Acting on Impulse (Silverweed Falls Book 2)

by Thea Dawson

  Joy knew the conversation was getting crazier, but she couldn’t suppress her curiosity. “So, what is that, exactly?”

  “A talisman? It’s like … your lucky charm. You choose something—like a lucky number or an animal or a name—anything that has some kind of meaning for you, and when it starts showing up in your life, you’ll know you’re on the right track. Like, last winter, when I was trying to decide if I should open my own massage business, someone gave me a goat.”

  Joy had to repress a snort of laughter and hastily schooled her expression into one of polite interest. “And that was … a sign?”

  Tracie nodded eagerly. “I opened up a couple of months ago and it’s doing really well. Why don’t you try it? Pick something. Shouldn’t be anything too common, likes shoes, but it could be something specific, like orange high tops. Go on. First thing that comes to mind.”

  “Uh …” Joy thought about it for a moment. “Okay, Indonesia.”

  Tracie looked a little dubious. “Of course, you don’t want to pick anything too unusual,” she added, “In case you set yourself up to never see it at all.”

  “Oh.” Joy frowned. This was a ridiculous game, but now that she’d chosen Indonesia as her talisman, she felt attached to it. Anyway, how common were orange high tops?

  Oh, right—Simon wore them.

  Tracie waved her script as if she were fending off a swarm of mosquitoes. “What am I saying? You just go ahead and choose whatever you want. If you want Indonesia, then that’s what the universe will deliver!”

  Charlotte, standing by the steps with Brice, Luke and Wyatt, waved at them. “Mom! Tracie! You’re up!”

  18

  Chris slept in on Sunday, enjoying a lazy morning of reading in bed, followed by more lazy reading on Professor Estrada’s small patio. He had been studying everything he could get his hands on about A Midsummer Night’s Dream in search of clues that would help him unlock everything from the play’s dirty jokes to it’s themes of magic and shifting reality. It was almost lunchtime now, and he was still wearing sweatpants and the t-shirt he’d slept in. He hadn’t bothered to shower yet or even comb his hair. Sooner or later, he told himself, he’d get up properly, maybe go for a run, but for now he was content to just have another cup of coffee and enjoy the warm morning sunshine.

  And then there was a knock on the front door.

  He knew who it was even before he opened it, and he could feel the lazy calm of the morning spiral into the desire and confusion that had been his companions since Friday night. He opened the door nonetheless.

  Joy stood there holding a plastic container of what looked like cookies and wearing a dangerous smile. He swallowed. Homemade cookies were a weakness, but Joy was even more tempting. In addition to the smile, she wore a fitted t-shirt and a tennis skirt, and it didn’t escape his notice that both showed off her trim figure to its best advantage. Visions of how they could spend the afternoon flashed through his head, but he blinked them back as he gestured her inside.

  The sight of her unsettled him even as it turned him on. They had unfinished business, things they should discuss, but he still wasn’t sure how to break through to this newly liberated Joy… or if he should even try, lest he scare her off completely.

  “I figured it was time I brought you a housewarming present,” she said as she walked in.

  His eyes were drawn to her shapely ass and legs as she walked in front of him into the small living room. While he appreciated the cookies, he didn’t think that was really why she was there.

  “Nice place,” she said, looking around.

  Professor Estrada’s house was small but neat. An eclectic, tasteful mix of South American textiles was on display in the rugs, wall hangings, and throw cushions. The floor and furniture were natural wood, and a variety of interesting ceramic bowls and vases accented shelves and tables. The overall effect was cozy without being stifling.

  “Thanks,” he replied. “Not that I can take any credit for it. The owner’s a professor of Latin Studies or something, and she’s on sabbatical in Peru for a year. Eva said she hadn’t gotten much interest from renters, so she let me have it on a three-month lease. Worked out perfectly.”

  “How does it compare to your bachelor pad back in LA?” she asked.

  “My bachelor pad?” He laughed. “This is actually nicer.” He waved his hand around the small living room. “More personality. After I got the Crusaders contract, I went and rented a better place than the one I was living in, but I haven’t done a whole lot about decorating it. It’s right on the beach, though, so it’s got that going for it. So…” he glanced at the box in Joy’s arms. “Can I have one?”

  She smiled slyly. “You can have whatever you like.”

  His heart rate picked up a notch. “Oh, Joy … you want to be careful making offers like that,” he growled, stepping close to her. He still wasn’t sure where this was going, wasn’t sure if any of this was a good idea, but he couldn’t resist the opportunity if she threw it in front of him.

  She bit her lip in anticipation. “Maybe I should put these in the kitchen first?”

  “First?” he asked. “What do you think is going to happen next?”

  She shrugged, a graceful, careless roll of her shoulders. “I’m ready for anything,” she whispered.

  If she’d grown into her beauty over the past thirteen years, she seemed to have grown into her sexiness in the past forty-eight hours. She had a confidence to her that she hadn’t had a few days ago, a relaxed sensuality that was incredibly hot … but also, strangely, seemed to increase the distance between them.

  The emotional distance, anyway. Physically, he was about as close as he could get without actually touching her.

  He took the box of cookies out of her hands and placed it on an end table before turning back to her. The heat between them seemed to flare.

  “Anything?” His voice was low and hoarse. He imagined taking her against a wall, over a table, on the floor …

  She put a hand on his thigh and moved it up his leg with tantalizing slowness, barely grazing his traitorously throbbing shaft. He sucked in a breath. Still moving with exquisite slowness, she slipped her hand beneath his t-shirt and the warmth of her hand against his bare skin sent electric shocks through him. He grabbed her hand and pushed it lower. He stared at her through hooded eyes, noting the sexy curve of her full lips, the sparkle of excitement in her green eyes, and the flush of excitement on her high cheekbones.

  She slipped her hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, raising one eyebrow in happy surprise as she realized he wasn’t wearing underwear.

  “You were expecting me?” she said with a smile.

  She wrapped her fingers around him, and whatever doubts or fears he had were forgotten as he seized her face in both his hands and kissed her in desperation and desire.

  An hour—or was it four?—later, they were sprawled across the bed, having detoured through the living room and the kitchen first. The bathroom was still virgin territory … maybe in a little while they could think about taking a shower together …

  Chris forced his mind back to the present. As amazing and athletic and sexy and hot as this all was, there was still something … missing. She lay just inches away from him, naked and sated, but she seemed almost as distant and unapproachable as ever.

  “How’re you doing?” he asked, hoping to spark a conversation.

  “Chris, that was amazing,” she said. “That was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had in my life.” She sighed and stretched. “I’d better get going, I don’t want to—”

  “Joy, wait,” he interrupted her. He did not want to hear that she was leaving. A jealous sense of possessiveness was growing in him and he decided to broach it in the only way he could think of. He needed to say it anyway, and maybe it would help bridge the distance between them, or at least keep her a little longer. “You know … I’ve always felt bad about the way I behaved at the cast party after Much Ado. I should never have
said what I said, especially in front of everyone, and especially in front of your husband and your daughter. I’m really sorry.”

  Joy turned her head to look at him in surprise. “Oh. Well … thank you, Chris. That means a lot to me.”

  He held her gaze. “Listen, feel free to tease me about my ego, but I felt really badly when I heard that you and Scott got divorced. I hope my drunken rant didn’t do any, you know, damage to your relationship.”

  “Oh, no.” She waved her hand dismissively and turned away again. “No. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’d just feel badly if I planted some seed of distrust between the two of you.”

  Joy shook her head. “No, it was nothing to do with you.” She spoke with a hint of finality in her voice that should have put him off, but he didn’t want to let it go. He wanted to understand her, know her at a deeper level.

  He slid his hand over hers. “Why did you stay with him for so long when you weren’t happy?”

  She turned back to him and he could see her expression close up and become guarded. “Who said I wasn’t—”

  “You just said this was the most incredible sex you’ve ever had. You said that yesterday, too. Makes me think your sex life with Scott was missing something.”

  She looked annoyed now. “Sex isn’t everything in a relationship.”

  Except this one, he was tempted to say, but didn’t. “So you must have loved him so much that the not-incredible sex didn’t matter,” he suggested.

  She removed her hand from under his and pulled up a sheet to cover herself. “Chris, this isn’t really any of your business,” she said as she sat up.

  She was right, of course. It wasn’t. But he still wanted to understand. “So were you madly, passionately in love with him?” he asked.

  Are you still?

  She glared at him and seemed to be struggling with what to say. “No,” she said suddenly. “Okay? He was a nice guy and a good husband—until he wasn’t—and the sex was … fine.”

  Pulling the sheet around herself she scrambled out of bed and began looking around for her clothes. They’d come off a couple of rooms ago, so he knew there wasn’t any danger of her finding them just yet.

  “So why’d you marry him in the first place?” he needled her.

  “Oh, I don’t know …” She was distracted, looking around the room, anywhere but him. “We were young, and I guess I thought I was in love, and then Charlotte was on the way, and … they’re in the living room, aren’t they?”

  He pushed himself up into a sitting position. “Oh, come on, Joy, you don’t need to leave yet. Stick around, I’ll make you lunch. And maybe later we could … take a shower together?” He raised his eyebrows hopefully at her.

  She tried to glare at him, but to his relief her expression softened a touch. Nonetheless she shook her head. “I should go. I have some … errands I need to run.”

  “How about I take you out to dinner, then?” he asked, though he already knew the answer.

  She shook her head. “You know how people talk in this town. I don’t …” She dodged his glance, looking slightly embarrassed.

  He felt a surge of anger, but tamped it down. “Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice even. “I understand.”

  “I’ll just go get dressed … let you get back to whatever you were doing before,” she murmured. “Maybe we can get together later this week?”

  “I’m leaving for LA tomorrow straight after rehearsal, remember, so I’ll be gone all week. Brice is in charge of directing.”

  “Right.” She nodded. She stood at the foot of the bed holding the sheet around her and looking oddly vulnerable. “I guess I’ll see you in a week, then.”

  She really did have errands to run. She was in Safeway now, doing the weekly grocery shopping, sans Charlotte, who had gone back to Portland after yesterday’s rehearsal to finish the weekend with Scott.

  Her body still hummed from the exertions of the afternoon, but she felt oddly guilty. She’d pretty much shown up on Chris’s doorstep demanding sex, then left as soon as she’d gotten it. She felt … tacky. Should she have stayed for lunch, to be polite?

  But she’d spent her entire life being polite, and where had it gotten her? There was no future for her and Chris; she knew it, he knew it, so why pretend there was? If she started doing things like staying for lunch or going out to dinner, she’d no longer be able to separate hot-sex Chris from kind-and-funny Chris—and that way lay heartbreak.

  She threw several cans of tomatoes into her cart and pushed it around the corner, almost bumping into Molly as she did.

  “Sorry! Hi, Molly. How are you?” There she was, being polite again.

  Molly’s eyes lit up at the sight of her. “Well, well, and how are things going with Mr. Movie Star?”

  Joy hoped her face didn’t look as warm as it felt. “Oh, with the play, you mean? It’s going great. We’re having a silent auction on the 20th—”

  Molly laughed. “Sure, the play. Come on, lady—you’re glowing. I know you’re up to something. Or someone.”

  Joy forced a weak laugh. “Yeah, I wish. Got to run. I’ll see you around, Molly.”

  Molly swept her with a knowing gaze as Joy pushed her cart past her. She winked broadly. “Watch your back, honey, or people will talk.”

  She was pinned up against the wall of the filthy lavatory of the fraternity house. She hadn’t fully buttoned up her shorts when he’d barged in and his hand pushed into the waistband, pushing them down. Her mind, slowed down by too many cups of cheap beer, moved sluggishly. She pushed at him but couldn’t muster the presence of mind to scream.

  “What are you doing?” she mumbled.

  “Don’t play coy. People talk about you. I’m not asking for anything you haven’t given all the other guys here.” His breath was hot on her cheek. He smelled like sweat.

  People talked about her? Why? She’d hooked up with a couple of guys at this fraternity, but not all of them. And she wanted nothing to do with this one—she wasn’t even sure of his name.

  “No ...” She tried to pull his hand out of her shorts, but he pressed up harder against her, trapping her arm. She could feel his erection against her stomach and a spark of fear fanned to life.

  “Get off me!” She tried to scream the words, but somehow they came out in a choked whisper.

  He covered her mouth with his in a clumsy kiss. The taste of stale beer and sweat made her gag, and nausea rolled over her. She pulled her head away.

  “Leave me alone!” She said it more forcefully this time. “Please, I think I’m going to throw up.”

  “Bullshit,” he growled. Pinning her against the wall with his muscular torso, he began using both his hands to tug at her shorts. She wiggled frantically but her efforts were pathetic next to his bulk.

  “Stop fighting me,” he growled. “I know you want this. You’re the type of girl who can’t get enough. That’s what the other guys say.”

  She finally found her voice and screamed. “Get off!”

  “Shut up and just relax. You know you want it.”

  He tried to kiss her again, but she turned her head and yelled, “No! Go away!”

  The door crashed open.

  “Jesus! Troy, you asshole, get off her!”

  There was yelling, swearing, then a scuffle that sounded like several men were involved was carried out into the dark hall. Humiliated at her half-undressed state, Joy frantically pulled her shorts back up, then sank down to the floor, her eyes closed, wishing it would all just stop.

  “Joy, are you okay?”

  She opened her bleary eyes. Scott was kneeling beside her, his pale blue eyes wide with concern. She didn’t know him all that well; he was a senior and she was still a sophomore. Their paths didn’t cross much outside of parties, and he didn’t come to those very often.

  “I don’t feel very well,” she mumbled.

  “Yeah. Come on, let’s get you home.” Strong arms helped her to her feet. There was more conversation a
round her; Scott sounded angry but she didn’t think he was angry at her. Then they were out in the cool night. Her head was swimming but she was able to tell him what dorm she lived in and what her room number was. There was a hazy recollection of being in her own bed, her shoes off but her clothes still on, and Scott talking to her roommate.

  “She really ought to press charges,” he was saying, but her mind recoiled at the idea. She wanted to put the whole sordid incident behind her, forget that it had ever happened. It had never occurred to her that people had been talking about her, and the last thing she wanted was more gossip. She’d never go to a frat party again, would never hook up with a fraternity guy again, not if it could lead to ... that. She shuddered, wondering if she’d ever be able to forget the taste of Troy’s mouth as he kissed her.

  She struggled awake, blinking. Moonlight fell in a strip over the covers of her bed. She was in her own home, more than two decades later.

  It had been years since she’d had that nightmare. The first time she’d had it had been the first time she’d slept over in Scott’s dorm room, a single reserved for dorm advisors. It had been a sweet, tender evening, and she’d fallen asleep happily in his arms until the nightmare had intruded. He’d taken it in stride, talked her down, until her pulse had stopped racing and her heart had stopped pounding and she’d fallen back asleep.

  He’d been a nice guy. A safe guy. A guy who looked after her and took care of her.

  A guy she’d tried to love … had even convinced herself she loved.

  But her longing for security had blown up in her face when Scott and Melanie had been caught by the duck pond at Perry Park.

  Wide awake, she got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall to peek quietly into Charlotte’s room. Charlotte was home from Portland now, sleeping soundly. In a few weeks, she’d be in college herself. Joy wished now that she’d pressed charges; for the sake of other girls he might have assaulted, for Charlotte’s sake, for the sake of all the young women who would go to college and maybe get carried away with their new freedom.