Forbidden Heat (10 page)

“Hey, you’re hogging the woman,” Jake said as he cupped her other breast.

Trey released her, and Jake pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She smiled up at him with the same delighted expression she’d given Trey a second before, and Trey couldn’t help feeling a little jealousy. An emotion he immediately stomped down.

Trey tugged the oven mitts from her hands, ignoring how her fingers immediately stroked through Jake’s long hair, hanging loose past his shoulders. Trey donned the mitts, then carried the casserole into the dining room. Jake appeared with a bottle of wine and a corkscrew, then set about removing the cork while Danielle placed fine crystal wineglasses on the table by each white porcelain plate with a burgundy band around the edge trimmed in gold. Gold flatware completed the place settings.

“I hope you like it. It’s a curried chicken and rice casserole . . . my own recipe,” she said.

“It smells delicious.” Trey sat down at the round table with Danielle to his right and Jake to his left, soft light from tall tapered candles in crystal star-shaped holders setting the table aglow.

“So, Danielle, do you make dinner for men often?” Trey asked.

She picked up a big serving spoon and placed it into the casserole, then scooped some onto her plate. “Not really.” She smiled. “I’ve never been involved with two men at the same time before.”

Trey smiled, knowing she was avoiding his question. He wanted to know if she’d gone out with a lot of men . . . and if she’d ever fallen in love. She’d had a rough time growing up—being all alone—and although he wanted her to be happy, the thought of her in love with someone else bothered him. Probably because he couldn’t stand the thought of her heart being broken.

But even more . . . he wanted to know if she thought he . . . and Jake . . . were special.

“What do you do for fun?” Jake asked.

“Oh, um . . . Well, I like reading manga.”

“You mean Japanese comics?” Jake took a bite of his dinner.

“Well, sure, but some of the story lines are very complex and they cover a broad range of story types.”

Trey grinned at her defensiveness. “I know that women dressed in various costumes and uniforms are popular in manga. Is that where you got the idea for the maid outfit?”

Her cheeks stained pink as she nodded.

“What else do you like to do?” Jake asked.

“Well, I play online games. You know . . . where you become a character in a simulated world and interact with other people doing the same thing. It’s really quite fascinating. You can live a whole alternate life there. Be whatever you want. Do whatever you want.”

Trey watched her as she focused on her food while she talked. And by interacting with people online, she could totally avoid interacting with real people. He had a strong feeling she spent most of her spare time hiding from the world, and he doubted she dated much. Yet, she didn’t seem shy about sex.

“Have you had any serious relationships?” Trey asked.

She took a bite of her food, then chewed slowly. “No, not really. I mean, I did date a guy for about eight months once, but his company transferred him to New York and it sort of ended. Mostly I keep it pretty casual.” She shrugged and took a sip of her wine. “I mean, I’ve got my life pretty well set. I don’t really need a man. Except for sex, of course.”

“Of course.” Jake raised an eyebrow at Trey.

Jake seemed to understand as clearly as Trey did that Danielle would not readily let someone into her life, because she would be afraid of depending on that relationship, then possibly losing it and being left all alone again.

“If it’s sex you’re looking for, does that mean these visits could become a regular thing?” Trey asked.

She picked up her burgundy linen napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “Well, would you like them to be?”

How could she sound so doubtful, as if she thought he might tell her no?

Trey glanced at Jake, then back to Danielle. “Absolutely. I think it would be great. How about next weekend you stay at my place?”

The light breeze brushed across Danielle’s cheeks, her hair swirling behind her as she pedaled the borrowed bicycle along the river. The tiny ripples on the surface of the water glittered in the afternoon sun, and the tall trees, the leaves rustling softly, sent dappled sunlight along the smooth gray surface of the bike path.

She had forgotten how beautiful it was here. The combination of the lovely setting and the pleasant heart-pumping activity made her feel vibrantly alive. Her gaze strayed to Trey and Jake riding alongside her, wearing shorts and Tshirts. And the view of hard male muscle and tight buns didn’t hurt either.

As they reached the top of the current rise, the library tower from the university came into view between the trees along the shore, off to their left. Then, through a clearing in the trees, she could see the whole campus laid out below them. The sprawling psychology building, the blocky fortress that was the mathematics and computer science building, the chemistry and biology buildings linked by glass walkways. And new buildings she didn’t recognize.

“Those are the new residences they built about five years ago,” Jake said, noticing her gaze.

She nodded, remembering how difficult it had been for students to find a place to live. Building those residences would have been a godsend to the students here . . . yet the change bothered her. Things had been perfect the way they’d been. Now things had changed.

They continued to ride, the downward slope making it a fast, easy pace. The small blocky forms in the distance grew to life-sized multistoried buildings. They crossed Riverside Road, then past the southernmost parking lot, then along the main path across campus. A few students sat along the small lake—more like a large pond, actually—feeding the ducks. Attendance was light during the summer, she remembered.

“Do you want to go see Hanover House?” Trey asked.

That was where Danielle had shared a residence room with Harmony. Where she had found her first real friend . . . a friend she’d let slip through her fingers as soon as she’d left this place.

“I talked to the administrator last week and he said we could go in and see your old room.”

“I . . . uh . . . don’t know.”

“Why don’t we grab a beer at the pub first?” Jake suggested.

“That sounds like a great idea.” She could use a drink before rousing any more memories from her past.

The pub hadn’t changed much in all these years. They walked down the stairs to a dimly lit room of round tables each surrounded by chairs, anywhere from three to six per table. While here, one wouldn’t know if it was sunny or snow-ridden outside. No outside light penetrated the Cave, as it was called.

Trey and Danielle sat down while Jake wandered toward the bar. Only one other table was occupied. A young man and woman, books spread out on the table in front of them as they sipped beer from pilsner glasses.

Jake plunked a pitcher of beer in front of them, then put down a tower of three glasses. He unstacked them, then tipped the pitcher to fill each with the amber, fuzzy liquid.

She hadn’t had beer in years, but the bitter, yeasty taste reminded her of good times spent with people who had been her friends—including the two men at her side. She sipped again, the cold beer refreshing after the long ride here. She hadn’t liked beer when she’d arrived at university, but it was aff ordable, especially with a pitcher shared with others . . . and made her feel part of the crowd. She’d liked that feeling. So she’d acquired a taste for beer.

“So, Jake, you said you teach now,” said Danielle. “Math, right?”

Jake shook his head.

She raised an eyebrow. “Computers?”

Trey chuckled. “You’ll never guess.”

That could only mean one thing. “No, you don’t teach philosophy?”

“That’s the one,” Jake confirmed.

“But you always liked subjects with definite right or wrong answers. Things that didn’t have shades of gray.” Then she remembered that logic and artificial intelligence had been areas of study included under philosophy. “Of course, you pursued your interest in AI, right?”

“Not exactly. Except as a study in ethics. Should intelligent machines be created, and if they were, would they have souls?”

“Okay. That really is a change.”

As she gazed into his eyes, she realized he’d probably gone searching for answers. When he’d lost Trey, he might have been seeking an understanding of why people behave the way they do. Why people accept some things and reject others. Like Trey being afraid to embrace his sexual orientation. Like society’s long history of rebuffing same-sex couples. Like even when people accepted an alternate sexual orientation, they often still required that the people in question choose one gender or the other, asserting that the very real feelings bisexuals have for those of their same gender are a choice, rather than an inherent and totally spontaneous desire they have no control over.

Being bisexual must be a confusing and difficult path . . . made more difficult for Jake because even his lover, Trey, couldn’t accept what they had. Trey’s discovery that he was bisexual seemed to allow him to deny his desire for Jake—or any man—and embrace what he felt was a normal, or more acceptable and safer, type of relationship. Heterosexuality.

It must have been a terrible blow to Jake, despite his apparent calm acceptance, to lose someone he’d cherished so deeply. And still did.

As they stepped into the bright afternoon, Danielle noticed that dark clouds threatened the edges of the glorious blue sky. Before they’d left Jake’s house, they’d stuffed towels and bathing suits into their backpacks in hopes of enjoying a swim after their visit to campus.

“Maybe we should skip that swim and head back,” she suggested. She didn’t even mention going to her old residence, hoping they’d forget about that entirely.

“Nonsense,” Trey said. “It’s not much farther. Anyway, a little rain won’t hurt us.”

When she was younger, she used to love being out in the rain. She glanced at the darkening sky. Was she becoming stodgy?

“Okay, let’s go.” She began pedaling and the men fell in beside her.

About fifteen minutes later, they turned off the main bike path to one winding through the woods. Ten minutes after that, with still a good twenty minutes of uphill riding to their destination—a swimming hole in a small clearing—the sky began pelting them with large, heavy droplets of rain. Slowly, at first, her shirt splotched with large, wet stains. . . . Then the drops came faster, until she was drenched.

“Nice view,” Trey kidded.

Her bra was totally visible through the light cotton shirt. Of course, she didn’t mind the view of Trey’s shirt clinging to his awesome tight abs.

A flash of lightning lit the sky and a sharp crack of thunder nearly sent her flying off the bike. Lightning flashed again, followed by a rolling boom across the distance. Shivers ran through her, as much from the pyrotechnics as from the chill of the air traveling across her wet body.

“Maybe we should find some shelter,” Jake said. “Trey, where’s that cave?”

“Not too far.”

They rode a little farther, then Trey pointed ahead.

“See the break in the trees there?” He rode ahead a bit, then stopped and dismounted.

Danielle and Jake slowed and stopped beside him.

“It’s over this way.” Jake walked his bike between the trees, then along a narrow walking path. They followed until they came to a sharp, rocky rise.

“Over here.” Trey grabbed his backpack, which had been fastened to the back of his bike, and flung it over his shoulders. Jake grabbed Danielle’s pack and his own, and they followed Trey.

Danielle wasn’t too sure about the idea of taking shelter in a dark, dingy cave, the thought of bats and other subterranean creatures stirring disturbing fears.

When she saw the wide, fairly open, but sheltered area under the rock overhang, she sighed in relief. The area was about twelve feet wide, surrounded on three sides by rock walls and inset about eight feet under the rock overhang. She could cope with this.

She stepped inside the shelter, followed by Jake. Trey dropped his backpack on the ground and unzipped it. He tugged out a rolled blanket and spread it out on the ground, then produced a couple of beach towels, which he tossed on the blanket, still folded. They looked like comfy cushions to sit on.

She heard the zip of Jake’s bag behind her.

“You’re drenched,” he said.

She felt soft terry cloth as Jake dropped a towel over her head, then proceeded to dry her hair.

When he freed her head from his towel-handed grip, she noticed that Trey had removed his sopping wet shirt.

Jake dropped the towel, then pulled his shirt off, too.

“You know, you really should take that wet shirt off .” Jake’s blue eyes glinted, enhancing his totally devilish grin.

“I could do that, but then you’d see me in only my bra.” She smiled. “We couldn’t have that.” She reached under the back of her shirt and unfastened her bra, tugged the loop of one strap past her elbow and worked her arm free, then did the same with the other side. . . . Then she reached under the front of her shirt and tugged the bra down and out.