What Lies Beneath (7 page)

“I believe I have my first fan,” she said, her voice breathy and still slightly rough from the accident.

“Indeed.” He leaned in and kissed her, capturing her mouth with unrestrained enthusiasm.

Cynthia met his advance with gusto. Their previous kisses, the way he touched her, had a hesitation like there was a war inside holding him back. Tonight there were no barriers. His tongue invaded her, his hands roaming across her body as though he were exploring new territory. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his chest and bringing his erection into direct contact with the sensitive juncture of her thighs.

Will moaned against her lips with the pleasure the pressure brought on. He slowly backed her against the living room wall and cupped one cheek of her ass, pulling her tighter to him. His lips traveled lightly across her jaw, still careful about the surgery she’d had, then moved down to feast on the sensitive curve of her neck. His hand drifted to encircle one of her breasts, his thumb stroking the hardened nipple that protruded through the fabric.

Cynthia gasped, the thrill of pleasure running down her back and exploding at the base of her spine into throbbing desire. She inched one thigh up the outside of his leg, hooking her knee around his hip. He pressed into her, the firm heat striking her sex. She couldn’t contain her cry of pleasure. She’d never experienced a sensation like that before, and her body shuddered from the force of it.

Will continued sucking and biting at her neck, his fingers gently unfastening the chunky black buttons that held her dress on. Before she knew it, the top was undone to the waist and he was sliding his hands inside to caress her breasts through the thin lace of her bra.

Her breath caught in her throat as he left a trail of kisses down her neck to her collarbone and on to the valley between her breasts. He pushed aside the lace and took a hardened peak into his mouth, eliciting a strangled cry from her throat. Her fingers weaved into his hair tugging him closer. Now that she had him back in her arms, she didn’t ever want to let him go.

Will’s hand slid along her exposed thigh, pushing her dress higher as he moved. The tension in Cynthia’s body increased with every inch, her body drawn tight as a drum. All her reservations about being with Will melted away. Nothing mattered but being in his arms right here, right now.

When his hand found the moist heat between her thighs, she thought she might explode with wanting him. His fingers stroked her gently through the silk of her panties, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

“Will, please,” she whispered.

He pulled away from her breasts long enough to speak. “Please what? Tell me what you want, Cynthia.”

A part of her flinched when he said her name. He’d said it a million times, but somehow saying it now, like this, brought the doubts back to her mind. She didn’t want him calling her that. The concern was immediately wiped away by a tidal wave of pleasure as his finger made direct contact with her most sensitive spot.

“You,” she managed, not quite sure she could form any other words.

Will’s hand withdrew and she was about to revel in getting her way when she heard a soft ringing sound and realized he’d stopped because of the phone. She was about to chuck his stupid cell phone across the room when she realized it was the cordless phone on the table beside them. The caller ID was lit up with the last number in the world she wanted to see. He never called this late. There was no way she could hide the panic plastered over her face in that instant. No way she could pretend she didn’t know who was calling.

Will pulled away, taking a full step back and leaving only her gelatinous legs precariously holding her up. When she looked in his eyes, the desire was gone, replaced only with the same cold indifference he’d had in the early days at the hospital. His jaw was tight, his face reddening slightly with an anger he refused to unleash even if she deserved it.

Instead, he turned and marched out of the room, slamming the apartment door behind him.

Completely deflated, Cynthia slid down the wall, her head cradled in her hands. With the phone still ringing, she picked it up from the cradle and threw it against the wall with a loud crack. The phone broke into several pieces, and that was enough to silence it, but the damage was already done.

Nigel had called again. And apparently Will recognized the number, too.

Six

B
y the time Will glanced down at his watch, it was after ten. He’d been pounding the pavement trying to figure out what to do. The cool night winds bit at his cheeks and forced his hands deeper into his pants pockets, but it barely registered in his brain as anything more than a nagging annoyance. He deserved the punishment for being that stupid.

He’d almost done it. Almost let himself go too far. Took Alex’s ridiculous advice and set his inhibitions free. And what happened? Her lover called the apartment again.

Will could’ve let that go. Cynthia couldn’t stop him from calling. But he’d hoped in that instant that she wouldn’t recognize the number. That she would have the same blank look in her eye that she got when she met anyone else she should know and didn’t.

But there was no denying the horror painted across her face. Cynthia knew exactly who it was. Knew exactly how poorly timed that bastard’s call had been. His chest had grown so tight in that moment, he almost couldn’t breathe. He had to leave the apartment and get some fresh air before he suffocated.

She didn’t remember her parents or her friends. Will, her fiancé of two years, was a total stranger. She didn’t know if she liked hot dogs, for the love of God, but she remembered
him
. She’d even looked at Will, a glimmer of hope shining in her bright green eyes. Cynthia was hoping he didn’t know who was on the phone. That he believed it when she said she wanted to put the past, and her lover, behind them. He was right not to trust her. The woman that betrayed him was still in there somewhere.

Spying an empty park bench, Will flopped down and decided to give his aching feet a break from their punishment. The shoes he wore to work weren’t exactly designed for long strolls through the city. Hell, he was still wearing his suit minus the jacket he’d tossed aside. He’d accosted Cynthia the minute he walked in the door and then walked out without a second thought to how cold it was tonight. He hadn’t eaten. Hadn’t even checked his phone as it chimed and rang with repeated requests to contact him.

That plane crash was supposed to be their second chance. Her lover and all their other relationship baggage were supposed to be in the past. Just when he’d finally decided to take this chance seriously, she’d ruined it.

The blinking neon lights of the bar across the street from where he’d stopped beckoned Will to come in. He considered going inside and taking the edge off with some expensive whisky, but he knew drinking wouldn’t help the situation. He was never one to just sit back and drown his sorrows. He always took action. And that was what he needed to do now.

Walking around Manhattan in the middle of the night wasn’t going to fix anything. It helped him clear his head, kept him from doing something rash, but the only thing that could help him deal with this situation was probably asleep in their apartment.

Leaping back up after only a few moments rest, Will took the most direct route back to the apartment building. Cynthia had left on the entryway light, but the rest of the apartment was dark. He flipped on the living room lamp, illuminating the carnage that had once been their telephone. Based on the divot in the sheetrock, she’d slammed it against the wall.

Stepping around the plastic and metal bits, he continued down the hallway to their bedroom. He hadn’t set foot into this space since the night she came home from the hospital. His clothes were in the closet of the guest room where he’d been sleeping, so there wasn’t much point. He’d gathered his toiletries that night and had stayed out of her personal space while she adjusted.

Not tonight. Turning the doorknob, the light from the hall cast a beam across the king-size bed. He could barely make out the small bundle beneath the blankets. Will flipped on the lamp on his bed stand.

Cynthia was curled up tightly in the fetal position. She had tissue clutched in her hand and used tissues strewn over her nightstand. He could make out the dried tracks of tears across her cheeks. She’d taken it harder than he anticipated. She was so emotional lately.

“Cynthia,” he said, shaking her arm softly so as to not startle her.

She muttered and shifted around, straightening out of her tight ball before her eyes fluttered open and her gaze fixed on him. They widened in an instant, and she shot up in bed even though he wasn’t entirely certain she was fully awake. Her expression was panicked and confused, but as the fog of sleep faded away, her gaze hardened, protectively. She drew her legs up to her chest and scooted back against the headboard.

Will felt like a Goliath hovering over David, so he sat down on the edge of the bed and opted to face the wall so she wouldn’t squirm under his gaze. “Why is Nigel calling again?” His voice was flat, unemotional. He didn’t want her to shut down, and if he started yelling, she might.

“I don’t know. He called the house the night I came home from the hospital while you were getting dinner. He kept talking to me like I knew who he was, but I didn’t. It didn’t take me long to figure it out, though.” She shook her head and looked down at the tissue she was tearing to shreds in her hands. “He kept pushing to see me.”

She looked back up at him, glassy tears sparkling in her green eyes. Seeing her cry was like an iron fist straight to his stomach. He wanted to reach out and soothe her, but he didn’t react. For all he knew, this was a new tactic for manipulating him. He couldn’t let her see that she was getting to him.

“Then I remembered what you said about choosing who I would be now. I couldn’t do anything about what I’d already done, but I could put an end to it. So I told him I wouldn’t see him and to stop calling.”

Will’s fists were curled tightly in his lap. He wanted to believe her, but a part of him had heard too many lies. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we were starting over, being honest with each other?”

“I didn’t want to drag it all back up. And he’d stopped calling at first. Then the calls started again. But I don’t answer.”

“I just don’t know that I can trust you, Cynthia. I want to, but this doesn’t help.”

She flung back the covers and slid to the edge of the bed to sit beside him. She was wearing navy satin pajama pants with a matching tank top that left little to the imagination. The warmth of her hovered near, but not quite touching. His whole body hummed with the awareness of her, the scent of her skin making his brain lose focus. Will hated that even in this moment when he should despise her the most, he still wanted her. But he didn’t pull away.

“You have no reason to trust me. And I have no reason to trust you. We’re strangers. But I want more. I want this to work out. And I don’t know of any other way to convince you of the truth.”

Will looked down to see Cynthia slip off her engagement ring. She held it up and watched it sparkle in the light for a moment. “This isn’t mine. You gave it to another woman. It’s a symbol of our past and everything that has gone wrong between us.”

Her fingers sought out one of his fists, uncurling it to place the ring in the palm of his hand.

“I know you’re worried that one day I’ll wake up and become
her
again. But you were right. I have a choice. Even if I recover my memory tomorrow, I’m promising you that I’m changing the person I was. I’d like to try making this work with you, with or without amnesia.”

Since day one, Will knew her memory coming back would be the relationship killer. His interest and attraction to her would no doubt be erased by the return of her old personality. It was the thing he clung to, the last barrier he used to keep from letting himself get too close. And she’d just taken it away, leaving him exposed to her and their new possibilities together.

“Let’s try to make a new relationship out of the wreckage of the one we destroyed. We can date, get to know each other as we are now. The world can continue to think we’re engaged, including my father. And if and when,” she said, her hand covering the one in which he held the ring, “you want to give that back to me…okay.”

* * *

Cynthia watched Will’s face for any sign that she wasn’t about to be single and homeless, dragging two hundred pairs of shoes behind her down the street, but he was so hard to read. It wasn’t until his other hand covered hers that she was able to take a breath.

“Okay,” he agreed, although his face was still lined with concern. She understood that. She’d obviously hurt him. Giving the ring back was evidence of her good-faith effort to make this work. In time, she hoped that they could make new memories to help mask the old ones. It would be a slow process, but she would take it one step at a time to be certain she did it right.

“I look forward to getting to know you,” she said with a crooked smile and an awkwardly adolescent bump to his shoulder. “I like what I’ve learned so far.”

His expression softened and he smiled, too. “It’s been a long time since I’ve dated,” he admitted. “I might be a little rusty.”

“That’s okay,” she said with a shrug, “I don’t remember ever going on a real date, so I’ll be easy to impress.”

At that, he laughed. It was the first real laugh she’d heard, and it was everything she hoped it would be. It was a deep, sexy rumble that vibrated in her chest and made her want to cling to him and bury her face in his neck.

“I’m glad your expectations are low,” he said, turning to place a soft kiss on her lips. He pulled away immediately and stood up. “Good night.”

She wanted him to stay, to pick up where they’d left off earlier, but she knew that wasn’t the best idea. But the kiss held promise, just like their new relationship, and that was enough for her. “Good night,” she said as he walked out of the room and then quietly pulled the door shut behind him.

Unfortunately, even as she switched off the lamp, she knew it was a lost cause. Sleep was no longer an option. She was as wired as if she’d chugged an entire pot of coffee. She’d gone to bed crying because she was certain she’d ruined everything. Now she had a world of new possibilities ahead of her. Her mind was spinning from their conversation, her thoughts bouncing around in her head. Cynthia lay there in the dark for nearly an hour, praying she would drift off to sleep, but it was no use.

She didn’t have to get up early in the morning; she had nowhere to go, so she decided to put her energy to better use. Slipping quietly out of the bedroom and down the hallway to her workroom, she decided to do some sketching. She wouldn’t run the sewing machine because the noise would wake up Will, but she could do everything else.

Her plan to make her own dress for her mother’s party loomed heavy on her mind. It was an ambitious project to say the least, and she needed to start on it as soon as possible. Any design worthy of the event would be infinitely more complicated to construct than the dress she’d already made. It also needed to be well designed and perfectly suited to her style aesthetic. If it was going to be in newspapers, it needed to be the evening look she would use to close her collection on the runway. The wow piece that everyone could look at and say, “That’s the latest Cynthia Dempsey design.”

If that wasn’t enough, she now had an added layer of pressure. She wanted to look good for Will, too. When she stepped out in this gown with her hair and makeup done, she wanted him to curse. She wanted him to threaten to rip it off her body and delay their arrival at the party—
if they arrived at all
—even though she was the guest of honor. To be honest, she wanted him to be as miserable with desire all night as she would undoubtedly be.

Will was a strikingly handsome man. Not pretty, like so many of the models in the magazines, but everything a man should be. Hard. Sophisticated. Confident. She’d seen him in everything from khakis to a suit, but she could only imagine how delicious he would look in his tuxedo. He had the broad shoulders and narrow waist that the jacket would cling to. His high, firm rear and solid thighs would be on display in his meticulously tailored suit pants. All he’d have to do is flash her one of his charming smiles and she’d be a puddle on the floor. Her best defense was a good offense, and she was going to make sure her new dress blew his mind.

Picking up her sketchbook, she flipped through pages to see if any of the designs sparked her imagination. So far, she’d done a lot of casual wear and separates with a retro feel and modern styling. One of the sketches for a daytime dress caught her attention, and she knew that that was the piece she needed to use to transition the style into an elegant, formal look. The dress was fitted with a pencil-skirt silhouette and a sweetheart neckline that appeared to be like a corset atop a white dress shirt. It was a smart daytime look for the office.

Flipping to a blank page, she pulled out her colored pencils and started working on a new design. Like the daywear, this dress had a fitted silhouette, although instead of the skirt falling at the knee with a ruffled kick pleat, the gown would take it a step further by blooming into a full mermaid skirt. She echoed the neckline with a strapless sweetheart top that plunged deep in the center.

Losing herself in the sketch for an unknown amount of time, she added special details and penciled in the texture she hoped the fabric and beading she chose would provide.

Rubbing her eyes, she sat back from the picture and admired it with pride. Making this gown in time for her mother’s party would be a challenge, but she could do it. The structure was actually easier to construct than sportswear. There was just one last decision to make—the color.