Dancing in the Dark: A Novella

by Kelly, Virginia

  But knowing her mother may have read this book seemed so much more personal than knowing she'd read the Fifty Shades trilogy.

  She read some more and felt a flush creep up her neck to her face. Did her mother wonder about her sex life? In graphic detail?

  Yikes!

  By page one hundred three, Janey had the guilty idea that she deserved this for poking her nose into Susan's books. Because Janey'd envisioned a slightly more X-rated version of the exact scene with Matt.

  Oh my.

  Her taste of Matt's skin thrummed through her when the author described the heroine waking the hero from a sound sleep for the sole purpose of sex.

  She finished reading the scene, her imagination taking flight.

  Did she dare? Could she do what the heroine did? Matt would be warm and sleepy.

  He'd be senseless, exhausted from travel, just as he'd been earlier. In dire need of sleep. She would be taking advantage. It would be wrong.

  But oh so delicious.

  She had to stop. This was crazy. She was reading a book Susan and perhaps her own mother had read, while she fantasized about Susan's son. Lusted for Susan's son.

  She absolutely had to stop. She closed the book and put it back on the shelf, but couldn't resist pulling it out for one last look at the cover. She'd remember the title. She'd buy her own. Maybe she wouldn't feel so guilty if she read it at home.

  Good God, Janey. You're acting like a ten year old. Grow up!

  A flash of lightning caught her attention. The storms were moving on, the rain a bit lighter. Water still flowed liked shallow rapids down the street, but her car and Matt's truck seemed no deeper than before.

  Then her gaze moved down the hill. Pressing her face against the glass, she saw one of Susan's older neighbors, Mary Jameson, wade through the overflowing gutter in her rain boots and raincoat. Mrs. Jameson's husband was housebound after knee surgery. Janey could picture the normally very active Mr. Jameson watching his wife make her way to her car. Had she forgotten something? What could be so important that she'd cross the street to her car in a flood?

  Then she saw the woman slip, try to catch herself, but fall and land on her knees. The water from the gutter washed over her, soaking her.

  Janey dashed outside, down the steps, to the sidewalk. She broke into a run when she saw the older woman struggle to stand against the frantic rush of rainwater. By the time Janey reached her, Mrs. Jameson was sitting in the gutter. At first, Janey thought she'd hurt herself and was crying. Then she realized the woman was laughing.

  "Oh, God!" she exclaimed. "That'll give folks something to talk about won't it?"

  "Are you okay?" Janey bent and held out her hands for Mrs. Jameson to grab and help herself up.

  "I'm fine. Apparently there's no cure for a lack of good sense. But Bob needed his medicine, which I'd left in the car. Damn thing's probably going to wash away, so I figured I'd better get out here before that happened."

  "Can I get it for you?"

  "No, no, honey. I can do it. I'm sorry you ran out here. You're soaked!"

  "I'm fine. It's just water," she replied.

  "Maybe we should hold on to each other, that way neither of us will fall down. The water feels like rapids. I can't believe how much rain we've gotten."

  Arm in arm, they struggled across the street, water splashing thigh high. A burst of rain hit them as Mrs. Jameson reached inside her car to grab the medicine from the dashboard.

  "Got it," she said, and turned. "Oh, darn. Bob watched all of that." She looked toward her house, where Mr. Jameson stood on crutches at the window, watching. Mrs. Jameson smiled and waved. "He's going to tell me I'm crazy," she said around a smile. "Let's get back across."

  "Watch out for the gutter," Janey warned.

  It was too wide to jump, so she stood at the edge, holding Mrs. Jameson's hand while she crossed, then the woman did the same for her.

  "Thank you," Mrs. Jameson said when they reached the steps to her house. "You're staying at Susan's?"

  "Yes," Janey replied.

  "I thought I saw someone over there last night. She's gone to the mountains with Evie, hasn't she?"

  "Yes. I was waiting for Matt. He's there now."

  "Crazy job that boy has. And what in the world is a communications consultant? I haven't been able to understand that at all. He needs to settle down." She winked at Janey. "Pretty girl might be able to convince him to stay closer to home."

  "He's happy doing what he does," Janey replied.

  Moments later, as she sloshed back to Susan's, she knew she was right. Matt would never be happy living like this, watching life rush past. Whatever happened between them, if it happened, it would be a one-time thing. She had to wrap her head around that. Daydreams were fine, but she had to live her own life. Hanging on to the hope that Matt would give up his life for hers was unrealistic.

  But would he give up one day of it to her?

  That, he might do.

  ***

  Matt woke startled. He knew where he was, knew it was raining, that the power was out, and thanked his good fortune that it was cool, otherwise the house would be too hot to tolerate.

  But something wasn't right; something beyond the rain and the power outage had his nerves on edge. Why would he feel unsettled at his mother's house? Then it hit him.

  Janey.

  Aw, hell. Janey's brother. No phone, so he had no idea what was going on…and no way to help her. Not that there was anything he could do.

  He heard the front door open, grabbed the jeans he'd dropped on the floor earlier and pulled them on. He was still struggling with the zipper when he made it to end of the hallway.

  Janey stood there, dripping wet, soaked to the skin.

  "Where the hell have you been?" burst from his mouth. "There's a torrent running down the street."

  "I know, but—"

  "But nothing." He hurried toward her. "What was so important you had to go out there? You didn't try to move your car, did you?"

  "No, no. Mrs. Jameson fell in the gutter. I went out to help her."

  "You couldn't get me?" he snapped.

  "You were sleeping!" she snapped back. "I'm not a child or an invalid. She needed some medicine she'd left in her car. For her husband. Who had knee surgery."

  God, he was acting like a damn idiot. He'd yelled at her for no reason.

  No, there was a reason. She'd scared him. The idea that she might have been hurt speared through him. "I'm sorry," he said, and pulled her close, feeling the shock of her cold wet clothes, her clammy skin. "You're freezing," he added, rubbing her back. Her blouse stuck to her. "Come on. I'll run the shower. Hot water will warm you up."

  "But your mother's rug. I'm dripping."

  "It's water. It won't matter."

  "At least let me take off my shoes."

  Impatient, he watched as she struggled with a buckle. In full shuddering shivers, her stiff fingers fumbling, she tried twice before he lost his patience. Lifting her into his arms, he carried her down the hall to the guest bathroom. "Take off your clothes," he ordered, and turned to open the sliding glass door to the shower. He turned the hot water knob.

  "I can do this," she insisted.

  "And I can get the water going," he replied, feeling the water and adjusting the temperature.

  When he turned, she was sitting on the closed toilet lid, grappling with the shoes. He knelt, unbuckled them and rose. "Now the clothes."

  She stood and looked at him from under her dripping hair. Her lashes were spiked and wet. She shivered, but smiled. "You should have said that earlier."

  He smiled at her attempt at humor. "There's always later." Holy crap, why did he say that? Did he dare start that again?

  Hell yeah, his body said.

  Careful, his better nature replied.

  "How does a librarian remove her wet clothes?" Janey asked struggling with the buttons on her blouse.

  "I don't know," he replied, coming to her aid. "How?"

&n
bsp; "She enlists a spy to help her."

  His hands dropped from her blouse. "Janey—"

  "Help me, Matt. My fingers are numb."

  Unable to refuse, he grasped the front of her shirt pulling it away from her skin so he wasn't touching her breasts as he struggled with the wet fabric, with too small button holes. With the erotic temptation of Janey's breasts revealed as he undid one button after the other. Sure he was drooling, fighting the urge to touch her, he turned her and concentrated on her skirt button. That kept his attention on what he had to do, but the zipper cooperated and her skirt dropped to the floor.

  She peeled the soaked blouse off and faced him in the cramped quarters of the bathroom, wearing only her now translucent bra and soaked white panties that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

  Every ounce of his blood shot south. She was freezing and he was as hard as a damn flagpole.

  "Get in the shower," he ordered, and stalked out.

  ***

  Okay, she'd missed a chance with Matt, but then drowned rat probably wasn't one of her better looks. Janey luxuriated under the steaming water. Thank heaven for gas powered hot water heaters.

  Still, Matt had looked like he'd wanted to feast on her. Like she was tempting. But her skin had been so cold she might've turned him off. Resigned, she shampooed and scrubbed, letting the water warm her. What seemed like an hour later, she dried with one towel and wrapped another around her soaked hair.

  No hair dryer. Get ready for frizz, she thought. Another great look.

  Then she realized she had nothing dry to wear. She'd come here last night expecting to find Matt already here. Her plan had been to ask him for help, then leave.

  Great, how enticing could she be in Matt's borrowed T-shirt?

  Using the comb she'd left in the bathroom the night before, she combed out the tangles of her shoulder length hair. Maybe she had something to tie it back with in her purse. Heaven knew she kept everything else in there. Maybe some lipstick would help, she thought, studying herself in the mirror. And mascara.

  She stepped out into the hall, a little disappointed that Matt wasn't right there. She heard him in the kitchen, and headed for the bedroom. Shirt, mascara, lipstick. In that order. She'd wow him with her plainness.

  Then she realized the rain had stopped. She listened hard for a few moments. Yep, no rain. If she didn't do something fast, she'd lose this chance with Matt.

  She pulled on the T-shirt, found soft grey boxers that would have to serve since her panties were wet from her dash outside, did what little she could to her face, and walked down the hallway to the kitchen, repeating: I think I can, I think I can.

  Matt was standing at the sink, staring out the window, wearing jeans and the dress shirt, still untucked. One look at him stretching, at the inherently graceful masculinity of the move, and she knew.

  She could and she would.

  Chapter Five

  Matt had placed a hurricane lamp on the kitchen counter and another on the living room coffee table to ward off the increasing darkness of the stormy afternoon. He turned when he heard Janey walk into the kitchen.

  She wore his T-shirt again, her hair, still wet, framed her face and made wet spots on her shoulders. Were those his old, too-small boxers under the T-shirt?

  Long legs, bare feet. Enticing body.

  The desire he'd managed to subdue when he'd been in the bathroom with her came roaring back to life.

  He was enticed. He was turned on.

  She was Janey, the girl who'd asked him to prom, but had to settle for Ty. Yes, they'd danced earlier, but it hadn't been enough. He wanted to give her what they'd missed.

  And he knew how.

  "My mother has a couple of fancy evening gowns," he said.

  She blinked at him. "What?"

  "There's music," he pointed to the radio which he could see in the living room. "My mom's got a couple of gowns. You can choose. I'll put on my tux."

  "You have a tux?"

  "Yeah, crazy, huh? Had to buy one a few years ago. Don't need it any more, but Mom said she'd keep it here. Looks like she did good."

  "I'd love to see you in a tux."

  He smiled. "Here's your chance." Did she think he was crazy?

  "Are you serious?"

  "Yeah." He shrugged. "If you're game, we're going to prom."

  "I'd love to go to prom with you, Matt."

  Something hitched in his chest. He'd never expected such simple and innocent words would make his heart ache.

  He showed her the closet with the garment bags, unzipping the first two half way down so she could see.

  "I'm a little bigger than your mom."

  "Not much. If you need help with a zipper, let me know. I'll go get dressed."

  Ten minutes later, as he struggled with a bow tie that wouldn't cooperate, he cursed himself for a sentimental fool. After a fifth try with the damn thing, he let it go. He'd better find the shoes.

  Five minutes later he gave up. No shoes. What the hell? He couldn't wear the shoes he'd worn home, or running shoes or the boots he kept here. Or flip flops. Yeah, flip flops would be great.

  A knock sounded on his bedroom door.

  "Matt?" Janey called. "I need help with the zipper."

  What the hell. Who needed shoes?

  He opened the door.

  In the dim light of the hallway, she glowed. She'd chosen a red dress and held the front pressed to her chest, the straps falling to her elbows.

  He dragged in a long breath, afraid he'd wake up and discover he was dreaming.

  She turned, her back toward him.

  Of course she couldn't reach the zipper and hold up the front. The back was low. Made him wonder about the front. And about his mother.

  And hell, no bra. She didn't have a bra on. That was going to play hell with any good intentions he had left.

  "I think it's stuck," she said.

  He hesitated. All that bare skin.

  "Can you see it?"

  "Yeah." He could, and over her shoulder, he could see the top slopes of her breasts. He reached out, determined to do this. "Give me a second." The material slipped and slithered. By the time he got the dress zipped, he felt like an incompetent idiot.

  "Thank you," she said, and turned to face him.

  "Wow, you look fantastic."

  She blushed. "You look pretty fantastic yourself."

  "Can't tie the tie and can't find the shoes."

  "Who needs shoes?" she laughed, echoing his earlier thoughts. "I don't have any either." She hiked up the dress and held out one foot, wiggling her toes. Gaze back on him, she added, "You look nice with the tie undone."

  Her voice sent sparklers of heat down his back.

  "Ready to dance?" The last word came out like a croak.

  She hooked her right arm around his left and they walked down the hallway.

  Like a bride and groom, he thought. And nearly stumbled.

  The lamp he'd left on the coffee table sent a white glow around the room.

  "I…ah…can't picture my mom in red," Matt said.

  "Oh, I don't think this is hers. There was a note pinned to it. It said ‘for Esther.'"

  "Oh, yeah, one of her friends. I've heard Mom talk about her. There's a niece or a granddaughter. Someone."

  He couldn't think of anything else to say, so he stood there, staring. Janey took his breath away.

  "Music?" she asked.

  "Oh, yeah," he said and crossed the living room to the bookshelf to turn up the radio.

  "The historic section of the town of Walton Springs is still cut off by flood waters from the Lakni River. Transportation officials indicate it will be early tomorrow before they can evaluate the safety of the bridges. Meanwhile, power is being restored to other parts of town. Residents are encouraged to stay off the roads unless there's an emergency. Low-lying areas are still underwater, and more rain is predicted overnight."

  "I guess we're stuck," Janey said.

  "Telephone and cell
phone service is slowly being restored," the announcer continued.

  Matt picked up the phone and listened. "Nothing," he said. "Check your cell. I'll check mine."

  She nodded. "It's in my purse in the bedroom. Be right back."

  He grabbed his cell from the coffee table, hoping he had a signal so he could check in with his contact at the Agency. Nothing.

  Maybe it was a blessing.

  Janey came back. "No. Nothing. Yours?"

  "No. We'll try again later."

  "Would your friend know anything yet?"

  "I doubt it. Like I said, days, probably."

  The radio switched to national news, then switched back to the weather.

  "I guess we really are stuck, aren't we?"

  Did she sound sorry? Matt wanted her to forget her missing brother, even if for just a little while. She looked so pretty in the red dress. The front, a little too tight, pushed her breasts up, and was probably not the most comfortable thing in the world, but damn, did she look good.

  "Let's light things up a bit more, okay?" he said and went to get the candles from the kitchen cabinet. Candles were romantic, right? Janey should have romantic.

  When he got back to the living room, she'd scooted the coffee table to one side. "This'll give us a little more room. The dress kept catching on it."

  "The dress," he said, his baser instinct thinking the dress had to go. But he had more sense than to say that, so he told her the truth. "You look fantastic."

  "Thank you, again," she said with smile. "So do you."

  "You told me already."

  "It bears repeating."

  Finally, the news went off and the elevator music started again. Only rather than a slow dance, it was an instrumental bouncy, rendition of "Rhythm of Love."

  Love?

  ***

  Matt was looking at her as if she'd grown another head. Great. Just great. She knew the dress was too tight in the bust. She probably looked like an over-ripe tomato, about to burst.

  She had to show some courage, grab what she wanted. Matt had initiated this. Matt, devastating in his tux, tie undone, bare feet.