It had been nice to belong to Dane in that special way. And Amanda wanted to belong to him again, just for a little while. Just until the loneliness subsided a bit.
“Amanda?” His fingers forced up her chin and made her face the question in his eyes, made her acknowledge that she wanted more than his arms around her. God, she wanted so much more. She wanted to taste him, wanted to know the mindless ecstasy of his possession. She wanted to assuage the emptiness inside her. She wanted to feel again, to love him just once more.
Her body moved to secure the wish of her heart. Lifting her lips to his, she let her hands glide over his chest and around his neck. Slowly, lingeringly, she drew his head down until his breath mingled with hers and filled her with quivering expectancy. It had been so long ... so very long.
Her thick lashes drifted down to conceal from her view the hesitancy she felt in him.
Love me, Dane,
her heart whispered.
Pretend if you must, but please, for this one moment, this tiny fragment of time, please, love me again.
Her lips trembled with a sigh that Dane captured with a wind-soft kiss. A kiss that echoed through her like a gentle lullaby and crescendoed into a heady melody of desire. She couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get warm enough. With a husky moan she pressed against his hard thigh, molding herself to fit and meld into his body’s symmetry.
His arms tightened as he stroked her back in a sensual sweep from shoulder to hip. Lingering there, his fingers compelled her even closer until the pulsating feel of his heartbeat throbbed inside her. The tremulous rhythm began an upward spiral and changed the texture of the kiss that still claimed her.
From tenderly mobile to roughly demanding, his lips seared her with their touch, fusing past and present into an exhilarating now. As he ran the tip of his tongue along the inner curve of her mouth, she opened to the searching invader. Feverish shivers of déjà vu cascaded her spine and she pushed against him in an effort to satisfy the craving within her.
Dane’s hands found her waist and half-lifted, half-pulled her against him. His fingers were urgent and almost
rough in their quest to tug her shirt free. Then he discovered the knot of her wraparound skirt and shifted his attention there.
Amanda felt it come undone and the sliding of the material as it fell. Something cautioned her that she should stop the skirt from dropping away, but she couldn’t think why. Dane had undressed her many times before ... and she had undressed him.
Her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt as his fingers pushed up the knit top, making tantalizing strokes against her skin until he reached her breasts. She pulled back from his kiss then, arching her neck to invite his plunder. A thrill vibrated in the core of her being as his lips accepted the invitation and moved in erotic circles along her neck.
The stimulating caress of his thumb brought her nipples to throbbing hardness. Her breasts lifted and strained toward him, demanding more, insisting on complete mastery. Amanda parted his shirt and slid her hands inside to tangle and tease the cloud of hair on his chest. It was an incredibly alive feeling to be touching him like this ... and to be touched by him. She felt good. So good.
His head dipped lower as his tongue tasted the rosy peak of her desire. In hungered response her hands went to the belt at his waist and stopped.
Something wasn’t right.
Dane never wore a belt with cutoffs.
The thought rippled through the hazy mist of memories and rent the cushion of unreality that had surrounded her. This wasn’t once upon a time. It was now, and they were getting a divorce.
The stillness began a steady rise, cooling the heat of desire with reason. How had she allowed herself to be trapped by the past? Loneliness wasn’t an excuse. Neither were the empty nights of remembering. She owed him an
apology, even if she couldn’t begin to explain or excuse her behavior.
“Dane.” It was a painful breath that barely warmed her lips in passing, but she waited for him to hear.
He heard long before she breathed out his name. He had known by her stillness, by the slow withdrawal of her spirit even as her body still clung to his. He tightened his arms around her as if he could stop her retreat, but he knew it was a futile gesture.
Amanda had left him ... again.
He straightened, releasing her by degrees, schooling his features to a calm facade that matched her composure. Not by the flicker of an eyelash would he reveal the aching frustration inside him. He had known better, had warned himself not to touch her but, for just a moment, he had thought she needed him. And he had wanted so desperately to believe that she did.
Why was he putting himself through this slow agony? Why couldn’t he leave her now and never look back? It was what any sensible, sane man would do. But as he watched her bend to lift her skirt from the floor and wrap it around her slender hips with a quiet dignity, he knew he wouldn’t give up. Amanda had to stop running away from her emotions sometime. Sometime she would have to face all the feelings she had hidden from her heart. Sometime she would cry. And when she did, he would be there to hold her.
She looked up and he tried to reassure her with a smile, but he couldn’t be sure his attempt was recognizable. “Dane,” she said in a raspy whisper. “I’m sorry I let that happen.”
“Don’t.” He cut through her words with a shake of his head. How could he bear to hear her apologize for something that he had wanted, needed so badly? He inhaled a deep, shaky breath and tried another smile to soften the brusqueness of his voice. “I think I’ll skip the iced tea, Amanda. I’m not really thirsty anymore.”
She nodded, her blue eyes regarding him with shadowy regret.
“Are you going to the reception for Jim Barnett next month?” Dane asked, not sure where the thought had come from but grateful for the impersonal tone that might, just might, erase the look in her eyes. “He’s made some elaborate plans for his retirement and I know he’ll be disappointed if you aren’t at the party.”
The curve of her lips was brief. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Jim, but I don’t know. It would be the first time I’ve gone to something like that without–”
The rest of the thought went unspoken, but Dane finished it in his mind.
Without you.
That was what she had almost said and he wished he could ask her to go with him. But she would only refuse. If she came to the reception at all, it would be alone. “Maybe I’ll see you there,” he offered as casually as he could.
“Maybe.”
Her voice was crisp now, almost curt, and he knew there was no point in lingering. He toyed with the idea of mentioning the inventory list again, but decided she had heard the word
divorce
enough for one day. He didn’t want her to begin questioning the delays that he and Jerry had worked so hard to achieve.
With one last, lingering look at her, he said good-bye and walked away from the house. In the car he curled his hands around the steering wheel, steadying his resolve to leave. One quick twist of the key and he would be on his way. He had seen Amanda, talked with her, touched her.
It was more than he had hoped for, but less than he’d wanted. Still, it was a start. His fingers found the key and gave it a twist. The Mercedes purred to life and, in a matter of seconds, he was driving away from the cottage, away from Amanda and into a hot, summer evening.
Dane noted the heat with a frown.
As far as he was concerned, it was already cold, gray winter.
Chapter Six
“Amanda!” The call came above the muted conversation in the crowded room.
Amanda tracked the sound with her gaze, tilting her head to the side so she could see around the elderly couple in front of her. She lifted a hand to answer Meg’s wave and waited patiently for the couple to move through the reception line ahead of her. The taffeta fabric of her dress made a lazy swish against her legs as she stepped forward to offer congratulations to Jim Barnett.
His hefty handshake and disarming smile almost concealed the expectant glance he tossed, and then recovered, when he realized the person behind her in line was not Dane. It was a simple, split-second mistake, but Amanda caught it and wished that she had stayed home.
She moved on after a brief exchange with the guest of honor and stopped to take a glass of punch before walking toward the terrace doors where Meg waited. “Hi,” Amanda said, feeling a little awkward and out of place despite their longstanding friendship. “You look gorgeous tonight. Is that a new dress?”
Meg looked down as if she couldn’t remember what she was wearing. Her gaze went from the slim lines of her black sarong to Amanda’s dress. Amanda smiled at her friend’s wide-eyed expression, knowing the red taffeta with its softly flared skirt and deep, rounded neckline was unusual and certainly eye-catching. She had bought it for that very reason.
It had been difficult to commit herself to coming to the reception in the first place, but once committed, she’d decided she needed a little extra confidence. So she’d shopped for the right dress. The vivid color made her feel somewhat flashy, but she knew that, for all its brightness, the dress was deliciously feminine and extremely flattering, a much-needed ego builder for the evening ahead.
Meg wrinkled her nose. “Considering that your dress positively shouts ‘Paris designer,’ you don’t know how much I’d like to say I dug this old rag out of the closet. However, I’ll be gracious and accept wallflower status next to your rose.”
Amanda laughed softly. “Now, Meg, is that a subtle way of suggesting I help you prop up the wall?”
“Not a chance of that,” Meg said with a shake of her head. “As soon as Jerry gets through wiping the fog from his glasses, he’s going to ask you to dance. I know that look, Amanda, and if I were you, I’d refuse.”
Glancing toward Meg’s husband, Amanda leaned forward. “Are you going to tell me why I shouldn’t dance with such an attractive man?”
Meg’s gaze went lovingly to the brown-haired, blue-eyed Jerry. “He really is attractive, isn’t he? If I weren’t already married ...” The words ended on a sigh.
“But you are married,” Amanda reminded her. “To him.”
“I know.” Meg’s divine dimples appeared. “That’s what makes it so nice.”
It was a sentiment Amanda could identify with—she had often felt the same way about Dane. Many times, in a roomful of people, she had thought her husband the most attractive, most desirable man present. And it had been nice, indescribably nice, to exchange a look, a touch, and to know that not another person could interpret the quiet communion of their thoughts.
A whispery chill of isolation slid down her back. How odd it seemed to feel so alone in a familiar crowd. Truly alone. She was no longer a part of a comfortable twosome, and the realization wedged tightly in her throat.
“Amanda, you look great!” Jerry presented the compliment to Amanda as he absently handed Meg a glass of punch. “Would you like to dance?” He pushed his dark-framed glasses into place with a jab of his index finger and smiled at Meg. “You don’t mind if Amanda and I take a turn around the floor, do you?”
“Of course not,” Meg answered sweetly. “I’ll just wait here and lean firmly against the wall.”
“That’s a good idea. I’d hate for it to fall.” Jerry grinned and leaned forward to kiss Meg’s cheek. “Here, while you’re supporting the wall, hold Amanda’s punch, would you?” Smoothly, he took Amanda’s cup from her hand and placed it in Meg’s. “We’ll be right back. Come on, Amanda, let me show you what a mean jitterbug I can do.”
“Jitterbug?”
As Jerry guided her away, Amanda mouthed the word to Meg, but met only a mischievous wink.
“I did try to warn you,” Meg said, and with an innocent shrug, she turned to speak to another guest.
Amanda followed Jerry’s lead, although she wasn’t at all sure she wanted to dance. She felt uncomfortable despite the fact that he didn’t even come close to doing the jitterbug.
“You really do look great tonight, Amanda.” Jerry drew back to smile at her with the ease of long acquaintance. “It’s good to see you. The neighborhood get-togethers haven’t been the same without you and....”
Dane. Amanda disguised the sigh that rose to her lips and decided to face the issue squarely. There was no point in avoiding the mere mention of his name. She returned Jerry’s smile. “Doesn’t Dane join you at the get-togethers? He is still part of the neighborhood, you know.”
“We don’t see him often, but it isn’t for lack of invitations. Everyone is rallying around him, trying to help—” Jerry broke off the sentence. “I mean, we’re all hoping, of course, that the two of you will–”
This time Amanda broke through the words. “It’s all right, Jerry. I realize this is an awkward situation.” Awkward? It was awful, and she wished again that she were anywhere else but here, among familiar strangers who cared about her. She cleared her throat to make room for some confidence. “As soon as the divorce is final, it will be easier for everyone. I have wondered why it’s taking so long. My attorney only mumbles some legal jabberwocky about court appearances and delays. Isn’t there something we can do to speed things along?”
Jerry concentrated on making a neat turn and adding an interesting shuffle to his dance step. “These things take time, Amanda. Are you really in that much of a hurry? Have you met someone else?”
“No,” she snapped, astonished that he could even give
that thought a second’s consideration. “And I’m not in a hurry. I’d just like to have the matter settled.”
“It is settled, isn’t it? A piece of paper doesn’t make you divorced any more than a marriage license automatically makes you married. You and Dane seem to have everything worked out to your mutual satisfaction, so I don’t see any reason to rush the final decree.”
“I suppose there isn’t any particular reason, but I do think it’s better to get it done.”
“Good. It probably won’t take more than another month or so.” He twirled her once more around a corner of the tiny dance floor as the music swayed toward an ending. “You realize, don’t you, that I’m honor-bound to make at least one effort to get you and Dane to talk to each other and try to work out your problems. It’s a matter of ethics, you understand.”