Fantasy

by Christine Feehan

  Stop. Don’t go there. This is a man who doesn’t believe in relationships, who thinks a great relationship isn’t out there for him, that it’s just a fantasy—

  Well, her fantasy was that someday she’d be one of the individuals in just such a relationship. With a wonderful man, a man who made her life so much better and more challenging than it could ever be alone.

  “They want relationships,” she said into the darkness. “All of them. They may disguise it in terms of getting laid, but underneath it all, every single man in that audience knows that something crucial is missing in his life.”

  Randy was one perceptive man.

  And Jake realized that he’d inadvertently just found one of the angles of his piece.

  “Can I quote you on that?” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  “Yeah, I do.” She took a deep breath. “It’s why I’m here.”

  Jake thought of Jim, then decided to keep that piece of information to himself.

  “You have trouble with close relationships?”

  Randy took another deep breath, then said, “Yeah. I do.” And Jake felt that it had taken a lot for him to actually say the words out loud, to admit them to himself.

  He owed Randy nothing less than total honesty back.

  “I do, too.”

  Randy hesitated, then said, “I can’t see how you would. I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but you seem to have everything going for you. Looks, height, status, money, intelligence—and you have trouble? If you do, what kind of hope do the rest of us have?”

  “A bad relationship with a bad ending can mess with your mind,” Jake said. “How did your two relationships end?”

  “I ended both of them.”

  “Because—no fire?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you want that.”

  “I do. It has to be there. My mother told me once that marriage is hard enough at times, all the ups and downs you go through in life. But if you don’t have that spark, there’s even less to hold two people together during the difficult times.”

  “Smart woman. How long have your parents been married?”

  “Coming up on forty-five years.”

  “That’s an achievement.”

  “You bet,” Randy said. “It just seems like it’s so much harder today.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  They were both silent for a moment, lying in the darkness, then Randy said, “You know what I really want? I want to come home from work and walk into a house and know that there’s a—there’s someone there for me. Someone waiting for me. Someone who’s always in my corner, who’s in the trenches with me, who’s in it for the long haul. Who’s thrilled to see me, and I’m thrilled to see them.”

  “And fire,” Jake said softly.

  “Yeah. And fire.”

  He considered that. “I’ve always wanted that, too.”

  “And you thought you had it with your marriage?”

  “I really did.”

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  Jake stared into the shadowy darkness. There was something about Randy, some quality to his personality, that made it easy for Jake to open up to him. Extraordinary, as he was a man who usually kept so much inside. “I was, too.”

  “I’ve never been divorced, but it must be a lot harder than a breakup.”

  “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “I had no idea she had so much anger inside of her.”

  “It probably didn’t have a whole lot to do with you. I talked to a psychologist once, and he said that we kind of play out things from our families in our marriages. For all you know, she wasn’t fighting you, but her father.”

  Jake thought about that. Randy was one perceptive guy.

  “I think you may be right. She came from money. Her father had always given her anything she wanted, but—”

  “None of his time. No real attention.”

  “Yeah. I knew something was wrong within a few months. She never really believed that I loved her. She had to hear it six, seven times a day. There was something really eating at her all the time.”

  “Jake, no man could have made that marriage work.”

  He felt something shift within him, felt the tight emotion he’d been holding inside his body ease. Who would have thought that he’d be having a conversation that would affect his life with a man he’d met mere hours ago?

  “You’re right.”

  They were quiet for a time, yet he knew Randy wasn’t asleep.

  “You know what I want?” Jake finally said.

  “What?”

  “The way you want that partner who’s in your corner, in the trenches with you? I’ve always wanted—” He stopped.

  Randy didn’t say anything, merely listened.

  “It’s kind of a fantasy of mine—”

  Absolute silence from the other bed.

  “You know that feeling, when you know you really love a woman and want to be with her for the rest of your life?”

  “I’ve never really felt it.”

  “Okay. Just imagine it. But—ah, it’s such a guy thing. Such a fantasy. I’ve always just wanted to be able to lay the world at her feet. Give her everything. Give her all of me.”

  Silence. Then Randy said quietly, “That’s beautiful, Jake.”

  He thought he’d feel stupid, admitting this to a man who was practically a stranger to him, and would be again after this weekend was over. But, in that very human way in which confidences were easiest given to strangers, Jake felt relief.

  He’d finally admitted it to himself. How much he wanted a relationship, and how his defense, his attitude that he was never going to be in one again, was just that. A defense.

  “So we’re both here, searching,” Randy said. “Multiply that by six hundred, and you’ve got this weekend. The only thing is, I don’t think Anton is going to help any man in that audience get any further than a few nights in bed.”

  “Yeah. Would you mind if I turned on the desk light?”

  “Not at all.”

  She watched from her bed as Jake set up his laptop and began to write. She liked watching him as he worked, and she did until her lids were too heavy and she had to close them. Sliding her hands up beneath her cheek, she slowly, reluctantly, drifted into sleep.

  And dreamed of him.

  He wrote until about four in the morning, then saved his work to disk and turned off the laptop.

  And finally felt sleepy.

  Glancing at the clock, Jake realized he could get in a few good hours of sleep before they had to get up and go downstairs for their first full day of the seminar.

  As he slid between the sheets of his bed, he glanced over at Randy. He looked like an angel, his face relaxed in sleep, that delicate facial structure totally vulnerable. Jake studied him for a moment and found himself hoping that Randy would find that partner in the trenches, that person who would be thrilled to see him walk in the door at the end of the day. He was a nice guy, and he deserved a little happiness.

  As he watched him, Randy stretched, then murmured, “Jake—”

  This guy definitely talked in his sleep. Jake decided not to get all paranoid. His roommate’s sexual orientation was really none of his business. And Randy probably mentioned his name because they’d been talking. The brain was amazing the way it processed information. He’d had some pretty crazy dreams himself.

  Not worrying about it too much, Jake lay down, closed his eyes, and finally managed to fall asleep.

  They had breakfast in the hotel’s large, sunny coffee shop. Miranda caught sight of Bertie Hunt wolfing down an enormous stack of pancakes. She swiftly turned her back and made sure she and Jake were seated out of Bertie’s line of sight.

  That was all she needed, for Bertie to blow her cover before she got to the real meat of the seminar.

  After they finished breakfast, she stopped off at the hotel’s gift shop and bought two chocolate
bars, a packet of chocolate sandwich cookies, a can of guava juice, and a copy of both the Wall Street Journal and People.

  Nothing like being prepared.

  Having paid almost nine hundred dollars for the privilege of sitting in this seminar and listening to Anton Levine, Miranda had never thought she’d be bored to death.

  She should have bought amphetamines.

  “Redheads,” a heavyset man said, standing at one of the microphones that had been set up in the aisle.

  “So you like redheads,” Anton parroted back.

  Yes. We all know this. Can we please move this along! Miranda doodled on her pad, sketching the man at the mike.

  “Yeah. Always have.”

  “And the woman you’re dating is—”

  “A brunette.”

  “You see,” Anton said, pacing the stage, addressing the crowd. “This man is being dishonest to his own true self. He’s denying who he is by settling for a woman who doesn’t fit his ideal!” He wheeled sharply, pivoting on his heel, then dramatically pointed an accusing finger at the man. “I’ll bet she falls short of so many other requirements on your list!”

  “Yeah,” the man said sheepishly. “She does.”

  “So do you see how the relationship isn’t working? You should go out to a bar, find the woman on your list, and then get to work seducing her!”

  The crowd broke into spontaneous applause. Miranda couldn’t join in. She noticed that Jake wasn’t clapping either.

  And she’d finally figured out why Anton talked in that strange way, emphasizing particular words, almost punching them out.

  It was to keep his audience awake.

  Was it too much to ask that, having shelled out almost a grand, she be entertained?

  Thank God that today they’d decided to sit far in the back of the auditorium. In the back row.

  Bored? she wrote on her pad, then slid it over so Jake could see it.

  Brain dead, he wrote back, and she almost laughed out loud. Then she nearly swallowed her tongue as she saw Bertie stride up toward the mike. He adjusted his pants over his enormous belly, then looked up at Anton.

  “All right,” Anton said. “Review your list of requirements, please.”

  Bertie’s list was so predictable. Enormous breasts. Long blond hair. Blue eyes, a submissive demeanor, and she couldn’t have children from a previous relationship. Or cats. Especially cats. Maybe a dog, but only if it was well trained.

  In the course of reviewing his list, Miranda learned a lot more about her co-worker than she’d ever wanted to, including that he had a desire for a relationship that “flirted with bondage and dominance.”

  “I think that what I really want,” Bertie said, “is a bad girl. Someone really naughty. You know, a nasty little girl I can tie up.”

  “Yeah!” yelled some jerk in front.

  Mother of God, Miranda thought. This was swiftly disintegrating into group therapy for Bertie, and Anton showed no signs of getting things back under control. How was she ever going to face her co-worker on Monday? What would he do when he realized she’d attended the seminar? She wondered what Jim would think when she told him about this.

  Then Bertie dropped his little bomb.

  “But this is what I can’t understand,” Bertie whined into the mike. “I have this ideal woman in my mind, a picture of her, but there’s this woman at work—”

  “A blonde?” Anton interrupted sharply.

  “No, she has short red hair. Her name is Miranda—”

  Anton smiled down at Bertie. “And do you think she’s a nasty little girl? Is that why you’re attracted to her?”

  Miranda dropped her pen. Jake glanced over at her. She couldn’t reach it, so he bent down and picked it up, handed it to her.

  “Thanks,” she whispered. She couldn’t take her eyes off Bertie. She felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. Bertie wanted her for his nasty little playmate?

  The universe was playing an incredible practical joke on her. It was her punishment for attending this seminar under false pretenses.

  “I don’t know. I just keep thinking about Miranda,” Bertie continued, his tone petulant.

  “No names, please,” Anton said smoothly. “That gives them more of an identity, and we don’t want that. You just want to see them as the other.”

  “Okay. This woman—I walk by her desk at work, and all I can think about is—having sex with her. Tying her up.”

  The chocolate bar Miranda had just split with Jake threatened to come right back up. She swallowed, feeling faint. Oh, God, this was worse than she’d expected. Being tied up by a man like Bertie was her own idea of a personal hell.

  “Have you asked her out?” Anton demanded. “For a drink after work?”

  “No,” Bertie said. “I’m scared of her. I just—whenever I can, I try to get close to her. You know, stand close to her. Talk to her. But—I get scared. She’s kind of a—a ball buster. You know, the hard type, balls of steel, a real career woman.”

  “I hear you!” yelled another man.

  Miranda’s eyes widened. Bertie, scared of her? That made her feel a bit more safe. And she’d take balls of steel over being tied up by Bertie any day.

  Unconsciously she moved toward Jake.

  Jake noticed when Randy moved closer.

  The poor guy. This talk of bondage was making him nervous.

  He felt sorry for this woman Miranda. Having someone like Bertie hovering around her at work couldn’t be all that pleasant.

  “Let’s read,” he suggested, finally giving up on the seminar and reaching for the Wall Street Journal.

  “Good idea,” said Randy.

  Jake studied his face. Poor guy—he actually looked almost sick.

  She read the movie reviews in People while Jake concentrated on the stock market. Anton droned on, taking several other men through their lists. Miranda opened the sandwich cookies and offered them to Jake.

  When she cracked open the guava juice, he whispered, “We should sneak out to the bar. I need a drink.”

  She smothered a laugh and offered him the can. He took a swig, then handed it back to her. Their fingers touched and she felt that slight spark. Well, not so slight.

  That fire.

  Damn it. She’d found someone she could catch fire with, and he saw her as his little brother.

  How mixed up could life get?

  The spark caught Jake by surprise.

  For one insane moment, he wondered if he’d completely suppressed his real sexual orientation. How could he be—there was no other word for it—attracted to a man like Randy?

  It was worse than that hot little spark when their fingers had touched. While his roommate had showered this morning, he’d still been sleeping, in the middle of a dream. An extremely erotic dream. He’d been making love to a woman, completely absorbed with giving her pleasure, but when he’d finally looked down at her face, he’d seen—

  Randy.

  Those delicate, high cheekbones. Hell, those freckles. Those hazel eyes had been almost drugged with pleasure. It had been a very vivid, sexual dream—only Randy had been a woman.

  Freud would have a field day.

  And to top it all off—it had aroused him.

  Sick. He was a sick bastard. But you couldn’t pay him enough to get up in front of this crowd, stand at a mike, and spill his guts. Though he had to wonder how Anton would handle it.

  The only conclusion Jake could come to was that he wished he could talk to a woman the way he’d talked to Randy last night. They hadn’t spent much time with small talk—they’d gotten right to the deep stuff. And he found that he had a longing, a need to connect that deeply, but with a woman. Not with Randy, his strangely effeminate roommate.

  He hadn’t been overly concerned—until that damn spark. What the hell was going on? Jake glanced over at his roommate and saw the faint flush of a blush on those cheekbones.

  Shit. He couldn’t ignore all the signs. First Randy talked about a Jim in h
is sleep, then said his name. Now he was blushing when their fingers touched.

  Jake knew he’d have to nip this in the bud. They’d do their homework tonight, but they wouldn’t talk. He’d feign sleep. As much as he’d enjoyed his conversation with Randy last night, he couldn’t risk—anything. Giving Randy any kind of encouragement. It would be dishonest to both of them.

  And tomorrow they’d both return to their regular lives. This whole seminar would be an unpleasant memory.

  Something had happened. Over lunch, Miranda felt Jake pulling away from her.

  She had a feeling it had something to do with the spark. The way their fingers had touched when she’d shared her guava juice with him. Maybe he’d felt it, too. Maybe he was scared that he had feelings for—Randy.

  Bertie walked by their table, surrounded by admiring men. Miranda glanced down at her soup, trying to avoid being spotted by her co-worker. If he saw her, the jig was up, big-time.

  “Man,” said a guy with a military crew cut, “I admired your guts, standing up there and really admitting what you want!”

  “You are the man!” said another seminar participant.

  “Thanks!” Bertie said, and Miranda realized he was basking in the attention. All of a sudden she felt sorry for Bertie. She wondered what he’d ever wanted out of life, because she was a hundred percent sure he hadn’t gotten it.

  “Randy?” Jake said. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” She put her soupspoon down. “I’m beginning to think that this whole seminar wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “No, I don’t think you do.” She hesitated, knowing that he deserved the truth. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to—live a lie?”

  Oh, no. The poor guy was going to come out of the closet. He was going to tell him—

  How did he get himself into these situations?

  “Toward the end of my marriage,” Jake said carefully, “I lived a lie. I tried to convince myself that I was happy. But I wasn’t.”

  “So you do know.”