Amanda let a breath of impatience escape. “Jerry, I appreciate your concern, but even I know that isn’t necessary. Besides, my attorney hasn’t said anything about an attempt at reconciliation, by his instigation or by yours.”
“Can I help it if you chose an unethical lawyer?” Jerry shrugged as they turned in unison to make their way back to Meg. “Ethics aside, Amanda, this divorce is all wrong. You and Dane belong together.”
Pressing her lips into a firm line, Amanda ran a hand beneath the loose curls at her nape. She should have avoided any and all mention of Dane. It was easy to see that now that Jerry’s reticence to broach the subject of the divorce had yielded to good-intentioned interference. “That’s really a matter of opinion,” Amanda said in a tone designed to close the conversation.
Jerry stopped her progress across the room with a touch
of his hand on her arm. “What would you say if I told you that Dane shares my opinion?”
With a deep, heartfelt sigh, Amanda turned around to face Jerry once more. “I’d say you’re a dear friend, but please don’t push for a reconciliation. It isn’t going to happen and it can only strain our friendship.”
Jerry’s frown was cheerfully rueful. “In words that even a lawyer can understand, mind your own business.”
“Well put.” She smiled then, and together they walked to where Meg stood talking with several friends. Amanda exchanged greetings with Bob and Terri Henderson and another couple whom she knew only slightly. Meg’s smile seemed a little forced and it took Amanda a full minute to guess the reason.
Dane had arrived. Amanda couldn’t see him yet, but the looks that strayed past her shoulder and then jerked guiltily back to her were evidence enough. The trivial conversation within the group came in fits and starts and was as obvious as the clumsy silences between.
Amanda curled her fingers into the crisp fabric of her dress, knowing that she was the cause of the unnatural stiltedness. The tension in the air around her pulled and snapped at her nerves as Meg began talking about a planned trip to Cancun.
Let them talk, Amanda thought. Let them discuss vacations or Mexico or any number of other amiable topics. She had nothing to say. Her intangible separation from this group of friends was as inexplicable as it was true. She was separated from them by the simple fact that she and Dane were in the same room, but were not together. And she was separated from Dane by a width of several feet and a hundred questions that would never be asked or answered.
The distance to him was easily and unexpectedly bridged by her all-too-eager gaze. Her breathing wavered unevenly as, at the same instant, he turned to look in her direction. It was unsettling to meet his dark eyes across the crowded room and Amanda stood staring, unable to fathom the clouded emotions skimming through her senses.
It was almost like seeing him for the first time, almost as if the seconds hung suspended and then spun backward to the moment she had seen him as a stranger and yet had felt her heart stir with recognition. They had stood then, as they did now, locked in a visual embrace, each uncertain of the other, but aware of the silent communication between them.
Amanda forced her gaze away and brought her thoughts to heel. No matter how intimately she had once known him, Dane was now a stranger to her heart and there was no communication between them, silent or otherwise.
It just wasn’t fair that in one brief look she had noticed so many things about him—the new, slightly different style of his hair, the courtly smile that barely tipped his lips. His white jacket and black slacks might have seemed out of place on any other man, but they looked distinctive and very right on him. The masculine grace that defined his every movement remained clear in her mind. Even now she thought him the most attractive, most desirable man in the room, and her pulse raced with conflicting emotions.
“Will you be able to come?” Terri asked, jarring Amanda back to the conversation.
Glancing to Meg for a clue to the question, Amanda lifted her hand in a noncommittal gesture. “I’m not sure.
Can I let you know later?” With a desperate hope that her answer made sense, she smiled weakly and decided to leave as soon as she politely could.
“It sounds like fun, Amanda.” Meg’s lifted eyebrow and tone of voice warned that “it” really didn’t sound like fun at all. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy meeting Terri’s brother.”
“I know you’ll like him,” Terri agreed immediately. “And he’ll like you. I’ll just be careful not to mention to him that you’re coming. He has this crazy superstition about blind dates.”
Amanda stiffened with the panicky impulse to laugh. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Terri, but I’m afraid I have a crazy superstition about blind dates, myself. So it just wouldn’t work out.” Her voice faltered at the excuse, but she slipped it past with a smile. “What did you do with my punch, Meg? Oh, never mind, I’ll get some more.” With an abrupt turn Amanda left her friends and headed for the bar.
She asked the bartender for a tonic water and told herself that it would be rude to leave now. She could maintain her composure for another half-hour, couldn’t she? Of course she could.
As long as no one else suggested a blind date. The idea sent a repulsive shiver through her. How could Terri—how could anyone—believe she would want a date, whether he was blind or could see in the dark?
With a grimace of distaste at the adolescent pun, Amanda turned to accept the drink from the bartender with a gracious, if somewhat artificial smile. As she moved toward the open terrace doors, she decided it had been at least seven years since she’d had a date, and even then it had been with Dane.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone out with
another man. And she certainly had no desire to do so now.
Date.
Even the word sounded juvenile.
On the terrace she sought a secluded corner and sipped at the drink in her hand. Perhaps it was a good thing she had come to the reception. At least now she knew that a divorce changed everything, even old friendships. Although no one had meant for it to happen, the pattern of easy camaraderie had been broken and Amanda knew that over a period of time she would lose contact with most of the people here tonight.
She could accept that. What bothered her was the nagging possibility that Dane would continue to be a part of this circle of friends, and that one day her place in the group would be taken by someone else— someone who would also take her place in Dane’s life. She shivered suddenly and rubbed her arm as if there were a chill in the air.
Too late.
The words blew in a cool whisper through her mind. Too late for regrets. Too late to go back. Too late to consider the ever-widening ripple of consequences.
Too late. Too late.
Too late.
Pivoting to escape the whispery voices of remorse, she froze at the sight of Dane, who stood just outside the doorway watching her. Slowly, his lips curved a greeting as he took the few steps to her side.
“Hello, Amanda.” The deep resonance of her name echoed within her and warmed her like the melody of an old song. “I’m glad you decided to come,” he said. “Are you enjoying the party?”
It was too much trouble to compose a lie and, besides, this was Dane—the one person in the room with whom it was unnecessary to pretend. She sipped her drink and then
offered a wry smile. “If I were enjoying the party, do you think I’d be hiding in a dark corner of the terrace?”
His soft laughter was soothing. “You shouldn’t try to hide anywhere in that dress. I like it very much, but it’s a little conspicuous to blend in with the scenery.” He paused and his gaze slid to her neckline, then traced a lingering path back to her face. “You’re very beautiful, Amanda, even in a dark corner.”
Embarrassed by the compliment, Amanda swept him a curtsy. “Thank you, kind sir,” she quipped. “And may I say that you look rather handsome tonight yourself.”
He bowed to acknowledge her tribute and then stepped closer, leaning toward her as if he were about to share a secret. “Is there a good reason why two such attractive people are hiding on the terrace?”
Amanda relaxed a little, her senses tingling with the deliciously familiar scent of his cologne. “Of course,” she answered in a whisper. “Imagine what people would say if we were seen together.”
“Ah, too much beauty in one place might overwhelm them, is that it?”
His breath was a warm caress against her cheek and it occurred to her that if she turned her head just a fraction, their lips would touch, cling, burn with a kiss. She made a low sound that resembled a breathy laugh. “Wrong crowd. We’d barely merit a glance in this group.”
“Wishful thinking, Amanda.” He moved away from her and leaned against the brick planter that bordered the terrace. “No man in his right mind could take his eyes off of you tonight.”
Except you,
she thought as she watched him with a vague hunger. But she couldn’t decide whether it was a true physical yearning or just a need to have an ally in this uncharted territory of solitude.
“I still like you, Amanda.” His voice called her nearer and her body instantly took a step toward him...and then another. “I feel a little guilty admitting that. For some reason, I get the idea that we’re supposed to glare at each other from opposite corners of the room.”
“I know what you mean,” she said, relieved somehow that he was ill at ease with the situation too. “But I don’t want to glare at you and they can’t make me feel guilty about it.”
“The omnipresent
they.”
With a sly arch of his brow he turned his gaze to her. “Do you think
they
are out to get us, Amanda?”
“Yes,” she whispered with a solemn nod. “It’s a plot to fix us up with blind dates.”
“A fate worse than Chinese torture,” he agreed gravely. “Do you think we stand a chance of escape?”
“Well, I intend to develop a burning interest in black cats, the number thirteen, and assorted other superstitions.” She smiled at his puzzled expression. “Don’t ask. Just keep it in mind in case Terri Henderson ever invites you to meet her sister.”
“Cousin,” Dane corrected. “She doesn’t have a sister.”
Amanda had difficulty controlling the surprised tilt of her lips. “You mean she’s already….”
“Tried to fix me up?” He rubbed his chin in an oddly embarrassed gesture. “Yes, and I’m afraid I wasn’t very polite in refusing either. Come to think of it, Terri has been sort of cool toward me since then.” His eyes brightened with a tinge of devilry. “I told her I couldn’t meet her cousin because I had to stay home and finish reading a particularly boring book.”
“Dane!” Amanda released his name on an amused breath, glad, very glad, that he had ungraciously declined Terri’s invitation. It was such a small, insignificant thing
to please her so, but she couldn’t deny that it did. And she couldn’t deny the longing to reach out to him, but she made her fingers reach out to stroke a leaf in the planter box instead. “What book?” she asked.
“How to Build Birdhouses for Fun and Profit.
” His hand closed over hers and stilled her fidgety movements. “Did you think I would lie just to get out of a blind date?” The amusement faded from his voice as with his other hand he cupped her chin and pulled her gaze back to him. His eyes, serious and searching, questioned her. “What are we doing, Amanda? Tell me what in the hell we’re doing?”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “We’re making the best of a difficult situation. It’s hard to adjust to the idea of ... divorce. Terri and Meg and Jerry—well, they’re just trying to help.”
“But no one can help, Amanda. No one except you. That’s the irony of it. I like being with you. I want to be with you, but I’m not supposed to want that anymore. We’ve been to dozens of parties together, and all of a sudden I’m supposed to pretend I like coming alone?”
“I understand how you feel.” She knew it was inadequate and trite, but he had caught her unprepared and she didn’t know how to respond. “If it helps, I feel the same way.”
“Do you? Do you really, Amanda?” The pressure on her chin increased with the intensity of his voice. “I don’t believe you understand anything at all.”
Staring into the shadowy demands of his dark eyes, doubt swelled in her chest and she thought he might be right. What did she understand? How did she feel?
Really?
“I understand loneliness,” she said slowly, trying to find an answer for him and for herself. “And I feel out of place here. I’d like to pretend that nothing has changed, that
you and I are the same couple who used to belong with this group of people, Dane, but I can’t. I don’t even understand why I want to.”
The brush of his knuckles along her cheek was a rough velvet caress, and he encouraged her to say more by the soothing stroke of his fingers in her hair. Amanda recognized the need to talk and a part of her wanted to share her thoughts, her feelings, with him, but she was reluctant to lower the walls of defense.
The closeness she felt could be an illusion manufactured by the events of the evening and the misleading softness of the moonlight. And even if it were real, what would it accomplish? She could tell him everything that was in her heart at this moment and it still wouldn’t change the past. No words would ever take away the empty emotion she had locked inside her, the grief that Dane could never share. That, at least, she did understand, even if he didn’t.
His uneven sigh held traces of impatience and resignation as he placed his hand at her nape and pressed her head against his shoulder. “Stop fighting me, Amanda," he murmured half to himself, and she wondered if he realized he had breathed the words aloud.
Her body complied with his request and relaxed into his warmth. She didn’t want to fight him. Maybe it would be easier for both of them if she could, but she lacked the ability to direct any bitterness or anger toward Dane. He was still too much a part of her for that.
“We can’t go back.” Amanda whispered the warning to remind herself of the reality that existed outside his embrace. “We can’t change what’s happened.”
He tightened his hold on her and then drew away to look down at her. “I just want to be with you
now,
Amanda. Is that too much to ask?”