The Cards of Life and Death (Modern Gothic Romance 2)

by Colleen Gleason

  He brought Diana a glass of garnet-colored wine and popped the cap of the beer he favored. Then he rummaged through the fridge and found some cheese, hummus, raw carrots and tomatoes. “Have a seat,” he invited, gesturing to the long, sienna-colored leather sofa. “And here’s something to nibble on. The tomatoes are from my garden.”

  “Thanks. I just realized how hungry I am,” she said, reaching for a small plate and filling it up. As she ate, she found herself gazing around the cabin, noticing every little detail.

  The room wasn’t overly large, but the high ceiling gave it a spacious feel. All the floors and exterior walls were a deep, honey-colored wood, in keeping true to the sense of a log cabin. The bar from a galley kitchen separated cooking from living space, and there was only a small table and chairs for eating tucked into a corner.

  A fieldstone fireplace dominated the wall opposite the sofa, with a large television placed strategically so that it could be viewed from most places in the room: from the sofa, from a well-worn armchair, from the small dining table. The floors were polished, and covered with a variety of rugs. Bookcases were built into the diagonal wall that hid a staircase leading to the second floor.

  Diana was struck by the sense that the place was a home. Comfortable, welcoming, neat but not sterile. Something she wouldn’t have expected from a bachelor. Certainly nothing like Jonathan’s sleek, red and black condo—at least before she moved in and softened it up.

  Four rectangular windows faced the direction of the lake, and as she watched, Ethan walked over to pull their blinds partway down.

  She admired him and appreciated how his rugged good looks fit in this setting … the way his denim shorts hugged his rear and showed off tanned, muscular legs … the thick locks of hair that brushed the collar of his shirt and fell onto his forehead … his solid, toned arms and fine, chiseled mouth ….

  And she realized she felt at ease, even in the presence of such masculinity. Not only did she feel at ease with him, but she found she didn’t have to censor what she said. Like she did with Jonathan.

  Diana sipped from her wine, watching Ethan in consideration over the rim of the glass. As he came back around by the couch and sat on the other end she asked, “Have you lived here long?”

  “I’ve had the place for almost seven years, but I just finished remodeling it last summer. I spend most of my time in Princeton, you know, and only make it up here during the summers and for long weekends—more’s the pity.”

  “Did you get it in the divorce?” she couldn’t help but ask, wondering if it was Meghan who had made the place so welcoming, picking out the pillows on the sofa and the thick, bold-colored rug in front of the fire. She found the possibility unaccountably irritating.

  His expression shuttered just a bit. “No. Meghan was never here for more than a couple weekends. This has always been my haven. I like to fish,” he added. “She didn’t like to be away from civilization. Or, now that I think about it, she was probably using the time I was up here to fuck my friend Bruce. And God knows who else.” He took a long swig.

  “I only asked because it’s such a comfortable, homey place,” Diana told him, wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. “It doesn’t seem like Meghan the Jerkette’s style.” Then her eyes widened. “Did I say that out loud?” Where was her filtering censor when she needed it?

  But he was chuckling now, his eyes dancing as he looked at her from the other end of the sofa. “You certainly did. Meghan the Jerkette? That’s pretty lame. I’ve called her a lot worse.”

  “I can only imagine,” she murmured, feeling a little uncomfortable that she’d said something so thoughtless—and silly. But he wasn’t looking at her as if she were an idiot either, so maybe it was okay.

  “Thanks anyway,” he said. “I’m glad you like the place. I was going for homey, as a matter of fact.” He shrugged, looking down at his beer, wiping off the condensation on the bottleneck. “I think it’d be a great place to raise a family. I was kind of hoping I’d already have one by now. But, well … in the end, it was a good thing we didn’t have any children. Meghan the Jerkette and I.” He flashed her a wry look. “That really is pretty bad, even with the alliteration.”

  Diana stifled a little laugh. “Well, give me time. I’ll come up with something better.” She took a drink of wine and realized her glass was nearly empty already.

  “Although I’m not sure how anything could follow Valerie the … what did you call her?”

  “Which time?” Diana retorted. “I generally refer to her as Valerie the Wonder Slut, but Jonathan didn’t appreciate that.”

  Ethan sobered. “I’ll just bet he didn’t.” He looked as if he were about to say something else, then abruptly lifted his beer to drink, effectively muzzling himself.

  “He said it wasn’t a dignified thing for me to say,” she said. “I told him it wasn’t very dignified of him to be playing fuck-buddy with a bimbo surgeon while wearing a surgical mask and gloves. He was, you know. When I found them in the hotel together.”

  He gave a short bark of laughter that had the big black dog sitting up and giving its own high-pitched yip. “’S okay, Cady,” Ethan told the canine. “Relax.” Then he looked at Diana, still laughing. “You said that? And … he was?”

  “Yes, he was. And what’s so funny about what I said?”

  “It’s just that it doesn’t sound like you,” he said. “Not that I know you all that well,” he amended quickly. “But you’re so … you’re not ….”

  “Yes, I know. I used the F-word. Which is reserved for use by men only. But I was mad. And it slipped out. And I’m not all that dignified, if you really want to know the truth.” Diana clamped her mouth shut. Had he put something in the wine, to get her talking like this? Or was she just over-exhausted, over-stressed, and disturbed beyond discretion?

  He gave her a long, slow smile that made her insides go all hot and squishy. “I kind of like you when you’re undignified. You’re a lot more interesting.”

  And then, before she could formulate anything to say that wasn’t going to sound inane, he stood. “Would you like to see the rest of the house?” Ethan casually held out a hand, and after a brief hesitation, she offered her own and allowed him to pull her upright.

  To her relief, he didn’t try to keep hold of her fingers, releasing them from his large, warm ones as soon as she was upright. Glass in hand, she followed him into the kitchen to check out its layout, next to his small office and then the guest bedroom—where she’d be sleeping tonight—along with its bath.

  “The master suite is upstairs,” he said, his voice very nonchalant. “You have to see it if for no other reason than for its deck and the view. It’s my favorite part of the house.” He gestured, and Diana climbed the stairs ahead of him, fully aware of his presence behind her … and excruciatingly sensitive to the fact that they were going to be in his bedroom.

  In keeping with the rest of the cabin’s décor, the master suite was done in heavy furnishings with bold colors. Diana tried not to look at the king-sized bed, and tried to ignore the lingering scent of Ethan mixed with male grooming products—but whatever they were, they smelled good. Fresh, clean, and masculine.

  Very aware of the intimacy of being in his bedroom, more than a little uncomfortable, Diana gave it only a cursory look before walking across the thick, wool rug to the large sliding glass door.

  Outside, a cool night breeze caught her by surprise. “Wow, it got chilly,” she said. Nevertheless, she stepped toward the rail and folded her arms at her waist, taking a moment to look out over the darkness as she breathed in the lake air.

  Hints of the water were visible as glistening reflections of the stars that spangled in the sky. The tops of tall trees brushed the heavens, whispering among themselves in answer to the call of a loon.

  “It’s so beautiful here,” she murmured. “And so peaceful. How do you ever go back?”

  He was standing so close she felt him shrug behind her. “There are many days when
I wish I didn’t have to.” His voice was low, sending shivers down her back. “I’d give an awful lot to be able to live here year around. In fact, I’m working on a project that may turn into a book. If so, I’ll take a sabbatical for a couple years and live here while I’m finishing it. Then hopefully I’ll find another way not to return to the city.”

  “I don’t think I could live this far from civilization,” Diana said firmly, trying to convince herself that Boston was the place for her. “It’s too far away from everything.”

  “I guess it depends what you mean by everything.”

  Crickets chirped and something rustled in the forest below. Cady gave a short yelp from downstairs, but said nothing more.

  She felt him draw near, felt his warm hands cover her bare shoulders, then slide down her arms. “What a beautiful night,” he said near her ear, cupping her elbows. For a moment, a wild instant, she wanted to turn around and face him. To go into his arms and see if his kiss was as good as she remembered.

  Diana closed her eyes, heart pounding, her insides swirling with indecision and anticipation, her senses heightened and pinpointed to where he touched her. She could turn around … it would be so easy. And they’d kiss. And ….

  His hands moved up her arms again, then dropped as he stepped back. “You’re cold, Diana. Let’s go inside.”

  She opened her eyes, the moment gone, and went back inside. But when he lingered in the bedroom, she walked briskly past him and toward the stairs. “I think I need a refill,” she said, gesturing with her empty glass, grateful that she hadn’t done anything she’d regret.

  “Sure.” He thumped down the stairs behind her.

  The kitchen’s bright lights and the solidness of appliances and countertops dispelled Diana’s discomfort. She perched on a bar stool and watched as he poured more wine, then took a second beer from the refrigerator.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop across the bar from her, his expression sober. “So, did you suspect Jonathan was having an affair? I,” he said, looking down at his beer bottle as he slowly turned it in his hands, “didn’t have a clue. About Meghan.”

  Startled by his choice of topic, Diana was nevertheless willing to follow it. “I didn’t suspect at all. I showed up to surprise him at a convention hotel—it was a weekend, and I’d just won a really big case—and when I stopped at the registration desk to find out his room, they gave me a key, calling me Mrs. Wertinger. That was my first clue, and let me tell you … that elevator ride to the fifth floor was the longest ride of my life. I kept hoping I was wrong … but you know, hotels don’t give out keys unless they’re told to. And so at that point, I knew he was expecting someone else. Mrs. Wertinger. Who didn’t happen to be me.”

  “That would have sucked,” he said, his face grim.

  “It did. I puked in the bathroom.” Her stomach roiled even now, thinking about how her world had collapsed when she walked in on that scene. “Let me clarify—I puked after I chased Valerie the Strumpet Surgeon out of the room.”

  His lips twitched. “You should have horked all over her.”

  Diana grinned and took a sip of cabernet. “Too bad I didn’t think of that.” Then her smile faded. “Jonathan wants to work things out, but I ….”

  Ethan was looking at her intently, his gaze warm and heavy. Then suddenly, he reached across the counter and lightly brushed a finger over her lower lip. Diana didn’t move as tiny tingles exploded beneath his touch, heat rushing over her face.

  “You had this,” he said, lifting his finger to show a droplet of red wine. He looked at it then looked at her and all at once she was even more hot and trembly and her heart was racing. He gently traced the rim of his beer with the wine-dotted finger then lifted the bottle to drink.

  She couldn’t look away from his long, strong throat as he tipped his head back. Just watching him made her weak in the knees, fluttery in the belly. Jonathan had never made her feel that way. But then, as nice-looking as Jonathan was, he wasn’t as darkly handsome as Ethan. Nor as … easy, she guessed was the word. Easy, casual, informal. And it was rubbing off on her.

  “I think I’m ready to go to bed now,” she said suddenly, sliding off the stool.

  Ethan rested his beer on the counter and nodded. “I’m sure you’re exhausted—I’m pretty wiped out myself. Let me run upstairs and grab some fresh towels for you. For the morning.” He turned and dashed up the steps.

  Diana stared after him and his seemingly easy capitulation. She’d expected him to at least try to make a pass at her—and she wasn’t certain she’d be able to handle it.

  I have to figure out how I feel about Jonathan before anything can happen with Ethan. And then all at once, she was irritated about the very thought. There wasn’t any future here, with Ethan. He lived in New Jersey, she lived in Boston. And surely he didn’t intend for anything more than a summer fling. Why would he?

  Ethan returned with a stack of towels. “I think there’s a robe in the closet in the guest room, and there’s an extra blanket in there too, in case you get cold.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is there anything else you think you might need?” When she shook her head, he continued, “Well, then, good night. Sleep well, and sleep as late as you like. And if Cady barks in the night, don’t worry—she just likes to let the squirrels know she’s still holding the fort down.”

  “Okay. See you in the morning.” She watched as he turned off the lights and darted up the stairs, leaving her at the door of her room, safe, sound, and solo.

  ~*~

  Ethan lay in his bed, thankful that sunlight was at last streaming through the sliding glass door. It had been a long night.

  He folded his hands over his chest and glanced at the clock. Seven-thirty, it read. The last time he’d looked at it, it had been four-thirty. And the time before that, it had been four-twenty-five.

  He smiled wryly to himself and scratched the hair on his chest. Served him right, inviting her to stay and being determined to be the perfect gentleman, unwilling to take advantage of her when she was emotionally drained. He’d behaved, but at the cost of a good night’s sleep.

  Ethan rolled over onto his side so that he could look out at the sunny day. His thoughts wandered to the moment last night, out on that very deck with Diana. He’d been close enough to smell her hair, and when he’d touched her chilled arms, he’d felt her flinch against him. There had been a moment when he’d almost forgotten all of his scruples, and turned her about in his arms to kiss her. Fortunately, she’d been smart enough to leave his bedroom when they came inside.

  He felt himself shift and harden, now, remembering the way she’d looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Ethan squeezed his eyes shut. He had to stop thinking about her. He wasn’t ready to get involved with a woman again, especially one who was clearly not fling material. Lexie and Meghan had done a good number on him. And Diana lived in Boston, anyway. And she was clearly conflicted about Wertinger.

  And he was really only supposed to be spending time with her for research purposes. He had to get something done this summer, or he might have to go back to teaching full-time.

  This is not the time, and Diana’s not the—

  Before he could complete the thought, a bloodcurdling scream rent the air.

  ~*~

  Diana had been sleeping soundly, curled up in one of the most comfortable beds she’d ever experienced. She’d rolled over, up against a warm body … Ethan, her sleep-fogged mind told her. The thought fluttered through her in a wave of heat, and she smiled lazily in her sleep. However he’d come to be here, the memories couldn’t be bad, she thought … and opened her eyes. Then she screamed.

  Diana stumbled out of the bed as Cady’s head shot up and she looked at her with startled brown eyes. The sound of a heavy thud upstairs, then faster, staccato thumps down the stairs alerted her to the fact that Ethan had heard her.

  The door to her room burst open and he flew in. “What is it?” he exclaimed.


  Diana gawked. He was naked, and absolutely magnificent in his natural state. For a moment, she couldn’t say a word—she was caught between embarrassment, shock, and admiration.

  Cady hadn’t moved from her place on the bed, and Ethan’s gaze fell on her. Understanding dawned on his face at the same time as he realized his state of undress. A tinge of redness colored his cheeks and he slipped into the bathroom to grab a towel. “Sorry,” he said as a smile tugged at his mouth. “Did Cady startle you? I should have warned you to keep the door closed if you didn’t want her in here.”

  “It’s—it’s all right,” Diana managed to stammer. Although she’d averted her eyes as soon as she saw his nakedness, she could still picture his broad, muscled chest and flat stomach … and the evidence that he didn’t sunbathe in the nude. Deep breaths, Diana, deep breaths. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” she added weakly.

  Ethan gestured and Cady jumped off the bed, then paused to stretch with her tail in the air. “I’m sorry about that,” he said again, tightening the towel around his waist. “No, you didn’t wake me—I was already up. Did you sleep all right?”