by Girard, Dara
"Adriana—" Her name was a low warning.
She ignored it. "I'm like one of those rides in front of department stores. Put your money in, ride for a short while, then get off. You're satisfied because you've had fun and the ride doesn't take you anywhere."
"You don't understand. I don't need anything from you."
"You need sex. That's why you're here."
"That's not why."
"Then why are you here? I must have misunderstood the basis of this affair."
"I want to be here with you," he said. "Isn't that enough?"
"No."
They stared at each other.
"What do you want?" he finally asked.
"More of you."
He turned away and said, "I don't want to be Nina's father."
Her temper ignited into rage. She grabbed her pillows and threw them at him one by one. "You bastard. How dare you! How dare you think I would try to sleep my way to getting my daughter a stepfather. What kind of woman do you think I am? Get out! Now!"
Eric dodged a pillow aimed at his head. "That came out wrong."
"Clever of you to notice. Get out."
He caught a pillow she threw at him and tossed it on the floor. He sat on the bed, his back toward her.
She pushed him, but he didn't budge. "You're a long way from the door."
He turned to her, his eyes full of regret. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."
His words weren't sufficient, but his expression was. "Jerk," she said.
"I know."
Adriana looked away and tucked her feet underneath her. "I forgive you, you... slime chicken."
Eric frowned, confused. "What's a slime chicken?"
"I don't know. I couldn't think of anything else." She folded her arms. "You make me so mad sometimes."
He turned away, resting his hands on his knees. "Then why do you want to please me?"
"You know why."
He spun around. His eyes widened in shocked horror. "No."
"Yes."
"You're serious?"
"Yes."
He fell face down on the bed and swore. "How did that happen?" His voice was muffled.
"I don't know."
Eric groaned. "Are you sure?"
"No, but I'm close."
"Then let's not go further."
"Is my love that repulsive?"
He rolled on his back and stared up at her. "No. It's not that." He threw an arm over his eyes. "I'm a simple man. I'm not hard to figure out. I like women and I like sex. I've never been in love my entire life."
"You asked three women to marry you."
He let his hand fall. "You know as well as I do that people don't always marry for love."
"But you could, eventually."
He studied her. "How would you know I wasn't marrying you for what you are, instead of who you are?"
"I wouldn't care."
"How would I know that deep down you don't want a stepfather for Nina? Or someone to finance your designs?"
"Why would you care?"
He reached to adjust his glasses, then realized he wasn't wearing them. "I don't know."
Adriana searched his face, but his expression was unreadable. "Are we breaking up?"
Eric sat up and glanced out the window. He sighed wearily. "You'd be my first girlfriend."
"You've never had a girlfriend?"
"I usually called them lovers or—"
She poked him with her elbow. "I don't want to know."
A smile hovered over his lips. "I was always respectful."
"I still don't want to know."
He cupped her chin. "Do you want a boyfriend?"
She nodded.
"Okay, I'll help you find one."
She slapped his hand away. "Eric!"
He ran a tired hand down his face. "You're ruining my pattern."
"You're ruining mine."
He fell silent. So silent she began to worry he was withdrawing into himself.
"Eric?"
"I don't want you to pity me," he said in a brusque voice.
"I don't."
"You can't help it. You know that I have had two failed proposals, my last girlfriend cheated on me, my brother is considered the good-looking one, my immune system is so bad that I develop pneumonia from a seven-year-old with a cold, I'm afraid of heights, and my background is so low even dust mites snub their noses." His eyes swept her face. "You have a soft heart and that's what makes you wonderful, but I won't have a girlfriend that feels sorry for me."
"I don't feel sorry for you."
"Adriana—"
"I don't," she said firmly. She tugged on her blouse. "You don't make me feel useless."
"You aren't useless."
"I spend too much, have strange mothering habits, can't cook—"
"But you're clever, creative, and fun."
"And you're smart and solid and always there."
He pinched the bridge of his nose and began to mutter numbers.
"Are you adding something?" she asked.
"No, they're prime numbers. I mumble them when I'm going out of my mind."
"Thanks a lot."
He rubbed his forehead. "Adriana, we're crazy to think this can work as a real relationship."
She smiled sweetly. "It wouldn't be the first time you were illogical."
He sent her a hard glare.
Adriana knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You're thinking too much." She let her hand slide down his chest, feeling his muscles constrict under her palm. "You want me and I want you."
Eric turned to her and hooked his finger in the V of her blouse, succumbing to his desire for her. He pulled her toward him. "Okay, then do your damage, Nurse Travers."
"I get to be in charge?"
He kissed her chin. "What do you mean by 'in charge'?"
"You'll have to trust me."
His lips brushed her forehead. "I don't trust anyone."
She paused. "That's a scary way to live."
He loosened her blouse. "You get used to it. I like to be in control."
"But—"
He suddenly grinned. "Nice bra. How do you undo it?"
She grabbed his hands. "You can't always be in control."
He frowned. "You weren't this talkative before."
She lifted a brow, tightening her hold on his hands.
"I don't mind risk, but only when the odds are in my favor. Think of life as everyone standing on the precipice of the unknown. I don't like falling."
"Even when there's someone to catch you?"
"There's never someone to catch you." Eric managed to get out of her grasp and undid her bra. "That's better."
"I would catch you."
His mouth covered her breast. "You don't know me."
For a moment she lost her train of thought. She arched into him. "I want to."
He fell back on the bed and looked up at her. "I can't afford to need you."
"You won't."
"I might." He cupped her breast and let his hand graze her side in a slow sensuous gesture. "You're very tempting."
"But, Eric—"
He swore fiercely. "I hate this. You don't understand. I can't have relationships."
"Why not?"
He sat up and tapped his chest. "Because I'm not normal. I don't feel things the way you're supposed to."
"What does that mean?"
It meant he felt too much. It meant that when he looked at her right now he felt a sense of possessiveness so strong it hurt. If he were to love her it would consume every part of him, body and soul, giving her the power to destroy him. He already stood on the danger precipice. Even when he was away from her, he longed to be near. The monster in him desperate for escape. Desperate to say, Here I am. All of me. Would you accept me as this? This ravenous creature of darkness who could devour you with his need?
She rested her chin on his shoulder. "Have you ever felt dead inside?" she asked softly.
He nodde
d. All his life.
"I have. When I was married to Laurence I felt as if I were in a play, given a role to act. And I acted well, feeling hollow inside, but not having the courage to break away. To stand up for myself and say: 'This isn't me. Sorry, but you have the wrong wife.' Instead I did as told. I had a baby though I didn't know what to do with one and went through the motions of domestic life, failing miserably."
"Then Laurence said he wanted a divorce." She rested her cheek against his back, his warmth giving her strength to share her painful past. "I was shattered because I didn't know what or who I was without being Mrs. Shelton. I know many women thought I was weak, I felt weak. But most people won't admit how it feels to have your identity taken from you, something you've struggled to build. I had nothing to hold me up after that.
"I managed, of course, by creating a new me. An Adriana Travers that I would have been if I hadn't met Laurence. I chose men that were his opposite—wild, rough, coarse. They filled me with emotions I had never felt before, did things to me I'd never imagined."
Eric cleared his throat. "I hope you're not planning to share them."
"No."
"Thank you."
"I soon realized I was acting again. Always on the go. Not staying still so I could think. Then I met you and for once I felt whole. Not because I'm with you but because I'm myself. You accept all of me. No one except Cassie has ever done that." She kissed his shoulder. "I'm not afraid of falling and I don't expect you to come with me."
"You shouldn't settle for less."
"Who says I'm settling?"
She touched his face with such tenderness he briefly considered the benefits of falling. Her soft hand grazed the stubble on his face. He felt as if he were a beast she was trying to tame, but he was a man who didn't need her affections. Didn't want them. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He couldn't understand how she could know nothing about him, yet would risk loving him.
Her hand fell to his chest. "I can feel your heart beating."
"Surprised I have one?"
She rested her head against him. "No."
He remained still, not daring to move. He was too close to the precipice; he could feel the earth trembling beneath him, but perhaps if he was careful he wouldn't fall. He had to stop talking, trying to put into words his apprehension. It made the danger of their relationship too real.
He said her name and she looked up at him. He kissed her, pulling her close. He held her as if she were a butterfly that had landed in his palm, careful to give her the choice to stay or fly away. Afraid that if he held too tightly he would crush her wings and hurt her.
He entered her with reverence as though he had been allowed through the doors of a sacred cathedral, its glorious, sanctified walls welcoming him. It washed away the filth of his past and the man he used to be, forgiving him his desire and making him worthy of this gift, this comfort.
His hands learned every part of her, her skin becoming a new and fascinating entity. Everything about her fascinated him. He kissed and held her as if he'd never been with a woman before.
Adriana closed her eyes, feeling the gathering of tears. Tears sweet with joy, ecstasy. She was floating on a cloud of pleasure, reveling in his masculine exploration of her, succumbing to the bliss of being one with him.
"You're crying." He brushed a tear away with his thumb.
"I know."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No." She held his face in her hands, determined to find a way to melt the ice in his eyes. "You healed me."
* * *
The sound of the doorbell crashed through Eric's peaceful slumber early the next morning. He grabbed his robe and answered the door.
"Do you know what time it is?" he demanded. Keith took a step back. He glanced at the door number to make sure he was at the right address. He seemed to have awakened a hibernating bear. "Sorry, I must have the wrong—"
"Hi, Keith," a sleepy, feminine voice interrupted. The sound of his name seemed to increase the man's scowl. He saw Adriana peeking behind the bear, who stood as a barrier. Either to block his entrance or her exit. "Come in," she said.
He stared at the man, unsure. "Uh."
She patted the man on the back. "Eric, go back to bed. I can handle this."
He folded his arms. "You haven't answered my question," he said in a low growl.
Keith cleared his throat. "Uh, yes. I know it's early, but Adriana is used to me."
Sharp brown eyes cut through him. "Uh-huh."
Adriana tugged on his arm. "Eric, go to bed. You're just tired."
"I'll make coffee."
"No. I'll not have you sending Keith into a diabetic coma. Go to bed."
He rested a hand on the door frame and sent him a cool, appraising look. "You do realize she has a little girl she has to get ready for school?"
Keith nodded. "Yes."
"Plus a full day of work?"
"Yes."
"So this won't happen again."
"Yes, I mean no. Uh..."
"Right."
Keith glanced down and saw Elissa. "Hey, kitty." He bent to pet her. She hissed at him.
"Take her with you," Adriana told Eric.
He scooped the cat up, mouthed, "Don't give him money," and turned.
Keith breathed with relief when Eric disappeared down the hall. "Who the hell was that?"
She ushered him inside and closed the door. "Don't worry about him, it is early. What do you want?"
"No need to be like that. I've come here early before."
"I know." But she had changed. She turned and headed for the kitchen, hiding a yawn.
He patted his portfolio. "I wanted to show you my new paintings."
She gestured to the table as she poured water into the coffeepot. Once finished she stood over his paintings. "Excellent."
"Thanks to your generous contribution, I've got an appointment with Lorna."
"What about Sartan?"
He hesitated, then shrugged. "Didn't work out. We didn't have the same vision. However, I think Lorna is my big chance. Unfortunately, the landlady is scratching up my back and I can't work with her screeching at me." He paused. "If I could just get a loan."
Adriana sat, resting her chin in her hand. "I'm really tight this month. If you can't afford the rent, you may have to move."
"I can't move, it's the perfect location, the windows and the space allow my creativity to thrive."
She drummed her fingers. "I can't keep bailing you out."
"Just this last time."
"Is that a promise?"
"Yes."
"I believe in your work," she said, hedging. "But I'm not rich enough to be a patron."
"I know, you've been great. Last time. Promise."
"Okay, let me get my handbag." She suddenly groaned. "Which I left in the bedroom."
"Don't worry about it," he said, sensing her apprehension and having some of his own.
She stood. She would not be intimidated by Eric. He might be her boyfriend now, but her money was still her own. "Just stay here."
She peeked into the room and then quickly headed to her bag on the dresser.
A deep voice penetrated the darkness. "I told you not to give him money."
She turned on a lamp. "Yes, you've told me a lot of things I've chosen to ignore."
"Adriana—"
"This is none of your business."
"It is my business when I see you giving your income away to a lazy Samfi man."
"He is not a con."
"You should be spending it on yourself. What kind of friend is so selfish to have a hobby he expects others to pay for?"
"First of all, Keith has talent, and second, art is not his hobby, it's his career. Many artists struggle in the beginning."
Eric came over to her as she searched through her handbag. "How long has he been at this?"
"That doesn't matter."
"Does he know about your career, your sketches?"
"It's not the same."
"You don't understand."
He turned her to face him. "I do understand. This gives you the perfect excuse not to reach your goal. Not to focus on yourself so you won't fail."
She yanked out of his grip and turned to her bag. "I'm not in the mood for a lecture."
"How about a lesson then? See what kind of friend he is. Tell him no."
She grabbed her checkbook. "Go back to sleep."
He seized her arm. "Adriana—"
She looked up at him, defiant. "Yes?"
He released her arm and watched her go.
* * *
"So you came back alive," Keith said, resting back in his chair with his coffee.
"Yes." She lifted her pen, then stopped. "I have one question."
"What?"
"Are these paintings yours?"
He looked unsure. "Yes, of course."
"Then who's KSY?"
"What?"
"One of your paintings had KSY as a signature."
"That's sort of a stage name."
"I didn't realize artists used them."
"I'm sort of in between a divorce. I don't want her to get any of the earnings."
"I see." Adriana quickly wrote out the check and handed it to him. "This isn't just about talent. It's about friendship, trust."
He took the check and stood. "This is the last time, I promise. Thanks."
She chewed her lower lip. "You know, I'm having a fashion show in February the weekend of Valentine's Day."
"That sounds great." He opened the door. "I hope it goes well."
"You're welcome to come. I'll be—"
"February's going to be busy," Keith cut in. "You know Black History Month and all. Besides, I'm not really into fashion, but thanks for asking."
She managed an understanding smile. "Right," she said and gently closed the door.
"He's lying," Eric said behind her.
She spun around. "You weren't supposed to be listening in."
"He can't make your fashion show because he's a selfish donkey who doesn't want to appear anywhere where he won't be the focus."
"I think I can figure out my own friends."
"Every word that comes out of his mouth needs washing. It's covered in—"
