’m sure it was nice.”

  “It was more than nice.” He could hear the hurt in his own voice.

  “I’m sorry my not remembering our being close hurts you. I just don’t know what to do about it.” She put her head on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, then she yawned.

  “Are you tired?” he asked.

  “Yes. I haven’t gotten back my stamina. Would you mind going now?”

  Yes, he minded. He wanted more, damn it. But he said, “No, of course not.” They stood, and he picked up a sweater she’d left on the couch. “Put this on and walk me out.”

  She donned the sweater and took his outstretched hand. He held it all the way downstairs. When they reached the porch, he pulled her to him without asking for permission. His lips touched hers, gently at first. She went still. When he deepened the kiss, though, he felt her stiffen and pull back. “Jonathan, I—”

  She was interrupted by a voice from down below. “Pardon the cliché, but get a room, you two.”

  Purposely, Jonathan held Clarissa close and smiled. Why not? At the bottom of the steps was Brady Langston, looking as if he wanted to smash somebody’s face in.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Barely able to contain what seethed inside him, Brady stalked up the steps to his condo and, without even changing into workout clothes, headed to the attic to let off some steam. He’d returned home to sleep in his own bed and check on Clare, and found her making out on the porch with Harris. Oh, God, had she slept with the guy while Brady was at his mother’s?

  He let out an obscenity, then kicked the weight bench. What the hell had he been thinking? Why the hell was he surprised? He should have learned his lesson five weeks ago after…after the biggest mistake of his goddamned life!

  He banged the weights around some, then piled as many pounds as he could lift onto the barbell. He was ready to go for the burn when she came into the room. Sensing her presence, he cursed himself for being so attuned to her when she’d let another man grope her minutes ago.

  “What’s going on up here?” she asked from right behind him. “It sounded like the ceiling was going to cave in.”

  “Sorry if I disturbed your beauty sleep. You probably need it after…” He let out another curse.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind. I’ll be quieter. Go back to bed.” Under his breath he murmured, “Back being the operative word.”

  Nothing. He thought maybe she’d leave him alone if he ignored her, so he stretched out, lifted the weights from their holder and began the excruciating bench press. But after a few seconds, she appeared in his sight, stared down at him for a moment, then dropped onto the floor. She watched him do ten reps; his muscles were screaming, so he replaced the barbell and sat up.

  “What’s going on, Brade?”

  The green blouse she wore gaped, and at this angle he could see the swell of her breasts. It sent desire shooting through him. Still, he tried not to snap. “I’m bummed. Aftermath of a crisis, I guess. Sammy and Lizzy came to stay with my mother. I thought I’d sleep here tonight, maybe see Cathy.”

  “She went to bed early.”

  “How convenient.” So much for not snapping. He gritted his teeth, picked up a smaller barbell and began to do arm curls.

  Scooting closer, she touched his bare knee. His skin was so sensitized he had to force himself not to moan. “Brady, tell me the truth. What’s wrong?”

  “I did.”

  “No, you’re angry at me.”

  “Clare, now isn’t a good time to talk about this.” He wasn’t sure what he would say and do. The images of her with Harris kept flashing through his mind, and instead of depressing him, they were stirring up all kinds of primitive emotions that he didn’t want to feel in Clare’s presence.

  She knelt before him so they were eye level and put both her hands on his knees. His skin prickled at her touch. “I don’t care. I want you to tell me what this is all about.”

  “I…can’t.” He held her gaze. “You’re not ready.”

  “Brady, please, I’ve hurt you, and I don’t even know why.”

  His fists curled around the weight. The thought that she didn’t remember enraged him. He was a pressure cooker about to erupt. To head off the explosion he stood abruptly, dropped the weight, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her up. “Go, Clare,” he gritted out. “Just go.”

  She raised her chin and, damn it, moved in closer. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Every muscle in his body leapt at her nearness. “Not until you tell me what this—” she motioned to the room “—and downstairs on the porch was all about.”

  “You want to know what it’s about?” His grip tightened. “It’s about this, Clare. It’s about this.”

  He yanked her against his chest. His mouth came down hard and he took hers possessively. Without waiting to see if he got a response, he pressed harder, then prodded her lips open with his tongue. He explored her, all but devoured her. Drawing back only to bite her lip, he soothed it with his tongue, then took her mouth again. He was so caught up in what was happening, he didn’t realize she was crying until he felt moisture on her jaw when he kissed it. He stopped. “Damn, sweetheart, I’m sorry. Don’t—”

  “Stop,” she said, almost on a hiccup. “Don’t stop.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks.” She wrapped herself around him. “Please, Brady, don’t stop.”

  At Clare’s words, her plea, Brady dragged her to the floor. The rug cushioned her back and his weight on her eclipsed everything, even the lights above. Cast in shadows, all she could see were his taut features. But it felt right to have his bare legs tangle with hers, his chest crush into her, his mouth ravage hers. Just like in the dream.

  “Clare, oh, man, Clare.” His absorption in her spurred her desire—every muscle, every nerve in her body responded. Had anyone ever loved her like this?

  Yes, someone had, once.

  But her mind got muddled when he ripped open her shirt and sent her buttons flying. The clasp on her leopard print bra snapped, and her breasts spilled into his hands. She gasped as he took a nipple in his mouth. His hand trailed down her rib cage to her shorts; he yanked open the zipper, and cupped her. Rubbed.

  “Brady, yes, yes, Brady…” She exploded into a burst of color and light and feelings so intense she started to cry again. Steeped in the mind-numbing pleasure, all she could say was, “Yes, yes, yes.”

  When she came back to reality, Brady was braced over her, his forearms on either side of her head. His face was a mask of pain. “Oh, baby, I’m…”

  Intuitively she knew he was going to apologize, which was the last thing she wanted. “Next.”

  “What?”

  “You’re next.”
>
  She could tell she surprised him by pushing on his chest, unbalancing him, and climbing on top of him before he could say more. After she straddled him, she yanked his T-shirt over his head, revealing dark, springy hair. She kissed her way across it, around his pecs. Not only did she remember his scent but also his texture, and the contour of his muscles. Something niggled at her, something about the familiarity of his body, a déjà vu of some kind, but she was distracted by her own movements. She left no part of his torso untouched—his abs, his ribs, his waist. She made quick work of his belt and his zipper. When she freed him of the clothes, she took his penis in her hands and massaged him.

  With the last, Brady jack-knifed up and grabbed her shoulders, the reaction unconscious, spontaneous. “That feels good.” He held her so tight he knew he’d leave bruises, but he’d lost control. “Cla-re,” he gasped as she scooted lower, bent over and touched the tip of him with her mouth.

  He flipped her fast and dragged off her shorts and her leopard bikinis. With one last burst of sanity, he fumbled for a condom in his wallet and sheathed himself. She stretched out before him, opened to him and he plunged inside her.

  Nothing, nothing had ever felt so right. He pushed hard, uncontrollably. She spiraled again and he waited until she peaked, filling her with thrust after thrust after thrust. Then he came in one blinding flash.

  Brady knew the instant that awareness dawned for her. He was still inside her, staring down into her face, which was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. There was recognition in those eyes, too. She just watched him a minute. Then she whispered, “We did this before.”

  He nodded, his heart beating faster than when he had orgasmed. Thinking how cruel it was to have her like this again, only for her to remember exactly what would take her away from him, he waited.

  “The night of the accident. We made love. I remember it, but not much else.”

  “I’ll tell you everything.”

  Suddenly she grabbed his shoulders. “Not yet. Stay with me a little longer.”

  Thankful for the reprieve, he rolled them to their sides and held her close. When she shivered, he reached for a yoga blanket she’d left on the floor a lifetime ago and covered them. She seemed content to let him stroke her bare arm, occasionally kiss her hair.

  A good ten minutes passed before she said, “All right. Tell me what happened.”

  “Just that night?”

  “No, what led up to it.” Her hair brushed his chest as she shook her head. “You said we were friends. And then we grew apart.”

  “We were friends, for a while. When I moved here, my father had recently died so I was in no shape for a relationship, but I needed friends. And for a long time, I was strung out from my divorce. You were dating casually, then I did. But we really liked each other, Clare, connected over the losses we’d experienced. And we had similar outlooks on life. Our personalities just clicked. We were soul mates. When we began to work together on the books, I started having different kinds of feelings for you, but I didn’t want things to change because they were going so great for us. Eventually, though, I fell in love with you.”

  She buried her nose in his chest. “Oh, Brady. Did you tell me? I can’t believe I’d forget that.”

  “No, I didn’t. I let it go for a year, afraid I’d upset the balance of all our lives. And I knew you didn’t feel the same.”

  “How could you know?”

  “I just could.”

  She snorted, of all things. “Anna said she thinks I’ve been attracted to you…like this…for a long time.”

  “Why would you be talking to Anna about that?”

  “Um, I’ve been having dreams about you, Brady. Sexual dreams. Hot, hot sexual dreams.”

  “Oh, man, that’s great. Tell me about them.”

  “Finish your story first. Why didn’t you do anything, say anything, when your feelings changed?”

  “Harris beat me to the punch. He came into your life like a whirlwind and swept you away from me. Away from Delia and Max, too.”

  “That I know because everybody’s told me. I can’t express how bad I feel for abandoning all of you.”

  “We all grew apart, especially me and you. I was jealous as hell but didn’t know what to do. When you started sleeping with him, I thought I’d die.”

  “Oh, Brady, I’m so sorry.” He didn’t say anything. “What happened to bring us to make love?”

  His grip on her tightened. “I told you before that he was close to talking you into moving out. He wanted you away from us. I panicked. The night of the accident, I got you alone and we did argue, like I said. But I also confessed that I loved you. That I’d loved you for a long time.”

  Clare gasped. “I remember…”

  “Why are you bringing me up here?” she asked when he dragged her to their attic. “Jonathan’s expecting me at his place, and I’m already late.”

  “I know. I have to tell you something.”

  She saw the pain in his face and calmed down. “Look, I realize things have been strained between us lately. I’m sorry about that. And that you’re angry about my moving out.”

  “Try devastated.”

  “Really?” She moved in close to hug him. “I—”

  He thrust her away. “No, don’t. Don’t apologize, and don’t touch me.”

  “Why?”

  “You really don’t know, do you?”

  She shook her head.

  He looked to the ceiling. “How humbling.”

  “What, Brady? Tell me.”

  “I love you, damn it! I have for a long time. And not as a friend.”

  “What?”

  He watched her. Finally, he came toward her, said, “What the hell?” and kissed her…

  She’d let him, found herself kissing him back.

  And they’d made love like they had just minutes ago.

  Clare had to make a conscious effort to breathe. At last, she was able to talk. “I was a willing participant, Brady. I remember now.”

  He drew in a deep breath, too, and kissed her forehead. “Yeah, you were.” A sad chuckle. “Twice.”

  “What happened afterward?”

  “Sanity returned. You started to feel guilty about Harris.”

  “I was in a committed relationship, and I cheated on him.”

  “I know.” The words were wrenched from him. “You got up and moved away. Covered yourself, which drove me crazy. You asked me why I seduced you when I knew you were with Jonathan. I got angry and said what we did took two.”

  “It does. I don’t know why I said that.”

  “Guilt is my guess. We started yelling at each other, and the last thing you said was that making love with me was a mistake.”

  “That must have hurt.”

  “It about killed me. You left angry and upset. So angry and upset, Clare, that you were out on the road alone and had the accident.” He drew in a heavy breath. “Making love with me caused your amnesia.”

  “Usually amnesia’s caused by something bad, something traumatic.”

  “Maybe it was traumatic for you to make love with one man and be in a serious relationship with another.”

  “Forgetting my entire past out of guilt for having sex with you seems extreme to me. Especially if I wanted it as much as you did.” She thought for a minute. “And I highly doubt I’d have dreams about us doing this if I was scarred by our actions.”

  “Then maybe yours isn’t a case of psychological amnesia and was caused by the blow to your head.”

  “Maybe. Still…” She thought for a second. “What time did this happen?”

  “We came up here about ten. You left around midnight.”

  “Two hours before the accident?” She sat up now. “Where was I all that time?”

  “I just assumed you drove around. You were really upset.”

  Clare tried hard to visualize the series of events that night. Maybe she was working out her guilt on that road and had the accident. Or maybe… “Maybe I
went to Jonathan’s.”

  “I thought that at first. But, Clare, as much as I dislike the guy, he does love you and he would have come forward with that information in order to help you remember.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Yeah, but I had reason to keep it from you. At first I didn’t want to push you too much, like the doctors warned us not to do. Then I couldn’t stand keeping the argument a secret, so I confessed on movie night. I guess I couldn’t bear to bring up the rest.”

  “I can understand that.”

  “In any case, we need to find out if you went to Harris’s house after you and I made love.”

  “I can’t ask him. What if he doesn’t know about us?”

  She shivered, and he tucked the blanket around her nakedness. “He probably doesn’t, given the way he’s been trying to rush our physical relationship.”

  Brady grabbed her hand. “He’s rushing you?”

  “Yes, I wasn’t ready for that kiss you witnessed.”

  He glanced around at their clothes and makeshift bed and his face lightened. A small smile turned up the corners of his mouth. “You were ready for this.”

  “I was. The chemistry between us has been driving me crazy. Maybe that’s what happened the last time. I do remember wanting to make love to you that night it happened.”

  “I’m glad for that, but I still think I caused your accident.” He shook his head. “I’m not proud of myself for seducing you.”

  “Brady, you clearly didn’t seduce me this time.” She watched him carefully. “Which leads me to believe you didn’t seduce me last time, either.”

  “No?”

  “Nope. But I do feel confused about both. I could barely let Jonathan kiss me, but I wanted to be with you tonight. A lot.”

  “What does all this mean, Clare? For us?”

  “I don’t know. I wish I could remember what happened before the accident.”

  Gently, Brady smoothed down her hair. “One thing I know is the situation’s definitely changed. You can’t go running back to Harris after telling me how you feel about me.”

  “I won’t. But I can’t simply cut him out of my life, either.”