Kiss in the Dark

by Marcia Lynn McClure

  “But—” Boston started to argue.

  “Are you going to stay for dinner?” Danielle asked Vance.

  Vance looked down at his pants and shirt. “I’m kind of grimy,” he said.

  “So? What, you can’t eat when you’re grimy? Just go wash up a bit in the bathroom.”

  Vance chuckled and nodded. “Okay. If you’re sure you have enough.”

  Boston could not resist. She took a sucker from the barrel, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth.

  She sighed and moaned, “Mm! These are fresh ones.”

  “Fresh ones? It’s not produce, Boston,” Danielle giggled.

  Boston sighed again, twirling the Tootsie Pop around in her mouth and savoring the sweet flavor.

  “Hey!” she exclaimed as Vance suddenly reached out and pulled the sucker from her mouth, however. Boston’s mouth dropped open as Vance then popped the Tootsie Pop in his own mouth, saying, “You don’t want to spoil your dinner, do you? Anyway, you’re gonna rot your teeth out eating all these, you know.” He winked at her and headed for the bathroom.

  “Ew! Vance!” Danielle scolded. “Eating after someone is one thing…but sucking on a lollipop? Sick!”

  Boston stood somewhat startled. In her whole life she wasn’t sure she’d ever known anyone she’d share a lollipop with—at least, not before knowing Vance.

  “Thanks, Danielle,” Boston said, digging into the barrel of Tootsie Pops.

  “Don’t thank me!” Danielle laughed. “I just texted him and asked him to pick up ten or twenty if he had time. It’s Mr. Overachiever that bought the barrel. Sandy must’ve been having a fit!”

  “Yeah,” Boston said. She stared at the barrel, still unable to believe Vance had taken the time, not only to go to Sandy’s Sweet Tooth Shop but to rummage around and pick out so many chocolate Tootsie Pops. And the cost! Even if Sandy cut Vance a deal—and Boston could well see Sandy falling prey to Vance’s gorgeous appearance and rogue-like charms—she must have charged him for the barrel too. There was no way Vance paid less than a hundred and forty dollars for the Tootsie Pops and barrel.

  “Now stop right there, Boston Rhodes,” Danielle suddenly scolded.

  “What do you mean?” Boston asked, as guilt over Vance’s expense of time, effort, and money on her behalf began to thicken.

  “I know you! You’re starting to worry about this,” Danielle said. “Well, don’t. For once just let someone enjoy doing something fun without slathering yourself with guilt. Besides, you gave Vance a handwritten IOU. And believe me, you’re treading dangerous waters there.”

  “But this must’ve cost easily over a hundred bucks,” Boston began.

  “Boston,” Danielle said, lowering her voice, “I haven’t seen my brother that delighted in something crazy he’s done for a long time. I’m begging you—for my sake if nothing else—just let him know how much it meant. Let him enjoy his moment. Okay?”

  Boston frowned and felt her eyes narrow as she stared at Danielle. Danielle was so sincere. She truly was begging Boston to enjoy the gift—for Vance’s sake. Again Boston had the sense of being ignorant of something, something she may never gain a knowledge of. And that was okay because she loved Danielle—and she feared she was beginning to love her brother.

  “Okay,” Boston agreed.

  “Thank you,” Danielle said. She forced a smile—a rather melancholy smile—and said, “Let’s finish dinner. Vance is probably starving!”

  Boston smiled and nodded. It would be nice to have Vance over for dinner. Who was she kidding? It would be fantastic! She’d be able to look at him for maybe half an hour—and what wasn’t delightful about that?

  “I still can’t believe he took that sucker out of your mouth and stuck it in his. Bleck!” Danielle grimaced. “You should be very flattered.”

  “I am,” Boston said, looking at the barrel of chocolate Tootsie Pops once more. “I really am.”

  Vance chuckled as he washed his face, neck, and arms with a washcloth from the bathroom’s linen closet. The look on Boston’s face—the pure delight and joy—had been worth a hundred and sixty bucks. Still, he shook his head, worried for a moment that maybe Boston Rhodes was getting into his head—or worse, his heart. He wouldn’t pay for nicer accommodations—was staying in the dive of a motel—but he’d blow a hundred and sixty bucks on a barrel load of candy just to see Boston smile?

  Vance’s smile faded a little. He couldn’t let her get in his head, though he admitted she already was. There was just something so vulnerable about Boston—yet something strong too. He’d never really met anyone who owned as much empathy—owned as much guilt over not being able to fix everyone’s problems and save the world—as Boston did. It was admirable. Sure, it made her the perfect target of idiots, users, and jerks, but it also made her sort of ethereal, something the world had lost—a genuinely nice, caring, compassionate person. He shook his head, hoping she never got wind of what kind of a loser he really was. No doubt her empathy would take quite a beating, and he didn’t want that.

  He swallowed, excess moisture having flooded his mouth as he thought of Boston. He couldn’t believe he’d kissed her the night before! Furthermore, it’d had nothing to do with her being nervous about kissing the dude she had a date with. Vance reprimanded himself—bathed in self-loathing—knowing kissing Boston just before her date had everything to do with planting himself in her mind so that the other guy wouldn’t get anywhere close to first base with her. He was a jerk, and he knew it. Still, he couldn’t stand the thought of this other guy kissing her—even being with her. She deserved better. Sure, he’d never met the dude, but Vance was sure Boston deserved better. There was no sparkle in her eyes when she talked about this Logan West—no fire in her cheeks. Naw, the Logan West guy needed to be history. So Vance had kissed Boston before her date. It was mean maybe—but if she’d had a sparkle when she talked about the guy, Vance would’ve left well enough alone. At least, that’s what he told himself.

  His mouth watered again, and he shook his head. She’d tasted like pure sugar when he’d kissed her! Furthermore, in the short time he’d had her in his arms and known the moist warmth of her mouth, she’d put his mind to traveling down all sorts of inappropriate and unrealistic venues. He’d even wondered if he’d be able to let her go. Wondered if, when the lights went back on, he might not just tie her up and keep her from going out with the guy at all.

  Vance bent down to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. Too much thinking—it was never a good thing. Not for Vance Nathaniel. He’d learned long ago not to let his mind nest too much on certain subjects. He decided then and there that his sister’s roommate was one of them.

  Still, he chuckled again as he tossed the empty lollipop stick into the wastebasket. Boston’s face when he’d brought the barrel of Tootsie Pops in—priceless!

  “What did Dempsey ask you to bring to the party Saturday?” Danielle asked.

  “That bean salsa stuff I make that he likes,” Boston answered, cutting her pork chop with her knife and fork.

  “I’m bringing chips,” Vance said, smearing cinnamon-flavored applesauce over his. “Do you think he means, like, potato chips or, like, corn chips?”

  Boston and Danielle both giggled.

  “Well, what exactly did he say when he asked you to bring them, Vance?” Danielle asked. Boston looked when Vance paused in smearing the applesauce.

  “He said, ‘Dude…you should bring, like, three bags of chips,’” Vance said. “Those were his exact words.”

  Boston smiled, shaking her head at Vance’s perfect impersonation of Dempsey.

  “Then I think you should bring three bags of, like, potato chips,” Danielle told him. She shook her head, still smiling. Leaning toward Boston, she said, “Guys totally crack me up.”

  “Danielle, ‘bring chips’ doesn’t mean what it used to thirty years ago,” Vance explained. “Bring chips used to mean bring chips—potato chips. But now days, it can mean bring unflavored tor
tilla chips in case there’s salsa, nacho-cheese-flavored or ranch flavored tortilla chips, corn chips, baked chips, fried chips. It’s totally a new world where chips are concerned. So quit making fun of me for being confused.”

  Danielle bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Okay, Vance. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s right,” Vance said, cutting a piece of applesauce-slathered pork chop and putting it into his mouth. He looked to Boston, grinned, and winked. “Dempsey could’ve meant to bring buffalo chips for all I know.”

  “Oh, yeah, Vance,” Danielle said, rolling her eyes with exasperation. “I’m sure Dempsey would’ve asked someone to bring buffalo manure.”

  Vance shrugged broad shoulders. “You never know. You’ve always said he’s a prankster.”

  “Do you have a satellite dish hooked up at your place yet?” Danielle asked.

  “No,” Vance answered. “Why?”

  Danielle smiled. “’Cause if Boston doesn’t mind, you can stay awhile longer…because they’ve started running Mr. Bean reruns on the BBC channel at six thirty.”

  Boston giggled as Vance’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I love that dude!” he exclaimed. He looked to Boston. “Do you mind, Boston? If I stay a little longer and check it out?”

  “Why would I mind?” Boston said, watching Vance slather more applesauce on his pork chop. “When a hottie with a naughty body brings me a barrel of my favorite candy…it’s the least I can do. Right?”

  Vance’s eyebrows arched with astonishment, and he choked a little on the bite of food he was swallowing.

  “Am I a hottie with a naughty body?” he asked.

  Boston smiled—delighted, yet simultaneously surprised, by her own brazen flirting. “Well, I’m sure Sandy Sorenson must’ve thought so…or else you never would’ve gotten out of her store with two hundred and eighty-two chocolate Tootsie Pops.”

  “Two hundred and eighty-three,” Vance corrected, pointing his fork at her for dramatic effect. “And you’re forgetting the barrel.”

  “No…I’m not,” Boston said.

  Vance laughed. “Boston, flattery will get you everywhere,” he began, “except out of fulfilling this IOU I have in my pocket.”

  Boston shrugged. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

  Danielle watched, determined not to say a word—not one word that might break the flow of Boston and Vance’s flirtatious exchange. Oh, Boston could say all she wanted—go on and on and on (as she often did) about how Vance hadn’t turned her head from Logan West. In truth, Danielle was surprised Boston wasn’t wearing a neck brace—the result of the whiplash she must’ve endured when Vance caught her attention.

  And what about Vance? Danielle could not remember a time—not in all their lives—when her brother had dropped so much money on something as frivolous as a barrel full of suckers. Nope, they were both stupid—blind to what was happening—but Danielle wasn’t, and she was hopeful. She couldn’t think of two people with the potential to be happier together than Vance and Boston. Still, things could interfere—the past—and she knew it. But she would try to be hopeful, patient, and as nurturing as she could of the potential romance she saw blossoming before her.

  Danielle sighed, wishing Dempsey would show as much individual interest in her as Vance was showing to Boston. Yet she buried her own broken heart—tried to ignore her own unrequited love. Vance was on the brink of true happiness, she was certain of it. And that was all that mattered—for now.

  Chapter Nine

  As always, Dempsey’s party was beyond compare when it came to fun. Food, music, conversation—everything at Dempsey’s party Saturday night was incredible. Nearly twenty people had joined Dempsey for the evening, and it was obvious everyone was having a good time. Best of all, Dempsey was so unusually attentive to Danielle that Danielle fairly beamed the whole night.

  “Maybe he’s finally decided to just man up and go for it,” Vance whispered as he and Boston sat on one of Dempsey’s sofas watching Dempsey and Danielle sitting on the floor in front of the massive fireplace, laughing together over pictures in a photo album.

  “Maybe,” Boston said. Dempsey pointed to one photo, and he and Danielle both broke into pealing laughter. “It’s the photos of when we were all working at the North Pole…that first summer we met.”

  “Well, whatever it is, they’re loving it,” Vance chuckled. Vance looked around the room. “Looks like your pal Dempsey has done well enough financially.”

  “Yeah,” Boston said. “But…but Dempsey’s not usually so into stuff. It surprised us all when he bought this big house…all the furniture. It was almost as if he was trying to…”

  “Fill a void?” Vance finished.

  Boston looked to him, frowning and smiling at the same time. “Yes…Mr. Mind Reader.”

  Vance nodded. “He wants my sister,” he whispered. “He’s wanted her for a long time. For whatever reason, he thinks, or thought, she was unobtainable…so he bought a big house and filled it with stuff. A lot of people do that.”

  “Is your house big?” Boston asked. She’d been curious all week—curious as to why Vance seemed to put off Danielle every time she offered to come over and help him settle in.

  “Nothing like this one…and it’s older,” Vance said. “I kind of like older homes. They seem more…more…”

  “Cozy? Lived in? Inviting?” Boston suggested.

  Vance smiled, and Boston’s heart swelled at knowing she was the cause of it. “All of the above, Miss Mind Reader.” He smiled, adding, “And more. It’s almost like you can feel the history in an older house, sense a time when things were more defined, when people’s priorities were better organized.”

  Boston smiled, even though inside she was beginning to feel nervous once more. Vance was too attractive—so tuned to what was important! She shouldn’t have sat down next to him. She should’ve known it would mess with her mind. Still, what woman in her right mind could’ve resisted settling into a free space next to him? What woman out of her right mind? Certainly every woman at the party was affected by him. She’d never seen so many flirtatious, giddy girls in one place. Well, maybe at the Backstreet Boys concert she’d gone to when she was twelve, but certainly never under normal circumstances. Vance, however, seemed completely unaware of the fact. Whether he was truly unaware of his affect on the women at the party or whether he only pretended to be unaware of it, he was all the more attractive for it.

  Boston was rattled from her contemplation of the fabulous man next to her when Dempsey stood up and cleared his throat.

  “Okay, everybody, settle down,” he said. “Now…those of you who’ve been to a Dempsey Mattice party before know exactly why my parties are like nobody else’s, right?”

  Everyone applauded, whistled, and called out their approval.

  “Oh, no,” Boston mumbled, the familiar mixture of excitement and anxiety stirring in her stomach.

  “What?” Vance asked.

  “It’s okay…it’s okay…I usually win,” Boston said. “So it’s okay.”

  “What?” Vance asked, rising concern in his voice.

  “You’ll see,” Boston said. She smiled as she watched Dempsey get ready to make his big announcement. It was all in good fun, after all—all in good fun.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Dempsey began, “it’s time for the highlight of the evening. Get ready for Dempsey Mattice’s kissing games!”

  “Kissing games?” Vance exclaimed. Boston giggled at the mortified, nearly terrified expression on his face. “What is he talking about?”

  “It’s fairly harmless,” Boston said, patting him on the knee with reassurance. “Dempsey always has to have his kissing games, but I’m pretty good at them all…so I do all right in avoiding. The trick in Kissing Rugby is to pay attention and try to learn everyone’s letter or number. That way you can sort of pad your competition. If not…you just have to be wiry.”

  “Wiry?” Vance exclaimed. “Do I look wiry to you?”

  Boston st
udied him for a moment, giggled, and said, “No. You look more like fresh meat…chick bait.” She laughed when the color drained from his face, and he swore under his breath. “Oh, come on, Vance Romance. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

  Vance looked at her, one eyebrow arching daringly.

  “Are you calling me a chicken, Boston Rhodes?” he asked.

  Almost instantly, Boston regretted egging him on. What had she done? Opened the door for any woman in the room to kiss the man she…the man she wanted! It was Boston’s first conscious moment of admitting to herself that she wanted Vance Nathaniel—wanted to kiss him, wanted to date him, wanted to win him over for good!

  “No,” she said.

  “Do you play them all?” he asked. She thought the mirth in his expression lessened a little.

  “Yeah,” she confessed. “But they’re not like you might be thinking. They’re pretty benign.”

  “Okay,” he said, nodding. “Then, if you’re in…so am I.”

  Boston felt sick. She wanted to throw up. She didn’t want anyone else kissing Vance! Especially if Dempsey decided to throw Spin the Bottle or I Love You, Baby—Smile in the mix. Kissing Rugby wasn’t so bad; it usually only resulted in kisses on the face, not the lips. Even Dempsey’s version of Post Office was endurable. Yet Boston didn’t even like the idea of another woman’s lips touching Vance’s cheek.

  “Then form a circle, girls and boys!” Dempsey announced. “We’ll play Kissing Rugby first.”

  Everyone was excited and delighted by the prospect of the silly game. Everyone save Boston—and Danielle. When Boston glanced across the room to Danielle, it was to see her friend gazing regretfully at Dempsey the same way Boston felt like gazing at Vance.