Candlelight Conspiracy

by Dana Volney

  “Here’s something new I’ve been working on.” Her shy voice barely came through the microphone.

  She strummed the familiar chords, and his head shot up. Her new song.

  The lights flickered, my heart fluttered

  There you were

  You watched me with curious eyes

  That’s how I knew

  This is the start of something new

  Surrounded in darkness

  You are my light

  The world through your eyes is where I want to live

  Candlelight conspires with you

  Take me away

  Her lyrics sounded different tonight. He could feel the emotion. He’d enjoyed them the first time he’d heard them but hadn’t quite made the connection like tonight. She was singing about their connection. A connection she’d told him only yesterday didn’t exist for her anymore, yet tonight it felt like her oxygen as she sang.

  The song didn’t end where it had before.

  Your sweet aroma of love

  Is the safest place to be

  You are my light

  The world through your eyes is where I want to live

  Candlelight conspires with you

  Take me away

  A tear welled in Sophie’s eye. A glistening drop nearly brought Marc to his knees.

  There was no way she’d written this song about them and then changed her mind so swiftly. There was more to the story. They were going to have to talk like adults. And hopefully she’d come to her senses and take him back, because he sure as hell wanted her. He didn’t want no strings attached—he wanted all the strings.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sophie walked slowly up the steps to her floor. The day had been long, and she was ready for bed. The usual high from performing had been short-lived tonight, gone when she stepped off the stage. Emptiness was the only thing left in the aftermath of adrenaline. Her new song had gone over well, but that didn’t excite her either—and she knew why. The song had been about Marc. The man who was no longer in her life. “Candlelight Conspiracy” had made its first and last appearance tonight. No way would she be able to sing that song again. The hurt was too great.

  She was searching for her keys when Marc’s apartment door swung open. She whirled around—half because he’d startled her and half to see him. Had she subconsciously not readied her keys in the hope Marc would hear her and appear? If so, she was seriously pissed at herself now, because she didn’t know what to do beyond stand there.

  “Hi,” he said and gently closed the door behind him.

  He wore his jacket. He wasn’t seeking her out in the hallway; he was going somewhere. Awkward with a capital A.

  She tried to smile. “Hey.” Bingo. Her fingers connected with her keys, and she pulled them out of her bag. “Late night?”

  “I was going to go do some inventory at the restaurant. Can’t sleep.”

  “Have fun.” That was short and sweet. She started to turn toward her door.

  “I was at the bar tonight and saw you and your band play.”

  Holy crap. Seriously? What was he doing at the bar? “I hope you enjoyed yourself. It was a pretty fun set tonight,” she lied through her teeth, feeling like he could see right through her. She smiled wide to mask the cringe-worthy thought of Marc witnessing her sing the song she’d written about him.

  “You guys are like local rock stars. Kurt, my second-in-command, basically described all of you like gods the entire night.”

  So he went there with a guy. That was good news—although they could’ve met women there. But he was alone now. And, geez, why did she even care? She was the one who made it perfectly clear to him yesterday they were not an item, they were a one-time(ish) blip—one that wasn’t happening anymore. So basically her misery was her own fault.

  “We are fortunate enough to be well-liked.” She stuck to the standard answer she used when people complimented the band.

  “I thought you sounded great.” Marc rubbed the back of his neck and glanced down at the drab carpet.

  When he finally looked into her eyes, for a brief second, she saw the want. His flash of desire was clear. His blue eyes lit with the intense passion they’d shared on more than one occasion. She’d never forget it. What does that mean? Her mind tried to catch up and put the pieces together.

  “It was no private concert … ” His words lingered in the air before he continued. “I think I enjoyed the one-on-one version more. But it was pretty cool to see people cheering for you. I’ve never known the frontwoman of a band before.”

  If only he hadn’t tried to blow her off with the whole cereal comment. So what if she’d, maybe, overacted. He certainly hadn’t argued with her about them not seeing each other anymore—he’d barely reacted at all. She’d been right to do and say what she had. He clearly didn’t want more; he’d told her as much in his living room, and he seemed just fine now, standing in the hallway having idle conversation as friends. Friends. The worst word in the dictionary. She wanted to scream.

  “You can consider yourself lucky because not many people get a private performance. As far as knowing us, though, that comes at your own risk.” She winked in an attempt to be playful.

  Attempt was the key word there because she never knew how well her version of flirting actually worked. Trying to book a gig? She’d bat her eyelashes. In the most awkward conversation of her life? Wink. Wanting to run away and lie on her bed and cry? Smile wide and laugh. Now she was even more exhausted—stopping a budding relationship because she needed a relationship was mentally rough.

  “I’m not much of a risk-taker. Usually,” he said.

  “No kidding.”

  “I … ah … think that maybe we should talk about the other day.”

  Oh no. Her tummy fluttered, and she swallowed hard. Her defenses were low, and she needed them for this type of conversation. She wasn’t strong enough to tell him to go away twice. “What about?”

  Yes, good, play dumb.

  “Things seemed to be going well between us, and then all of a sudden they weren’t.”

  “Yes, we had fun. A great time. I just wanted to be upfront because I thought our time was coming to an end, and I didn’t want things to get weird.”

  “Why did you think things were ending?”

  “Just a feeling. Neither of us are looking for something serious, right?” She forced herself to look into his blue eyes. “Better to cut things off now rather than later.”

  “Oh.” He nodded once.

  The silence was deafening, and there was no cover of darkness to hide under. There was no humor in his cheeks and no playfulness in the edges of his mouth. If there was ever a time she actually wanted a power outage, this was it. She closed her eyes briefly, taking in his sweet scent and wishing she were inside her apartment alone in order to sulk. Because, again, he wasn’t arguing with her stupid logic. He accepted it. Dammit.

  “What’s so wrong with later?” He took a step toward her and cut the gap between them in half.

  All of him was within grabbing distance. She could reach out and pull him tightly to her and kiss him with everything she had. Capture his lips with hers like they had no tomorrow and kiss him like they had a million tomorrows to be in love. With him, she’d felt like she’d found the last 10 percent of the equation she’d been missing in all other relationships.

  “Later?” She did her best to keep her voice even. “Usually, later comes with emotions and unwanted feelings and general messiness. Later is never better.” She shook her head slowly.

  “It could be.” His hard stare moved to her lips, then back to her eyes.

  This time, passion appeared in his bright blue eyes, and he did nothing to hide it.

  The one, little movement set her body on high alert and tight with need. Okay, take a step back. What do you really want? She wanted a lot of things, namely the magnificent man standing in front of her, but the one thing she didn’t want was to be a booty call. She wanted a real, all-in rela
tionship. She was partly to blame for the situation, and that was fine—she’d just changed her mind along the way.

  “Later can’t be. And won’t be. Not as it stands between us.” She took a deep breath. Being an adult was hard. “I’ve decided I want more. And I know you don’t. Or can’t. And that’s fine. So, it’s better if we stop.”

  “I see.”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought we were on the same page.”

  He didn’t move; he stayed dangerously close, and she fought the urge to touch him welling up inside her.

  “We were. It’s no big deal. Just re-evaluating my life. New Year’s resolutions and all.” Again with the lying. If she did have a list of New Year’s resolutions, “stop lying to Marc” would be at the top.

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

  He looked sorry. The desire in his eyes had been replaced with gentle sorrow. She understood—she felt it, too. The only thing that wasn’t making sense was if she felt that way and he truly felt that way, then why was there a problem?

  He doesn’t want more.

  “Don’t be sorry. We had a great time. I really enjoyed getting to know you.” She forced a smile.

  “Sophie … ”

  This vulnerability shit was for the birds, and she’d reached her limit. She tightened her grip on the cold key ring in her hand, found her apartment key, and jammed it in the lock before she could change her mind.

  “I liked the rest of your new song,” he nearly whispered from behind her.

  She turned her chin to her shoulder but didn’t look behind her. “Thanks,” she whispered back and then pushed her door open, letting it slowly close on its own.

  She couldn’t bear to look back. Tonight was officially, 100 percent the end of her and Marc. Whatever hope she’d been holding on to was gone.

  CHAPTER TEN

  New Year’s Eve. A couple of days ago, Marc would have said that the coming year looked promising, and for the first time in a long time, he’d actually looked forward to a fresh year. Now, confusion ruled his thoughts and kept him unfocused. He had said those words to Sophie—he didn’t want anything serious—and he had meant them. At that moment, his heart wasn’t up for grabs; there was no commitment he was willing to make. Even last night in the hallway he couldn’t bring himself to tell her he wanted more, too. He’d stood there and let her think he wanted nothing more from her. Now, Sophie-less and miserable, he’d take back his original words in an instant. Too bad life didn’t work that way.

  He craved her not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. Holy shit. How was he going to pull that off? How was he going to be with her?

  She’d told him she didn’t want more, and her actions didn’t tell a different story. Even last night, she hadn’t straight-up said she wanted a long-term relationship with him. She didn’t try to kiss him, even though he was inches away from her lips. She didn’t need him in her life, and he’d said he didn’t have room for her in his. What a mess. Standard for his life. His relationships had always been a mess and ended in a fury. Why should Sophie be any different?

  Sophie was different—in the way she looked at him, kissed him, touched him. Sophie was unlike any woman he’d ever crossed paths with. He wanted to stay in her path, walk the path with her, and make their own path together. He had to get to her. If a relationship was what Sophie wanted, then a relationship she would get. She’d be doing him a favor because he was certain now he couldn’t live without her.

  He checked his watch. Not much time. Midnight approached, and he wanted to be with her—to start the new year off right. Together.

  • • •

  Sophie rounded the corner to the hallway on her floor. She should’ve had her keys out already, but of course she wasn’t prepared. Again. Having to sneak quickly into her apartment was a new thing, a sad ritual that reminded her every time there was a man across the hall who didn’t want to date her.

  When she’d left her apartment earlier that night, all she’d wanted to do was bring in the new year with a party. Orange Heart wasn’t performing all the way to midnight, and she wanted to enjoy the rowdy crowd. But after the show, she couldn’t get into the festivities—being home and alone had to be better than sitting in the corner of the bar miserable. As it were, it was eleven fifty, and she was alone to welcome in the new year. If there was a bah-humbug term for being mad about the crystal ball dropping, she’d be yelling it right now.

  Halfway down the hallway to her door, the lights went out. “Mother … ” She stopped abruptly when a tall figure appeared a couple feet in front of her. She couldn’t make out much, but she could tell the figure was male. Shit. Where’s that Taser Candace gave me? Oh, right. It hadn’t made the cut when she’d switched to her little glittery purse.

  Sparks started flying in front of her, and seconds passed before she processed that the magnificent flashes of light were not some type of flash grenade that was part of a kidnapping ploy, but from a sparkler.

  Marc.

  “Happy New Year,” he said with a bright smile plastered on his stupidly handsome face.

  “What are you doing?” There was an edge to her words, courtesy of the fight-or-flight adrenaline coursing through her body.

  “I thought it was obvious.”

  “Nope.”

  “This is my peace offering.” He waggled the sparkler, and shadows danced on the walls.

  “To burn down the building so we don’t live by each other anymore?”

  He chuckled. He was way too happy for her liking. Why couldn’t we have worked out?

  “No. It’s more relationship-focused.”

  “Fine. Peace it is. I’ve had a long day and don’t really want to drink to the new year standing in the hall. Plus, the wine is inside my apartment, not out here.” Her legs refused to walk past him, so she just stood there. Like a doofus.

  “Will you talk to me for a second? Hear what I have to say, then I’ll let you drink.”

  She knew what he was going to say. But, fine, she’d take three minutes, then she’d be able to watch the glittery ball drop and cheers her full, yet unfulfilled life. Thanks to Marc.

  She followed him into his apartment. The same candles they’d used earlier in the week were lit, and she let out a deep breath. Disappointment and insecurity dug into her soul.

  Without warning, he stopped, spun around, and said, “I’m in love with you.”

  Holy crap. I’m hallucinating. She recounted the number of drinks she’d had at the bar. Nope, just one. She didn’t move a muscle except for her eyes, which seemed to think if they moved around enough she’d be able to figure out which universe she currently occupied. When she finally decided to focus on him again, he stood closer and had somehow disposed of the sparkler. She kept her face neutral and didn’t say a word.

  His hands now being free, he reached for both of hers.

  “I’m in love with you,” he repeated.

  She actually watched his lips move this time. He’d said the words, all right. She swallowed as her pulse steadily increased. Say something.

  “Why?” Brilliant. A valid question.

  “You were a spark of fresh air in the darkness that was consuming me. Thank you for allowing me to realize there is life still to be lived. And when I thought of that life, I couldn’t, not once, picture it without you.”

  “We’ve only just met.”

  “Which is why it was hard for me to wrap my head around everything I was feeling, and I was slow on the uptake. But when you know, you know.” He slowly shook his head side to side as a slow grin formed on his exceptionally handsome face—a face she could look at for the rest of her life.

  “Then I know, too.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and twirled her around the room. She slowly slid down his torso and kissed him with all of the passion she had to give, as if they were in their very own romance movie.

  “I love you,” she whispered and gently kissed his lips again.
/>   “That’s a relief. Now, what would you like for dessert? I can make anything.”

  “But we don’t have power.”

  “Actually, this one was on me. I found the breaker box.”

  She giggled. “Why?”

  “Candlelight is kind of our thing.”

  Author Bio

  Dana Volney lets her imagination roam free in Wyoming, where she writes romances and helps local businesses succeed with her marketing consulting company. Surrounding herself with good friends and family, Dana thrives on moments and memories created with loved ones. Not possessing the natural ability to want to cook every day, she still enjoys watching culinary shows while eating take-out. It helps her dream up sweet treats and sexy men. Dana is bold, adventurous, and—by her own admission—good with plants, having kept a coral cactus alive for more than one year.

  More from This Author

  (From Christmas Clash by Dana Volney)

  Luke Carrigan crumpled the unwanted letter in his hand and swung open the glass door to the flower shop with the other. Silver chimes cheerily flickered above him, and if he could’ve turned around and karate chopped them down, he would’ve.

  “I thought you were an Ellison.” He walked toward the dark-haired woman behind the counter and spotted a red poinsettia. Freaking Christmas. “Can’t you fix this?” The paper cracked as it hit the counter and dewy humidity filled his nose.

  Candace paused, holding a white rose between her soft pink nails, and swiveled to face him. “Good morning to you, too.” She may have suppressed an eye roll, but it still resonated in her voice.

  He heard rustling behind her and caught a glimpse of red hair behind a very large green plant.

  “Why am I getting a notice about the city taking my bar? Again?” He rested his hands on the cold granite. “Didn’t you speak to them?” He censored his words in an attempt at civility since they weren’t alone.

  In one swift motion she swiped her chin-length black hair behind her ear. “Well, Luke, a last name doesn’t fix anything.” Her eyes met his.