Secret Desire (16 page)

“For sure. Believe it.” He released her and walked down the last two steps.

She blew him a kiss, and when he pretended to catch it, his action reverberated louder within her chest than the thunder crashing around them. Jasper barked, and Dustin waved before he was gone from her sight. The sky was in a state of panic, and she was thankful to blame the weather on the commotion present inside her.

Never mind what she’d read or written. This scene of parting lovers was far from idealistic, not one filled with enchanting uplifting prose, not at least from her point of view. Instead of settled, she was a kite flying way too high, free at last but in the middle of a building storm.

The plant baskets swung on the porch, bumping and swaying. Claire reached up and removed each one, setting them on the cement floor, close enough to the railing to gather rainwater without damage. She wiped her feet on the welcome mat, preparing to cross the threshold, and stopped to admire the power and intense beauty of Mother Nature.

Inside, her phone buzzed. She picked it up and read a message from Fran’s assistant. Her sister’s plane was on time and had just landed. Her body compressed with the force of a bungee jump leap and rebound. She breathed out, relieved in a way that this moment was finally here. She replaced the phone on the entryway table and examined her revelation. This wasn’t the proverbial light coming on. This was more akin to a solar flare. Several shades of her confusion and emotional upheaval were very much related to Fran’s arrival if not their whole unbalanced relationship. No matter what she might tell herself, there’d be no more sweeping issues under the rug. Their issues were now the size of a T-Rex—forget the elephant in the room.

She gazed into the entryway mirror. “Hello, stranger. Welcome home.”

She was ready. Sort of. She still wore her dress from last night. She dashed up the stairs, tearing off her clothes, and jumped into the shower. She changed into jeans, a shirt, and sneakers. In the downstairs hall, she pulled out one of her mother’s rain slickers and opened the front door. Rain fell in fat drops, splattering the driveway, and soon would begin to fall in earnest. She raced down the steps and across the yard. She flung open the gate and ran past Dustin’s Jeep. She pressed the doorbell and half-turned to watch the dance of lighting, far off in the west.

He opened the door and before he could say a word, she began. “I write erotica. You asked me about my plans. I’m quitting my job. It’s a real mess but I’m glad. I want to return to Seattle, pack everything up and come back here to live. I’m ready to try my hand at writing fiction for real. But I’m not going to hide anymore. This is who I am. Claire Robertson and I write hot, steamy sex scenes. I’m one of
those writers
, and if you’d care to read one of my stories, I’ll share.”

She’d done it. She waited for less than a second as he blinked and her heart pounded. When he smiled, she grinned back—so hard she thought her face might break in two.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Dustin Murray, and I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Would you like to come in and stay?” He stepped back and opened the door wide. She followed him into the house.

“Seriously, one of my stories is already released. Sort of by mistake. That’s the problem I had to deal with yesterday. I’m more than certain Fran will have some sort of meltdown about it when she finds out. But I don’t care. She can either like it or lump it, and I’m going to set her straight as soon as I see her. She has her life and I have mine.”

At that moment, finally, she owned herself and wanted to share the feeling with him.

“How long have you known that you weren’t going back to Seattle to stay?”

“I’ve been unhappy for a while. Before coming home, I started sending out feelers for other jobs, other positions, and I thought about making the leap to writing fiction full time, but nothing was solid until a couple of moments ago. It was as if this missing connection was restored. All the pieces just seemed to come together.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t overjoyed that you were coming back. I want us to be together.”

“There’s no reason to keep running. Everything I want is right here.” She kept her eyes level with his. She inhaled. In the midst of a storm, she wanted to find her footing, needed to start fresh. She took a step closer.

Jasper began to bark.

“I think we’ve got company.” He pushed back the curtains peering outside. The rain had lessened into a drizzle. He faced her, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Your sister just arrived.”

A cold, clammy feeling swept over her and settled in the pit of her stomach. “I’d better go.”

“Hey, not so fast.” He closed the gap between their bodies and his mouth slammed down onto her lips. His hands held her by the shoulders and pulled her against him. She twisted his shirt into knots inside her hands. She gave into him and pushed aside all thoughts except his tongue in her mouth. He ended their kiss with a bear hug.

“Mmm.” Her voice was a whisper. “Wish we could bottle that for emergencies.”

“Do you want me walk you back home?” His look of concern made her think.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “No, I’d better meet Fran alone. I don’t know what her mood might be considering…”

He gently held her apart. “I’m right here if you need a shoulder or a sounding board. And I’m not opposed to kidnapping you if I think you need a break.” He lifted her into a fireman’s carry to prove his point.

She laughed, the blood rushing to her head, and pounded his exceptionally hard rear end.

He set her down. She placed a wet, sloppy kiss on his lips and then opened the door. She longed to tell him what she felt, but the words remained locked away.

“I’ll call you later.” She walked through the door. Dustin went out with her. From his porch they could see a large white SUV parked in the driveway of her home. She inhaled a shaky breath and waved goodbye from the path.

She didn’t know if it was leaving him or facing Fran that made her tremble. Opening the gate between the houses, she heard her sister’s voice growing louder with each step she took toward her front door. She held her umbrella up and the porch came into view. Her sister sat on a rocking chair, her face pinched and flushed as she held gazed at her cell phone.

Her sister’s eyebrows shot up. “Where the hell have you been? I’m wet and tired.”

“What are you doing sitting on the porch?”

“Excuse me. You left the door locked.”

“I did? Sorry.” She scrambled up the steps. She didn’t remember locking the door. “It’s not locked; it just gets stuck. You have to jiggle the handle. See?”

Her sister rolled her eyes. “It wouldn’t open. I wished you’d been here to welcome me. Is that too much to ask?” Fran stormed past her into the house.

Claire followed her into the living room and was about to set the limits right then and there, except Fran started to dab at her eyes. “I need a tissue.”

She went to Fran and hugged her. This time Claire didn’t hold back her own sorrow. Both of them held each other and cried for a long time.

Chapter Twelve

“How long are you staying?” Claire was carrying in the fourth piece of Fran’s luggage.

“Did you get the travel bag? I think it was in the back seat. I’ve got to check my messages.” Fran rubbed her forehead.

For a second Claire thought she was going to start to cry again. Then Fran pulled a cell phone from her pocket as if dismissing her. Claire’s eyes stung and she turned away. She didn’t have the energy to start a conversation that was bound to push both of them. This wasn’t the right time to set her sister straight. After Fran had time to change and rest, perhaps after dinner they could have a heart-to-heart.

Once outside, Claire scanned Dustin’s yard. His Jeep was gone. He must have left just minutes ago. A twinge of sadness slipped through her chest.

She pulled Fran’s Louie Vuitton satchel from the seat. She ran her fingers along the embossed leather. She reviewed enough magazine publications to know this was the latest trendy set of luggage. Nothing about Fran had changed.

Her sister glowed from a tanning bed and looked as though she didn’t suffer from being stuck at a desk with her trim, toned figure. The modern cut of her hair, her manicure, and her clothes and accessories gave Fran a polished appearance Claire could never possess.

It was hard not to feel dowdy next to Fran’s glittery persona. This was nothing new except the degree and the stakes. How would Dustin react when he had two variations of the same woman? One in shimmering detail and the other a vintage model.

He had to know Fran was hooked up and doing well. Only a fool would hang his dreams on thinking Fran would be available with open arms considering her Manhattan lifestyle. It made sense that he would settle for the sister who was free.

She shook her head. This was ridiculous. She couldn’t let seeing Fran for less than an hour shred her confidence. She marched up the steps and flung open the door. She dropped the case onto the floor with a thud. “We need to talk.”

Fran held up a hand. “Yes, I appreciate your help. Claire’s done a remarkable job but I’m here now. Thanks, Bob. You too. We’ll see you then.”

“We need to talk,” Claire repeated.

“All right. What’s going on? You dropped my luggage.”

Claire came over to the sofa and slunk down. She twisted her fingers. “Look, Fran, I think we need to discuss some things.”

“Yes, I just spoke to Bob. He’s so funny.” Fran’s gaze moved around her face. “Claire, do me a favor. My neck and shoulders are tight as a drum. We can talk while you give me one of those massages you used to do. Please, sis.” Fran’s voice was nearly a whine.

Claire blew out a breath. “Fine, turn around.”

Her sister smiled brilliant white teeth. She lifted her hair and presented her back to Claire. Claire rubbed her hands across her jeans to warm her fingers. She massaged her sister’s neck and shoulders.

“Hold on, your necklace is getting in the way.” She unclasped the chain, and Fran set the necklace on the table.

She pulled her collar down. “Fran when did you get a tattoo?”

Fran laughed. “Well, you said you were getting one, so I thought, why not?”

“But I didn’t end up getting it.”

“No, you chickened out. Didn’t mean I should. Do you like?

“It’s very unusual.” The tattoo was an intricate graphic design, the size of a half-dollar and situated where Fran’s neck and shoulder met. She touched it, and her sister giggled.

“It’s on a spot that when kissed, I swear it sends me over the edge. Better than a road sign. Trust me, it works wonders.”

“Doesn’t your fiancé already know where your soft spots are?” Claire stopped massaging her sister’s back.

“He may, but now I don’t have to tell anyone else either.” Her sister’s deep, throaty laugh sent a chill careening down Claire’s spine.

“Fran, I thought you guys were getting married. When did that change?”

“It hasn’t.” She glanced over her shoulder at Claire. “Don’t sound so high and mighty. He travels. I travel. It gets lonely sometimes and—” Her sister inhaled. “Sex takes the edge off. Helps me relax so I can concentrate. Jesus Christ, don’t be so provincial. I thought you, being on the West Coast, would understand.”

“Being unfaithful isn’t part of some no-fly-morality zone once you enter Pacific Standard Time.” Claire clamped her mouth shut. Unless anyone considered her own erotica imaginings. She had written that one novella about the heroine who enjoyed threesomes. But that was fantasy, far different from an engaged woman having a fling. Her cheeks flamed. Crud, just wait until Fran heard about the erotica she had written and was about to have published. That would be so rich.

“There, that’s all I can offer right now. I’m tired. We still need to decide on what to do with all the stuff in the house. What did Bob say?”

“We’ll meet with him this week. Regarding the house, I’ve a punch list of what I believe is our best course of action. Let’s go from room to room and make notes.”

“Okay. I’ve a list too.”

Fran patted her hand. “Right. Let me change and then we’ll begin. Is there any coffee worth drinking here?”

“The usual.”

“I brought a bag of ground Starbucks. How about you make us some coffee while I dress? It’s in that bag over there. Can you bring it upstairs afterward?”

Fran walked over to the luggage, selected the two smaller cases, and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

Claire’s own neck tightened as if a ratchet was being turned. She reminded herself to take a deep breath and to relax.

* * *

It took them all afternoon to go through the house. They put colored sticky notes on items using pink to designate items as keepers, blue for those to be donated, and yellow for anything to be tossed.

Claire’s phone vibrated. She read the text from Dustin.
Can’t wait to wrap you in my arms and kiss you. ALL OVER. Call me.

She sent him one back.
I miss you. With or without clothes? Give me two minutes and MEET ME OUTSIDE.

Fran sidled up to her. “Must be something good from the way you’re smiling.”

“Uh, I’ll be right back. We’ve only got the front hall closet. Can you start without me?”

“I think I’ll be just fine. There’s only a few jackets right?”

“Sounds good.” Claire hardly paid attention to her sister. She left her standing in the den and breezed out the front door wanting to sprint toward Dustin’s house.

He was seated on his front steps. A black T-shirt accentuated the muscles she’d touched last night. Dustin’s face broke into a smile and she couldn’t wait. She ran across his driveway, almost leaping into his open arms. She found his mouth with hers. She kissed him, hungry to taste him, and she pushed her tongue into his mouth. She smoothed her hands over his chest; the curves were hard under her fingers. He framed her face within his hands and held her while he caressed her tongue with his and took command of her mouth.

“God, you taste great. What are you up to?”