In Serena's Web (11 page)

“Know
what
?” Brian asked, still confused.

“Well, Josh is one of those rare people who has always
known
himself. I mean, he always understands why he likes or dislikes something. He doesn’t have to ponder it; he just knows. I think in some ways he’s a bit psychic, about himself, anyway. And being a healthy, self-preserving male, he wants complete control of his life.” She reflected, almost in surprise, “We’re alike in that way.”

“The point being?”

“The point being that he
knows
when he falls in love, it’ll be with a brunette, and he’ll fall hard,” she added with certainty.

“How could he possibly know he’ll fall in love with a brunette?” Brian asked in bewilderment.

“He just does. He’s never dated a brunette in his life, and a few truly gorgeous ones have tried to get his attention, I can tell you. But Josh—like you—avoids lengthy relationships. You pointed out once yourself that he’s—um—uncomfortably close to being a rake. I don’t think it’s habit with him; it’s the need to keep control of his life.”

“Ever thought of hanging out a shingle?”

Serena smiled. “Oh, I’m no armchair psychologist. But I know Josh. His fear is based on the certainty that a brunette will be his downfall. And I only hope I’m around to see it, because it’ll be something to watch. Josh doesn’t rattle easily, but I’ll bet some dark-haired beauty will knock him flat on his back.”

After a long moment, Brian said slowly, “You don’t like to lose control either. That night in the garden you said, ‘I won’t lose control of this.’” He hadn’t known quite how to phrase the question, and thought she would probably change the subject anyway. But Serena fooled him.

She met his gaze squarely. “But I’d already lost control,” she confessed. “I found out what Josh will find out one day. You can’t control love. It isn’t made that way. It just happens, like an act of nature.”

He felt he had to say something, but didn’t know what it was.

Shaking her head, she said softly, “I thought I could control you and me, thought I could make you love me. I was wrong. You were right; there’s too much between us. Or not enough.”

Brian stared at her, his throat aching. Clearing it strongly, he said, “Nobility, Serena?”

Unoffended, she thought about that. “No, I don’t think so. Odd as it sounds, I’m a realist. If something doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work. For whatever reasons, you don’t want a commitment. I do.”

“You agreed we should let our relationship progress,” he reminded her, conscious of the tightness in his voice.

She nodded. “I know. But it hasn’t.”

“And you don’t think it will? You’re very calm about it.” He wondered how she could be, if indeed she believed herself to be in love with him. She looked away from his stare, but not before he caught a glimpse of sudden pain in her eyes. What bothered him the most was that she
had
looked away; for the first time she was hiding her vulnerability from him.

“What do you want me to say, Brian? That I’m heartbroken? We both know hearts don’t break. They just hurt. But we don’t die from the pain, even though we sometimes think we will. Time
heals—a cliché, but only because everyone knows it’s true. Well, I’m hurting, if you want to know.”

It wasn’t an accusation, but Brian felt the sting of his own conscience. That … and something else, a new pain he couldn’t define.

She smiled at him, her gray eyes tranquil again. “It isn’t your fault you can’t love me, Brian. I’d be hell for you anyway. I’d distrupt your orderly life.”

With a faint sense of surprise, he heard his taut voice. “You give up too easily.”

“Then what should I do, Brian?” Her voice was quiet. “Play Let’s Pretend? Let’s pretend I never plotted in the first place. Let’s pretend you’ll never feel trapped. Let’s pretend we’ll have an affair and not hurt when it’s over. Let’s pretend I don’t need a promise you can’t give.”

His throat was aching again. “Rena—”

“I suppose I’m an anachronism. Out of step. I suppose I should say, ‘Oh, what the hell, passion might become love.’ But I can’t say that. And you wouldn’t believe me if I did. But if you want to pretend, Brian, I won’t say no.”

She looked down at the cards still in her hand.
Softly she added, “I couldn’t say no to anything you asked of me. Don’t you know that?”

Brian couldn’t take his eyes off her still, averted face. “Is that why you’ve been acting as if I never held you in my arms?” he asked huskily.

She nodded almost imperceptibly. “I can’t control this, remember? You wouldn’t have to ask, wouldn’t even have to touch me. Your room or mine, it wouldn’t matter, not tonight. But in the morning … I’d know there’d be an ending. And you’d feel guilty, because you’d know I needed more than one night, more than an affair.”

Her soft, honest words stole his breath away, and Brian could feel his heart pounding. And he hurt, because a stubborn part of him was still unwilling to consider commitment. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

Serena looked at him finally, her eyes darkening. “And I don’t want to be hurt. But I don’t want to live this way anymore—in limbo. I can’t stand the sleepless nights, and being afraid to touch you.” She drew an unsteady breath. “Let’s pretend, Brian. Let’s make believe it won’t matter in the morning, or next week.”

Brian had to grip the arms of his chair tightly to prevent himself from jumping up and taking her in his arms. “How long could we make believe, Rena?” he asked harshly. “How long before you’d hate me for what I’d done to you?”

“I wouldn’t hate you,” she told him quietly. “I don’t even think I’d hate myself. I’m a grown woman, Brian; I know what I’m saying. I want you. And I’m asking you to let me make that decision.”

He knew the struggle within him was obvious, knew she saw what it cost him to refuse. “No,” he said, finally, hoarsely. “No, Rena, I can’t let you do that.” Stiffly, feeling his entire body ache, he rose from his chair and left the room.

    When Josh stepped into the lounge some three hours later, he found Serena seated alone. The clutter they had left earlier was gone. There was a soft drink beside her, and she was absently dealing crooked poker hands to imaginary players.

“Where’s Brian?” Josh asked, sinking down in a chair.

“In his room, I think.” She looked at him. “Was the blonde really a blonde?”

“I didn’t ask,” he retorted.

Serena smiled, gathered up her cards, and went about methodically stacking the deck for another crooked deal. He watched her, interested, and waited until she’d dealt the cards before commenting critically, “A nine doesn’t belong in a royal flush; you’re slipping.”

She ignored the information. “Josh, a hypothetical situation.”

Josh, who knew very well that stating a hypothetical situation was something like announcing that one had a “friend” with a problem, nodded blandly. “I’m listening.”

She appeared to gather her thoughts, and then spoke slowly. “You have very honestly made it plain to someone that he or she has the power to hurt you. If this person takes a certain action, you’re going to be hurt eventually. The action itself won’t hurt you, but the ramifications will. Both of you
want
the action to take place, but he—this other person—refuses because he
knows
you’ll be hurt.”

Josh, perfectly aware of what they were talking about, nodded. “I see. And so?”

Serena gave him a frustrated look. “Don’t be dense.”

He smiled. “All right, I won’t be. You’re saying that Brian has refused to—uh—advance your relationship physically because he knows that, for you, it’s forever, while for him it isn’t.”

She winced, but nodded.

“This is a hell of a conversation to be having with my sister,” Josh said parenthetically.

“We’ve always been able to talk about things that matter to us,” she reminded him. “So talk. Tell me what to do.”

Josh waited, and, as he’d expected, Serena began shaping the situation verbally so that she could see it clearly.

“By being honest, I’ve painted both of us into a corner. He knows I love him; he knows how I feel about having an affair. I’ve set it up wonderfully,” she said bitterly, “so that he’ll feel hellishly guilty for taking advantage of this—this physical chemistry between us. Dammit, Josh, I don’t
want
him to feel guilty! How can I convince him that I’ll feel
cheated for the rest of my life unless I—unless we—oh,
hell
.”

After a moment Josh said gently, “Have you told him that?”

“That I’d feel cheated? No, not in those words. Would you feel guilty in the same situation?”

He nodded immediately. “Guilty. Responsible.”

“Trapped,” she added with a bitter tone. Then, defiantly, she went on. “Why should he feel guilty just because I have this masochistic desire to be hurt?”

Quietly Josh answered, “Because he’ll be the one holding the lash.”

Her defiance melted away. She shook her head in a gesture of defeat. “Yes. Yes, I know that. I’ve really messed things up, haven’t I?”

“You were honest; you couldn’t be anything else once you’d stopped plotting.”

Serena sighed. “I suppose.”

She gathered the cards back up, shuffling them absently. “I just don’t know what to do about it,” she murmured. “Unless I could get him drunk and take advantage of him. He could hardly blame himself then, could he?”

Dryly Josh said, “Contrary to what you obviously believe, liquor is not an aphrodisiac. In fact, it tends to have somewhat of a dampening effect.”

“Oh.” She looked at him, started to say something, then fell silent for a long moment. Abstractedly she said, “I’m surprised he hasn’t come looking for me. He’s never left me completely alone since he found out about Daddy’s troubles, unless I was safely locked in my room.”

Josh hesitated, then said, “Well, he didn’t leave you completely alone this time. He stopped in the lobby and ordered the P.I. to keep an eye on you.”

She laughed a little, then rose to her feet and laid the cards aside. “I think I’ll turn in. Why don’t you call Brian and tell him you saw me safely to my room?”

“Not unless I do,” Josh told her firmly, rising also.

“Ummm.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “Meet me by the elevators, then, okay? I want to speak to the desk clerk before I go up.”

Josh felt honor-bound to ask what she was up to
now
, but decided not to. He had a strong feeling that what he didn’t know this time wouldn’t
disturb his sleep. He didn’t even want to speculate about it.

A brother was better off not knowing details.

    Dawn’s light was filtering through the drapes when Brian woke with a start. He’d lain awake most of the night, restless and troubled, and wasn’t really surprised that the dream that had awakened him had been decidedly erotic. Soft hands touching him, and the elusive scent of a familiar perfume …

Then, as Brian got both eyes open and functioning, his breath caught in his throat.

“You left the night chain off,” Serena said huskily. “I thought you probably would.”

She was there in reality, in his bed. His senses ignited when he realized that only the blankets covered her and only a pocket of warm air separated them. She was on one elbow, watching him, the blankets gathered to barely cover her breasts.

Beautiful.

“Serena—” he choked out, fighting the urges
she had unleashed with her very simple and straightforward action.

Silently she reached out to touch his chest, her fingers exploring the mat of dark gold hair and the tensing muscles beneath.

He trapped her hand against him, forcing out words. “No, Serena, for God’s sake. I told you I wouldn’t let you—”

She didn’t bother to argue. Instead she moved closer to him, abandoning her loose hold on the blankets, her lips feathering softly along his jaw. Brian felt the press of her breast against his arm, and what sanity he could still claim spun off into oblivion.

Groaning, he surrounded her with his arms, pulling her even closer, feeling an electric shock as he pressed her slender body to his. His fingers tangled in her thick, silky hair, and his lips found hers in urgent demand as he rolled until she lay half under him. Serena’s arms wound up around his neck and her mouth responded instantly, opening to him, inviting his possession.

He seemed to kiss her forever, as if the touch of her lips satisfied a desperate craving, one hand
still tangled in her hair and the other beneath her back. But it wasn’t enough for either of them, and his mouth moved with the same urgent need to plunder the soft skin at her neck.

Serena flung her head back, gasping because she couldn’t breathe, trembling because she couldn’t move and had to somehow. Her hands gripped his shoulders, then slid downward to mold firm, rippling muscles and explore a straight spine. He was warm and hard and strong, and a liquid heat swirled within her. In a flashing instant the seducer had become the seduced. A frantic necessity filled her aching body as a soft moan tore from her throat.

She moved beneath him, her spine arching upward, her breasts brushing against the thick hair on his chest. Instantly she felt as though an electric current had raced from him to her, and her breasts were suddenly heavy, stinging.

He shuddered at her touch, muscles clenching, his fingers beneath her pressing her soft flesh, and a low sound escaped him. Compulsively she arched against him again, shuddering as he did, her fingers digging into his back.

Serena felt like a puppet, her strings pulled by mindless desire. Never in her life had she so lost control of herself. And she felt the shock of realizing her own abandonment was a release, a heady, dizzying freedom. No thoughts of the future were allowed to intrude; there was only now and this glorious, bold fearlessness.

She had taken the right step. Nothing that felt like this could ever be wrong.

“Dear heaven, Rena …” His voice was thick, impeded, his chest moving strongly with every harsh breath. His lips burned a trail down between her breasts and both hands moved to surround the full, aching weight of them. Then his mouth captured a hard, aching nipple, and Serena arched into him again with a broken, breathless cry.