Authors: Dallas Schulze
The thought made him ache with a primitive need that started deep inside. He shifted his stance, bracing his feet apart, easing
Kelly forward, one hand sliding beneath her buttocks to lift her into the cradle of his thighs.
Kelly gasped at the feel of his arousal pressed against her femininity. The thin layers of clothing did little to conceal the hard ridges of him. Dan's mouth slid across her cheek, his teeth finding the sensitive lobe of her ear.
Her body felt warm all over. Her head was spinning and she could see colored lights dancing beneath her eyelids. There was a heavy ache in the pit of her stomach, a rhythmic pulsing that made her want to press herself closer, that made her resent the barriers presented by their clothing.
Dimly she was aware that she'd felt like this once before, that these same uncontrollable fires had burned in her. New Year's Eve. The night her child had been conceived.
With a gasp, she pushed herself away from Dan, the move so sudden that she tripped and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her by the arms, steadying her. Her eyes wide, she jerked away from even that touch.
Dan shook his head, struggling to adjust to the abrupt change in mood. His body still pulsed with awareness, a primitive demand that he pull her back into his arms and prove to her that this was meant to be.
Kelly watched him warily, one hand pressed to her swollen mouth, her eyes wide above it. It was the fear in those eyes that helped him control the need still pounding in his veins. It was like a dash of icy water on his overheated skin.
"Kelly." He took a step toward her, reaching out one hand. She backed away as if it were a cobra. A huge fist clamped itself around his chest, squeezing all the air out Never in his life had he thought he'd see a woman look at him with such fear. He let his hand drop, careful not to move any closer.
"Kelly, I would never hurt you."
She seemed to relax slightly, though he had the feeling it was more the fact that he kept his distance than his words. Her hand dropped from her mouth as she eased a step backward.
"I don't want...that."
"Okay," he said, as if his body wasn't still screaming a need for "that." "I would never force you to do anything you didn't want."
"I'm not going to sleep with you."
"It's your choice." Looking at her, he had a sudden flash of memory—a gasp of pain, a body that trembled more with fear than passion.
"Kelly, what happened that night—it isn't always like that. I was drunk and I didn't know that it was your first time." A slow flush mantled his cheekbones, concealed by the dim light. No man likes admitting to having been something less than a terrific lover. But he didn't want her to think that it was always going to be painful.
"I know it hurt you. I should have taken more time. It wouldn't be like that again."
Kelly pressed one hand to her heated cheeks, her eyes skittering away from his. "I don't want to talk about it. It was a long time ago. I...it's late. I'm going to bed."
"Kelly."
But she was gone, shutting the bedroom door behind her. Dan stared at the blank panel for a long time, his fists clenched at his sides.
Over the next few days, Kelly tried to pretend that nothing had changed. After one attempt to talk about what had happened, Dan accepted her lead and didn't mention the kiss and its aftermath again.
It was really nothing more than a simple little kiss, Kelly told herself as she scrubbed vigorously at an already clean sink. Just like Krakatoa was a simple little firecracker. The truth was that one kiss had changed everything. She couldn't pretend that she and Dan were ever going to be friends when all he had to do was kiss her and her knees melted.
And what business did she have letting her knees melt? Hadn't she learned anything the first time? Casual sex was a dangerous game and she had no intention of toying with it again.
Not that there would be anything casual about sex with Dan. She felt her cheeks warm, remembering the feel of his mouth, the way his hands had molded her spine. No, it wouldn't be casual, at least not for her. But that wasn't to say that he'd feel the same.
Oh, he liked her well enough, she supposed. But that wasn't enough. Next time she got involved with someone—if there was a next time—it was going to be something rich and deep, something that offered a future. There was no future in getting involved with Dan Remington.
As if she wasn't already involved with him, she thought, her hand brushing fleetingly over her disappearing waistline.
She welcomed the sound of the doorbell, glad for a distraction. Even if it was a salesman, she'd rather listen to him pitch a vacuum than continue on the tangled path her thoughts insisted on taking.
But it wasn't a salesman. It was Brittany Sinclair, looking just as lovely as ever, her thick black hair drawn back from her face in a casual twist that didn't look anything like the haphazard knot Kelly had pulled her own hair into.
"Hi." Brittany smiled, her eyes questioning. "I suppose I should have called first but I was in the area and I thought you might not mind too much if I dropped by. I can go away if it's a bad time."
"It's not a bad time." Kelly stepped back, her smile warming as the other woman stepped inside. Really, it was nice to see someone, even if it was Brittany who just happened to be disgustingly beautiful.
It wasn't until they were settled in the living room with glasses of iced tea that Kelly noticed that the other woman's pregnancy was now obvious. And if the small bulge of Brittany's stomach hadn't given it away, the look of glowing contentment might have.
"It must be nice to be so happy about your baby," she said without thinking. There was a wistful note to the comment that sharpened Brittany's eyes.
"It is. My first pregnancy was a little more...complicated. I was thrilled with Danielle, of course, but I didn't get a chance to really enjoy the pregnancy as much as I would have liked.
This time, I'm enjoying it to the hilt." She smoothed her hand over her stomach, her smile soft.
For a moment, Kelly had the urge to confide that she was also expecting a child. It would be nice to have another woman to talk to, someone who understood what she was going through in a way no man ever could.
Nevertheless, if she told Brittany about the baby, it was going to open the door to questions she didn't feel like trying to answer. She'd told Brittany little more than that she and Dan had only known each other a few months, leaving the other woman to draw her own conclusions as to why she was living with him. If she announced her pregnancy, it was going to bring up a whole new set of problems.
The subject changed and the opportunity was gone. Brittany was, as Kelly had found on her last visit, easy to talk to. She was comfortable chatting about recipes for chicken, discussing a book she'd just read or commenting on the latest political follies.
Kelly had spent most of her life with no one to talk to, with little beyond an active imagination to fulfill the needs usually fulfilled by friendships. There were too many emotional entanglements lying between her and Dan for her to be able to relax completely with him. Though on the rare occasions she was able to forget all that had happened, she enjoyed talking to him.
There were no such entanglements with Brittany. She was able to relax and enjoy herself without seeking out hidden meanings or trying to avoid pitfalls. It had occurred to her once or twice to wonder why Brittany had made it a point to seek her out, but it was hardly (he sort of question she could ask. She finally decided that there didn't have to be a particular reason, beyond the fact that Brittany was a friend of Dan's. It was natural that she'd be curious about the woman who was living with him.
"Has Dan talked to you very much about Michael and me?"
Kelly glanced up from the fresh iced tea she was pouring into Brittany's glass. The question seemed odd. What was there to tell?
"Not much. He said that you were friends of his."
"Well, I'm glad he still considers us that"
"Why wouldn't he?" Kelly asked, wondering at the sudden turn in the conversation.
"There were some problems a couple of years ago—nothing insurmountable," she added, hoping that was true. "When Dan came back from prison, he—"
"Prison!" Kelly set her glass down so hard it drew a protesting ping from the glass-topped table. "Dan was in prison?"
"Oh, dear." Brittany stared at her in dismay. It had never occurred to her that Kelly wouldn't know that much. After all, she was living with him. What had happened between the three of them might be too painful for him to share with anyone. But the odd turn of events that had led up to it was certainly nothing to hide.
"Maybe I shouldn't have brought this up," she said, wishing she had listened a little more carefully when Michael had told her to let the issue of him and Dan alone.
"Dan was in prison," Kelly repeated, dazed. "Why?"
"It was really a sort of misunderstanding," Brittany said weakly. There was no way she could back out of this now. She could hardly leave Kelly wondering if she was living with an ax murderer.
"A misunderstanding? What sort of a misunderstanding puts a man in prison?"
"It's not as difficult as it might seem in other parts of the world." She sighed, cursing her own big mouth before continuing. She spoke rapidly. "Dan was going on an archaeological expedition with his father. This was about four years ago. It was all legal and aboveboard, arranged through a university in Los Angeles. They were going to spend the summer assisting professional archaeologists on a site in Central America.
"It had been a dream of Dan's father, and I think Dan went along more to keep him happy than because he was passionately interested. Unfortunately the plane crashed in a rather isolated area, killing everyone on board, or so everyone here thought."
"Dan's father was killed," Kelly said, half to herself, remembering the conversation Dan had had with his father's old foreman.
"His father was killed," Brittany confirmed. "And everyone thought Dan had been killed, too. Only he'd been thrown clear of the plane. He was hurt and not thinking too clearly and he wandered away from the site. Some villagers took him in and tended his wounds. They turned out to be hostile to the local government, which just happened to mount a cleanup campaign. Dan was swept up in the middle of it and accused of being an American spy sent to assist the rebels."
"Didn't he tell them who he was?"
"Of course, but they knew all about the crash. An American rescue team had confirmed that there were no survivors. Obviously Dan was lying to conceal his real purpose. So they threw him in prison."
"That's horrible," Kelly said, trying to imagine the frustration he must have felt, the fear. "How long was he there?"
"Almost two years," Brittany said, her expression sober as she remembered the thin, hardened man who'd come home on a snowy Christmas Eve.
"Two years," Kelly whispered.
"He's never really talked to me about it—hasn't talked to anyone as far as I know. He was changed when he came back—older, a touch bitter."
She broke off when she saw that Kelly wasn't listening, her vision turned inward as if trying to imagine what Dan must have gone through.
"Look, I shouldn't have mentioned it. It certainly wasn't my place to be the one to tell you about this. I know Dan would rather have done it in his own way."
"That's all right," Kelly assured her, thinking that she was the last person Dan was likely to tell.
"Still, I didn't mean to poke my nose in where it didn't belong," Brittany said, guilt coloring her voice.
Kelly shook her head, filing away what she'd just learned to pull out later, when she was alone and could really think. She forced a wider smile.
''Don't worry about it. But you asked if he'd said anything about you and Michael. Why?"
"Oh, it's a long story. Maybe I shouldn't go into it," Brittany backtracked. If Dan found out what she'd done, he'd be justifiably furious. And Michael—it didn't bear thinking what Michael would say. That she deserved Dan's fury was about the kindest comment he was likely to make.
"What could be worse than what you've already told me?"
"Well." Brittany hesitated and then gave a mental shrug. In for a penny, in for a pound. Some good might as well come of her blundering. "Dan has sort of cut himself off from most of his friends since he came back. I just wondered if he'd said anything about it."
"Not to me. But then there are obviously a lot of things he doesn't tell me," Kelly said lightly.
"Men can be peculiar," Brittany offered. "I'm still finding out things I'd never known about Michael."
Kelly was willing to bet that she wasn't finding out things quite as startling as the fact that he'd spent time in a prison. But then Brittany's relationship with Michael was obviously based on love and trust. Her relationship with Dan was based on—what on earth was it based on?
Brittany rose to leave. "I was thinking that it might be nice if the four of us got together."
Kelly was touched. Perhaps Brittany really did want to be her friend Or perhaps she wanted to try to ease the tension that surrounded them all when they'd bumped into one another in the mall.