Red-Hot Nights: Daring in the Dark

“I run. A lot. At this point, I’m probably hovering in marathon-training range.” He laughed at himself. “And never underestimate the efficiency of the proverbial cold shower.”

As it stood now, a cold shower sounded better and better on more than one count. Sweat slicked him and her skin glistened with a fine sheen of moisture. He was a sick beast when a woman sweating struck him as sexy.

“I didn’t know you were a runner. I’m nowhere close to marathon training, but I run five days a week.”

“Are you sexually frustrated, as well?” He might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

“No. I have a fat ass,” she said with a cheeky grin that held a smidgen of self-consciousness. He bit back the protest that her ass was perfect, enticing and far from fat. She went on, “We should run together some time.”

Somehow running with her to relieve the stress of Tawny-induced lust seemed self-defeating and warped. He liked it. “Maybe we should.”

“How about tomorrow?” she said.

Depending on how long it took to restore the power, he’d definitely need it.

“It’s a date then.” Poor word choice. “I didn’t mean a date as in a date.” Yet another reason he avoided being around her. His brain seemed to become nothing more than rat turds rolling around in his empty head when she was near.

She raised her eyebrows. Amusement at his verbal bumbling danced in her eyes and twitched at her lips. “I knew what you meant.”

From the other room her cell phone rang. She scraped her chair back, excusing herself.

Simon stayed in the kitchen to offer her some privacy. He began to clear the table. Without the hum of the refrigerator, the AC and all the other white noise associated with electricity, he couldn’t help but overhear her conversation, even with the radio on.

“Yes, Mom, I’m fine…. No, he’s not here. He got caught at the gallery…. No. I’m not alone. One of Elliott’s friends stopped by…. Yes. He’s a photographer…. No, they don’t know when they’ll have it back on…. No. No sign of looting or vandalism, but yes, we’re going to stay in.” Her voice lowered. “Mom, improper isn’t the same here as it is at home. And I’d rather not be alone…. Yes, I’ll call you later.”

Elliott had flown down to meet Tawny’s parents after the engagement and given Simon an earful afterward. Very conservative, very Southern, very proper. Rarified members of the genteel Savannah blue-blood set, her father was a surgeon and her mother was a lifetime member of the garden club. They’d lunched at the country club.

It took less than a thimbleful of imagination to figure out Mama Edwards had reprimanded Tawny over the impropriety of being alone in her apartment during a blackout with another man. God help them both if her mother had overheard their conversation. And at least her mum called to check on her. Simon doubted he’d even crossed his parents’ minds. He’d been off their radar screen since he left home. Who was he fooling? He’d never registered on their radar screen.

Tawny walked back into the kitchen just as he finished rinsing and stacking the bowls. “My mother,” she confirmed. “They heard about it on CNN.” She took in the tidied kitchen. “You cleaned up! If I weren’t already taken, I’d keep you for myself.”

Her teasing words were a dagger to his heart.

“Ah, but there is Elliott, isn’t there?” He deliberately chilled his tone.

“Yes, there is Elliott.” She put her cell phone on the counter and turned to him. “But that reminds me, exactly why were you and Elliott coming over this evening?”

4

SIMON HAD GROWN UP IN New York City and had never seen an actual deer caught in headlamps, but he experienced a sudden onset of empathy. Bugger. If he’d been thinking with his whole brain instead of sniffing about after Tawny like some lust-driven horn dog, he would’ve seen this coming, should’ve anticipated the question. Instead she’d figuratively caught him with his trousers down. Simon didn’t feel like a very bright boy.

“It’s a bit of a mystery to me.” He was a terrible liar.

“Uh-huh.”

She clearly didn’t believe him. And he might stretch the truth to protect her from what he perceived to be Elliott’s selfishness, but he couldn’t knowingly lie to her. However, exactly how Elliott planned to handle this impending fiasco was a mystery to him.

She picked up her cell phone. “Let’s call Elliott. It’s not as if he’s busy or anything if he’s locked in the gallery without electricity.”

Simon winced inside. She’d be devastated to know just how busy Elliott might be at the moment.

Tawny speed dialed the number and drummed her fingers on the counter.

“Hi, Elliott. Everything quiet over there? Fine … Nothing. We ate cold pizza and fruit. I asked Simon what it was you wanted to talk about tonight. Apparently he’s as in the dark as I am…. No, I didn’t intend that as a pun…. So let’s talk now…. I know you wanted to be here, but you might as well tell me over the phone, because you’ve aroused my curiosity. Don’t make me wait. You’ve got to satisfy me.”

Aroused … wait any longer … satisfy me. She talked to Elliot this way and he still got off on someone else? That told Simon all he needed to know about his friend. Since Elliott wasn’t dead, he must be gay.

“Yes. He’s right here. Okay.” She huffed out a breath and handed the phone across to Simon. “He wants to talk to you.”

Simon reluctantly took the phone.

Tawny planted her hands on her hips and glared at him. Brilliant. Forget a private conversation. Not that he blamed her. She had to feel jerked around.

Instinct told him he wasn’t going to like where this was headed. “Elliott?”

“Tawny wants to know what I wanted to talk to her about.” Elliott sounded positively panicked.

Simon leaned against the counter and crossed one foot over the other. “Right.”

“I can’t tell her over the phone,” Elliott said as if Simon had demanded he do that very thing.

Simon braved a glance at Tawny’s set features. “I don’t believe there’s a choice.”

“But there is.” He recognized Elliott’s wheedling enthusiastic tone. Whatever it was, Simon’s instincts were already screaming no. “The right choice. You tell her.”

Simon damn near dropped the phone. “No.”

“Yes. The more I think about it, this works out better.”

Maybe for Elliott. Cold day in hell and all that.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Si. You two already don’t like one another. And what else are you going to talk about? What have you got to do stuck there in the dark with one another? This blackout could last several hours.”

“Not a chance.”

“Think about it. It’d be better this way.” Was it only twelve hours ago that he’d declared nothing Elliott did could compromise their friendship? He was rethinking that position. “You don’t know Tawny the way I do. She’s not going to give up on this until one of us tells her. I can try feeding her some line about wedding plans, but when she finds out the truth, that’s just going to make it a thousand times worse.”

“I don’t see why your conversation can’t wait.”

“I’m telling you, she’s sexy and sweet but beneath those soft curves and big green eyes she’s relentless when she wants something. She’s a steel magnolia.”

Simon recognized that truth. He’d experienced it firsthand when she’d sunk her teeth into the topic of his love life. He considered banging his head against the counter or perhaps the cabinet. Anything solid would do.

Could this night possibly get any better? First he was trapped with a woman he wanted beyond reason. Now said woman was about to hound him to no end for news sure to crush her. And he was the lucky devil doing double duty. Not only was he in the firing line to be shot as the messenger, but who else was around to endure the messy aftermath? And when it was all said and done, he’d wade through hell and back if he thought she needed him.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Simon, you are the best friend a man could have.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” This wasn’t for Elliott. This was for Tawny. Because she deserved better than hearing the truth over the phone while Elliott was locked in with his new lover. Because it might render him asunder, but he would give her a strong shoulder to cry on and be there for her.

“Okay. I’m grateful. Eternally grateful. Let me talk to Tawny for a minute.”

Silently Simon passed the phone back to Tawny.

“Yes? … He is? … Okay. Stay safe and I’ll talk to you later,” she said. She flipped the cell phone closed, disconnecting the call. She picked up her glass and polished it off. Putting the empty goblet on the counter, she looked at Simon expectantly, some of her former exasperation lingering in her eyes and the set of her mouth.

“I understand you have something to tell me?”

Apprehension knotted Simon’s gut. The proverbial shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

“Let’s go in the other room. You’ll want to sit down for this.”

SIMON LOOKED GRIM. SO MUCH for the let’s-all-jump-in-bed ménage-à-trois theory, although she already pretty much knew that was toast. What could possibly warrant that rigid, resigned set to his jaw, and was that a flash of pity in his eyes when he looked at her?

The truth slammed her. She sucked in a calming breath. Elliott was dying. He’d been handed down some awful diagnosis and the two of them were going to break the news to her. She was the worst human being possible, having erotic dreams about Simon and wallowing in a private lustfest while poor, brave Elliott faced the specter of death alone.

Simon leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his fingers linked together. He turned to face her. “Elliott should be the one telling you…. I was only coming to lend moral support…. I’m not sure where to begin.”

Tawny squared her shoulders and sat straighter on her end of the sofa. She’d be brave. “How long has he known?”

Simon did a double take. “How long have you known?”

“Well, just now.”

Simon slanted a questioning look her way. “Now?”

“I figured it out and Elliott can count on me to stand by him, even if the wedding doesn’t happen.” He might be too sick or he just might not have enough time to make it to the altar.

“Tawny, what is it that you think you know?”

“Elliott’s dying, isn’t he? What is it? Cancer? A tumor? How long does he have? I knew he’d been acting different lately, but I thought …”

Simon waved a hand, stilling her. “Let’s back up a bit. You think Elliott’s dying?”

“Isn’t he? You look like the Grim Reaper.”

“I always look like the Grim Reaper.” Simon sighed. “As far as I know, Elliott’s healthy as a horse.” Whew. She sagged against the sofa, limp with relief. As long as Elliott was healthy, nothing could … “He’s been seeing someone else.”

What? She shot up. “Bastard.” She’d kill him. Here she’d been feeling guilty over dreams, when all the while Elliott was playing Bury the Bone with someone else. “Is it someone I know?”

“I think you’ve met him.”

It took a few seconds for the definitive him to soak through her haze of shock and anger. “Him? Did you just say him, as in Elliott’s seeing a guy?”

Simon offered a curt nod. “That’s what he told me this morning.”

“A man? A man! I’ve been dumped for a freaking man?” Another woman was bad enough, but a man? She’d never been so angry and humiliated in her life. And don’t forget betrayed.

The hot press of tears gathered. Dammit. She didn’t get really mad that often, but when she did, instead of ranting and raving she cried. It sucked.

Simon shook his head. “I don’t think he necessarily wants to break up. He just wanted to come clean. He says it’s only been once and he thinks he’s bisexual.” Simon looked grimmer than ever.

Elliott’s nerve floored her. He didn’t necessarily want to break up? That was rich. And it fueled her anger. She didn’t have anything against homosexuals, but she wasn’t marrying one. She tugged at the ring on her finger. It stuck on her knuckle. That was the final detail that totally unhinged her. Tawny, the family screwup, had once again managed to not get it right. Her anger spilled over in the form of hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She tugged again. Finally she yanked the ring off. She shoved it into Simon’s hand. “I won’t be needing this any longer.” The last word ended on a sob.

She was so angry she was shaking. And blubbering.

Simon slid across the space separating them. She caught a glimpse of his face. He looked positively stricken. He folded her into his arms, pulling her against the wall of his chest, cradling her, rocking her back and forth. “Please don’t cry, Tawny. It’s going to be okay.”

Stern, austere, sarcastic Simon offered her solace. That this man who didn’t like her very well was reduced to having to comfort her went a long way in cooling her anger and stemming her tears. Crying when she was angry had proven a curse of embarrassment since childhood.

That was almost as humiliating as her being inadequate enough to send Elliott to seek male companionship. She ought to have some measure of pride and pull away, but somehow it felt less embarrassing to simply stay where she was, pressed against Simon’s chest. Plus it was a very nice chest.

“How amusing for me to offer you advice on your love life when mine was down the toilet and I didn’t even have enough sense to know it,” she said against his shirt. “How pathetic.”

“Tawny, never refer to yourself again as pathetic.” He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head back until she looked at him. He gentled away her tears with his thumbs. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. His jeans-clad knee pressed against her bare leg. “There is nothing remotely pathetic about you. You’re beautiful and sexy.”

Simon could obviously lie with the best of them. She knew her eyes and nose were swollen from crying. Some women cried prettily. She wasn’t one of them. She was fairly certain she wasn’t looking her level best. And then there was the little matter of Elliott dipping his wick … definitely where it didn’t belong. “Yes, I’m so beautiful and sexy, I drove my fiancé to being gay.”

“Right now I’m very pissed with Elliott. And even though he’s my friend, he’s an idiot.” He patted her awkwardly on her shoulder.

Poor Simon. Small wonder he’d been so reluctant to broach this subject. “It was bad enough that he stuck you in the middle. You don’t have to say all of this. And don’t worry, I’m through crying. When I get angry, I cry. Charming little quirk.” She dashed away the last of her tears.

“Elliott is all kinds of a fool.”

She sniffled. This was the man she’d seen the day he’d photographed her, the man she’d glimpsed behind the wall of reserve. He really could be very nice. “It’s very chivalrous of you to say that.”

“I don’t have a chivalrous bone in my body. I’m stating the obvious. You’re beautiful and sexy and Elliott’s an idiot,” Simon said.

Tawny opened her mouth to argue the point and Simon interrupted her.

“Perhaps this will convince you,” he said, lowering his head and capturing her mouth.

TAWNY TASTED LIKE EXACTLY what she was—forbidden fruit. Sweet, hot, drugging, addictive. He felt her hesitation and surprise, tasted the brine of her tears.

Simon pulled away from her mouth and the temptation to plunder and explore. He raked his hand through his hair. “That was out of line. I apologize.”

She shook her head. “No.” She linked her arms around his neck and pulled his head back down to hers. “Please don’t apologize,” she said, her breath warming him. Her lips molded to his and a fantasy came to life. Tawny kissed him, hard and hot.

He knew she was angry with Elliott. Knew he was payback. Knew he should walk away. But while his head said one thing, his heart said another. God help him, he returned her kiss. Six months of pent-up passion unleashed within him. He’d lived with fantasies. And now he held the flesh-and-blood embodiment of those fantasies in his arms.

Her tongue probed at his lips and the last vestige of his resistence deserted him. He buried his hands in her hair and crushed her to him. She strained against him, her anger, her frustration almost palpable. And then it was gone, replaced by something less volatile—and far more dangerous. She softened, her mouth now giving rather than taking. Offering. He took and gave in return.

Simon slid his hands from her hair and stroked down the satin warmth of her bare shoulders. She moaned into his mouth and shuddered against him.

Reason took a holiday. He sank back onto the couch and she followed him, lying against him, between his thighs. Her hips pressed against an erection he couldn’t deny. Her fingers winnowed through his hair as he thoroughly explored the hot sweetness of her mouth. He plied his hands along the sexy curve of her back. He would love to photograph the lovely curve of her neck, bared by her upswept hair that led to the sinuous line of her back. He touched her with the reverence of an artist and the appreciation of a man.

The intensity of her kiss shook him. She pressed against his erection in supplication and he groaned into her mouth. He filled his hands with the full roundness of her buttocks and pulled her harder against him. She slid one leg over his, straddling his thigh, opening herself to him.

He ran his fingers along the silk of her thighs, his knuckles brushing against the edge of her panties. Oh, sweet heaven, they were wet.

“Oh, Simon,” she moaned into his mouth, “you always make me …”

She provided a voice-activated sanity check. He wrenched away from her and steadied himself on one elbow, although she remained between his thighs. What the hell was he doing? He’d been one second away from slipping his finger beneath the elastic of her panties and touching her intimately. He gulped air and sought some measure of his control that had been woefully missing a few seconds ago.

Tawny remained atop him, her body pressed intimately against his. Her arousal, mingled with her perfume, was a heady scent.

“I’m sorry,” he said. And just how sorry was he with one hand still on her delectable bottom? He jerked his hand away and rubbed his brow.

She scooted to the other end of the couch. He sat up, missing the press of her between his thighs, as if a vital part of him had been amputated.

Tears still clung to her lashes. Passion weighted her lids. His kisses had left her lips swollen and ripe.

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. “I didn’t mean to … that shouldn’t have … I got out of hand.”

“Please don’t apologize, Simon. You didn’t exactly force yourself on me. I crawled on top of you.” She looked away from him, throwing the fine line of her nose and the curve of her cheek into shadowy relief. “You must think I’m a slut.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, contrite. He had the utmost respect for her—slut had never crossed his mind. He’d kissed her to show her how desirable she was, because telling hadn’t worked. Instead he’d further compromised her self-esteem.

“Never. You were upset, I was out of line and it won’t happen again. I never meant to take advantage of you.”

She shook her head. “You didn’t take advantage of me. I was the one out of line.” She touched his hand and then jerked back when she realized what she’d done. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I won’t throw myself at you again.”

He almost pointed out that she should have a very good idea of just how much he’d enjoyed it since she had been riding the ridge of his erection. It had left him hard, but it had by no means posed a hardship. His body screamed that she could throw herself at him any day, any way, any time.

Tawny curled up, tucking one foot beneath her. She smoothed her fingers over the back of the couch. “Did you know about Elliott?”

Elliott. Much better than discussing that kiss. “No. On either count. He’s never even hinted at being gay or at being interested in someone other than you.”

Although maybe the signs had been there but Simon had been too obtuse to see them. Elliott was a bastard for cheating on her and dragging Simon into it, but Simon believed Elliott cared for Tawny. Right now she was hurt and betrayed, but she must still care for Elliott. As a friend, it was his role to ensure neither Tawny nor Elliott did anything rash regarding their future that they’d later regret. That’s how a man of honor would behave.

She huffed out a breath. “I don’t feel quite so stupid if you didn’t have a clue either.”

“I thought he was joking when he first told me.”

“Well, I know he couldn’t have possibly orchestrated a blackout, but how convenient for him. This way he could stick you with telling me, the scum-sucking son of a bitch.”

He bit back a laugh. She definitely had a colorful way with the English language. He didn’t want this woman pissed at him. “I know you’re hurt. I would be, too. But in the morning you’ll feel differently about all of this. You and Elliott can work this out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, which did incredible things to her already pretty damn incredible cleavage, and directed a haughty look his way.

“Why don’t you ring him?” Simon tried again. He’d spent enough time around women to know that talking, venting, was a big deal. And Elliott, who avoided confrontation at every opportunity, certainly wasn’t going to initiate a conversation. “Talk to him. I’ll go in the other room and give you some privacy.”

She threw up a staying hand, her nose in the air. “Not going to happen. I have nothing to say to Elliott. Well, maybe a thing or two, but not while he’s there with his new lover.” She shook her head. “No thanks. And I don’t even want to think about what they’re probably doing right now.”

“That makes two of us,” Simon said without thinking.

“And what’s there to say other than he’s a two-timer who better not have given me some communicable disease he picked up while he was out screwing around?”

“He says it was safe sex.”

“I hope he’s not lying about that,” she said.

“No. I asked him bluntly.”

“That’s a relief. So other than the satisfaction of cussing him out, I don’t need to talk to him. There’s no going back and there’s no going forward. We’re playing on a whole different ball field now. I’d had some doubts in the last couple of weeks and this just nailed it.”

Had she really been having doubts? His skepticism must’ve shown.

“I can tell what you’re thinking. Sure that’s a convenient way for me to save face, but it’s true. Ever since I started having—” she stopped as if she’d almost said something she shouldn’t “—well, second thoughts. And I’ve had an increasing sense of Elliott trying to shape me into what he wanted me to be.”

Elliott had laughingly said once on a double date that he possessed a better sense of style than Tawny. Simon also recalled another comment that Elliott needed to take her shopping. Both times Simon had thought Elliott out of line and far off the mark. Simon liked her sense of style. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Elliott has very specific ideas.”

“Uh-huh. Trust me. My parents have been trying to mold me long enough. I recognize the signs. Regardless, Elliott and I are history.”

Which left her a free agent and him still constrained by the bounds of friendship.

5

COULD SHE HAVE POSSIBLY made it any clearer than if she’d held up a sign inviting him to kiss her again? And again. And then take it further. To pick up where he’d left off, with his fingers brushing against her wet panties.

They both obviously wanted one another. He’d felt her damp underwear and she’d felt his rock-hard erection. And she’d just told him in no uncertain terms that she no longer had a future with Elliott.