Coming Clean (3 page)

Does Grant have any clue you’re more than half in love with him? Would you try to take my husband from me?

“
Other
guys? You make it sound like he and I dated.” Cade dipped his chin and snorted. “But no, not really. There was one guy after college he had issues with but it was more a personality thing than the fact it was man. And you know he hated Shelly.”

“He didn’t hate Shelly,” she protested automatically. “Well, not until she hurt you. Then he hated her.”

“Can’t say that I blame him there. Divorce ranks second only to dismemberment by rusty fork.” Cade straightened and cocked his head. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You guys okay? I’m getting a weird vibe lately, like there’s something you two aren’t saying. I’d really hate to hear you guys were having trouble.”

She smiled, the knot in her chest loosening. The concern on his face was etched too clearly not to be sincere. “We’re fine.”

“You sure? I mean, if he’s being a bonehead, I’ll kick his ass for you.” His face softened, his voice deepening to a hushed whisper. “He has to know how lucky he is to have you.”

If there were a sweeter man anywhere in the world, it would shock her. She couldn’t stop herself from walking around the island and hugging him. This was going to be fine. It would be a sexual experiment, a tasting of forbidden fruit and an erotic adventure, but nothing would rock her marriage or their friendship. It could only make both stronger.

“I think he’s lucky to have us both.”

She rubbed her chin along his shoulder, soaking in the hard strength of his hug. Outside, Grant walked around the patio, lighting torches.

And he will have us both, Cade, in every way.

“Gimme!” Vivi laughed, holding out her hands.

Cade removed the smaller gift and pushed the larger-present-bearing chair closer to her with a chuckle. “It really isn’t much but open that one first.”

The tear of paper filled the quiet evening, and Cade held his breath. Vivi opened the box, a wrinkle of confusion on her forehead. “A record player?”

“It was my mom’s.” A jab of disappointment poked into his chest. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. It hadn’t cost that much to get the thing repaired, but finding someone who would work on the ancient thing had taken time. He’d thought if anyone would appreciate it, it would have been Vivi. Maybe he was wrong. “She used it in her classes.”

Grant leaned forward. “I remember that thing. It stood on the little red shelf in the corner. I always thought she’d get some couple really wrapped up in a waltz and they’d spin right into it and knock it over.”

“She used this in her dance class?” A sparkle brightened Vivi’s eyes, a gentle smile rounding her cheeks. “Cade, that makes this an heirloom. You shouldn’t give it away.”

“I think it belongs with you.” He shrugged.

“I love it.” She angled over the box and gave him a quick smack on the lips. “Can you imagine how much music this thing played over the years? The waltzes, the jitterbugs, the sambas? Oh, I wish I had some of her records!”

Cade set the pink box in front of her and winked. “Happy Birthday, sweetheart.”

“Cade!” Her squeal thrilled him. She ripped into the box and gasped. “Oh my God, look at these! You can’t get some of these artists on CD or download. There are like two dozen classics here.”

“Thirty-four, just like you,” he teased. He reached into the box and pulled a faded cover out. “This one is the one she played trying to teach Grant how to dance for your wedding.”

Vivi took the record in trembling fingers. “She was so frail then. I wish I’d known her better.”

Grant ran his hand along Vivi’s nape with a low laugh. “She swore I was the only student she couldn’t teach a basic box-step.”

“You’re a lost cause.” Cade snorted.

Vivi bounced out of her chair and unwound the cord. Cade moved the player to the side of the grill so it would reach the outlet and took the short stack of 45s she handed him. Memories flooded him as he blew invisible dust from one black disc and lifted the needle arm. White noise and pops rose into the air, then the smooth sounds of the Coon Sanders Nighthawks Orchestra wrapped around him.

“Less-than-perfect sound but, man, listen to that heart. No one plays like that anymore.”

“No, they don’t. It’s perfect.” Vivi closed her eyes and swayed. “It gets in my blood and just sings.”

Torchlight flickered over her hair, pulling the gold from the auburn and making it shimmer. Cade swallowed a familiar knot. Shit, she was beautiful. In some huge cosmic joke, they’d never been single at the same time and had never become anything but friends. Next to Grant, she was his best friend, and there was no way he should be thinking the things he was thinking. But he couldn’t help it.

“Come dance with me, Cade,” Vivi called.

He fought a groan—whether of desire or regret he wasn’t sure. “Vivi, I’m sweaty and dirty from work. Plus I haven’t danced in years.”

“You grew up doing these dances. It’ll come back to you. Come on, please?”

Grant chuckled. “Might as well do it.” He twisted the cap off another beer and leaned deeper into his chair. “You know what she’s like.”

Shaking his head, Cade bent to unlace his heavy boots. “All right, but no complaining if I step on your toes.”

The smooth flagstones of the patio were cool beneath his sock-clad feet but an internal fire brewed in his gut as Vivi took his hand. Dancing with her was like foreplay, it always had been. With Grant watching, it bordered on erotic. He wrapped his arms around her and a forbidden thrill raced up his spine. She smelled like oranges and spice, the fragrance blending in his mind with sensual lotions and oils. Her pert breasts pressed into his chest and slid with a delicious glide when he shifted.

One record finished and another dropped, a lively samba rhythm pulsing the air. Vivi laughed into his face and matched him step for step. She was right, everything came back to him with ease. He didn’t have to think about where to put his feet, where to touch her for a spin, how far to lean her back into a dip. Everything flowed like wine, richer and headier than any alcohol.

She whirled to him, lips lifted in a grin that begged to be kissed off. Over the fading aroma of dinner spices and dish soap, the sunshine of her hair permeated his nostrils, and he drew a deep inhale. The fragrance tightened his stomach and he resisted the pull. It would be easy to cop a feel during a move, claim it was an accident, but he couldn’t do that to her. Or forget the million and one reasons why he couldn’t do that to Grant.

Over her head, he caught Grant’s gaze. A predatory tremor gripped his bones. Grant’s slouch had gone from lazy to enthralled. His coffee eyes were heavy-lidded, sexually aroused and mesmerized. Was Grant getting off on Vivi and him dancing?

Cade palmed her hip and led her through a short spin sequence. Grant’s eyes moved, following her ass, but slid back and rested on
his
hips…and he licked his lips. Cade’s heartbeat increased, pounding hard and fast at his temple. Was Grant really watching
him
?

Record after record fell from the queue. The samba morphed into swing, swing into a tango. Vivi held her pose, waiting for the first step. Cade forced a lump of sexual confusion down and gripped her hand. The muscles in his back and ass tightened, feeling the invisible stare as their dance moved them across the stone floor. He stepped between Vivi’s legs, tracing the complicated Argentine dance patterns.

The sensual, intimate dance moves mimicked sex and Cade’s body responded. Somewhere in the night, a switch flipped and the dance went from recreation to seduction. The heated apex of her shorts brushed his thighs over and over, skimming his groin in erotic sweeps. His cock hardened and his balls tingled. He looked up and Grant’s knees were spread, a thick ridge in his jeans pushing at his zipper.

Vivi’s hips rocked to his and her arms twined around his neck. His hand skimmed her stomach, her ass, the curve of her waist. Sweet feminine breath bathed his chin as he twirled her out then back. His body rubbed against hers in a reverse hold, and she pushed her ass into him, cradling his erection in the cleft of her butt. He spun her around and her leg raised, wrapping around his hip for a swoop. His fingers tightened automatically on her thigh.

Hot, pounding music vibrated the night, and her hips ground into his, a mating call to a deeply buried instinctual urge. The animal in him growled in answer. Shit, her pussy was damp. He could feel it through her thin shorts, and somewhere inside him hunger roared. She had to feel his hard-on but she never stopped her sultry rhythm. The beat of his racing heart nearly drowned out the sexually tinged melody.

The end of the dance loomed, the final loop around the patio, the last suggestive clench. From arm’s length, she twirled back to him and his arm came around her waist, pulling her up for the finishing dip. Her fingers dove into the back of his hair, her face lifted to his, and it happened. They made eye contact.

Everything froze. Panting and sweaty, bodies plastered together—all he had to do was move his head half an inch. Her chin raised and her lips parted, inviting his mouth. Temptation bloomed like a spring rose. The static at the record’s end buzzed like the lust soaring through his veins, and he knew he was lost before his body responded. With a hard tug, he fit her snugly against him, head lowering closer to hers, desperate to taste what she offered. For a moment her warmth wiped the reminder that she belonged to someone else from his mind.

“Cade, you going to kiss my wife?”

Cade jerked back so fast, Vivi lost her balance and nearly fell against him. His chest heaved, and blood pounded in his ears. Fear mixed with dread and was fed by guilt. Vivi’s eyes were wide, her cheeks pink, and her nipples pushed at her shirt like tiny buttons. Nowhere on her shining face was there an ounce of recrimination or guilt. Energy radiated from her instead, as if she’d swallowed sunshine and it beamed from each pore.

She wanted him and that knowledge, that thrilling and horrifying knowledge, chilled him.
What the fuck am I doing? I nearly kissed Viv while Grant watched. How could I do that to him? How could she?
Cade opened his mouth but no apology would come.

A frantic thumping sounded from inside the house. A curse slipped off Vivi’s tongue and she rushed into the kitchen. Cade forced his head to turn, to look at his best friend. Grant hadn’t moved from the chair but he was no longer reclined into the cushions. He sat ramrod straight, a beer bottle held in a squeezing grip.

“Grant. I’m sor—”

“You were going to kiss her.”

He thought about lying, about laughing it off as a joke, but it was too late for that. Betrayal soured in his mouth. He’d crossed a line no friend should ever cross. Since fourth grade they’d been blood brothers, buddies, the guy you couldn’t call to bail you out of jail because he’d be sitting in the cell with you asking “Man, what the hell did we do?”

Pain scored his lip and only then did he realize he’d bitten it so hard the flesh throbbed. “Okay, is this part where you kick my ass or what?”

Grant stared, an unreadable blank look on his face. No anger laced his voice, just an eerie stillness. “Why would I beat your ass?”

Cade gaped. “Oh, I don’t know, just that little thing about her being your wife and all. You know, stepping on your matrimonial toes or whatever.”

Thick sarcasm dripped from every word like maple syrup off a fork. Cade realized he
wanted
Grant to deck him, wanted the normal jealous male response to offer an escape out of this Twilight Zone mess. If Grant behaved in a standard predictable manner, then Cade could chalk up his behavior to stupidity and walk away ashamed but with every puzzle piece in place.

Grant put the half-full bottle on the ground and stood. He ran his hands down his face and drew a slow, bracing breath. Cade steeled for a punch. He didn’t blink as Grant took the few steps to bring them face to face. “I saw it, Cade. You nearly kissed her and Vivi…Vivi wanted you to.”

“I swear to God, Grant, it was just the music and the dancing and…Viv loves you, man, and I…I’d never—”

“Grant, help!”

Vivi’s cry splashed over them like cold water. All tension scattered and concern swept in. Grant took off at a dead run and Cade was tight on his heels. They barreled through the kitchen to the small laundry room. Slick water rolled from beneath the shaking and groaning washing machine. It was vibrating across the floor while a harsh beat thunked a lopsided melody. Vivi stood on her tiptoes in a pool of water, reaching for the power cord.

“Fuck!” Grant darted inside. He jerked Vivi back and yanked the cord out of the wall. The washer wheezed and rolled to a shuddering stop. The quiet drone of the matching dryer echoed loudly, broken only by Grant’s harsh breathing. “Goddamn it, Vivi, you know better. Electricity and water don’t mix.”

“It didn’t stop you.”

“Not the point, babe.” He glared.

“I hate this piece-of-shit machine.” The washer had walked away from the wall, angling out into the tiny laundry room. Vivi jerked the top-load lid open and frowned. “Great, not even half-finished.”

“Maybe it’s just the belt.” Cade’s disbelief was clear in his voice but Vivi lifted hopeful eyes toward him.

“I doubt it.” Grant raked his hands through his hair. He looked to Cade and shook his head. “Come on, let’s rip the sucker open and see if we can salvage it.”

Vivi yanked a laundry basket closer and started digging sopping wet, soapy linens out of the machine’s belly. Drips plopped to join the lake under her feet as she shoved masses of towels into the basket. Cade pulled a blanket waiting its turn to be washed from the laundry bin and spread it out on the wet tile to soak up the water.

Grant rubbed his hand up her back. “Sorry, babe. I knew it was on its last legs. I didn’t think it would die mid-wash.”

“How long do you think it’ll take you guys to get this back up and working? If we’re going to leave early in the morning, I don’t want to spend all night washing sheets for the cabin.”

“Viv.” Cade looked up into her worried eyes. “Go finish them at my place. It won’t take that long. We’ll work on this and we can still roll out at five.”

“This sucks,” she muttered, storming out of the small room. Cade piled the wet blanket in an empty plastic hamper.

Grant grabbed it and the heavy laundry basket, motioning over Cade’s head with his chin. “Toolbox is on the upper shelf. Be right back after I load these in the car for her.”

“All right.”

Apparently, Grant wasn’t holding a grudge. Cade watched them disappear and blew out a breath. Now could he just get rid of the denied sexual longing in his gut?