Kiss in the Dark

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  Boston smiled. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

  Danielle shrugged. “I don’t know. I just thought you might not want him around.”

  “Danielle,” Boston began, “what woman in her right mind wouldn’t want Mr. I’m-so-ripped-I-need-a-Band-Aid around?”

  “Come on then,” Danielle said. She hopped up off the couch and headed for the kitchen. “Let’s get the popcorn going, and then Vance can help us decide what movie to watch.”

  Half an hour later, Boston found herself sitting on the sofa between Danielle and a freshly showered Vance, sharing a bowl of popcorn, and laughing at John Candy as he tried to flip a giant pancake with a snow shovel.

  The movie was great—Uncle Buck was one of her favorite silly comedies. The company was even better! Boston was amazed at how comfortable she felt. Again she was reminded that she’d never felt like she could relax in her own apartment—not since the day she and Stephanie decided to share one. Even with Vance sitting next to her—the solid muscles of his forearm bumping her now and again as he plunged his hand into the bowl of popcorn sitting on her lap—she felt more at home. Certainly Vance’s presence spun the dynamic a little differently than had it just been her and Danielle there. Boston found she was constantly aware of him; warmth radiated from his muscular body. He smelled like Old Spice bodywash, mint toothpaste, and popcorn. He was quite the dominating presence—distracting—in a delightful, thrill-inducing kind of way. He chuckled at something John Candy said, and Boston smiled. It seemed Vance only added to her sense of comfort and welcome in Danielle’s apartment.

  “Pause!” Danielle exclaimed suddenly. “I have to go to the bathroom!” Danielle fumbled with the remote, pausing the movie and fairly leaping off the sofa.

  Boston smiled, and Vance shook his head. “She can never make it through a whole movie,” he said. “She never could.”

  “I know,” Boston giggled. She loved that about Danielle—how she could go hours and hours and hours without having to go to the bathroom, until someone put on a movie.

  “So…Boston,” Vance began.

  Boston looked over to him. He was lounging back on the sofa, looking dangerously handsome and entirely comfortable.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “You’re kind of like that little goldfish, I guess, huh?” he asked.

  Boston giggled and frowned at the same time, perplexed.

  “What little goldfish?” she asked.

  “That little goldfish. There he was, swimming along, just enjoying life…then bam! He swims right into a solid wall of cement,” Vance said. “And do you know what that little goldfish said as he swam into the solid wall of cement?”

  “No…” Boston admitted.

  “Dam!” Vance said.

  Boston laughed out loud, caught her breath, and asked, “And why am I like that little goldfish?”

  Vance smiled a dazzling smile and replied, “Because you know how he feels. You just swam right into that cement wall with that roommate of yours last night, and it rung your bell. But you know what? It’ll all work out. It’s good you’re getting away from her. I’m sure she’ll make it as hard on you as she can…but once you’re out from under her bullsh…her crap…you’ll be fine. You’ll rub your little goldfish head that you knocked against the wall, and you’ll swim on…a little bruised up maybe, but smarter too. And you’ll be a little better at navigating around cement walls.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Laura,” Boston teased.

  “You’re welcome, Charlotte.” Vance winked, grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Boston’s lap, and added, “That’s in North Carolina…in case you’re wondering.”

  “I know,” she giggled. She sighed for a moment. “How is it that you know so much about navigationally challenged goldfish and poisonous friends?”

  He shrugged broad shoulders. “Experience,” he answered. He smiled. “Unfortunately, a lot of experience.”

  “Okay, I’m back,” Danielle announced, hopping back into her spot on the couch. “Unpause,” she told the remote as she picked it up and started the movie again.

  Boston reached into the bowl in her lap to retrieve several kernels of popcorn, but Vance teasingly pushed at her hand, gathering a fistful himself. Boston nudged his arm with her elbow, and he playfully nudged back. She heard him chuckle and glanced up to him, but she couldn’t tell if the chuckle was caused by their playfully fighting over the popcorn or because John Candy was involved in some comedic ritual on the TV.

  Boston watched the movie, but her mind kept wandering. Vance Nathaniel was a pretty smart guy. She was rather amazed by his insight and fairly profound advice and encouragement. She’d been in his company exactly three times. How was it that he was so affecting to her in a mere twenty-four hours? She shrugged and tried to concentrate on the movie. Logan West flashed through her mind; she hoped Steph hadn’t scared him off. She was sure she hadn’t. He’d said they’d go out again. She hoped he’d call soon.

  Vance and Danielle both laughed, and the sound caused Boston to giggle. She couldn’t wait to permanently escape Stephanie’s emotional manipulation. Life would be fun and exciting again once she was away from Steph—she could sense it all around her.

  “If I wasn’t here, your friend could move right in,” Vance said.

  Danielle waved to Boston as she walked toward her car. She felt the familiar pinching pain of empathy in her heart. She wouldn’t let him start to slip into guilt—she wouldn’t.

  “Oh, don’t go all melodramatic, martyr-heroic on me, Vance,” she said. She turned to him, flinging her arms around his neck and kissing him soundly on one whiskery cheek. “You know how excited I am to finally have you here! Boston’s got tons of friends to stay with until she moves in here.”

  “Yeah…but that Stephanie chick is gonna give her hell,” Vance mumbled.

  “She’s tougher than she looks,” Danielle said. “Do you want some ice cream before bed?”

  “Sure.”

  Vance yawned. He was tired—physically worn out. Still, neither Danielle’s reassurance nor his own fatigue eased his mind about Danielle’s friend Boston. He knew what witches chicks could be to each other—especially hags like this Stephanie. He should’ve just rented his own apartment for a month. Instead, he’d let Danielle talk him into staying with her. He was all for it too—until he’d understood Boston’s predicament.

  He was far more familiar with Boston Rhodes than she knew. Boston had been the one to save Danielle. Not him—certainly not him! He suspected Boston had literally saved Danielle’s life that summer after…

  Thus, he hated to see his sister’s rescuer in misery. He felt an incredible desire to liberate her—to somehow offer recompense for her service to his sister. But if he moved out now, Danielle would worry like a crazy woman.

  “She’s really pretty,” Vance accidentally said out loud as he sat down at the table to start on the bowl of ice cream Danielle had dished up for him.

  “You mean Boston?” Danielle asked.

  Vance grimaced, disgusted with himself for having slipped up in revealing his thoughts.

  “Yeah. Sort of in a throwback way, huh…like classically, naturally pretty. She’s got great hair…kind of like copper…or cinnamon.” Danielle looked at Vance and seemed to study him for a moment. “And the same color of eyes you do, I think.”

  “Really?” he mumbled, feigning ignorance. Of course he’d noticed her green eyes—like warm jade. He wished he hadn’t moved in with Danielle so her friend could’ve found instant escape from her poisonous snake of a roommate.

  “Rocky road,” he said as he tasted the ice cream. “My favorite.”

  “I know,” Danielle said, smiling at him.

  Vance’s heart nearly broke as he looked at her—thought of her pain. Her hidden pain caused him to feel sick for a moment. He had trouble keeping moisture from rising to his eyes.

  Vance forced a smile. He didn’t want her to see his barely withheld emotion—didn’t want to cause he
r to think of the past, of pain again. So he ate his ice cream, talked with his sister concerning the details of his upcoming new job, and tried not to think about what a venomous reptile was waiting for Boston Rhodes back at the viper’s lair.

  Chapter Four

  Monday seemed long—at least Boston’s time at work seemed to drag. For one thing, she was tired. For three nights running, she’d been up well after midnight, and the late nights and early mornings were starting to catch up with her. Sunday with Steph had been just as intolerable as Friday and Saturday nights, and Boston had ended up seeking escape and respite at Danielle’s again. She’d decided to wait to talk to any of her friends about staying with them for the two weeks from the time Steph wanted her out until Vance moved to his place and out of Danielle’s. But the longer she was forced to deal with Steph, the more she realized she had to do something soon. She couldn’t continue to endure Stephanie’s hateful remarks—couldn’t continue to be provoked and remain unresponsive.

  It was probably one reason work seemed so long on Monday—the fact that Boston’s mind was so preoccupied with her apartment situation. She’d nearly lost her temper when Mr. Mercer had whacked her on the rear end after lunch. Sure, he would’ve deserved it, and she shouldn’t let him treat her that way, but she wanted that assistant news scriptwriter’s job and knew she had to play her cards just so for a little longer. Therefore, somehow she’d managed not to scream at him, stopped herself from slapping him soundly across his arrogant face, and kept from running to HR to finally report him. A week or two more and she’d know if the promotion were hers—then she would no longer put up with Dominic Mercer’s stupidity.

  The good thing about the day was that Stephanie wasn’t home when Boston arrived there after work. Boston knew Steph often worked out at the health club right after work on Mondays. She was so grateful for the short reprieve. It gave her some quiet time to relax before heading over to Danielle’s to pick her up for cake decorating.

  Boston and Danielle had signed up for a cake decorating class. It was quite a commitment—every Monday night for two months—and sometimes Boston wished they hadn’t signed up. Still, there were fun things about it—and only three weeks left. Furthermore, she and Danielle were getting pretty good at decorating cakes! A new skill was always an asset, and it was fun to be with Danielle and do something a little off the regular schedule grid.

  After a light dinner of a sliced apple and a few spoonfuls of peanut butter, Boston still had an hour or so before she was due to pick up Danielle. Glancing out the front window, however, she saw Steph step out of the city bus. Boston’s anxiety rose. An all too familiar nausea of anxiety began to churn in her stomach. She had to figure something out—she had to escape! She didn’t want to face Stephanie. Furthermore, she knew she couldn’t wait two more weeks to move out. She had to do something.

  Grabbing her purse, she hurried out of the apartment. Steph would see her—there was no avoiding it—unless…

  Racing up hard concrete stairs that led to the floor above, Boston ducked down behind the railing and waited—listened until she heard Steph open their apartment door downstairs and close it behind her. Heaving a sigh of relief, Boston made her way along the second-floor balcony to the other staircase. Stephanie wouldn’t be able to see her from the other staircase, and she hurried to her car. She just had to get to Danielle’s. Once she was there, she’d settle down. Once she was at Danielle’s, her anxieties and fears would settle. The thought passed through Boston’s mind that Danielle’s house seemed even more a haven—a safe harbor—than it ever had before. She wondered why it did, and an image of Danielle’s brother popped into her mind. Alone—walking to her car without anyone around who might possess the talent to read her mind—Boston consciously admitted there was something strong and protective about Danielle’s brother, something that calmed her and made her feel safe, even from Stephanie. Vance was rugged and handsome, muscular and flirtatious. She figured it was the fact Vance Nathaniel was an exemplar of the idealistic and nowadays very rare manly man that made her feel that way about him.

  Actually, Boston had made a conscious effort not to think about Danielle’s brother—even avoided thinking of him by name, letting her mind refer to him as “Danielle’s brother.” There was a certain sensation she experienced in his presence—a sense of impending, insatiable attraction—as if he were some wizard of seduction that might be able to lure her into some unbridled, impassioned, reckless abandon. This was by no means a comfortable sensation for Boston. It seemed dangerous—almost wicked—and therefore she suppressed it, ignored it, and refused to let her mind nest on thoughts of Vance Nathaniel. Any man who caused her to think such things—well, it was best not to think about him at all. And so, once again, Boston pushed Danielle’s brother to the back of her mind—just as she’d been doing all weekend.

  She unlocked her car and slid into the driver’s seat. Reaching over to the glove compartment, she retrieved a chocolate Tootsie Pop, grimacing when she noticed there were only three Tootsie Pops left. It would be awhile before she would be able to get to the little candy shop in Mustang to load up on chocolate Tootsie Pops again. Sandy’s Sweet Tooth Shop was the only place Boston knew that sold Tootsie Pops in bulk. Boston only liked chocolate Tootsie Pops. Thus, every three or four months, she and Danielle would head over to Mustang, Oklahoma, to pick through the bulk Tootsie Pop barrel at Sandy’s Sweet Tooth Shop. She’d always limit herself to fifty chocolate Tootsie Pops because she figured it wasn’t fair to the owner of the store or the other patrons to be too selfish. Sandy Sorenson owned the little candy store and always assured Boston she could take as many chocolate Tootsie Pops as she wanted. Still, Boston tried to imagine that there were others, like herself, who preferred the chocolate ones.

  As she unwrapped her fourth-to-last chocolate sucker, Boston realized she’d probably been eating more Tootsie Pops than usual because of the added stress over Steph and moving. What a nightmare! Cake decorating class would be good for her. It would offer another night of escape and a much-needed diversion for her tired mind.

  Boston knocked on Danielle’s apartment door. She startled—actually gasped slightly—when Vance opened the door instead of Danielle.

  “Hi,” Boston greeted, trying not to notice how thoroughly attractive Vance looked in a clean, yet ratty, tight T-shirt and khaki shorts.

  “What’s up?” Vance asked, smiling at her and stepping aside so she could enter the apartment.

  Boston moved past him and into the apartment, smiling as she noticed the fresh scent of Juicy Fruit gum. It was an inward and conscious battle, but she managed to suppress the worrisome attraction she felt toward Vance.

  “I’m a little early,” Boston explained. “I just thought I’d see if Danielle wanted to leave early or anything.”

  Vance grinned. “Snake woman’s home, huh?”

  Boston felt stupid. How weak he must think she was. Still, there was nothing to do but admit stupidity and weakness. She shrugged and answered, “Yeah. I’m a weenie.”

  “Naw,” he said. “You’re just like a lot of people who don’t like to cohabitate with reptiles.”

  Boston smiled—even giggled a little. “Do you like reptiles, Mr. Zoo Curator Man?”

  “Zoo exhibits curator man,” he corrected with a smile and a wink. “And no…not particularly. I’m more a big cats kind of guy.”

  “Really?” Boston asked, delighted. “I used to collect lions when I was a little girl! I had lion stuffed animals and little porcelain figures, a lion lunchbox, a lion bedspread. It was a big lion surrounded by a leopard skin background, and I always thought it was kind of weird that the bedspread manufacturer used leopard print on a lion bedspread.” She had begun to babble—bit her lip to stop herself short.

  Vance chuckled. “You actually used the word ‘manufacturer’ when you were a little girl?”

  Boston giggled. “No. I guess not. I just thought it was strange…because I was a lion purest at the time. No
leopard print for me.”

  “You were prejudiced? What’s wrong with leopards?”

  Afraid she may have somehow offended him, Boston’s babble resumed. “Oh, no! I love leopards too, really. Now, I even have a thing for leopard-skin underwear and pajamas. As long as they’re not too expensive, I can never pass them up! It’s like an OCD or something. Danielle can tell you…if I see a pair of leopard-skin panties, I just have to—” Boston gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth—mortified!

  Vance’s verdurous green eyes blazed with amusement. “Leopard-print underwear, huh?” he began. “Well, that puts a man’s mind to wondering if you’re wearing them now.” He forced a puzzled frown. “Probably not the most appropriate place my mind could be lingering.”

  Boston couldn’t speak—she was too horrified with embarrassment! She could only shake her head, astonished at herself for being so unguarded.

  “Still, as a zoo exhibits curator and big cats fan,” he continued, “I like it.”

  “Oh my heck!” Boston breathed. “I am so sorry, Vance. Sometimes I just babble on and on. How embarrassing!”

  But Vance chuckled. “Naw…don’t worry about it. Does it make you feel better if I tell you I’m wearing boxer briefs? Plain white…but still.”

  “No, it doesn’t,” Boston said, smiling. Though it did make her feel better—somehow.

  “I see you like suckers too…along with lions and leopard-print panties,” he said, nodding his head to indicate the Tootsie Pop still held in one hand. The hard candy was gone—she’d eaten it on the way over. But the Tootsie Roll center still remained.