Dancing in the Dark (18 page)

Just that easily, his brain turned off.

He tumbled her onto her back, clasped her face in his hands, kissed her hungrily. She felt soft as the snow and the night; she tasted like the nectar of a thousand flowers. He bit gently at her throat, her breasts, her belly. The musky female scent of her rose to his nostrils like a drug as he kissed her thigh.

“No!” The word exploded into the silence. “Not my leg. Don’t. Oh, don’t. It’s horrible. Seth, please. It’s ugly!”

“Nothing about you could be ugly to me.”

She gasped as his lips sought and found the scars, the puckered flesh that would forever mark what had been pieced together with screws and metal plates.

Wendy’s head fell back against the pillows. “Why did you do that?” she said in a broken whisper. “I didn’t want—I wanted you to remember me the way I was.”

She spoke with such deep sorrow that it almost broke his heart.

“You
are
the way you were. You’re better. You’re stronger and braver.” He turned her face to his. “I love you. Do you really think anything could change that?”

Something could. Oh, yes, something could change that.

Wendy shut her eyes, desperately blocking out the swift rush of memory, that last night when Seth had begged her not to go to Lillehammer, not to leave him. He’d said he was worried because she was so tired, too tired to ski such dangerous runs.

Tears trickled from under her lashes. Seth murmured her name, kissed her closed eyelids, kissed her mouth until he felt it soften.

He bent his head lower, kissed her breasts, lavished attention on the furled apricot buds until he heard her sigh.

“Wendy,” he whispered. He sheathed himself again, then moved down her body, tongued her navel, nuzzled her thighs apart and kissed her there, where her taste was sweetest.

She cried out and he slid his hands beneath her, raised her to his lips, let her soft, feminine flesh meet his seeking mouth.

She moaned, writhed beneath him, cried out, and when she did, Seth rose over her and entered her, groaning as he felt the muscles in her womb contract around him.

“You’re mine,” he said fiercely. “Forever.”

“Yes,” she sobbed, “yes, yes...”

And then they were beyond speech, beyond anything but love.

* * *

S
ETH
AWOKE
TO
DARKNESS
and an empty space in the bed beside him.

“Wendy?”

He sat up. It was late—1:05, according to the illuminated face of the bedside clock—and the wind was still blowing.

Had she left him? She couldn’t have. She had no way to get down the mountain, and besides, she wouldn’t have left him, not after tonight.

Somewhere along the way, he’d pulled up the blankets. Now he tossed them aside, swung his feet to the floor, felt around for his jeans and pulled them on. Maybe she was in the bathroom. No. The bathroom was dark, but now that he was standing, he could see a soft light seeping under the bedroom door.

He went into the hall, leaned his elbows on the loft railing and saw Wendy in the kitchen, seated at the butcher block counter, her back to him. A thin plume of steam was rising from something in front of her. A mug, probably; there was a kettle on the stove and an open box of tea bags beside it.

He went down the steps quietly. He’d dreamed of seeing her here just like this. Her hair was hanging down her back in the wild tendrils he loved. She was barefoot, dressed only in his flannel shirt; it was long enough to cover most of her scars, but he could see a small area of the puckered skin that he now knew stretched from her knee to her hip, and he wondered, not for the first time, how she’d survived such a brutal injury.

Everything inside him wanted to go to her and press his mouth to the wounded flesh, but he knew it would be a mistake. She still insisted on walling him away from what had happened to her in Norway. It was bad enough she judged herself by the accident, but that she should even imagine he would...

He must have made a sound because she spun around. “Oh,” she said, and grabbed for the hem of the shirt. In the process she knocked over the mug.

Seth rushed forward. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. See?” She laughed shakily and set the mug upright on the counter. “There were only a few drops left.”

He cupped her face, bent to her and brushed his mouth over hers. “Sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“And I didn’t mean to wake you.” She glanced down at her leg, flushed and tried to tug the hem of the shirt lower. “I just...I couldn’t sleep.”

He lifted her hair from the back of her neck and pressed his lips to her soft skin. “You should have woken me.”

“It’s all right. I had to call home, anyway.”

His eyebrows rose. “At one in the morning?”

“Uh-huh. I figured my folks might be worried.”

“Sure. I understand.” He didn’t. Yes, the call home made sense, but there was a stillness to her. A removal. What had changed between the time they’d made love and now? He nodded toward the kettle. “The water still hot?”

“I think so.”

“Great.” He went to the stove, made himself a cup of tea he didn’t want. “Shall I make you some more?”

“No. Thank you. This was fine.” Her eyes met his, then slid away. “Actually, I should go home.”

You are home,
he wanted to say, but instinct warned him to keep it light. “Have you looked outside? The drifts are probably four feet deep, and the wind’s still blowing.”

“I know, Seth, but—”

“Sweetheart.” To hell with caution. He went to her and took hold of her hands. They were icy in his. “What’s the matter? Did I...did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to. I would never—”

Wendy shook her head. “Making love with you was wonderful. It’s not you. It’s me.” Her gaze dropped to the counter. “I shouldn’t have let this happen,” she said in a small voice.

Seth slipped onto the stool next to her. “Why not?”

“Because it only complicates things.”

Her hair had tumbled forward, hiding her face from him. He smoothed it back, put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up, his heart constricting at the sorrow he saw in her eyes.

“How can what we feel for each other complicate things?” he asked softly.

“It just can.” She drew in a breath. “Everything changed, the day I took that fall.”

“I know.”

“You don’t. Seth—”

He put his finger across her lips. “You’re the one who had the accident, not me. I’ve been selfish, not fully grasping what that means.” His smile was rueful. “Took me a while to figure that out, huh?”

“You’ve figured out more than I have.” Wendy gave a sad laugh. “I woke up in your arms. For a second, I thought I was dreaming—and then I realized it wasn’t a dream, that I was really here, with you.” She swallowed hard. “Everything seemed so clear in Paris. I would come home, I’d talk to this doctor, he’d agree to operate on me and...and I’d be myself again. But...”

“But?” Seth urged softly.

“But there’s more to it than that.” Her fingers tightened on his. “How could I have been so foolish, Seth? How could I have thought an operation on my leg could turn back the clock?”

He could almost feel the flutter of hope inside him. “Are you saying you’ve changed your mind about wanting the surgery?”

She smiled a little at that. “You still think it’s a mistake, hmm?”

“What I think doesn’t matter,” he said truthfully, and wondered how he could not have admitted that all this time.

She put her hand against his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you for saying that.” She hesitated. “But I can’t answer your question. I don’t know what I want. Not now.” She drew back and her eyes met his. “The only thing I’m sure of is that we have to talk. About me. About us. About what happened in Lillehammer.”

He looked at her, at this woman he had never stopped loving, and knew she was right. They did have to talk. He had to tell her about Pommier, and once he did, things would move quickly.

And he might lose her.

But not now, not at 2:00 a.m. under the cold fluorescent glare of the kitchen lights. Not now, after he’d only just found her again.

“I agree.” Seth stood and drew her to her feet. “It’s time we talked about everything. And we will, in the morning.”

She started to protest, but he kissed her to silence and swung her into his arms.

“Seth,” she said with a little sigh, “we can’t keep putting this off.”

“Okay. We’ll talk in bed.”

“We can’t talk in bed.”

“Of course we can.”

“Liar,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back, and kissed her. He didn’t stop kissing her until they were naked in his bed again.

She reached up to him in the darkness and clasped his face.

“This is a strange way to start a conversation,” she said.

“It’s the best way to start one.”

“Seth? I love you. You need to know that. I love—”

He took her mouth with his, moved between her legs and thrust deep inside her. Wendy cried out, lifted herself to him, and soon they were lost to the world, alone together on a turbulent sea of passion.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

W
ENDY
CAME
AWAKE
slowly, drawn from sleep by the kiss of morning sunlight, the scent of coffee and rich spices...and the warm whisper of Seth’s mouth against hers.

“Mmm,” she murmured, her lips curving against his in a tender smile.

“Mmm, indeed.” Seth’s voice was early morning rough. So was the stubble on his jaw as she cupped his face. “Good morning.”

“G’morning,” Wendy muttered, and rolled onto her belly.

“Come on, sleepyhead.” Seth planted a kiss between her shoulder blades. “Rise and shine.”

“Wha’time izit?”

“Not a morning person, huh?” He sighed dramatically. “Terrible, the stuff a man learns about a woman the first time they spend the night together.”

Wendy smiled into the pillow. She rolled onto her back and looked up at him, her eyes filled with warmth. “It was, wasn’t it? Our first whole night together.”

“And the first time we ever made love in a bed.” He grinned and kissed her. “Whatever will they think of next?”

She sniffed the air. “Coffee?” she said hopefully.

“Uh-huh. And fresh orange juice. And a stack of cinnamon French toast with maple syrup. How’s that sound?”

“Decadent.” She smiled and linked her hands behind his head. “Cinnamon French toast, huh? I’m impressed.”

“Don’t get too impressed, babe. I should warn you, that’s it. Fresh O.J. and French toast is my entire gourmette repertoire.”

He said the word with a grin that made it clear the mispronunciation was deliberate. Wendy laughed. It seemed as if she’d done more laughing in the past few days than she had in a very long time.

She touched her fingers to his mouth. “Well, I’m impressed anyway.”

“Good.” He caught her hand and bit lightly into the pad at the base of her thumb. “It was a toss-up between cinnamon toast or a bowl of cornflakes. The toast won.” He leaned down. “How about a kiss for the cook?”

Wendy pondered the question. “If I kiss you, will you tell me the time?”

“Deal.”

Their kiss was long and sweet. Seth leaned his forehead against Wendy’s and sighed.

“Better than my toast.”

“Don’t change the subject. It’s early, isn’t it? Really, really early.” She sighed. “You have to go to work.”

“Nope,” he said, his tongue planted firmly in his cheek. “My boss gave me the day off.”

“Your...?” She smiled. “Ah. I forgot the benefits of working for yourself.” She drew his head to hers and kissed him again. “Then what are we doing up so early?”

“You have an eight o’clock appointment.”

“What eight o’clock appoint—” Wendy gasped. “Amy! I promised to meet her at Twin Oaks.”

“The kid’s probably awake already, just killing time while she waits for the next installment of Akela the Wolf Dog.”

Wendy scrambled up against the pillows. “I can’t believe that I almost forgot!”

“I can.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “And I’m flattered.”

“Take that ego of yours and get out of the way, Castleman. I have to shower and dress.”

“And have breakfast.”

“Is there time? If the roads aren’t clear—”

“They are.” Seth planted a hand on either side of her. “There’s plenty of time. It’s just after six, and before you shriek and scream that I shouldn’t have awakened you...” He eased her back against the pillows. “...I did it because I thought we’d start the day off slowly.” His eyes locked to hers as he drew down the blankets and bared her breasts. “Any ideas how we could manage that?”

Wendy caught her breath as he stroked the tips of his fingers over her skin.

“Lots,” she whispered, and drew him into her arms.

* * *

T
HERE
WAS
NO
SOUND
but that of Wendy’s voice in the gathering room at Twin Oaks as she told more of the wondrous story of Akela the Wolf Dog and his beloved companion, Janie.

She’d said the other children would have to wait until evening to hear it, but they’d all been waiting for her when she and Seth reached the B and B. The children’s parents were there, too, and now they were all hanging on every word.

“Akela laid his massive head on Janie’s shoulder. ‘I promise,’ he said softly, ‘that I’ll always love you.’”

A soft sigh rose from the children seated on the carpet in front of Wendy, their faces turned up to hers. Not one of them had moved in the past twenty minutes. Even Robin and Randi were motionless.

“Janie felt tears sting her eyes. She wanted to cry with happiness for the wolf dog and with sorrow for herself. But she was a brave little girl. Akela had always said she was, so she blinked hard against the tears and wrapped her arms around his neck.”

The man seated beside Seth leaned closer. “She’s terrific,” he said quietly.

Seth smiled. “Yes. I think so, too.”

“‘I’ll come back to you, Janie,’ Akela said. ‘Every autumn, when the tundra turns to flame, listen for the whisper of the wind at the first new moon and you’ll hear my song as I journey here, to spend winter beside you.’”

Another communal sigh rose from the children. Wendy’s soft voice and wonderful story held them enthralled. Seth saw how their faces glowed with excitement. Wendy’s eyes held that same bright light. She was happier than he’d ever seen her, except in the days they’d skied together....

And in his arms last night.

For a little while this morning, after they’d made love, he’d held her against him and let himself believe that everything was going to be all right. Then she’d sighed and stirred against him.

“I missed you so much,” she’d whispered. “All these years... If you only knew how many times I wanted to fly home and go into your arms...”

“But you didn’t.”

“I couldn’t.” She’d lifted her head a little and looked into his eyes. “There’s so much you don’t know, that I haven’t told you about—about my fall and what it did to me.”

“You don’t have to explain, sweetheart,” he’d said softly. “I was too hurt to think things through back then, but I understand now. You must have felt as if you’d lost everything that made you who you were.”

She’d nodded, and her hair had feathered like silk against his shoulder.

“Yes. I’d never imagined myself as anybody but Wendy Monroe, champion skier.”

The words had hurt his heart. She must have sensed it because she’d added, in the very next breath, that the only other Wendy Monroe who’d ever existed was the one who loved him.

“And I lay in that hospital bed,” she’d said, so softly he’d had to strain to hear her, “and listened to what the doctors told me, and realized that I’d failed
both
Wendy Monroes, the one the whole town had sent off with posters that said, Go for the Gold...and the one who wanted to build a life with you.”

Hearing that had baffled him. How could she have thought the town would be disappointed in her? More important, how could she have thought her injuries would make a difference to him? She should have known he’d never stop loving her. All he had ever wanted was to love her and make her happy, to marry her so they could fill their lives with laughter and kids.

He’d told her all of that as he’d held her this morning, but instead of the smile he’d hoped for, Wendy’s face had closed up.

“It’s getting late,” she’d said. “I won’t get to Twin Oaks on time if we don’t get started.”

That was when he’d known that everything wasn’t going to have the fairy-tale ending he’d foolishly hoped for. He didn’t have her back. He probably never would, but he wouldn’t think about that. Last night would have to be enough.

Now, watching her as she spun a magical tale for the children, he knew he was kidding himself. A lifetime of Wendy would never be enough. He had to get through to her, make her see that they belonged together.

The children leaned forward, listening to the last words of the story. Wendy fell silent; the kids were silent, too, and then everyone in the room burst into applause. Seth waited as the children and their parents rushed up to thank Wendy and tell her how much they’d loved the story. When they finally left, he rose and went toward her.

“You were wonderful,” he said. He took her face in his hands, lifted it to his and brushed his mouth over hers. “Now I want you all to myself. No B and B, no guests, nothing but you and me and a day full of surprises.”

“More surprises?” She laughed. “Will I like them as much as your house?”

He slipped his jacket on, then helped her into hers. “Tonight’s, definitely. This afternoon’s...well, keep an open mind, okay?”

Her eyebrows rose. “This sounds serious.”

Her tone was teasing. His wasn’t.

“It
is
serious,” he said. “Trust me, okay? No matter what?”

She said she would, but he could see the confusion growing on her face as they drove north. Well, he’d felt just as uncertain when he’d made these plans early this morning. She’d fallen asleep in his arms. When her breathing was slow and even, he’d slipped from the bed and gone down to the den.

First, he’d checked his answering machine. Just as he’d hoped, Pommier had left a message. He was heading back to Cooper’s Corner. Could they meet tonight, at Twin Oaks? Seth reached him on his cell phone and cut right to the bottom line.

“Remember what I said about coming straight out if I wanted to ask you to see Wendy Monroe, Doc? Well, I’m asking. I know you’ve sworn off taking on new patients, and I know I’m presuming on our relationship—”

Pommier interrupted him and said, gently, that he’d been waiting for Seth’s call.

“You were?”

“Aunt Agatha’s always right,” Rod said.

Seth had hung up, chuckling. Then he’d made a call to Larry Cohen, who was in the volunteer program with him at Ski Wee. Would it be okay to stop by later and bring someone with him? Someone who might find the program interesting?

“Absolutely,” Larry had said, sounding pleased.

At least somebody was looking forward to this, Seth had thought, and decided not to consider the possible consequences of either phone call. Instead, he’d busied himself by making breakfast.

He looked at Wendy, sitting beside him in the cab of his truck. One thing was certain. When he introduced her to Pommier, she’d be delirious with joy.

But when she saw where he was taking her now...

He was running one hell of a risk. For all he knew, what he was doing might ruin any chance they had at a permanent relationship, assuming they had a chance at all. But he didn’t have any choice. He loved Wendy. He had to do this.

Seth tightened his hands on the steering wheel.

Gina had been reduced to wringing her hands about her daughter. Howard was still trying to relive his life through her. Who was there to open her eyes to the truth, to who she really was, except him?

Wendy thought she knew all her options but he was willing to bet that she didn’t. Not deep inside, where it counted.

He had to make her see that there were many ways to be a winner in life.

A sign flashed by. Seth’s stomach did a slow roll.
Just another few minutes,
he thought, and put on his turn signal.

“Almost there,” he said lightly.

“Almost where?” Suspicion put an edge on the words. “Seth? I want to know where we’re going.”

He’d taken a back route, counting on the fact that the crossover road that would lead them to their destination was new enough that she wouldn’t figure things out until the last minute. Now he had to tell her the truth.

“To Jiminy,” he said, and braced himself for the ex-plosion.

Wendy didn’t disappoint him. She swung toward him, her face white with shock.

“Are you crazy? We are not going to Jiminy!”

“We’re expected.”

“
Expected?
By whom?”

“I’m a volunteer at Ski Wee. I spoke to a friend this morning and told him we’d be dropping by.”

“Why would you tell him that? Ski Wee hasn’t a thing to do with me!”

“It has to do with kids,” Seth said calmly, “and with skiing. And it seems to me that you like both.”

“I
hate
skiing.”

Her voice was low and trembling. He wasn’t sure if it was with anger or pain. He suspected it was both, and he was almost afraid to look at her, because if there were tears in her eyes, it would be the end of him. Was he doing the right thing? He had to believe he was. Someone had to make her see that she was as whole as she’d ever been, that her life had not ended the day she fell in Norway, but had only gone in a different direction.

“Is that why you want to go through an experimental operation that’s risky as hell? So you can do something you hate?”

“So I can compete. There’s a difference, Seth. Don’t twist my words!”

“If the only reason you want to ski is to chase after medals, you might as well give up before you start.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Dr. Freud?”

“When we met, you didn’t only ski to compete. You skied because you loved it, because it was part of you.”

“Past tense.
Was
part of me.”

“It still is, even if you’re determined to deny it.”

Wendy glared at him. How could he know what she felt? Her doctors had thought they did, too. One of her therapists had even brought a man who ran a program for handicapped skiers to meet her. Handicapped skiers? The phrase, she’d told him coldly, was an oxymoron.

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed,” the man answered calmly, “but I’m an amputee.”

Wendy had barely glanced at the empty sleeve that hung from his jacket.

“What I noticed,” she’d replied with brutal candor, “is that you’re a cripple, the same as me.”

She’d instructed the therapist to work with her body and forget about playing games with her head. After that, no one had tried to talk to her about skiing.

Seth knew even less about how she felt than the therapist. He was convinced she’d devoted her life to winning and that she thought less of herself now that she couldn’t compete.

But that wasn’t all of it. What would he say once he knew the truth?

Wendy turned her face toward the side window and stared blindly at the forest flashing by. What a mistake she’d made, letting herself fall in love with Seth all over again. She hadn’t intended for it to happen, but when he’d kissed her outside the Purple Panda, he’d made her remember what love could be like. She’d wanted to taste it again, if only for a little while.