Lucinda didn’t often plead, but she was shoveling it on in huge portions. “It’s not really my scene,” protested Fen.
“It used to be.”
“Things have changed. You might not have noticed, Lucinda, darling, but I can’t dance anymore.”
“You could shuffle if some nice man held you up,” Lucinda wheedled.
“Sounds perfect,” Fen didn’t try to keep the sarcasm out of her tone.
“Anyway, dancing is such a small part of the night. Lots of people won’t be dancing. They’ll be eating, drinking and skulking off to dark corners for a bit of a snog.”
“No, thanks,” Fen shuddered. “I’m not into kissing in dark corners.”
“You can join the wallflowers, then.”
“Thanks a bunch.”
“Come on, Fen!” Lucinda’s tone of voice rose. “You love a good party. When was the last time you went to one?”
“Actually, it was last week.” James’ fortieth birthday and hadn’t that turned out to be a night to remember. The memory of his kiss was still giving her palpitations.
“And it was a blast, right?” said the other woman.
“Wrong. I couldn’t wait to leave.” Actually, she would have loved to have stayed and danced within the circle of his strong, muscular arms, but her wretched, stupid lame legs…
“Well, this will be different. We’ll all be swinging. There will be loads of people there. Lots of old friends. Don’t be such a party pooper. It’s almost Christmas.”
In the end, Fen allowed herself to be browbeaten. Much easier to give in than to suffer Lucinda’s constant nagging. And anyway, it wasn’t as if she’d be bumping into James there.
****
She entered the nightclub late. Already the party was in full swing. The men were in suits, the women in a rainbow of different colors and designs, some modest and others showing plenty of flesh. Fen had chosen a long, figure-hugging black sequined dress that covered her neck to toe and hid any traces of scars. She thought it would help her blend into the background and didn’t realize until it was too late that the dress increased her allure a thousand-fold.
She maneuvered herself on her crutches towards the bar. She planned to sit there, as unobtrusively as possible, and leave after a polite period of time. But she hadn’t taken into account her friends would be pleased to see her after her self-imposed exile.
“Hey, Fen!” said one, and “Look who’s here!” exclaimed another and within minutes she was surrounded by a bunch of fast talking, delighted women and sharing months of gossip.
Deep into recounting a particularly funny incident, Fen suddenly heard her name spoken in a soft, endearing manner that sent a warm shiver across her nerve endings. Abruptly abandoning the story and twisting on her bar stool, she glanced behind her and almost slipped off the stool and into an ungainly heap on the floor. She swallowed hard. “James! What are you doing here?”
“Don’t sound so thrilled!” he said a smidge defensively. But then he smiled and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek.
Just the touch and smell of him sent her nerves jitterbugging. “Well, gosh,” she said trying to think through the sudden red haze of longing which enveloped her in a rush. One small kiss did this to her? She was a sad case! “I didn’t expect to see you again this side of Christmas,” she gabbled.
“Lucinda invited me.”
Lucinda! That brought her back to earth. Well, of course Lucinda had! Fen had introduced the two of them, so why hadn’t she considered the possibility that Lucinda might invite James to her party? Lucinda had been smitten with him since their initial date and had asked Fen on several occasions for a repeat performance. But James had said he couldn’t stand the woman, so why had he accepted the invite?
“I thought you wanted to stay clear of Lucinda. Considered her bad for your health given her appetite for men? Or were you just feeding me a line?” Fen suspected she sounded snitchy, but couldn’t help herself.
James held up his hands. “Hold on, my sweet. Not so fast. I voluntarily stepped into the man-eater’s lair because I knew you’d be here. You’re the reason, Fen. The only one.”
“Oh.” That sounded good. Fen almost began to bask in the glow of knowing she held that sort of allure for him, but then a nasty thought popped into her head. What had Lucinda done with her crutches? James mustn’t see them.
“You don’t look overjoyed to see me,” he said, his eyes still shimmering with a defensive gleam.
“Of course I am.” Quickly she reassured him, reaching out to touch his hand, then withdrawing it, fast. She was too tempted to cling to him and never let go. “I’m always pleased to see you, James.”
She made hasty introductions to those circling her. Maybe one of her more forward girlfriends would whisk him off to the dance floor so she could find her crutches and make her escape. Where was Lucinda when you needed her?
“Shall we dance?” James asked Fen, his hand on her elbow, forestalling any other invitations.
Fen sought around for a plausible excuse, struggling against the panic whisking through her veins. Her gaze alighted on a glass of wine that wasn’t hers. That would do. “I’d love to,” she said. “But I think I’ve had one too many. My legs feel wobbly.”
“I’m shocked.” James chuckled. “But not deterred. How about I hold you up and we shuffle very slowly together? I shan’t let you fall, darling. Promise.”
The intimate endearment pierced her defense and crumbled her resolve. Was it possible to enjoy a dance with him? Have his arms around her in a close embrace? Tempting. Oh, ever so tempting. Fen nibbled her bottom lip and then made a decision. “Okay,” she said, doubt and fear and longing adding to the panic and making a churning cocktail in her tummy. “But I’m warning you, don’t let go!”
He eased her off the stool and placed a supporting arm around her waist.
“You’re going to dance?” asked her friend Marie. Her surprise threatened to unnerve Fen further.
“Just watch us and be amazed,” said Fen, shooting her a warning glance. She prayed Marie wouldn’t say anything revealing and drop Fen in trouble.
Marie gave her the thumbs up and said, “I shall. Well done, Fen. Way to go.”
“What was all that about?” asked James as he drew her into his arms on the dance floor.
“She…er…knows how much I’ve had,” she ad-libbed.
“A night for letting your hair down, is it?”
“If I had any hair to let down.” Fen bit on a laugh.
“Yes, you do keep it short.” He boldly ran his hand over her scalp.
Fen shivered deliciously as his caress caused a shot of liquid fire to streak through her body. “I do,” she managed to breathe through the heat.
“But it’s very endearing, in a pixie-sort of way.” His tone was teasing.
“I’m glad you approve.”
“Totally. As I do with everything about you.” And now he sounded serious.
Fen rolled her eyes to show her disbelief but couldn’t help feeling flattered anyway. It was wonderful to receive compliments. They were so rare nowadays.
People packed the dance floor and James held her close in the protective arc of his arms. They moved with infinitesimal motion to the soft strains of the smoochy melody. The sensation was bliss. Fen had so missed dancing, so missed being held in an intimate embrace by a man who made her feel feminine, beautiful and desirable.
Of course, it was all an illusion. The magical moment would be over in a couple of minutes. But for those few precious minutes she gave herself up to this gorgeous man and the beautiful music, pretending once again she was a graceful ballerina instead of a lumbering cripple.
Her eyes closed, she swayed in time, letting the music seep into her bones, letting James’ warmth feed her starved soul. It felt so good having his arms around her, one hand on her waist, the other firmly on her hip.
And then she felt his lips on her hair, whispering caressing words of silky seduction and
endearment at her temple.
“You’re so warm and inviting, sweetheart,” he murmured, his breath an exquisite caress in itself. “You feel so good. So soft. I just want to fold you close so you can feel the vibration of my heart against yours and realize exactly what you do to me…”
Fen’s eyes flew open, ready to protest, but then immediately fluttered shut. Why stop him? This moment was hers to enjoy and she’d treasure it for as long as it took.
The music stopped after what felt a lifetime. Fen stood there in the circle of his arms, totally supported by James, their hearts beating in time, their pulses thundering the same heated rhythm. She forced her eyelids open again and stared up into his handsome face, not even registering his crooked nose.
“Are you game to keep dancing, Ms. Grant?” he whispered, a tender smile curving his lips as well as warming his eyes.
“If you’re game to keep me upright, Mr. McAllister,” she said, smiling back.
“You can stay in my arms for eternity and it still wouldn’t be long enough,” he murmured.
Her heart sang at his words. “Think you can seduce me with your silver tongue?” she gently teased.
“But it’s true. I love holding you close. It feels so right.”
“Your arms would soon tire,” she said, trying to keep a little perspective in their dealings or she’d be in danger of melting on the spot.
“Never. And as for seducing you, I don’t need words for that.” His lips brushed her pale brow and she shivered in delight. He then found her ear lobe and gently nipped it, sending spirals of warmth curling through her body. She couldn’t help but moan it felt so good. His lips moved to her neck and he nuzzled and bit the delicate pale flesh. Exquisite torture. He bit again and Fen gasped.
“James! Behave yourself. We’re in a public place.” But she didn’t want him to stop. It felt too delicious having his teeth graze her skin and suckle the spot where her pulse pounded for want of him.
“Ah, yes, but you’re in my embrace and at my mercy,” he said with a lightness tinged with a husky base note. “Tonight you’re all mine.” His arms tightened, molding her body to his, sending ripples of heat through to her inner soul. She’d never felt such an intoxicating sensation.
“James!”
But he ignored her plea. His questing lips descended on hers and melded in a white hot heat that infused into every atom of her body—a body responding to him at every level: heart, mind and soul.
Her heart skittered, her pulses clamoring and the heat low down in her belly gathered steam. “James…” she whimpered, incredulous at the speed and depth of their unexpected passion.
“Hush, baby.” His voice was hoarse and tense with the same desire spell-bounding her.
“James,” she said again. “We can’t…We mustn’t…You have to stop…I didn’t realize it could be like this…”
“Ssh. I know, sweetheart. Neither did I. Just relax.” His hold subtly changed. Less intense, less passionate, more nurturing and protective, but still incredibly romantic to Fen nonetheless.
They danced on for a few more musical numbers to allow their heartbeats to ease to a more sedate rhythm. But the whole experience was slow and sensual, and Fen was acutely aware she was drowning in overwhelming love and desire for this man.
But these feelings would never do.
Not while she couldn’t walk. It was unfair on the both of them.
But tonight was hers.
Suddenly their dancing was interrupted. An exuberant and tipsy Lucinda, in a too-tight and short red Lycra dress with big hair and bold make-up, made the DJ stop the music. She wrested away the microphone so she could deliver a flamboyant speech.
“Darlings,” she said. “I want to take this moment to wish all of you, my family, friends, lovers, cripples, work colleagues and hangers-on—you know which category you fall in—a very merry Christmas and to charge you to bring me all your travel and holiday business in the New Year. Have a great party.” She hiccoughed, returned the microphone and left the stage on the arm of a young man.
“Well, I must fall into the hangers-on category,” said James with a rueful grin as the music resumed. “How about you, Fen?”
“She’s definitely one of the cripples,” said a smart-mouthed acquaintance dancing nearby with Gail. Gail smacked his shoulder.
Fen forced a laugh. “I think I fall into a couple of those pigeon holes.” She avoided making eye contact with James in case he saw her stricken expression. The magic was broken. Time to leave.
Later, back at the bar, she managed to organize going home with one of her friends without James’ knowledge.
“Stay,” he insisted when he heard of the arrangement. “I’ll take you home later.”
“Sorry, but this has been arranged for some time,” she lied. “I’m staying the night. We’re having a girls’ sleepover.”
“What a waste.”
Fen playfully punched him on the arm. “Not at all. Nothing was going to happen anyway,” she said with a wide smile, knowing full well anything could have happened between them after those chemistry-packed dances.
“That’s what you think,” he muttered in frustration. “You can’t ignore what went on between us just now, Fen. We were dynamite together.”
Eek. They sure were. “I’m not ignoring anything. But plans have been made and I don’t break my promises. Good night, James.”
****
James watched Fen and two of her friends weave their way through the partygoers. Her friends, their arms twined around Fen’s slim waist, steered her towards the door without incident. He had a sudden flashback to when Lynette and her husband escorted her away from his party. Had she had too much to drink then too? He shook his head in bemusement. What a case she was. She hadn’t struck him as being drunk. He hadn’t smelt any alcohol on her breath when he’d kissed her full, soft lips. She hadn’t drunk anything since he’d been there, turning down all offers of wine. In fact, he’d have sworn on his grandmother’s grave Fenella Grant was stone cold sober.
“She doesn’t seem drunk,” he said to no one in particular.
“Who?” said Marie, the woman who’d congratulated Fen on dancing. She was propping up the bar, close to James.
“Fen.”
“Fenella Grant? Drunk? You must be kidding.” Marie laughed and shook her head.
James turned towards her. “Excuse me? Am I missing something here?”
“By the sound of it, yes! Fen doesn’t drink much. Hardly ever touches the stuff.”
Exactly what he thought. “But she said…”
The girl cocked her head on one side and regarded him thoughtfully. “How well do you know Fen?”
“We met a couple of weeks ago.”
“So you don’t actually know much about her?” She pushed.
“No, I guess not.” Though not through lack of trying. But she’d always given the impression she was stonewalling him when he’d attempted to learn more about her. As if it didn’t matter if he knew zilch about her. But he wanted to know every single thing about Fenella Grant.
James found her evasiveness frustrating. He wasn’t used to being the one doing all the chasing in a relationship. Usually women actively encouraged him to get involved. Sometimes too much. But Fen was different. So, her reticence challenged to his ego. But now he’d gone beyond being piqued. Fen was lodged under his skin, had burrowed into his heart and there was no going back—for either of them.
“Perhaps you should make it your business to find out,” Marie said with a slight smile. “You could be in for a surprise.”
“Meaning?”
“It’s not for me to say.” She primly closed her mouth and pretended to zipper it shut.
“Is it something I’m not going to like?”
The woman’s stare was direct. “Depends how much you care for her.”
I care, thought James. I care very deeply. Just what is Ms. Fenella Grant’s dark secret?
****
Another
night, another party and Fen sighed. She was fed up. She pulled on a straight black skirt with a back slit and sparkly top. She carelessly daubed on some make-up and then eyed herself critically in the mirror. She looked pale and washed out thanks to a bad night tossing and turning in bed thinking about James, wanting him there with her. Lust had replaced pain as the source of her wakefulness. She supposed she should be grateful, but both made awful bedfellows!
She was worried about lying to James. How long could she continue to hoodwink him? Last night had been an extremely close call. One of these days he would find out that she was lame and then who knew what would happen.
She swiped on another layer of mascara and added a little mauve eye shadow. Her eyes blinked back, now large and dark and a little too top heavy for her lighter make-up. She reapplied to address the balance and then put more gel on her hair. She had another squizz in the mirror. Oh dear. Her appearance wasn’t improving.
Now she wasn’t waif-like, but more Goth!
There wasn’t time to wipe off the excess cosmetics. The taxi had already hooted once. Fen collected her bag and went to grab her crutches. Her hand hovered. Why not try out the walking stick? Her legs were getting stronger. The stick would be less obtrusive. She was almost ready to downsize her walking aids anyway. Why not start tonight? With a spurt of new-found confidence, she snatched up the rosewood stick.
She was halfway to the front door when her leg gave out. The stick slipped from under her and Fen came down heavily, catching her eye on the corner of the coffee table.
Intense, gut-wrenching agony streaked through her. She gave a sharp scream and shrank into a tight, fetal ball, clutching her eye in one hand and leg in the other. The pain was bad, rippling through her wave after wave. She groaned long and hard and then gritted her teeth, willing the torment to go away with every ounce of her strength. Nausea swamped her, causing beads of cold sweat to sheen her skin. Gradually, slowly, the sharpness morphed into a hard, throbbing knot that was slightly more bearable. Just.
She didn’t know how long she’d lain there but she was roused by the doorbell, which rang once, twice, three times.
THE DATING GAME Page 8
