Dancing in the Dark (17 page)

“Wendy.” He clasped her shoulders. “Come with me tomorrow.”

“Where?”

“To Jiminy Peak. Let me get you up on skis— No. Don’t turn your face away.” Seth cupped her chin and made her look at him. “You remember that long, curved run?”

“The Left Bank?”

She spoke with distaste. He decided to ignore it. “Right. It’s a nice run.”

“It’s a run for people who don’t know a lot about skiing.”

“How about it’s a run for people who haven’t skied in years?”

“How about it’s a run for cripples?”

She jerked free of his hands, yanked the door open and walked away.

* * *

S
ETH
THOUGHT
ABOUT
going home.

Actually, he thought about saying to hell with it all. What good was a dream about love when only one person was dreaming?

He got as far as putting on his jacket and heading for the door. Then he stopped, mumbled some words that fit the occasion and turned back to the reception desk, where Clint was sorting some papers.

Wendy was nowhere in sight, but her parka was still hanging where she’d left it. She was still around, somewhere.

“You have anything needs doing around here?”

Clint, clever man that he was, looked at Seth’s face but asked no questions. “Well, actually,” he said, “we had a couple of deliveries and I haven’t had time to organize the boxes. You could move them. You know, office supplies with office supplies, publicity stuff with—”

“Yeah,” Seth said, “I get the idea.”

He dumped his jacket on a chair in the storeroom. Then, like Sisyphus endlessly rolling that dumb rock up that even dumber hill, he shifted boxes from one end of the room to the other.

There was nothing like mindless physical labor for working out frustration. For thinking and coming to some sort of a decision.

He was finished letting Wendy push him away. He’d let it happen last time because he was a kid, and what did a kid know about women? Okay. He didn’t know much more about them now—what man did? But at least he wasn’t nineteen anymore. And maybe, just maybe, the reason she’d been able to do it so easily was because, in his heart, he’d never really felt worthy of her.

Seth paused, wiped the back of his hand across his forehead.

No. That was the wrong word. What he’d felt was amazed that a guy like him could have touched the heart of a girl like Wendy.

She’d grown up in a picture-postcard town. She had people who loved her, friends who cared about her. And by the time they met, she’d been surrounded by guys who thought skiing was life.

Well, skiing was fun, but Seth skied for sport. For the rush that came of knowing he could control what was actually a dangerous skid down a mountain, making it into an exhilarating ride. Though he’d never say it out loud because it sounded so corny, he skied for the communion he felt with the snow and the mountains.

Wendy skied for those things, too. The trouble was, she also skied for a medal.

There was nothing wrong with that, if a medal was what she really wanted. But after he’d known her a few months, he’d become convinced it was her old man who wanted the medal a lot more than she did.

Seth grunted as he lifted another box. It was marked Fax Paper, but it felt more like bowling balls. He carried it across the storeroom and eased it down on the floor.

Maybe there was nothing wrong with that, either. Her father had turned her on to Alpine racing because he loved it. So what? Lots of parents introduced their kids to sports for the same reason.

The trouble was, somewhere along the way, winning had become all that mattered. Seth would never forget Wendy’s exhaustion those last weeks before Lillehammer. Her pallor, her nerves—nerves so bad she’d lost her appetite and even thrown up a couple of times.

“Don’t go to Norway,” he’d said. “Stay here. Marry me.” He’d spoken on impulse. He had no real way to support a wife. He was living in a furnished room, working at the ski run, taking a handful of college classes he didn’t much enjoy. But if she’d said yes, he’d have taken a second job, done anything just to make it possible.

But she didn’t say yes.

“I have to go to Norway,” she’d told him, and he’d convinced himself to let her go and get this out of her system.

Except she’d gone to Norway and damn near gotten herself killed. And somehow the fact that she’d lived, that she’d gotten out of a wheelchair when nobody thought she would—somehow none of that mattered once she’d heard there was an operation that might let her get back to chasing that damn medal.

That they’d found each other again didn’t seem to matter, either. Nothing did but that medal.

Seth sat down on a box, reached for a can of Diet Coke that somebody had left in the storeroom, and popped the tab. He tilted the can to his lips and took a long, thirsty swallow.

Wendy had come out with one great truth earlier this evening. It was her life. If she wanted another shot at that medal, he had to introduce her to Rod Pommier. He had no choice.

If the operation was a failure, she’d want no part of him because of the way she felt about her disability. If it was a success, she’d have no room in her life for anything but competitive skiing. She was lost to Seth no matter what he did. He had to accept that, and forget about the foolish dreams he’d thought they’d once shared.

The hell he did.

He had one day before Pommier came back, one day to convince her that she was perfect just the way she was, that he loved her....

That she loved him.

Seth tossed the empty can aside, grabbed his jacket and hurried into the gathering room. The lights were dimmed and the room was empty except for Beth and Clint, seated on the piano bench.

Wendy was just heading toward the main door. Seth ran after her, caught her by the arm as she reached the porch, and turned her toward him.

“Wendy!”

What he felt must have been in his eyes, because she gasped when she saw him. “Wait,” she said, “Seth—”

“The hell I will,” he muttered as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She made a little sound as his mouth came down on hers, and he felt her raise her hands between them. He was beyond thought, beyond anything but fearing he might have lost her for whatever time they’d have together. He clasped her wrists, figuring she was going to try and shove him away, but she didn’t.

God, she didn’t.

She burned in his arms, instead.

“Seth,” she whispered. “Oh, Seth. I thought you’d left.”

“No. Never. I’ll never leave you again.” He burrowed his fingers into her hair, tilted her head back, traced the elegant arcs of her cheekbones with his thumbs and kissed her again. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Me, too. Please,” she said between kisses, “let’s not quarrel. Let’s not talk about skiing or my leg or what might happen tomorrow. Nobody can read the future. I know that better than anyone.”

She was wrong. He could read the future. Part of it, anyway. He knew he’d been wrong to keep his friendship with Rod Pommier from her. The only thing worse than not having told Wendy about Pommier would be if Pommier refused to see her.

Seth wouldn’t let that happen.

He’d set things up with Pommier, then tell Wendy. After that, whatever she decided, he’d accept. But the doctor wasn’t coming back until tomorrow night. Seth had that much time to make the woman he loved see reason.

For now, all that mattered was holding her in his arms, feeling her heart race against his, hearing the whisper of piano music drifting on the soft, silent winter night. Beth was playing an old standard meant for lovers and it took Seth back in time, to a night he’d never forgotten.

His arms tightened around Wendy.

“Remember that night we parked in our place up on the mountain?”

She gave a soft laugh and slipped her arms around his neck. “I remember a lot of nights on the mountain.”

“So do I.” Slowly, he began swaying to the music. “But I’m thinking about one night in particular.” Gently, he turned them in a little circle; Wendy sighed and laid her head against his shoulder. “It was summer. We drove up the mountain and parked. We had the radio playing and you said we’d never danced together. And I said—”

“And you said that we could.” She drew back just a little and tilted her face to his, the memory shining in her eyes. “So we got out of your truck and took off our shoes....”

“And danced in that little clearing, with the moon looking down and the stars lighting your face.”

“You kissed me,” Wendy murmured, “and we made love for the very first time.”

Their mouths met in a kiss as tender as the one they’d shared that night, and just for the moment, instead of dancing on the porch at Twin Oaks, with a slice of winter moon chilling the stars, they were dancing barefoot in the grass on top of Sawtooth Mountain, the night lit by a fat sum-mer moon.

They danced into the darkness, swaying slowly in each other’s arms, Seth framing her face with his hands, Wendy clutching his jacket in her fists, and their kisses changed from the sweetness of remembered love to the passion of love long denied.

Wendy began to tremble as Seth’s body hardened against hers.

“Seth,” she breathed when he swept his hands under her parka, down her spine, cupped her bottom and lifted her into him.

There was only one way for this night to end.

“Wendy.” He kissed her, groaned when her mouth opened to his and she drew his tongue between her lips. He pulled back, knowing that he was close to the edge, knowing, too, that he could take her now but that he didn’t want to, that he needed to make this perfect. “Wendy. Sweetheart. Come with me.”

“Yes. Oh, yes. But where?”

“There’s only one place that’s right for us, darling.”

She looked up into his eyes. “Sawtooth Mountain?” He nodded and she smiled. “It’s the middle of winter.”

“Uh-huh.”

She laughed, and he thought he’d never heard a more wonderful sound.

“We’ll freeze.”

“I promise,” he said huskily, “we won’t.” He bent his head to hers, kissed her throat, felt the pulse leap beneath his mouth. “I love you, Wendy.”

“Oh, Seth.” She thrust her hands into his hair and tugged his face up to hers. “How can you? I’ve been so—”

“I’ve always loved you, sweetheart. I never stopped.”

There were times when lies were simpler and, in the long run, less painful, but this was a night for truth. Wendy drew a deep breath and said the words so long locked within her mind and heart.

“I love you, too, Seth. I always did.”

“Will you come with me?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

Seth kissed her again, then lifted her in his arms. She buried her face in his throat as he carried her from the porch to his truck, and they drove off into the night.

CHAPTER TWELVE

S
ETH
FELL
IN
BEHIND
a snowplow, its red taillights winking against the darkness. The plow made swift work of the heavy drifts ahead of them, leaving the road to snake like a black ribbon toward the mountain. Behind them, the asphalt quickly disappeared under its new covering of snow.

So did Wendy’s euphoria. Were they leaving the past behind and moving toward the future, or were they traveling through a landscape that was more dream than reality? She hoped it wasn’t a dream, because dreams never lasted.

Was she making a terrible mistake? Surely there’d be a price to pay for abandoning all these years of steely resolve. She shuddered, and Seth reached across the console and clasped her hand.

“Sweetheart? Are you cold?”

She looked at him and managed a little smile. “I guess I am.”

He turned up the heat, then took her hand again. His palm and fingers swallowed hers. Seth was strong in the best possible ways. He’d stood up to all the bad things the years had dealt him. Until this moment, she hadn’t let herself admit how much she’d really missed him, not just in her arms but in her life.

“I turned the heat up all the way. That should help.”

How could it, when the chill she felt was bone deep? Heart deep. Oh, heart deep. She’d hurt him so much, this man she loved.

“I’m warmer already.” She tried to sound happy, but she failed, miserably. Confirmation came in the look Seth gave her.

“Wendy.” She saw his jaw tighten, felt his hand press hard against hers. “Sweetheart, if you’re having second thoughts—”

“No.”

She was having second and third and fourth thoughts, but she wasn’t going to tell him that. They were entitled to this night; whatever came next was beyond her control. That was something she’d learned during the past years. You could try to make plans for your life and think you’d included the smallest detail. In the end, it didn’t matter. Life happened. It sort of sneaked up and happened, despite your best plans.

“No,” she said again, quietly. She lifted their joined hands and kissed his work-roughened knuckles. “I want to be with you tonight.”

The conviction in her voice made his heart swell, but only a fool would have missed that carefully added word,
tonight.
Seth decided to let it go. Once he’d talked to Pommier, taken the first step down the road, tonight might well be all they’d have.

“I’ve dreamed about bringing you up the mountain again,” he said softly.

She sighed and leaned her head back. “You know what I’ve never forgotten? That first time we drove up Sawtooth. Remember?”

Did he remember? There were times those memories had been all that stood between him and darkness.

“Would a guy forget the first time he made out with the girl of his dreams?” he said, giving it a light touch. “It was our third date.”

“It was our fourth,” Wendy said in a prim tone. “I’d never have agreed to park on a third date.”

“Yeah, but this wasn’t just any third date, baby. You were with me. Seth Castleman, the make-out king.”

She laughed at his deliberately pompous tone. “Uh-huh.”

“The truth is, you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”

“You wish.”

“I
know.
”

They smiled at each other and then Wendy let out a long breath. “You know what I really do wish?”

“What?”

“That this was your old truck. It had a bench seat, and I—”

“You used to scoot all the way over and sit right next to me, with your head on my shoulder.”

“Remember when that trooper stopped us? He gave us a lecture about seat belts and he said he wouldn’t give us a ticket if we promised not to ride like that anymore.”

“And then he said he had a daughter just about your age, and that he hoped we’d behave ourselves.” Seth grinned. “Would you believe I built a sunroom for him a couple of years back?”

“You’re kidding!”

“It was the same guy. I knew he looked familiar, but I didn’t actually place him until I’d been working at his house for a few days.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“I didn’t think so, because he never said a word—right up until the day I finished.” Seth chuckled. “He wrote me a check, told me how pleased he was with the work I’d done—and then he gave me a man-to-man grin and said he hoped I’d taken his advice and behaved myself the night he’d stopped me on the road up Sawtooth Mountain.”

Wendy laughed. “What did you say?”

“I asked him if he could remember when he was nineteen, and he laughed and said yeah, and that was exactly why he’d given me that warning. We shook hands....”

“And?”

His voice roughened. “And nothing.”

“Seth, what is it? What happened after that?”

“He asked me if you and I were still together.” Seth let go of Wendy’s hand. “And I said no, we weren’t, that I hadn’t seen you in years. He said he was sorry and I said it was okay—but it wasn’t. Until then, I’d done a pretty good job of not thinking about you for days at a time, but afterward—”

“Don’t.” Impetuously, Wendy undid her seat belt and got as close to Seth as she could. “Don’t, please. It was the same for me. I missed you terribly. Every day, every night. You were all I thought about.”

Then why did you refuse to see me? Why did you stay away instead of coming back to the life we’d planned?

The questions drove him crazy, which was in itself crazy, because he already knew the answers. Either she’d figured he wouldn’t want her unless she was perfect, or a life with him wasn’t enough.

No. Damn it, he wasn’t going to think about that. Not tonight. He was taking her to his bed, the bed no woman had ever slept in, and to a house he’d always known, in his heart, he’d built for her.

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it.

“Get back there and buckle up,” he said gruffly. “The road’s icy.”

“Aren’t we almost to the top of the...oh, Seth!” Wendy leaned forward and stared out the window. The windshield wipers and the heavy snow made it difficult to see clearly, but surely she’d just spotted... “There’s a house on the top of our mountain!” She swung toward him, her eyes wide with disappointment. “Somebody built on our land.”

“Yeah. Somebody did.”

“Didn’t you know? Why didn’t you tell me? Who—”

Wendy’s voice broke. Things didn’t stay the same. Her life was proof of that, but somehow—somehow she hadn’t expected—

“Sweetheart, it’s all right.” Seth reached for her hand again. “Forgive me, Wendy. I wanted to surprise you.” He kissed her palm. “It’s mine.”

She stared at him while she absorbed the news. “Yours?” she finally said, and looked at the house again. She could see it more clearly as they headed up the long driveway. The soaring rooflines. The glass. The vertical board siding.

“I bought the land as soon as I could afford it. I began work on the house a couple of years ago.” Seth gave a soft laugh. “Actually, I’m still putting it up. A couple of the rooms aren’t finished yet, and the back deck needs some work....”

Shut up,
he told himself. He was babbling, but damn it, he was nervous. How many times had he imagined bringing Wendy here? He’d planned it so carefully. She’d see the house first by daylight, when the sun poured through the trees and touched the valley and the town with gold. He’d walk her through the rooms and watch her face....

Would she like what he’d built? Would she remember the house they’d planned to the smallest details, and see that they were all here?

“You can’t see much at night,” he said quickly, “especially with all this snow.”

“It’s beautiful.”

He looked at her. She was sitting forward, eyes fixed on the house, and the way she whispered those words made his throat tighten.

“It’s perfect.” She looked at him, eyes shining in the muted light from the dashboard. “It’s the house we planned together.”

The garage door slid open. Seth drove the truck inside and shut off the engine.

“Every inch of it,” he said huskily. “I built this house for you.”

Wendy turned to Seth. The interior garage lights had come on and she could see his face in their merciless glare. Tiny lines radiated from the corners of his eyes; his forehead was lightly furrowed. Time had marked him, but he was still the boy she’d fallen in love with. He always had been, always would be, and suddenly she wanted to weep for all the years they’d lost.

“It’s the most wonderful gift in the world, Seth. Thank you.”

Seth wanted to tell her she didn’t have to thank him, that just hearing the love in her voice was more than enough, but he wasn’t sure he could get out the words. Instead, he climbed out of the truck and went around to the other side. Wendy slid down into his embrace. For the second time that night he lifted the woman he loved in his arms, and carried her into their house.

The snow had stopped and the pale winter moon they’d danced beneath on the porch at Twin Oaks illuminated the staircase and hall. A sighing wind had blown the snow from the skylight in his room, and the moon cast a soft white light on the bed.

“Here’s where I’ve imagined you,” Seth said softly. “In this room, in my arms.”

He lowered her to her feet, letting her slide down his body, thrilling to the little sound she made when she felt his hardness against her.

He kissed her and she kissed him back, tenderly, sweetly, little nibbling kisses that grew more hungry as he unzipped her jacket and she unzipped his. Clothing fell to the floor as they stripped away the layers of fabric that separated them, and when they were both naked, more than clothing lay at their feet. All the years they’d been apart, the hurt, the loneliness were discarded, as well.

They waited, looking at each other. Then Seth made a low, rough sound in his throat and gathered Wendy into his arms. Oh, God, the feel of her. She was silk and satin and molten heat. She was all and everything, and how had he ever lived without her?

Wendy caught her breath at the feel of Seth’s hot skin against her. The thud of his heart. The definition of muscle and sinew. The exciting feel of his aroused flesh against her belly.

She was dizzy with wanting him, terrified of the depth of that want. What if this wasn’t everything she remembered? What if lying in his arms didn’t match the memories of those stolen teenage years? She trembled and she knew Seth must have understood, because he caught her wrists, lifted her hands to his lips and kissed them, closed her fingers and sealed the kisses forever.

“Slowly,” he whispered. “Slowly, sweetheart.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “No curfew, remember?” She felt his lips curve in a smile. “No gearshift knob to get in the way, no cold vinyl seat. We have a soft, warm bed and all the time in the world.”

He kissed her again, gently, and she knew he was giving her time to adapt to what was happening. But she didn’t want time. She wanted Seth, his hands, his mouth.

His possession.

She moved against him, tilted her pelvis so that her flesh brushed against his erection. The breath hissed from between his teeth.

“Wendy,” he said thickly, the word a clear warning.

“Yes,” she whispered, “please, yes.”

He swung her into his arms and carried her to the bed, laying her down against the pillows while the wind picked up and the blowing snow danced like a gypsy against the windows.

Seth bent his dark head and kissed Wendy’s mouth and throat, trailing kisses to her breast. She cried out when his lips closed around her nipple, and rose toward him, her body arching with desire.

“Seth. Oh, Seth. I need—I need...”

He touched her, slid his hand between her thighs. Her head fell back, and when he bent to kiss her, he felt the warmth of her tears on his mouth, the warmth of her body’s sweetest moisture on his fingers.

God, he was going to come before he was inside her. All these years. So many, many years—

“Yes,” he whispered, “yes, yes...”

Quickly, he took a small foil packet from a drawer in the bedside table. When he was ready, he knelt between her legs and slid inside her. Deep inside her. She was tight and hot, just as she’d been the first time they’d made love. Her sobs and soft cries of pleasure were the same, and when she clutched his biceps and lifted herself toward him, the years fell away. He was nineteen, she was eighteen, and nothing would ever be more important than this.

“Seth. Seth...”

Wendy sobbed his name in ecstasy. Seth saw her face, saw everything he’d ever needed in her wide eyes, and he let go of his loneliness, his denial, his anger, and poured himself into the warm, welcoming body of the only woman he had ever loved.

* * *

L
ONG
MOMENTS
LATER
, Wendy stirred.

“Mmm,” she said softly.

Seth smiled as she bit his shoulder lightly. “Mmm is right.” He brushed his mouth over hers. “Are you okay?”

“I’m very okay.” He started to move and she tightened her arms around him. “Don’t go.”

“I’m too heavy for you.”

“You aren’t. I love the feel of you inside me.”

He rolled to his side with her in his arms and gathered her close against him. “That’s good. That’s very, very good, because that’s where I intend to spend a lot of my time.” He twined his fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck, tilted her head back and kissed her again. “How’s that sound?”

He felt her mouth curve against his. “Like a plan I could vote for.”

“That’s two votes, so it’s unanimous.” They lay quietly in each other’s arms for a few moments. Seth shut his eyes. Was now the time to tell her about his connection to Pommier? Would it be better to wait? No. He’d waited too long as it was. “Sweetheart?”

“Mmm?”

“Sweetheart, we need to talk.”

Wendy closed her eyes. He was right, of course, but she didn’t want to talk. Not tonight. Not with such new, wonderful joy in her heart.

“Not now.”

“Sweetheart—”

“Please. No talking. Not yet.”

She rolled over, lay on top of him and kissed him with slow, tender care, sinking her teeth gently into his bottom lip, teasing him with her tongue. She was taking control and, God, she had no mercy.