So many thoughts churned around in her head, she didn't remember the drive back into town. She was surprised when she pulled the key out of the ignition in the parking lot of the motel.
This place she had once called home held so many secrets of which she was unaware. So many betrayals, so many lost chances. Her mother must have hated her to do what she had done.
Willow knew her mother hadn't loved her, but to use her own daughter to test her illegal drugs? To put her in such a compromising situation where there was no doubt she would lose the only man she ever loved.
Willow's hands clenched on the steering wheel and she lowered her head, leaning against it. For the first time in her life, Willow realized how very alone she was. She had such a wealth of love to offer and no one, not her mother, not J.W., wanted it. She had been used, betrayed and almost destroyed by people who had professed to love her.
She sat straight up and her eyes narrowed. Pity party? Not likely. She had done that to herself only once and had sworn then that she would never, ever, give in to that loneliness again. A shower to get rid of the stench of Kenny Miller, a change of clothes, and something to eat would give her a fresh perspective.
* * * *
It was a shame the Main Street Restaurant was the only sit-down spot to eat at. She walked the several blocks from the motel to the restaurant. Embarrassment flooded Willow as she once again walked inside. Luckily, it was dinnertime and there'd been a change of shifts. Mary, the morning waitress, was apparently gone. Willow chose a different booth this time. She sat, waiting for her dinner, trying not to think about the past.
"Willow..."
She turned and smiled, unsurprised when J.W. sat across from her. "J.W." She studied his face. He looked tired. She leaned forward and traced the lines at his eyes and mouth. "Was it difficult?" She wasn't sure if he could talk to her about what Kenny told him. Willow assumed it would now be considered an ongoing investigation.
He sighed. His hand came up to clasp hers. He held it and placed a kiss in the center of her palm that sent tentacles of heat up her spine.
She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so defeated. He was always so strong and sure of himself.
J.W. opened his eyes and his sapphire gaze met hers. She inhaled sharply. There was so much naked pain there. "J.W.?" It frightened her. She didn't want him to hurt.
He turned his head to look out the window. He spoke without preamble. "I drove to Boston nine years ago."
His admission surprised her. She waited for him to continue.
"I saw you dance."
"You saw me dance? You came to the club? Why didn't I see you?" She tried to remember that far back to the sea of faces.
"I left before you finished." His eyes again met hers. "It took me a year after you left to realize how stupid I was. I had this vision of who I was supposed to be. I was being groomed for this job. But you knew that, even then."
She nodded. Yes. Dalton history was linked to Esmerelda. It was common knowledge. She'd always accepted that.
"Back then, I thought everything was legal or not legal. You broke the law or you upheld it. I was going to be the guy in the white hat. When I found you with Kenny and realized you had some kind of drug in your system, I didn't question my response." He shook his head. "With my upbringing, living in a house with no shades of gray, I came to the only conclusion that made sense to me. You were caught partying with Kenny and I never knew you at all. I felt betrayed and angry. And self-righteous."
"J.W., don't do this to yourself. You were meant to come to those conclusions. Obviously, my mother planned very well. We both fell into her trap."
"Don't excuse what I did, Willow. I hurt you badly. I should've trusted you were the person I thought I knew. Instead, I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me."
"Stop it, J.W. We can always look back and think we'd have made different decisions based on what we know today. But that isn't how it works. We have to move forward."
After one more kiss to her palm, he placed her hand on the table and released it. Her hand now felt chilled.
He continued, "When I watched you dance--" He inhaled deeply. "--I saw the look on your face, your passion, and the thought of you with any of the men in that place... I saw red. If I'd stayed, I'd probably have killed someone. But it also told me I was too late."
"So you didn't see the end of the set?"
"No." He was silent for a moment. "I knew I'd lost you forever. I forced you into a life you'd never have chosen for yourself if it hadn't been for me. There was no way you were going to forgive that." He took a deep breath. "When I returned home, I asked Elizabeth to marry me."
Willow's breath was trapped in her chest. The pain in her heart was piercing. If only he knew the truth.
"So I not only wronged you, but I wronged her as well. I had nothing to give her. I tried, honestly, to make her happy. But I couldn't love her in the way she had the right to expect. She was right to divorce me."
His expression was so tortured it caused Willow physical pain. She didn't want this for him. "J.W. I'm not an exotic dancer. I haven't danced in probably five years now. I did it to pay my way through college."
His head came up. "What? You went to college?"
She nodded her head. "Yes. Four years. When I first arrived in Boston, I enrolled. There was a girl in one of my classes I became friendly with. She knew I was working three jobs and trying to go to school at the same time. She suggested I dance. She said I could make as much money in one night as I was making in a week trying to juggle three jobs.
"I was exhausted and I knew I couldn't keep up the pace I was at, so I auditioned. They hired me. But it wasn't what you think, J.W. I didn't prostitute myself. I just danced."
He nodded his head. "Last night when Andy, the motel manager, called me and told me you'd checked in, I couldn't stay away. I knew I couldn't fight my feelings for you any longer. But when you came out of the bathroom in that tiny, little scrap of white, I lost my head...again.
"All I could see was you dancing on that stage with that come hither look...the look I'd only seen on your face before when I was making love to you. It drove me crazy thinking about it. The thought of anyone else bringing that look of passion to you..." He reached for her hand as though he needed the physical contact. "What did you go to college for?"
Finally! He was asking the right questions. "I studied for a degree in fashion design. When I finished college, I started work as a pattern cutter at a very prestigious dress design company. I've worked my way up since then."
The look in his eyes was one of resigned acceptance. "I did it again. I should've known. I've always assumed the worst, haven't I?"
"Maybe it's because that's what your line of work deals with on a regular basis. The very worst of humanity. You've come to expect the worst from human nature."
"But I shouldn't have done that with you. I should've trusted in my love for you enough to know you wouldn't have done what I accused you of doing."
"Stop it, J.W. Stop torturing yourself. Don't keep looking back. I think I came back here to finally put an end to my past. You have to do the same thing. It's done."
His hand tightened on hers. "Does that include us? Have you come to put closure to us?"
The air around them stilled, as if waiting expectantly for her answer. "No, J.W. I thought I had, but the minute I crossed the county line, I knew I wasn't being truthful with myself." She looked at him and reached across with her other hand. She clasped the hand entwined with hers and brought it to her cheek, rubbing against it. "You've always been, and will always be, the other half of my soul. I want us to have a future, and I needed to come back to see if that was possible."
Their connection was silent and electric. His eyes deepened to indigo. Willow swore she saw blue flames in them, and it burned her.
"Come home with me. Now." His voice was a growled whisper.
"Your home?" Willow wanted to go with him. But that vision of Elizabeth with
him crawled into her mind.
He nodded. "Yes, my home, in my bed. With me."
"I...can't." How could she possibly explain it to him?
His shoulders sagged. She knew she had hurt him. "I understand."
He released her hands and sat back, looking out the window. Only when he was touching her did she feel grounded. She knew it would always be that way.
How could she tell him? "J.W., you don't understand." She looked down at the table. "It'll seem petty."
His eyes turned back to study her. "What are you saying?"
"It's not that I don't want to go home with you. I want very much to be with you tonight."
"Then what is it? Willow, no more secrets. You have to tell me, no matter what it is."
"Elizabeth." Okay, she'd blurted it out. She looked away from him, embarrassed.
"Elizabeth? What does she have to do with us?"
Willow sighed. "It was the house she shared with you. I told you it was petty. But I keep seeing you together." It killed her. She bit her lip. J.W. reached back across the table to cup her face. "It's not petty." He looked down at the table and shook his head. "I've made so many mistakes with you. Apparently, I keep making them." He looked back up at her and, for the first time, she saw a genuine smile on his face. "Tomorrow, the whole lot goes. Everything. The furniture, the pictures, everything. You pick out what pleases you. Whatever will give you good memories. No more ghosts."
Willow laughed. "J.W., I can't believe you'd do that."
"Whatever it takes, Willow. I want you to be happy, and I'll do whatever I have to do. I'll make whatever changes I need to make."
"Oh, J.W." She turned her head and lingeringly kissed the palm of his hand.
His eyes dilated, then she saw that familiar glitter as a wicked smile lit his face. "I have an idea."
"Oh-oh. I think maybe I'm in trouble."
"Do you remember the cabin?"
The cabin! Oh, yes, how could she ever forget it? It was the first place they'd made love on that long-ago, hot, summer night. A slow smile spread across her face. "Yes, I remember it."
"We'll go there. It's the perfect place for us to start fresh. Elizabeth has never been there."
"Never?" She found that hard to believe. It was so beautiful, an old rustic cabin, secluded, high up on the hill outside of Esmerelda. It had originally been the first home built by Dalton hands, and was now used mainly as a retreat. J.W. and Willow went there all those years ago to watch the 4th of July fireworks, and made some fireworks of their own.
"Never," he assured her. "Elizabeth didn't care for the rustic life very much. She enjoys her comforts." His voice deepened. "And to be honest, I always equate the cabin with memories of you."
"I'm glad."
J.W. got up from the booth and helped Willow to stand. Willow's waitress was just bringing out her food.
"Where are you going? I have your dinner here."
Willow was at a loss for words. She felt heat creep up her neck. "I...ah..."
J.W. tossed a few bills on the table. "Here you go, Alice. We're short on time. Ms. MacKenzie just forgot our presence is required elsewhere." He grabbed Willow's hand and led her from the restaurant.
Am I ever going to be able to eat a meal at this restaurant? She was beginning to wonder. Well, okay, right now food was the farthest thing from her mind.
When they reached the pavement, Willow halted. "Wait. I need to get something first. At the motel." There was a CD she wanted. She had one more thing she needed to be sure J.W. understood, and she could do it best with a little help from music she just happened to have brought with her.
* * * *
The cabin was just as Willow remembered it, serene, secluded and a part of J.W. no other woman had ever shared. J.W. laid a fire in the fireplace and it came to life in a warm glow. Willow loved the sweet, earthy smell of the burning wood. It grounded her to Mother Nature, the smoky perfume reminding her of what was important in the world. The realization came to her that she equated it with her memories of J.W. Wood smoke, sweat, and the sweet taste of golden, melted marshmallows.
That night in July, J.W. had built a bonfire under the starlit sky. They toasted marshmallows and shared them along with drugging kisses of heat and surrender. No wonder she never used the fireplace in her apartment in Boston. Every time she thought about buying some kindling to start a fire, she was overcome by a bittersweet, erotic pain.
All her memories of J.W. had been suppressed in order to survive, and that had been one of them. She convinced herself that she just didn't want to clean up the mess the ashes would make and left it at that. She had been afraid to search too deeply for answers. She was never able to figure out why she rented an apartment with a fireplace if she was so set against using it. Now she had her answer.
J.W. stood and turned toward her. He peered at her, a question in his eyes. "What is it?"
"What?"
"You have a look. I don't know, like maybe you've just remembered something."
He was too observant. She smiled, though. "Actually, it was something I forgot. But it's okay now. I've remembered and that's what counts." She did not elaborate further.
"Would you like something to drink? I think I might be able to scrounge up a bottle of wine someplace."
"That'd be nice." She was nervous. Normally, she didn't drink before she danced. A lot of the girls did, but her friend had warned her against the dangers of it that first night. This was different. Could she make him understand? Her hands clenched and unclenched, palms sweaty.
"Here, you are. Red was all I could find." He handed her a glass.
Their fingertips touched and electricity flashed between them. Their eyes met and held for long seconds. Willow looked away first. She took a sip of the wine and placed the glass on the shelf near the CD player.
"I want you to sit and make yourself comfortable, J.W." She turned away to place the disc she had brought with her into the player.
"Why are you so nervous, Willow?"
"Please. Just do as I ask. It's important. I...I need to show you something. So you understand."
He looked at her quizzically.
She walked with him to an easy chair near the fire. She gently pushed him into it. He would have pulled her to him, but she moved away, then bent down and removed his boots and socks. She massaged his feet as she spoke. "I'm going to dance for you. I want you to see the whole set. What you missed. And I want to explain what you don't know." Switching off the lamp on the table next to his chair, she rose and moved away from him.
"Willow, this isn't necessary," he protested, starting to rise from the chair.
She held up a trembling hand. "It is necessary. For me. Please, humor me. As you said, there should be no secrets between us. You need to know what I'm going to show you."
She took another sip of her wine. She set the glass down, hit the play button on the CD player, and adjusted the volume. The deep, pulsing beat of Enigma filled the room.
Willow still had her back to J.W. when she began slowly to sway back and forth to the low, throbbing beat. In her mind, she visualized that sultry July night.
This was always how she'd prepared for her dance sets. It was the only time she opened her mind to memories of J.W. She knew what the men wanted to see and the only way she could give it to them was to visualize J.W. and pretend the audience didn't exist. She practiced in front of the mirror often and knew the look she needed. The hot, half-lidded come hither look that turned J.W. on. Her face was reflected back to her in the smoky glass doors of the console. She was ready and turned swaying and dipping, throbbing to the beat of the music, her hands moving seductively over her body.
Her voice was low and hypnotizing as she spoke. "This look on my face, John William. Do you recognize it?"
He watched her and slowly nodded.
"Where have you seen it before?" She continued to sway, moving closer to him, her eyes never leaving his face.
He swallowed, took a sip from
his glass, put it down. "When I came to see you dance. You had that look. It was the way you looked at all those men."
She released her hair, which she knew would shimmer in the firelight. The music changed. Willow slowly unzipped her flowing skirt and pushed it down her swaying hips. It dropped to the floor. "Where else, John William?"
His eyes showed puzzlement.
Willow answered her own question. "It was in July, John William. With you. Only ever with you." Slowly, she undid each button of her shirt, bending and straightening, hands always moving, she turned away from him. "The only person I ever saw on the nights I danced was you. Never them. Never the audience." She turned back toward him, her blouse open, exposing her breasts encased in a lacy, white bra.
She let the blouse glide down her arms to float to the floor. "It was the only time I would allow myself to think of you. When I was on that stage. My memories of you protected me from their comments, the leers, hands reaching out, wanting to touch me. But I need you to know I never let them touch me, not my body and not my mind." Willow continued to sway to the music, turning and dipping.
Now she wore only her lace bra and white thong. "This is all they ever saw, John William. I was never completely nude. I could've made more money if I was willing to go further, but I never did. This is where the dance ended. Between sets, I'd study in the dressing room. I never mingled with the customers. Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you?"
She watched him nod slowly. His eyes shimmered. "Yes." There was pain as well as passion in his eyes as he followed her every move.
She allowed her head to fall back and suggestively rocked her hips. She brought her head up and looked directly at him. "Now, here's where my personal fantasy begins." Willow turned away from him and unhooked her bra. She allowed it to glide down her arms to the floor. "I've fantasized and dreamed all these years of dancing for you, only for you." She hooked her fingers at the waistband of the thong and slid them provocatively down her long legs until they joined the remainder of her clothing.
She now swayed before him, naked, clothed only in the warm glow of the fire, dancing in light and shadow, her sweat-glistened body gleaming. She brought her hand up beneath her hair, then down her sides, over and beneath her breasts. One hand continued slowly downward until it reached what she knew would be the glistening entrance to her shaved pussy. In deliberate, slow motion, she inserted two of her fingers, her eyes never leaving J.W.'s face. She saw his heavy-lidded passion. His hands spasmed on the arms of the chair. When she withdrew her fingers, they glistened in the firelight, coated with her pleasure. "For you, John William, only for you. Never for anyone else."
Esmerelda's Secret (Esmerelda's Lovers Book 1) Page 3
