“Brandy?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll meet you in the parlor.”
Chapter Twelve
J
ane found the box of brandy her parents had given her last Christmas and opened the package. After collecting glasses, she turned off the kitchen lights and made her way to the front of the house.
The storm from the previous evening had passed, leaving clear skies and slightly lower temperatures. Even so, the South Carolina summer night swirled around her, bringing with it the scents and sounds that were uniquely home. Night jasmine, her mother’s favorite, filled the air with its sweetly sensual fragrance. As she entered the parlor, she saw Adam standing by the front window. As at his house, shutters protected them from prying eyes. He’d pulled them back and opened the windows, but hadn’t turned on any lights. A streetlamp provided slight illumination, as did the light in the downstairs hall. Enough to see the size and shape of him, but not his expression when he turned to look at her.
“Can you open this for me?” she asked, her voice a little softer than normal.
He took the bottle. “Are you sure you want to? Are you saving it for a special occasion?”
“I can’t imagine anything more special than you finding out about Billie.”
Even though he would be as unable to see her face as she was to see his, she turned away, embarrassed at exposing herself to him. She couldn’t let herself forget that he was still angry and had the potential to wound.
But all he said was “Thank you.” He tore off the protective covering and opened the bottle. She held out the glasses and he poured them each a half inch of the dark liquid.
“To Billie,” she said, raising her glass.
“To Billie,” he answered. But instead of drinking, he stared at her. She would have sold her soul for the courage to turn on a light and see the look in his eyes.
Uneasily she took a sip of the brandy, wincing as it burned a path down to her stomach. But in a few seconds the fiery heat became pleasant and she felt her tension begin to ease.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asked.
Without answering, he walked to the long sofa opposite the window and sat. Not on the edge, but not in the middle, either. She chose the opposite spot on the same couch. They didn’t touch, but they could. If they wanted to.
Don’t! she ordered herself. It was the night that made her foolish. Or the man. But it wasn’t anything real.
The furniture loomed large in the semidarkness. She picked out the shape of the armoire she had carted with her across the country because of all the memories it contained. Two wingback chairs sat under the big window. In front of the sofa stood a coffee table. She leaned forward and set down her drink.
“Not a brandy drinker?” Adam asked.
“No.”
“Me, neither. But it sounded good.” He placed his glass next to hers. “Some of this old furniture sure brings back memories. I recognize that.” He pointed to the armoire.
“I helped my mother refinish it. I guess I was a little older than Billie.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Adam.”
“Don’t be. It’s been a lot for both of us to deal with. Let’s worry about the apologies another time.”
It would be easy to accept his kind offer, she thought. Easy to
push her shame away and go on with her life. But that was the coward’s way, and she’d been doing that for too long.
“No, I
am
sorry. About everything.” She shifted on the sofa, turning until she faced him. She tucked one leg under her and spread out the full skirt of her sundress. “I’m sorry for the way I left you.”
“But not for leaving?” He sounded bitter.
“I don’t know.”
“At least you’re being honest.”
For a change. He didn’t say the words, but she heard them, anyway. “I’m trying,” she said.
In the darkness she saw his right shoulder rise, then lower. But she couldn’t see his face or the secrets in his eyes. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and began to toy with the end.
“My mother went to art school,” she said, not looking at him. “She was very talented. There are some pictures of hers in the attic. I keep meaning to go get them down, but I can’t. Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid of what I’ll see in her paintings. She loved my father, but he didn’t understand her desire to be more than his wife and my mother. He didn’t like her painting or changing the house.” She pointed at the armoire. “He was furious about that. He liked everything to stay the same. Including her. She wasn’t allowed to grow or be her own person.”
“I’m not your father.”
“I know. But…”
He leaned forward and rested one arm on the back of the couch. “Don’t blame me for his behavior. I had nothing to do with that. I would never have prevented you from changing. If you remember, I’m the one who encouraged you to plan on continuing with college after we were married.”
“It’s not that easy, Adam.” She plucked at the ribbon at the end of her braid. When the cloth loosened, she pulled it free, then removed the rubber band. “You wouldn’t have
said
anything, but I would have known just the same.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped.
“Expectation. You were looking for the perfect banker’s wife. I couldn’t be that.”
“You said that before. I didn’t understand it then and I still don’t. There is no ‘perfect banker’s wife.’ I wasn’t looking for a job applicant, I wanted a partner.”
He sounded hurt. She wanted to go to him and offer comfort, but she didn’t have the words and he wouldn’t accept the gesture. Not from her. It was the darkness that made her brave, she realized. That and the fact that she was already so exposed to him. There wasn’t much more he could do or say to hurt her. What was there to lose by speaking the truth?
“I wanted to be that partner,” she said, loosening the braid. “I wanted to be everything. But I was so afraid.”
“Of what?” He jerked up one hand in an impatient gesture. “What was so damn frightening about me?”
“Everything.”
“That’s a big help.” He turned his head and she caught the flash of white as he smiled.
“You, Adam. You’re what’s frightening. You’re so damn perfect.”
“Perfect? Come on, Jane. That doesn’t wash.”
“You knew what you wanted and you went after it. I didn’t know anything, except how I felt about you. Your direction and intensity scared me. I thought I’d get lost inside of you and never find my way out.” She sighed. “That sounds silly.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
She nodded. “Thank you for that. There was so little of me that I’d discovered. I felt that if I became a part of you, there would be nothing left. You wanted so much. What if I couldn’t do it?”
She raised her hands and continued loosening the braid. With a shake of her head, she tossed the freed strands over her shoulders. Part of her hair swept across the back of the sofa. He twisted one curl around his finger.
“I wish you’d told me.” His voice sounded husky.
“I was wrong not to.”
“I’ll admit that I could have spent more time with you,” he said slowly. “There were difficulties at the bank and with Dani and Ty, but I should have made the time. You were important to me. I never meant to scare you away.”
Perhaps it was her admission that freed him to confess his own secrets. She still couldn’t see his face or read his eyes, but suddenly that didn’t seem to matter.
“I know,” she said softly. “I was too young for you. I didn’t know at the time. It’s only now, looking back, that I see I was—”
“What?” he asked urgently. “Tell me.”
“A girl. A fool. You needed a woman, but I couldn’t be that.” It hurt to confess her shortcomings, she thought, surprised that after all this time it still mattered.
He swore. “You were all I ever wanted. Why can’t you believe that?”
“I was too afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Of the sex.”
He bowed his head. “Now I’m the one who’s sorry. Jane, I had no right to—”
Without thinking, she scooted forward and pressed her hand against his mouth. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I wanted to please you. What I said the other day, about pushing me further than I’d wanted to go….” She shrugged. “I wanted you, too. Maybe not in the same way, but I needed the closeness and to feel you holding me. The rest of it, I’ll admit, didn’t thrill me…but never believe that you coerced me or hurt me. I came to your bed willingly, Adam Barrington. I loved you. There wasn’t any other choice.” When she finished her speech, she realized she still held her hand against his mouth. His firm lips moved slightly against her palm. She dropped her hand. “Sorry. I got carried away.”
But before she could pull back, he twisted his hand in her hair. “I like it when you get carried away.”
“Adam?”
“It’s the night,” he said softly, staring at her intently. “A time for secrets. Here’s mine. You drove me wild. So sweet and funny, so eager to please.”
She ducked her head. “You make me sound like a puppy.”
“No, just innocent. And beautiful. You stared at me as if I were the most—”
“Perfect man,” she whispered. “My fantasy come to life.”
Whatever had smoldered between them since her arrival burst
into life. Her body leaned toward the flames, absorbing the heat that started another fire deep inside her. This wasn’t the time. They were dealing with problems that would only be complicated by a physical relationship between them. But she had to know. She had to find out if the time they had been apart had changed anything. She had to know if being a woman in heart and mind made it different.
“Never perfect,” he murmured, lowering his head closer to hers. “I had my share of flaws.”
“No. I won’t—”
He silenced her with his kiss. She’d wanted this, she thought, as his firm mouth pressed against hers. She’d wanted to be with him, just the two of them, in the dark, with no secrets between them. He continued to hold her hair, as if he were afraid she would try to leave. It was the farthest thing from her mind. Her hands crept up his arms and around his neck. She rubbed the hard strength of him, felt the ripple of his muscles as she kneaded his shoulders. Yes, she thought, letting her eyes drift shut. This is what she’d waited for.
He angled his head so their mouths met more fully. Lips pressed. She leaned forward, encouraging him to take more. His free hand rested on her bare shoulder. His thumb stroked in slow circles, singeing her skin with his heated touch. But still their kiss remained chaste.
She pulled back so that she could look at him. The darkness that had been so kind and allowed them to share their secrets now kept her from reading his expression. Did he want her? Was she looking for something that didn’t exist?
“Adam?”
“After you left, I tried to figure out what it had been that had drawn me to you. Was it your hair?” He cupped her face with both hands, then drew his fingers through the strands at her temples and fanned them over her shoulders. She felt the curls as they were drawn across her skin.
“Like silk,” he said quietly. “Or was it your smile?” His thumb swept across her lips. “Was it the shape of your mouth or the size or the way the edges curve up even when you’re not
smiling?” He touched each corner with his index finger. “Was it your body? The gawky picture you made in high heels?”
She didn’t move as he ran his hands up her thighs to her hips. Heat flared wherever he touched, and turned her blood to fire.
“Did I want you because you had no idea about what you were doing to me?” he asked. “Was it the innocence?”
His hands moved up to her waist. She caught her breath but he didn’t reach farther to soothe the ache. Her already hard nipples strained against her lacy bra. Her breasts throbbed in time with her rapid heartbeat.
“Or was it here?” He returned his hands to her face. “Inside. Was it your mind? Why were you the one?”
The control slipped away. She felt it flow out of him and disappear into the night. They were lost, she realized. Lost in a cauldron of emotion. Past and present blurred. The grayness of time overlapped until what had been and what was now had no distinction. The flames continued to race through her, but with them came the pain. As the fire burned away layers of facades, she was left with the sharp edges of her soul.
“Hold me,” she whispered, feeling her eyes fill with tears. “Hold me tight.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her next to him. His heartbeat thundered in her ear. His breath fanned the hair that rested on her cheek. Without breaking their contact, he shifted on the sofa, sliding lower against the back corner, then easing her down until she nestled on top of him.
This felt right, she thought, loving the feel of his body against hers. His hard lines a contrast to her curves. Not even the sensation of his arousal pressing against her hip disturbed her. This was as it was supposed to have been.
“I don’t want to deal with the past anymore,” she said. “But I can’t seem to let it go.”
“Neither can I.”
She raised her head to look at him. “Help me. Let’s try to forget together.”
He stiffened. “Like this?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think that—”
“Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t think about it anymore. Please. You want me.” She rocked her hips and felt him strain against her.
“Tough to deny the obvious.”
“Then what is it?”
He stared at her. “How much of that girl remains? Are you doing this for me or for yourself?”
He wanted to know if she was still afraid, she realized. The stigma of what had happened nine years before stood between them, an almost uncrossable barrier of guilt and conscience.
She sat up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. When he moved his head to follow the movement, she did it again. Without saying a word, she rose and crossed to the parlor door, then closed it. The clicking of the lock sounded loud in the still room. Only their breathing filled the continuing silence.
She reached for the small floor lamp in the corner and flipped on the switch. The sudden light made her blink. The look on Adam’s face made her heart stop. Etched in the lines of his handsome face, desire and guilt battled for control. Everything else faded as the primal emotions raged inside him. She walked back to stand in front of the coffee table. He sat up straight on the sofa. She could tell him not to feel guilty about the past. He wouldn’t listen. Better to show him the truth. There had been a time when he
had
frightened her. With her naïveté, she hadn’t thought she could ask him to go slower. She wasn’t that child anymore. She was a woman, with a woman’s need. She slipped her hands up through her hair and fanned it over her shoulders. Slowly, so that he couldn’t mistake her meaning, she reached for the first button of her dress. She never made it to the second.