Wishing Lake

by Regina Hart

  With his engine off, the night was still and quiet. They could be the only two people in the world. A nearby parking lot security lamp held the deepest shadows at bay.

  With her eyes, Peyton traced the clean-cut, angular lines of Darius’s face. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it for now.” He pinned her to the passenger seat with his dark stare. “When do we start?”

  Peyton was mesmerized by his midnight eyes. They were so beautiful and focused only on her as though she were the only thing that mattered in this time and place. “Let’s wait until after Thanksgiving break.”

  “Thanksgiving break. Outside of the university, the rest of the world calls it Thanksgiving.” His lips curved in a smile.

  Peyton imagined herself tracing his full, well-formed lips with her tongue. She tore her gaze away. What had he said? Oh, right. “Are you going to correct everything I say during our project?”

  “Only when you need correcting.”

  Peyton swallowed a laugh. She didn’t want to encourage him. She unlocked the passenger car door. “Good night, Darius.”

  Darius stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Hold on.”

  The warmth and weight of his touch traveled through her coat to every muscle in her body. “What is it?”

  “I’ll walk with you to your door.” He climbed out of the car and circled its hood.

  When was the last time someone had helped her from a car?

  Darius matched his pace to hers as they braved the lowering temperatures to cross the parking lot. What was happening to her? She’d never been that interested in sex before. But now, every time she was around the reporter, she had an out-of-body experience. Her mind went blank and her tongue separated itself from her thoughts. She had to get herself together. She was a responsible adult, not a domesticated animal in heat.

  Peyton fished her keys from her purse. “Thank you for driving me home.” There, that sounded very civilized.

  “You’re welcome.” He stood aside so she could precede him up the ornate black metal staircase.

  “I’d planned to drive myself.” Peyton led him up the steps. “I’ve been in Trinity Falls for five months now. It’s time I learned my way around. But people have been very insistent on carpooling with me.” Was she babbling?

  “They want to make it easier for me to take you home.” Darius’s tone was wry.

  She paused halfway up the stairs, frowning at him over her shoulder. “Why do you think this has anything to do with you?”

  Darius arched a brow. “Vaughn brought you to the Sequoia game. But I brought you home.”

  “You insisted on driving me back.”

  “Jack and Audra brought you to Ken’s retirement banquet, but I’m the one escorting you to your door.”

  Jackson and Audra hadn’t seemed surprised to be relieved of chauffeur duty. “So you think this is all part of their plan to get us together?”

  “I do.”

  Peyton continued up the steps. His body of evidence was growing. Perhaps he had a point. How did she feel about being the target of her new neighbors’ elaborate matchmaking scheme with one of the most eligible, attractive, and sexy bachelors in town?

  As her students would say, it was totally cool.

  “Just because they’re trying to get us together doesn’t mean we have to fall in with their plans.” Peyton unlocked her apartment door.

  “I’m beginning to think their idea has merit.”

  Surprised, Peyton looked up at Darius and found herself captured by his kiss. His mouth settled on hers. He didn’t touch her in any other way. His lips molded and caressed hers in a gentle invitation to a deeper intimacy. His tongue traced her shape in a vivid reminder of the pleasure they’d felt before—and that they could experience again, if it’s what she wanted. It was.

  Peyton twined her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. The impediments of their coats frustrated her. Without breaking their kiss, Peyton lowered her arms to unbutton her coat. She stumbled a step or two as Darius walked her backward. Her apartment door slammed shut with an explosive bang.

  Startled, Peyton jumped back. She stared at Darius, struggling for her bearings. His angular features were hard with desire. His midnight eyes burned with need.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice was rough and husky. “I kicked the door shut. I didn’t want to put on a show for your neighbors.”

  Peyton’s eyes shifted from Darius to the door and back. She crossed the room. Her hands hovered over the locks. What am I doing? Is this what I want? She’d ended her engagement. What was holding her back? Peyton turned the locks, then faced Darius again.

  “Good call.” She didn’t recognize her voice. But gazing into the heat of Darius’s dark eyes, she felt a familiar need.

  Darius Knight was a dangerous man. With the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, the touch of his hands, he could make her want things she’d never wanted before. Do things she’d never otherwise considered. What was it about him? What was it about her with him?

  Holding her gaze, Darius raised his hands to unbutton his black wool topcoat and take it off. Peyton was distracted by the broad expanse of his muscled shoulders molded beneath his garnet turtleneck sweater. Navy corduroy pants clothed his lean hips and long legs. Darius turned to lay his coat on the back of her silver love seat. When he faced her again, there was a question in his eyes. Aware he was watching her every move, Peyton opened her coat. She let the weight of it fall from her shoulders and pool on the floor.

  Darius’s eyes glowed. His gaze roamed her pink sweater and ankle-length skirt as though he could see through them. Her body hummed with a strange, deepening desire.

  Darius closed the distance between them. “You’re so beautiful.”

  “You’re the beautiful one.” Peyton rose up on her toes.

  Darius lowered his head to meet her. When their lips touched, it was like an electric current arcing through her. Peyton’s body shook. Darius tightened his arms around her. She dove into his kiss, exploring him, seeking him, teasing him with her tongue. She wanted to know him, his touch, his taste, his scent. She slid her hands up and over his sweater, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Peyton was drowning in sensation, on the verge of losing control.

  Darius’s head was spinning. Desire, raw and restless, swelled within him. Peyton was warm and responsive in his arms, feeding his need. He drank her gasps, swelled with her moans, and burned under her touch. Her taste, sweet and spicy, made him light-headed. Darius swayed on his feet.

  Peyton pulled her mouth free. “My heart’s racing. I can’t catch my breath.”

  “I know the feeling.” Darius pressed his face into the curve of her neck. He inhaled her scent and felt a tightening in his groin.

  He kissed her neck, nibbling her skin. Darius traced his tongue along the shell of her ear. Peyton moaned. Her hips pressed into his. She claimed his lips again.

  Darius tightened his embrace around her and drew her with him to the sofa. He walked backward, relying on memory to lead him where he wanted to go. The sofa came up against his legs. Darius fell onto it, taking Peyton with him. She gasped and he deepened their kiss.

  Darius pressed his tongue inside her, groaning when she stretched out to meet him. He stroked her, caressed her, wrapped himself around her. His blood grew hotter and hotter as she responded to the ways he wanted to touch her.

  Peyton lifted her head. “Darius.” His name was a gasp on her lips. Her breasts burned into his chest.

  “Yes?” His hands slipped under her sweater and moved up her back. Her skin was soft, smooth, warm. Arousing.

  “I can’t think.” Her body moved against his.

  “I don’t think we’re supposed to.” Darius reached around to cup the side of her breast. The sensation was pleasure, pain.

  “But I need to.” Peyton struggled into a sitting position.

  Darius let his hand drop. He sat beside her. “What do you need to think about?”

  “Th
is.” Peyton’s voice was tight. She waved a shaky hand. “I’m not ready. I thought I was.” Her breath was light and fast. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry.” Darius’s body pulsed with unanswered desire. He clenched, then unclenched his teeth. “I didn’t mean to push you.”

  “You didn’t.” Peyton’s response was fast and firm.

  “Just give me a minute.” Darius was silent for several long moments, waiting for his heated muscles to cool. His body wanted to join with hers but his soul knew he needed to leave. Finally, he stood. Darius put on his coat, then turned for one last look at the little professor. “Good night, Peyton. Sleep well.”

  “You too.” Peyton’s voice was soft.

  He again waited for her to lock her door before he started for the parking lot.

  Darius had never felt so much so fast. But it was more than a strong physical attraction to Peyton. She made him feel more than anyone else ever had. Maybe this Tin Man really did have a heart.

  CHAPTER 13

  This was the worst Thanksgiving Darius had ever had. How was that possible? He and his mother were the only two people in the dining room of his family’s house Thursday afternoon. Then why did it feel so crowded? The beige walls were closing in on him.

  From her seat at the head of the walnut dining table, Ethel gave the impression of serenity, but there were telltale signs of tension: tight jaw, thinned lips, and narrowed eyes. She’d barely said ten words since he’d arrived. Was she giving him the silent treatment because he’d asked to have Thanksgiving lunch with her so he could see Simon later this afternoon? These holiday dinners were miserable enough when he’d had to spend it with Ethel and Simon together. Sharing a meal with each of them separately on the same day was an experience Darius was anxious to put behind him.

  The silence dragged on. Darius had to say something before it drove him crazy.

  “The turkey tastes good.” He sawed another slice from the chunk of meat Ethel had tossed him.

  “Thanks.” Ethel allowed the conversation to lapse again.

  Yes, she was definitely punishing him for having the early meal with her. But if he’d seen his father first, she’d have punished him for that.

  Uncomfortable silences hadn’t been as uncomfortable when there’d been the three of them. What made this worse was that he couldn’t escape into his own mind. It would be too obvious.

  Darius put down his knife and fork. Enough was enough. He couldn’t continue this way. “Mom, why did you invite me to share Thanksgiving with you if you’re not going to speak with me?”

  Ethel forked up more stuffing. “I’m speaking.”

  “Two-word responses to my questions don’t qualify as holding up your end of a conversation.”

  “What do you want me to say?” She still wouldn’t look at him.

  What was going on? Darius strained to read her thoughts. “I’m your son. I shouldn’t have to coach you through a conversation with me.”

  “What do you want me to say?” She repeated the words with an edge of desperation.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “You look just like him.” She still wouldn’t look at him.

  Simon. He looked just like his father. He knew that. “That bothers you?”

  “Yes.”

  He flinched. “Why?”

  Ethel’s hand shook as she dropped her fork onto her white china plate. The sharp clang was a slap across his face.

  “He lied to me. He treated me like a fool.” Ethel clenched her fists, staring off into the middle distance.

  “Yes, he did.” Darius took a deep breath and forced an even tone. “But you knew he was lying—or at least suspected it. Why didn’t you push him harder for the truth?”

  “It didn’t matter how many times I asked him. He just kept denying it, over and over and over again.”

  They’d never discussed this. As a child, he hadn’t known the reason for the tension in their house. He only knew he much preferred his friends’ homes because everyone was so much more relaxed there.

  Darius studied the soggy stuffing. “I’d often wondered why you didn’t leave him.”

  “Why should I leave?” Ethel stabbed a broccoli spear from her plate. “I paid half the deposit on this house. I pay half the mortgage. I told him to get out years ago, but he wouldn’t.”

  They’d stayed in their tension-filled marriage because they were both too pigheaded to leave. He should have known. He’d thought—hoped—they’d tried to make their marriage work because of him. Instead, they’d stayed together because of a house.

  “So instead of leaving, you stayed.” Darius caught and held his mother’s resentful gaze. “Instead of punishing him, you punished me.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ethel’s frown darkened.

  “You weren’t at any of my football games.”

  “I fed you.”

  “You didn’t attend my graduations.”

  “I clothed you.”

  “You never helped me move into the dorms at college.”

  “I was there for you.”

  “No, you weren’t.” Darius stood. What was the point of this? Thanksgiving? He’d be thankful when it was over. “Instead of snubbing Dad, you ignored me. Instead of giving him the silent treatment, you were cold to me. Is it because I look like him? Were you afraid I’d become like him?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ethel grabbed the napkin from her lap and threw it onto the table.

  “Yes, you do.” Darius’s muscles shook with cold, though the dining room was way too warm.

  Ethel stood as well. “You’re talking nonsense.”

  “Will you ever stop punishing me for what you did to each other?” Darius pinned her with his stare.

  “Get out.” Ethel swung a stiff finger in the direction of the front door. “Get out of my house.”

  Darius folded his napkin and laid it on the table. “You won, Mom. You got the house.”

  Darius circled the long, walnut wood dining table and crossed to the closet to collect his topcoat. He yanked open the front door and left, never looking back.

  “Did you know there are NFL games on television throughout the day?” Peyton met her parents’ blank stares as they sat around the kitchen table Thanksgiving afternoon.

  The big, bright kitchen had always been her favorite room in the house. It was the most welcoming. And it was always painfully neat, from its black-and-white flooring and marbled countertops to the sterling silver appliances.

  “When did you start watching football?” Her father, Carlson Harris, paused in the act of spooning up his chicken noodle soup.

  The Harris family was enjoying a late breakfast/ early lunch of soup, cheese, and crackers before their traditional turkey dinner fresh from the caterers.

  “Ever since I attended a football game at one of the local high schools.” Peyton attempted a casual shrug. Had she pulled it off?

  “You sound as though you’re putting down roots in that little town.” Irene, her mother, laughed a little, but her dark eyes were concerned. “Don’t get too comfortable there, dear. You’re coming back to New York next month.”

  “Actually, Mom, that’s something I wanted to speak with both of you about.” Peyton stared at her plate of wheat crackers and Brie. This was as good a time as any to break the news to them. She took a deep breath. “I’m not coming home at the end of the semester.”

  “Excuse me?” Irene gave her a blank look.

  “When are you coming home?” Her father picked up his glass of lemonade. His eyes were steady on hers.

  “New York isn’t home anymore.” Peyton wasn’t convinced it ever truly had been. “Trinity Falls is.”

  The silence was dense with confusion, denial, and disbelief. Her parents looked at each other, then back at her. Peyton’s eyes found the coffee carafe on the counter behind her father. Her knees were too shaky to carry her that far.

  “When did you make that decisi
on?” Irene sounded lost.

  “Before I left in July.” Peyton held her mother’s gaze with difficulty.

  “When were you going to tell us?” Carlson’s voice was unrecognizable.

  “This weekend.” Although, she hadn’t intended on ruining the weekend this early.

  “Why have you left New York? This is where you were born. You grew up here.” Her mother’s voice shook with emotion. “You started your career here. This is where we live. Why would you leave? And without even discussing it with us first.”

  Peyton’s heart galloped in her chest. This was worse than she’d imagined. “I wasn’t happy here, Mom. I needed a change.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us this?” There was concern in her father’s words. “You just snuck away like a thief in the night.”

  Peyton steeled herself against the imagery. It was true but no less hurtful. “I knew you’d try to change my mind.”

  “Damn right we’d try to change your mind.” Irene’s eyes welled with tears—of anger or sorrow? “It’s ridiculous. It’s dishonest.” Her mother’s words cut deep.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “I don’t want your apology.” Irene stood. “I want you to keep your word and return to New York in December at the end of the semester. We even changed the date of our Aruba cruise to accommodate you.”

  “Your mother’s right.” Carlson’s calm words were a jarring contrast to her mother’s emotional outburst. “That’s the commitment you made to us.”

  “But I can’t. I signed a contract with the university. Besides, I’m happy in Trinity Falls.” Peyton tried willing her mother to understand.

  “How can you possibly know that?” Irene threw up her arms. “You’ve only been there five months.”

  “What about Bruce?” Carlson asked.

  Peyton drew a bracing breath, taking in the sharp scent of Brie. “I told you before I came home that Bruce and I ended the engagement.”

  “He doesn’t consider the engagement off.” Irene’s tone and posture threw out a challenge.