Wishing Lake (16 page)

“What?” Darius drank his iced tea.

“A birthday party and dance.” Peyton beamed at him. “January tenth, the day the center opened, is a Saturday in 2015, too. We should host the fundraiser then.”

Darius considered her announcement as he ate his soup. “That’s only five weeks away. Does it give us enough time?”

Her small body seemed to vibrate with enthusiasm. “We can make this work.”

“We could ask the center’s director to let us host the dance in their activity room. It’s large enough. And that way people can see where their donations are going.”

“That’s brilliant.” Peyton clapped her hands together. “We’ll charge an entry fee, which would include dinner. All proceeds will go to the community center.”

Discussions of what they would need, what it would cost, and potential event sponsors carried them through their meal.

Peyton pulled her electronic tablet from her purse. “We need to pick committee members.”

Darius took a deep drink of iced tea. The cool bite of it helped with what he was about to say. “My father volunteered for the committee. I’m sorry. I should have talked with you first. But he asked me as I was on my way to meet you.”

“I think it’s great that your father’s on the committee.” Peyton reached across the table, covering his hand with one of hers. Her touch sent a jolt through Darius, making him lose his train of thought. “My mother and I have volunteered together on a lot of committees. Those are some of my favorite memories.”

Somehow, Darius didn’t think he’d have a similar experience with Simon. “How many other people should we get for the committee?”

Peyton gave that some thought. “Five. With you, me, and your father, that will give us eight members. If we need additional volunteers, they could help outside of the formal committee.”

“Good point.” Darius wrote in his reporter’s notebook. “I’ll come up with some more names.”

“I want to make sure the university is represented on the committee.” Peyton typed into her tablet. “We’re Trinity Falls residents, too. We should be involved in the center’s fundraiser. I’ll ask two other professors to participate.”

Her words put a damper on his mood. “Are you going to ask Vaughn?”

“That’s a great idea.” Peyton did more typing.

Darius’s grip on his pen tightened. She’d misunderstood him. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”

Peyton blinked her surprise. “You and I had something before Thanksgiving break. How many ‘somethings’ do you think I could have at one time?”

“You’ve spent a lot of time with him.”

“Are you jealous?” Peyton’s eyes widened with disbelief.

“Yes.”

Peyton’s honey-and-chocolate-milk complexion took on a rosy hue. She blinked again, then a slow smile stretched her full lips.

“Wow.” She returned her attention to her tablet. “Should we invite your mother to join the committee? She might feel left out if your father’s on it and she’s not.”

Why was she changing the subject? “So there’s nothing going on between you and Vaughn, right? I just need some clarification.”

“No, there’s not.” Peyton put her elbow on the table and set her chin in her palm. She gave him a look that scorched him. “Is there something between us?”

“I’d like there to be.”

“We’ll see.” She went back to her tablet. “What about your mother being on the committee?”

We’ll see?
Was she flirting with him or just messing with his mind?

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.” An understatement.

“Are you sure? It could give your family an opportunity to get closer.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Having his parents volunteer on the same committee he was cochairing wasn’t a bonding opportunity. It was a recipe for disaster, one he didn’t want Peyton to witness.

“Why did you ask your father to be on your committee and not
me
?” Ethel stood framed in Darius’s cubicle in the
Monitor
’s offices later that afternoon. Her hands were fisted on her hips. Her eyes blazed betrayal.

His mother’s short, sharp question jerked Darius from the news story he was trying to file before his deadline. He rose to his feet. How had she found out?

The lightbulb came on. “Dad told you.”

“He came to the house, looking for a
meal
.” Ethel’s thick, brown, wool winter coat was buttoned to her neck and masked her figure. A black knit hat pulled low on her head covered her hair.

Darius frowned. “You two had lunch?”

“Don’t change the subject. Why did you ask your father to help you, but you didn’t come to
me
?”

“Let’s find a meeting room.” Darius maneuvered around his mother and started down the aisle. He ignored the curious stares of coworkers as he led his mother to a vacant meeting room. Now that his parents were separated, they spent almost as much time at the
Monitor
as he did. How could he make this stop?

The first room he came to was available. Darius opened the door and motioned for his mother to precede him. “Have a seat.”

“
Why
should I sit down?”

“Because I’m going to sit and I won’t speak with you standing over me.” Ms. Helen had taught him better manners than that.

“Fine.” Ethel pulled off her hat, fluffed her hair, then took off her coat before settling onto the chair.

“Dad asked to be on the committee.” Darius took the seat across from her. His answer wouldn’t be good enough for Ethel. He checked his watch. He could give her ten minutes before he had to get back to his article.

“You told
him
that you were cochairing a fundraising committee but kept that information from
me
?”

“Why would I tell you?” The Knight family didn’t have the kind of relationship in which they shared everything with each other. Ethel knew that as well as he did.

The meeting room was small and sparse: a honey wood circular conference table, matching corner stand with a black conference phone, four black-leather-and-silver metal chairs, and a whiteboard affixed to the far plaster wall. Through the room’s remaining two glass walls, Darius saw several curious coworkers looking his way. Opal Gutierrez, the rookie reporter, walked by twice, slowing down to observe them each time.

“Men
always
stick together,” Ethel sneered.

“What does that mean?” Darius returned his attention to his mother.

“You’re taking your
father’s
side.” Ethel stabbed a finger at him. “You were always closer to him than you were to me.”

What a load of nonsense. Darius checked the time. “What do you want, Mom?”

“
Why
do you keep looking at your watch?” Her tone was waspish.

“I need to get back to work. Just tell me what you want.”

“Did you rush your
father
when he was here earlier?”

Were they really doing this? “Mom—”

“I bet you didn’t. I bet you gave him
all
the time in the world.” Ethel leaned back onto her seat, crossing her arms and legs. “That’s what I want. I want you to give me the same time and attention you give Simon.”

Darius stood. He kept his expression carefully blank so his coworkers wouldn’t be aware of the temper building within him. “I don’t have time to indulge you. As I explained, I’m on deadline.” Without another word, Darius turned toward the door.

“
Wait
.” Ethel’s response shot across the small room.

Darius didn’t want to wait. He wanted to walk through the door, return to his cubicle, and lose himself in work. He was thirty-four years old. He didn’t want to be the rope in his parents’ tug-of-war anymore.

“What is it?” He spoke over his shoulder.

“I want to be on the committee, too.”

Darius briefly closed his eyes, praying for patience. “Why?”

“Your father’s on it. It’s not fair to exclude
me
.”

Darius faced her. “This committee is not the place for you and Dad to work out your marital problems.”

“You care more about your
father
than you do about me. You’re not even thinking about me.”

Darius rubbed his eyes. “Guilt has never worked on me.”

“Please, Darius. I need to do something. I’m going crazy in that house by myself.”

Peyton had been right—and he’d never been more unhappy. “All right. But the first time you and Dad argue during a meeting, you’re both out.”

Ethel’s features brightened. Her eyes shone. Darius blinked at her transformation. He wasn’t used to seeing her happy.

“Just make sure you tell your father that.” She rose from her chair and crossed to him. His mother put a hand on his shoulder. Beneath her palm, his muscles bunched.

Still surprised by her smile and her touch, Darius couldn’t form a response. In silence, he followed his mother from the room. He once again ignored his coworkers’ curiosity as he escorted Ethel down the hall.

“When is the committee meeting?” Ethel buttoned her coat and tugged on her hat.

“We haven’t scheduled one yet. I’ll contact you when we have the information.” Darius stopped in front of his cubicle.

“All right. Good luck with your deadline.” Ethel patted his shoulder again, then disappeared.

What had just happened? Darius sat at his desk. Ms. Helen had advised him to help his parents find a way to forgive each other. Maybe having them serve on the committee was his Trinity Falls miracle. Was it possible this fundraiser for the community center would help his family? But at what cost?

Darius found himself knocking on Peyton’s door Monday evening. It wasn’t a conscious decision to come here. His car had just pointed itself in this direction and taken him to Peyton’s apartment.

“What’s wrong?” She opened the door, stepping back to let him in.

She’d freed her hair from its constricting bun. The thick, curly waves vibrated around her heart-shaped face. Her blue-and-white Heritage High School sweatshirt was baggy on her small frame in contrast to her navy yoga pants.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” Darius watched as Peyton closed and locked her front door.

“Well, first, you’re here.” Her eyes sparkled at him as she reached for his coat.

Darius stripped off his black topcoat and handed it to her. “Thank you.”

“Make yourself comfortable.” She gestured toward her furniture as she disappeared through a door off the living room.

Darius’s wandering gaze found a small Christmas tree on a circular table beside her entertainment center. He nodded toward it when she returned without his coat. “When did you put that up?”

“Sunday night.”

“Why did you get it?”

Peyton looked up in surprise. “It’s Christmas.” She gestured for him to sit on the sofa.

“But it’s so small. And it’s not even real.” Darius lowered himself onto the right corner of the couch.

“You don’t have a tree, do you?”

“Why bother?” Darius was uncomfortable under her amused regard.

Peyton settled onto the other end of her silver couch. “Why don’t you stop bashing my tree and tell me why you’re here?”

Her apartment smelled of cinnamon. Her matching sofa, love seat, and armchair were a pale silver with soft overstuffed cushions. The coffee table was made of glass in a sterling-silver frame. The cool, modern effect contrasted with Peyton’s warm, traditional personality. It was at odds with the woman who’d decorate her elegant home with a plastic, wannabe Christmas tree. Who was she trying to be?

“I told my mother she could be on the fund-raising committee.” Darius studied the little tree. Its fake branches were full of pretend apples and a few real candy canes, tinsel, and lights.

“I’m glad.”

“I’m not. With both of my parents on the committee, I’ve just made this project more difficult. I’m sorry.”

“Just make it clear to them that we don’t have time for personal conflicts on the committee.”

“I wish it was that easy.”

Peyton searched his features as though she could read his mind. “What’s really bothering you about your parents working on the fund-raiser?”

Darius wanted to ignore Peyton’s question, but her gaze insisted on a response. “They’ve never volunteered for anything. They don’t have any fund-raising experience.”

“That’s my role.”

“Their antagonism toward each other will disrupt our meetings.”

“We won’t let it.” She was boxing him in, dismissing his reasons as though they weren’t perfectly rational arguments.

“You don’t understand. Some people like to read. My parents’ hobby is arguing, especially with each other.” He tried to say it as a joke. It didn’t come out that way. Darius shot off of Peyton’s sofa and strode to her toy tree. “I’m not my parents.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to be compared to them.” Darius glared at the decorations.

“No one’s doing that.”

“I’ve seen it. Every time my parents argue, people look at them and then me. They’re thinking the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Darius touched one of the fake red apples hanging from a plastic branch.

“You’re nothing like your parents, Darius.”

“Aren’t I?” Darius shoved his fists into the front pockets of his black Dockers.

“Everyone has a complex about their parents. We’re afraid we’re like them. We’re afraid we’re nothing like them. We have to realize we’re our own people.”

Darius sensed there was something more in her words. “You sound like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“You think you’re the only one with difficult parents?” Peyton shifted on the sofa to face him.

Darius took in Peyton’s abundance of brown curls, serious caramel eyes, full red lips and stubborn honey-and-chocolate chin. “Are you afraid you’re like your parents or that you’re not?”

“Neither of the above.” Peyton’s shoulders rose and fell on a deep breath. “I used to be afraid I wasn’t good enough.”

Darius frowned. “Good enough for what?”

“Not what.” Peyton shrugged. “I didn’t think I was good enough for them.”

“That’s crazy.” Darius returned to sit beside her on the sofa. He raised his right hand to cup her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm against his palm. Her scent, talcum powder and lily of the valley, reached out to him. It stirred memories of being locked in the archives with her, of her Catwoman costume—of her.

“What’s crazy?” Peyton’s voice was hushed. Her eyes mesmerized him.

“You’re more than good enough for anyone.” An invisible force drew him nearer to her. Just a taste.

Darius touched his mouth to Peyton’s. His muscles went lax at the feel of her soft, moist lips. Peyton sighed, parting her lips and letting him in. Darius’s muscles shook at the sensation. Warm, wet, sweet. His tongue swept inside, seeking her secrets. Her tongue reached out to meet his in a suggestive dance. She stroked him. He caressed her. She teased and tasted him. He embraced her.

Peyton’s arms rose, caressing the muscles of his torso through his bronze sweater. Darius’s heartbeat was heavy beneath her eager touch. His hands slid up her back. He pressed her warm, soft curves into his body, heating the chilled spaces.

Darius drew his hand up the side of Peyton’s torso until his palm tested the weight of her breast through her blue sweatshirt. Peyton gasped and groaned deep in her throat. He drank in the sound. It affected him like alcohol in his blood. The pressure in his groin grew heavier, his caresses more urgent. But it was more than a physical reaction to the woman in his arms. It was emotional. This time he felt more than he’d ever felt before. He ached and burned. He needed and wanted.

Darius slipped his hand under Peyton’s sweatshirt. His breath caught in his throat. The little professor wasn’t wearing a bra.

Peyton gasped, breaking their kiss. Her nipple beaded, branding his palm. She arched her back, pressing her breast deeper into his hand. Darius bore the weight gladly. He kneaded her. Traced her curves with the back of his hand. Pinched her nipple with his fingertips.

“Your skin. So smooth. Soft. Hot.” He spoke against her neck. Peyton shivered against him.

Darius wanted her closer. He lifted her onto his lap. Peyton straddled him, pressing her knees against his hips. Her movements were as urgent as his as she rocked her body against him. He licked his way up her neck, trailing his tongue against her skin. He kissed her jawline, her cheek, the corner of her mouth.

“So sweet.” He husked the words into her ear, loving the way she shivered against him.

Peyton groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.” She leaned forward and sunk her teeth against his shoulder through his knit sweater.

Darius’s hips lifted between her thighs. “You’re making me lose my mind.”

Peyton chuckled into the curve of Darius’s neck. She sat back on his lap. Reaching beneath his sweater, Peyton shoved the garment up and over his head, tossing it behind her. She leaned in, tracing her tongue in the groove between his pectorals.

“I’ve never felt this way before.” She breathed against his damp skin.

His passion swelled. Darius gritted his teeth. “Neither have I.”

Peyton sat up and stripped off her sweatshirt. Darius swallowed. Hard. He leaned forward and took her breast into his mouth. Peyton moaned.

He cupped her hips and stood. “Bedroom.”

Peyton jerked her head over her shoulder and wrapped her legs around his waist. Darius followed her nonverbal direction. He carried her across the living room, down a short hallway to her bedroom.

This large, square space was more in keeping with the Peyton he was beginning to know—warm, colorful, and welcoming. Most importantly, there was a neatly made king-sized bed in the center of the room.

“Condom?” Peyton’s voice was a breathless plea.

Darius released her beside him at the foot of the bed. He reached into the front pocket of his slacks and pulled out his wallet. He took a condom from a side compartment and laid it on the bed. “I didn’t plan this.”

“I’m not complaining.” Peyton smiled.

They made quick work of the rest of their clothing. Slacks, yoga pants, underwear, socks, and shoes were strewn across the floor.

Darius drank in Peyton’s nudity. Her figure was petite but powerful: narrow shoulders and full, firm breasts. Tiny waist, trim hips, and long, well-shaped legs. “You are so beautiful.”

Peyton’s body hummed. Already her senses were more heightened than they’d ever been in the act of lovemaking. She was damp and throbbing. Her skin was sensitive. With Darius, she felt like she was the only thing on his mind, the only woman in the world. Special and significant. The hunger in his midnight eyes filled her with confidence and a sense of power she’d never felt before.

She stepped forward, trailing her index finger from his chest to his hips. “Your body is art.”

And it was. He was a flesh-and-blood Adonis. His broad, sculpted shoulders; six-pack abdominals; lean hips; long legs with powerful muscles. She must be dreaming. Her palms itched to touch him all over. She laid them flat on his chest, then dragged her hands down his body. She sank to her knees, drawing her hands to his thighs.

“Peyton.” Darius choked on her name.

“Let me.” She licked the length of his erection, then drew it deep into her mouth.

Darius cupped her shoulders. His fingers shook on her skin as he tried to lift her away from him. His voice was rough. “I want to come inside of you.”

She wanted that as well. Peyton stood, walking into Darius’s embrace. He lowered his head and kissed her hard. His mouth was demanding, making her even more anxious to feel him inside her. The ground shifted beneath her feet. When Peyton opened her eyes, she was lying on top of Darius, who was lying on her bed.

His heated gaze burned her. “Ride me.”

Peyton had never been on top before. She was suddenly self-conscious. He’d be able to watch her. But then she could see him, too. And she would be in control. The idea had appeal. She found the condom he’d dropped onto the quilt.

She sat up, straddling Darius’s lean hips. She scooted down to his thighs. Peyton opened the packet, then rolled the protection down the length of his erection. She loved the way he responded to her touch. “Are you ready for me?”

Darius’s voice was husky. “Very.”

She smiled into his heated gaze. “Just making sure.”

She crawled back up his body, allowing her breasts to rub against his torso. Peyton rose up on her knees and positioned Darius at the opening to her core. She lowered herself onto his erection as Darius lifted his hips to slide inside her. He stretched and pressed her until her whole body was awash in pleasure. Her nipples tightened. Her core flooded with desire.

“So good.” Darius pressed his head into her mattress.

“Mercy. You too.” She leaned forward to kiss him.

Darius caught her breasts in his hands. He stroked and caressed them, rubbing the nipples until she groaned. Moisture pooled in her. Her body heated. Her pulse raced. She sat back, riding Darius faster, squeezing him inside her harder. She arched her back, bracing her hands behind her on the mattress.

“Take what you want.” His voice was a spell on her. Darius touched her spot, rubbing, pinching, patting her until her body quaked. “There?”

“Yes. Yes.” The muscles in Peyton’s thighs trembled. Her lower abdomen tightened. She rocked her hips against his finger even as his erection pushed deeper inside her. The pleasure was as sharp as pain. Her breath hitched in her throat. Her blood roared in her ears. Her heart pounded in her chest.

Darius grabbed her hips, pressing her against him and rising higher in her. “Let go. Just let go. I’m here. I’ll catch you.”

Peyton threw back her head as her body exploded. Wave after wave of pleasure rode over her, tossing her body in Darius’s arms. And then she felt him coming. His hips lifted from the mattress. His fingers tightened on her thighs. They were suspended in time and space for seconds. Then they came crashing down.

Much later, Darius kissed Peyton’s forehead before rolling onto his back. A chilled breeze came between them.

“Stay.” Peyton turned toward him. Her voice was a whisper in the dark, half command, half plea.

Darius fought the urge to give in. “I don’t have a change of clothes. I didn’t plan this.”

Peyton gave a throaty laugh. “Impulsiveness is sexy only to a point.” She shifted, snuggling closer to his side.

Darius’s body stirred. “I don’t want people whispering about us. I don’t want the matchmakers to know they were right.”

“Were they?”

Darius waited for the fear to creep in. It didn’t. He turned to face her. “What do you think?”

“I think you’d be more persuasive if you’d remembered to bring a change of clothing.”

Darius laughed. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” He climbed from the bed and swiped his clothes from her floor.

“You didn’t disappoint me.” Her words were husky, filling his body with heat.

Darius had to leave before his good intentions went up in flames and he climbed back into her bed. He made quick work of dressing, though he was distracted when Peyton slipped out of bed and wrapped her sexy little figure into a pink cotton robe. Once they were clothed, Peyton led him to her front door. Darius stopped to get his sweater.

She paused with her hand on the doorknob. “Sleep well.”