Spend the night. The phrase brought visions into her head of what she and Dawson had done, of what they could do in a bed. She tried to steer her mind away from that track.
“Aunt Anna is going to miss you at the Purple Pansy.”
“Are you really thinking about your Aunt Anna?” Dawson asked, his voice a bit husky.
She decided to be honest with him. “No. I was thinking about you and me in the sunroom.”
He didn’t respond right away as if he was surprised by her honesty. “I was thinking about the same thing. I was thinking about my new king-size bed and how it would be a lot more comfortable than the sunroom floor.”
“Dawson—”
“Luke went up to his room. He’s checking my laptop to look for a poster he wants for his wall. So I’m free to talk.”
“And what would you like to say?” She found herself a bit breathless and realized just the tone of his voice could do that.
“Well, for starters, tell me what you’re wearing.”
She wasn’t sure where this was leading, but she decided to follow. “I’m wearing a cocktail dress.”
“What color?”
“It’s blue.”
“Short or long?”
“Above the knee. It has long sleeves and a V-neck.” If he wanted to play this game, she could too.
“Zipper down the back?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Okay, then I want you to imagine something. Imagine me unzipping that zipper. Imagine me brushing the dress from your shoulders and kissing the nape of your neck.”
Oh, she could imagine it all right. She could imagine it all too well. “And then?” she asked with her voice catching. “Then I get to unbutton your shirt? And run my hands over your chest?”
His silence made her wonder if maybe Luke had come downstairs. Finally he admitted, “I started this. I just didn’t realize how…exciting it could get.”
“You want me to rebutton your shirt?” she teased.
He laughed. “No. But maybe we should save this conversation for midnight when I know we won’t be interrupted. Do you have a workshop tomorrow morning?”
“I have breakfast at eight.”
“They do keep you busy.”
“Yes, they do.”
“How did your presentation go?”
“It went well. I had a lot of positive comments afterward.”
“As well you should. You’re good, Mikala. You’re skilled at what you do.”
“Sometimes skill isn’t enough. How’s Luke? Has he remembered anything else?”
“Not that I can tell. We put up a basketball net and shot hoops in the snow. Tomorrow Celeste invited him to go along with her and Abby to the movies. He seemed to like the idea. So Noah, Riley, Clay and I are going to play poker while they’re out.”
“That will be good for Luke. And you.”
There was a knock on Mikala’s door. She checked her watch. Ben was early. “Dawson, can you hold on a minute? Someone’s at my door.”
She went to the door, opened it and smiled at Ben Cromwell. He was a professor at USC and they’d given workshops together in the past. “Hi, Ben. Come on in. I won’t be long.”
“Ben?” Dawson asked. “Do you have a dinner date?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?” The warmth had left his voice and he sounded…jealous? Was that possible?
She quickly explained, “Ben teaches music theory at USC. We’re often on panels together at these conferences. We’re on a panel together tomorrow morning so we decided to have dinner to prepare notes.”
“I see,” Dawson said, but she wasn’t sure he did see. “Have you known him long?” he asked and his tone sounded casual again.
“About five years. After dinner there’s a cocktail party and we’ll be going to that. It’s all part of the conference.”
“Well, I won’t keep you from dinner,” he said. “Enjoy yourself. We’ll save that midnight conversation for another time.”
She was disappointed they weren’t going to have that midnight conversation, but she knew she had to be fresh in the morning. Yet she didn’t want their call to end like this…abruptly…with maybe a misunderstanding on his part.
“Dawson, I called because I’m not so busy that I’m not thinking about you and Luke. I just wanted you to know that.”
His silence told her he hadn’t expected that. Finally he responded with a gruff, “Thanks for calling, Mikala. I’ll talk to you when you get back. I hope the rest of the conference is successful.”
“Bye, Dawson.”
When she closed her phone, she felt unsettled, as if she’d given too much away…as if she’d done the wrong thing by calling.
When she saw Dawson in person again, she’d know.
Chapter Ten
The following afternoon Dawson sat in Clay’s kitchen with Clay, Noah and Riley, playing poker.
“So Zack’s in DC?” Riley asked Dawson, as Clay dealt the first hand and Noah filled the potato chip bowl.
“He’s working on a documentary about veterans,” Dawson explained, taking a handful of pretzels and setting them on his plate. “He’s making a couple of stops on his way back here. I think he’ll be gone about two weeks.”
“That’s got to be tough for him and Jenny. Newlyweds don’t like to be apart,” Clay commented. Clay had only been married five months himself, so he knew.
Celeste came into the kitchen and grabbed her car keys from a dish on the counter. “Help yourselves to the pizza pockets whenever you feel like it. The fridge is stocked. The kids and I are leaving for the movies now. Remember there’s chocolate cake on the counter.”
“Beautiful and can cook, too,” Noah said as he shook his head. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” Clay protested, pulled his wife toward him for a quick kiss and then let her go. “See you in a while.”
“In a while,” she agreed with a coy smile and then left the kitchen.
Watching them, Dawson realized he and Kelly had never had that kind of marriage. He wasn’t exactly sure what that kind of marriage was. There was a quiet but deep intimacy between Clay and Celeste that he’d never experienced with Kelly. It was the same kind of silent communication he’d noticed between Jenny and Zack. Just how did a couple reach that level? He’d married Kelly because that had been the right thing to do. But had the “right” thing been wrong?
Each of the men bet their hands.
“Have you heard from Brenna since the reunion?” Noah asked Riley.
Seated next to Riley, Dawson saw the man’s shoulders tense, his spine stiffen.
“Why do you think I would?” Riley asked Noah, moving a stack of poker chips from one side of his plate to the other.
“You left the reunion together,” Noah said amiably, curiosity in his gaze.
“We just fell into conversation at the reunion. But the rift between our families makes it hard to be…friends.”
Dawson noticed Riley was definitely uncomfortable with the whole conversation. Sure enough, Riley pushed back his chair and snagged a pizza pocket. Glancing at Dawson, he remarked, “How are things with you and Mikala? Are you officially dating?”
“No,” Dawson said very quickly. Too quickly. No. Not dating. But they’d made love and he felt a bond with her. After examining his reaction to her phone call, he’d had to admit he’d been jealous she was having dinner with a colleague.
But they weren’t dating.
“She’s helping Luke. When we were staying at the Purple Pansy, she and I ran into each other a lot.” At the raised brows from the other men, he added, “My life is too complicated to even consider anything serious. And Mikala… She’s got her own issues, jus
t as we all do.”
“Issues? What issues?” Noah asked. “I’m an open book.”
They all knew that wasn’t true. Noah’s job meant he had a very public persona but he also had a very private life. He’d worked in the Phoenix Police Department before taking the job as chief in Miners Bluff. No one knew exactly what had happened in Phoenix, but something had, something that had changed him.
“It doesn’t matter if we have issues,” Clay protested. “What matters is that we share them with the person we care about. I just think it’s a lot harder for guys than it is for women.”
“Sometimes it’s not so easy for them, either.” Dawson remembered the expression on Mikala’s face after she’d gotten an email from her mother, after she’d received the package in the mail. Maybe when two people could talk about history that hurt…maybe when that became easy, that’s how a man knew he’d found the right woman.
The right woman to have an affair with? The right woman to live with? The right woman to love?
Dawson took three cards from his hand and pushed them over to Riley. “Three new ones.” If he was lucky, he’d end up with two pair.
If he was lucky, Mikala’s dinner with her colleague had meant absolutely nothing.
He was getting in deeper than he wanted to admit.
* * *
Mikala wasn’t ignoring Dawson…she wasn’t. Returning from the conference, she’d had to catch up with appointments as well as helping Anna with the B and B. That’s all it was. She was busy.
Besides, Dawson wasn’t under the same roof any more. Things were different now. They didn’t run into each other. She hadn’t called him again. Wasn’t that best? She was having trouble finding another music therapist to recommend to Dawson for Luke.
When the doorbell in her studio rang, she knew who it was. She had a session with Luke and, of course, Dawson would be bringing him.
Dawson didn’t come into her office with his son. His gaze held hers as he said, “I’ll be back around five, right?”
“That should do it,” she agreed, looking toward Luke who’d already gone into the music room.
The silence went a beat too long. Filling it, maybe not wanting to see Dawson leave just yet, she asked, “Are you enjoying the new house?”
“It’s coming along.”
Again awkward silence settled between them.
Dawson broke it this time. “Luke mentioned he’d like to see Aunt Anna. Is it okay if we go over to visit after his appointment?”
“Sure. She’d like that. She misses you.”
His gaze seemed to inquire if she did too, but he didn’t ask the question. “Okay then, I’ll see you at five.”
Mikala shut the door against the March chill and went to the music room. Luke handed her his iPod as soon as she sat in one of the chairs. She’d asked him if she could see his music list. She scrolled through it. “Very diverse taste. Only one kind is missing.”
“What?” Luke asked.
“Country. You don’t like country?”
“No,” he said adamantly. “I don’t.”
“No Jason Aldean, Carrie Underwood, Brad Paisley?”
“No,” he said again, even more adamantly. “I don’t.”
“Would you like to tell me why?”
“The same reason Dad doesn’t like some of the singers I like.”
Something about Luke’s answer didn’t ring true. So she went down a different road. “I’d like to try something a little different today.”
“Like what?” Luke asked warily.
“I’d like to put your iPod on a dock, hook it up to the speakers, and while it plays, I’d like you to draw for me.”
“Draw what?”
“Nothing in particular. Whatever comes into your mind. Do you think you could try that?”
“I don’t draw very good.”
“I don’t care what it looks like. It can even be abstract. It’s sort of like when you’re playing the piano and you don’t have music in front of you. I’d like you to do the same thing with crayons—just let the music play and you draw.”
Luke shrugged. “Sounds okay to me.”
She guessed what he was thinking. Anything was better than her asking questions and him having to answer them. But freedom for him to draw whatever he wanted might give her a clue as to what he was thinking, might let a few of his memories pop out.
After she hooked up his iPod, he sat at a table and chair with a sheet of drawing paper, colored pencils and crayons all around it. They’d set his device on shuffle and, at first, Luke seemed awkward with the whole process. But then he picked up a crayon and just started scribbling. One song segued into another. His colors and lines and shapes spread from one piece of paper to the next. Finally instead of random pictures of trees or cactus or cars or dogs, a new picture slowly emerged. Mikala just watched, studying Luke’s body language, expressions passing over his face. Where at the beginning, the process had been almost a lark, now there was intensity about him. Mikala didn’t peek over his shoulder, just gave him space. But she suspected something emotional was emerging, something other than a simple drawing that might mean nothing.
When he’d finished, he sat back, put down the crayon and didn’t pick up another.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said.
Mikala switched off the music and sat at the table beside him, studying the pictures one by one. She commented on each, asked him a few questions, listened to his answers.
When she reached the final one, she said simply, “Can you tell me about this one?”
“That’s me and my mom,” he said pointing to the figures.
Mikala pointed to the woman. “Your mom had red hair?”
Luke nodded, his eyes misting over.
“Just from this picture, I can tell you thought she was pretty.” He’d dressed her in a pink sweater and slacks with a scarf around her neck.
“She was really pretty.”
“Were you and your mom doing anything special in this picture?”
He just had them standing there and Mikala wanted to know what scene had come into his mind.
“It’s just me and her, not doing anything.”
But then on the far side of the page there was a fence and a shadowy figure standing behind it. The figure wasn’t clear, but it looked like a man.
“Can you tell me about the rest of the picture?”
“No. I don’t know why I drew it.”
Mikala tapped her finger on the figure. “Do you know who this is?”
“No. I don’t know. I guess it’s Dad.”
Was it Dawson on the outside looking in? Or was it someone else? Luke was getting agitated and her instincts told her pushing him now wouldn’t be a good idea. She pointed to the credenza. “Why don’t you pick out one of your pieces of sheet music and play it for me? I like to hear you play.”
“That’s cool.” He seemed much more relaxed with that idea. And that’s what she wanted—Luke relaxed enough that his guard might slip and let his memories through. Searching through the sheet music, he pulled out his favorite.
Mikala didn’t want Luke to dread these sessions. She wanted part of him to look forward to them.
Because if he was relaxed with her, he might just remember exactly what had happened the night of the accident.
* * *
Mikala suspected Luke couldn’t resist one of Aunt Anna’s pies or one of her dinners. Neither could Dawson. She’d invited them to stay for supper and they’d readily agreed.
What Mikala couldn’t resist was watching Dawson as he ate his slice of pie. His hands were masculine, his fingers long. She could remember every place he’d touched…every place he’d kissed. She wished they were back on easy footing again. So when Luke asked if
he could play gin rummy with Anna and Dawson motioned Mikala into the hallway, she followed him.
She could see Dawson struggle with what to say. He didn’t even start with a transitional opener. He just jumped in. “I shouldn’t have gotten an attitude about you going to dinner with a colleague at the conference.”
Relief flooded through her. The edge she’d heard in his voice hadn’t been her imagination. “Why did you?” If Dawson could be honest with her, maybe there was hope.
“You’re going to make me admit it, aren’t you?” He seemed perturbed at the thought.
At that she had to smile. “Admit what?” she asked innocently.
Shaking his head, he gave her a penetrating look. “That I was jealous. I had visions of that dinner turning into something like…we were talking about.”
She said quickly, “He really was just a colleague. You have nothing to be jealous about. You know me, Dawson. I don’t—”
“Yes, I do know that,” he said on a blown-out breath. Then he wrapped his arms around her, brought her close, and kissed her.
Each of their kisses became a new melody. This one was sweet and tender until it turned into all passion and living-for-the-moment. Totally involved in responding to his lips nibbling hers, his tongue chasing hers, she was disappointed when he put on the brakes. But he didn’t release her. He didn’t let her go. Instead he held her and rocked her a little, and she delighted in the joy of holding and being held.
Finally he leaned away. “I’d better get Luke back to the house. He has a science test to study for. But—” He stopped. “I want to spend some time with you. Are you free tomorrow afternoon? I’d like to take you to lunch.”
She liked the fact that Dawson remembered her schedule.
She also liked the idea that he wanted to be with her. “I have a session at eleven-thirty, but I’ll be free by one. Do you want me to drive to your place?”
“No. I’ll pick you up.”
“It’s a date,” she responded a bit breathlessly. But he didn’t disagree. So the butterflies in her stomach would settle down a bit, she focused on a subject that was on her mind. “Something came up in my session with Luke today.”
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