Secret Desire (17 page)

Claire relayed her day, focusing on the events,
not
on her sister. “And you? I came out and you were gone. How’s your day?” The slamming of the gate made them stop and pull apart.

“My, no wonder you weren’t here when I arrived.” Fran chuckled, her hands on her hips. “Just like old times.”

Fran moved as if she were on a catwalk. She’d changed into a jean skirt and tight white shirt. She moved slow and sure and kept her arms at her side. She looked up at something on Dustin’s house. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her breasts jiggled. By the time Fran reached them, her nipples were points pushing through her shirt.

Claire couldn’t bring herself to see if Dustin noticed. She pursed her lips, a zap of jealousy relayed through a closed circuit inside her body. For once she wanted to throttle her sister’s need for attention.

She couldn’t take a breath and froze. Is this how Dustin felt too? He had to feel something. Her throat was a tiny pathway filled with a huge lump growing bigger. Her sister’s gaze fell on Dustin, and her glossy lips curved provocatively. Her sister’s stare traced a line from his face downward and held a point below his waist. Fran’s smiled deepened and she laughed softly.

Claire’s neck and face flamed. She curled her fingers, and only Dustin’s hands on her, gently squeezing, kept her from doing something foolish. Everything was bubbling up inside her. The past hurts, her fears, and the things she’d never said aloud. In one moment she’d gone from heaven, being in Dustin’s arms, to a person who wanted to screech like a banshee and pull out her sister’s Brazilian soft-curl-permed hair.

“Hey, Dustin,” Fran sang out. She came at him with her arms open.

Dustin kept hold of Claire, his arm tightening around her waist, and his hips pushed into her. Fran frowned for a second before she tilted her body, angling her arms and chest against an open space of his torso. This was the worst hug in human history as far as Claire was concerned. It only got worse when Claire moved her hips and came into contact with Dustin’s erection. She moved, unable to comprehend if this was his reaction to being in Fran’s company for minutes, no seconds.

“Fran, I can’t breathe,” she snapped.

“Three’s always been a crowd,” Fran chortled.

Claire didn’t bother to inquire who the third wheel was. It sure as heck wasn’t Dustin and he hadn’t tried to disengage from Fran. Tears welled at the corner of Claire’s eyes. This was all too familiar. Fran’s hadn’t changed and it looked—or
felt
—as though Dustin hadn’t either.

This was the epitome of torture.

Being held against Dustin with his obvious adoration sprung to life.

She coughed and when his grasp lessened she extracted herself from his grasp. His eyes snapped together with hers. What was that in his expression? Guilt, regret…something potent enough to send another round of
must leave here now
thoughts skittering around her brain.

“It’s not as bad as I imagined.” Fran glanced around.

Dustin and she remained silent for seconds, and then Claire spoke up “What?”

“Coming back here?” Fran traced her lip with a pink nail. “Looks like you’ve made some changes to the place. How are your parents doing,
Dustin
?” Even the way her sister said his name brought back a rash of unwelcomed memories. She didn’t just say his name. She acted as if she tasted each letter.

Claire realized Dustin hadn’t spoken a word. Not one. He’d been asked a direct question. Her ears pricked. Was he in shock, awe, or wishing so hard she’d disappear he couldn’t muster a thought?

“They’re fine.” His voice was hoarse and forced, and it reminded her of the way he spoke to her last night in the park.

She’d had enough and her temper flared. “Are you ready to finish? I don’t want to continue working all night.”

“Why, do you have a
hot
date?” Fran’s gaze flicked, if not licked, up and down Dustin and ended with single winged brow. It was her smirk that was too much.

The gloves were about to come off. Claire stepped closer to her sister and she lowered her voice. “Let’s go finish what we started. Okay?”

Dustin grazed Claire’s neck with his fingers and trailed them down her back.

Fran’s eyes narrowed and she shifted on her high-heeled feet. “Fine. How about we invite Dustin to dinner. Catch up on old times. Make some new memories. Wish we still had that porch swing. I see you’ve still got yours.”

Dustin moved against Claire, his hands turned her body. “What are your plans tonight?”

“Not much else to do. Dinner and then I’ve no idea.”

“Call me when you’re through. I’ll be here or in the barn.” He smiled his cocked-head-heated-stare-grin and the metal band around her chest eased. She inhaled and smiled even though her lips trembled. Dustin raised his gaze. “Thanks but you both need to catch up. Sorry about your parents. I’ll see you around Fran.”

His body tensed under Claire’s hands. She didn’t understand what was going on, and the space was filled with enough tension to cut and serve like a glazed Bundt cake.

“Remember, I know where you live.” He brushed his mouth against her cheek, tracing a line directly to her mouth. “I will find you.”

Chapter Thirteen

After dinner, Claire’s phone buzzed. She was a tangled mess of nerves. She’d promised herself that tonight she’d not dissolve into a shrieking fit. She’d never lost her cool with Fran and wasn’t about to give her sister the upper hand that easily.

Fran and she skirted around discussing anything important. They’d decided to begin upstairs and were inside their old bedroom, Fran sitting on the floor in a pile of memorabilia from her closet, her hair caught up in a ponytail, holding out their senior yearbook. “Do you want—”

As Claire’s phone rang, Fran’s face changed from a smile into a concentrated stare. Her tingle of anticipation stopped when Claire noticed it wasn’t Dustin calling.

“Hold on, it’s my boss. Excuse me.”

She didn’t want to share this conversation if it included more demands on her new writing. Mike had already sent her several emails acting as negotiator between upstairs and her.

“Hey, Claire Bear, how’s it going? You okay considering?”

“Yes. My sister’s here. What’s up?”

“I’m sending you a contract. Nothing unusual. I need your signature.”

“You don’t mind if I take my time and read this one carefully?”

He snorted. “Take all the time you need through tomorrow. It’s standard in the business. Off the record, you should think about an agent. I’ve known you for a couple of years and you more than likely will need someone to protect your interests.”

“You don’t think I can stand up for myself?” Even Mike thought she didn’t have a spine. What type of reputation did she have?

“No… You’re just, I don’t know. A pleaser. It’s not a bad thing. Far from it. Being kind and generous is  nice.”

“Nice? Why doesn’t that sound like a compliment?”

“It’s not the point and just an idea. I’ve got a list of names. I’ll email them to you. I want to set up an interview as well. From this point on, Kevin James’s office will be your contact for your fiction. You’ve been assigned an editorial assistant. I’m still your editor as long as you still want to remain in your position at
Ethos
. Any thoughts on a change?”

“Might be. How soon do you need to know?”

“I’ve got some interns that might be interested. They’re here now but come fall, I’d rather snag one than have to start interviewing.”

“Good to know I’m irreplaceable.” Why did she say that to him? She didn’t want him to think she was hung up by a one-night mistake with him. “I’ll let you know by the end of the week or sooner.”

* * *

“Here.” Claire held out a neat stack of paper. “I want you to read this. Right now.”

Fran gazed up from the floor. “More legal documents from Bob?”

“No. This is a sample of what I write.”

“You don’t need to feel like we’re in some competition.” Fran gestured to her box of trophies and awards.

“Stop. This has nothing to do with us. This is my personal writing, and it’s about to be published. A book. This is an excerpt. I just received the contract. There’s fresh coffee downstairs. This isn’t the whole manuscript.”

“Am I going to need to Google terms and references? Your writing has always been a little out there.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Those essays in high school and college?”

“You read those?”

Fran shrugged. “Some. Most I didn’t understand. I majored in finance and business not obscure literature. Don’t look shocked. I can’t imagine you’d do well with the reports I deal in.”

“I’m not shocked that we operate in different worlds.” She was taken back that her sister would admit she didn’t understand. Or was she just making an excuse for not trying to understand? She rolled her eyes and then noticed her sister was reading the first page.

Fran’s eyes were rapidly moving from one side of the paper before returning again and again. The theme wasn’t a mystery to either of them. Hot vibrant sex. Gorgeous hero, sexy heroine. If Fran was confused about her writing, she’d not be after tonight.

“This is your writing or you’re editing this?” Her sister’s cheeks were bright pink.

“I wrote every word.”

“And this is going to be published?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t believe you. Have you thought this through? I mean, my God. You’ve always acted so holier than thou and then to think this is what rolls around your head. Do you do things like this in Seattle?”

“Do you think a horror fiction writer goes around killing people? It’s called an imagination.”

“Well, I just don’t know.” Fran pulled the neck of her shirt upward. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and sat up. All of a sudden, her sister looked very much as though she were holier than thou even with her tattoo peeking over her shoulder.

Fran finished reading, and this time her face was crimson. “Who do you base the woman on? Is it me?”

Claire’s hands shot to her forehead without thinking. She pressed her eyebrows, smoothing the skin. She laughed one short exhalation. “No. Of course not.”

“I think the story reminds me of Dustin as well. The build of the man, the things he says…especially the things he does.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter. I hope you’re happy. I don’t know if anyone reads things like this. I thought you were interested in a literary career. Highbrow literary salons sipping espresso. You and your nerdy friends at Pike Place Market. Are you doing this because of Mom and Dad?”

“I’m doing this because it’s my dream. I love to write romance that’s hot and steamy and passionate. This type of writing is popular and is expanding. I’m proud of these stories. This is who I am. I’m making changes, moving back. We can keep living the same way we have, separated, but it won’t be by geographic miles, it’ll be because you can’t accept me for who I am.”

“You throw this at me and expect me to understand why you’ve suddenly decided to change your whole life. It’s only normal that I’ve got questions.”

“I get that. I don’t get your attitude. All you need to know is that I’m not asking for your blessing. I don’t need your approval.”

“Well, you just might, if you want your part of the inheritance. I can contest the will, you know.”

Claire stared at her sister, speechless. She stood over Fran, shaking and struggling for composure. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m not going to let you throw your life away on some silly whim. I’m not going to do anything about the will if you promise me to think this through. What do you imagine you’ll do? Stop working and just write? You’re too young to fall off the grid.”

“This sounds like your issue. I’m not the one with the downtown lifestyle. Don’t make me out to be some bum. If you want to work sixty-hour power weeks, fine. Go ahead. I want to write. I’m not discussing this anymore. Not tonight. Thanks for reading my work and letting me know what you think.” She bent down and snatched her writing. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Where are you going? It’s late.”

“Where do you think?”

Her sister’s eyes widened and for a second she thought she was going to say something. Something very mean. To her credit, Fran didn’t say a word, but Claire could imagine the wheels were spinning inside her sister’s head. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

* * *

Claire didn’t stop until she stood in front of Dustin’s door, ringing the bell. Jasper barked inside, footsteps grew louder, and the door opened.

“I was just thinking about you.” He pulled her inside.

Her heart skipped a beat, several beats. He was freshly showered and clean-shaven. She inhaled his scent—it was pure bliss. She inhaled again, decompressing and letting go of her frustration and anger.

“You smell incredible.” Claire imagined having his scent on her skin. All she wanted was to fall into his arms and close her eyes.

His lips against her mouth infused her with red-hot desire. The feel of him was delicious. She didn’t want to think about her sister. She reached out and lifted his shirt, running her hands over his warm, muscular cuts and grooves. His hands were at her zipper. They didn’t need to speak. Off came her sandals. She shimmied out of her pants and pulled off her shirt. She came back at him, unzipping his pants. She grazed his short curling hair with her fingertips.

“Commando?” She dipped her fingers lower.

“I was hoping for a visitor tonight?” He inhaled sharply. She tightened her fingers over his erection.

He kicked off his shoes and stepped free of his jeans. His hands pushed the satin straps down from her shoulders. He unhooked her bra, and she let it drop to the floor. They stood with a heap of clothes at their feet. She shivered yet was warmed as he cupped the under swell of her breasts. His erection bumped against her abdomen. The sensual feel of him grazing her skin made her grow moist. She wanted him buried inside her and at the same time wanted to feel his mouth sucking her hard.