by Julie Kenner
And Shane walked right through it. “Sterno,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“I saw Sterno cans in your emergency drawer. And I know you have brandy snifters. It shouldn’t take long to heat us up two glasses.”
“I’m not sure we should—”
“El, it’s only a blackout. And from what I could tell, you managed to acquire every Sterno can this side of the East River. Were you planning on cornering the market?”
She grimaced. Maybe she had gone a little overboard, but that didn’t mean they could just waste the stuff. “It’s still for emergencies, Shane.”
“Trust me,” he said. “The possibility of drinking room temperature Frangelico qualifies as an emergency. Besides, we need something to wash down dessert.”
You’d be a nice dessert.
Mortified, she looked away. It had to be the champagne; the bubbles had fizzed her brain. She forced her mind back to mundane things. “Dessert, huh?” she asked as he poured Frangelico into two brandy snifters. “Dare I ask what you got?”
“It’s chocolate and dense. That’s all I know.”
“Really?” Chocolate was her weakness and Shane damn well knew it. “So, um, I get the bigger piece, right?”
“There’s only one—” He stopped himself, then continued. “There’s only one condition.”
“What?”
He smiled, and the way his mouth curved had her feeling a bit damp between the legs. “Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
“You’re scheming,” she said.
“I never scheme. I plan.”
“Yeah? Well, I plan to eat some chocolate.” She pulled the carton out and carried it to the nearest candle. “By the way, what happened to my flashlights?”
“Didn’t see any,” he said.
“I have about seven of the disposable kind.” Considering how much less sensual every little movement would be in the harsh glare of incandescent bulbs, she really wanted to snag them.
He shrugged. “None in the chest.”
“I can find them.” She started to move across the room but stopped when she saw his expression. “What?”
“Get flashlights if you want, but this is supposed to be a high-class dinner in a high-class restaurant. I think candlelight fits. Don’t you?”
“Sure. Of course. I was just—” She shut up. Most likely she was just digging herself in deeper and deeper. “Never mind.”
With a single flame to work by, she lifted the lid on the carton and saw one slice of the most amazing-looking chocolate cake she’d ever seen in her life. “Wow,” she said. “It looks great, but what are you going to eat?”
He looked up. “What do you mean?”
“There’s only one slice. A huge, absolutely delicious-looking chunk of chocolate, but still only one.”
He stood up, bringing the Frangelico with him as he moved toward the couch. “Well, it’s hardly a crisis.” He cocked his head, urging her toward him. “Come on. And bring two forks.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Two forks? I thought the bigger piece was mine. And this is clearly the bigger piece.”
“Bigger is a relative term. There has to be something to compare it to. With only one piece, you have to share.”
“I don’t know, Walker. That sounds like a pretty flimsy attempt to get at my chocolate. I think you’ll have to do better.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. He put the drinks down on the coffee table and rubbed his hands together. “We’ll wrestle for it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You know. We’ll determine who gets the chocolate in the same manner as boxers, martial-arts athletes and superpower nations. We’ll fight.”
“Superpower nations, huh? I think that means we need to call in the UN.”
“I’m a rogue nation, El. I want that chocolate.” He was circling her now, his expression playful. She held the chocolate high above her head and turned, her feet dancing as she tried to avoid his grabs.
“Careful,” she squealed. “If it falls, neither of us gets it.”
“That’s a risk you’ll have to take. You could just concede and share. That way you’re sure to get some chocolate.”
“Never,” she said. And with that she took off running, moving back around the sofa and ending up with him on one side and her on the other. She’d brought two forks, and now she tossed one on the couch. The other she slipped into the creamy confection and brought a bite to her lips. As Shane watched, she closed her eyes, exhaled and sighed with satisfaction. “Yummy,” she said. The word died on her tongue when she opened her eyes. He was staring at her, a hunger reflected in his eyes that didn’t seem entirely caused by the dessert.
“Okay,” he said, “now you’ve done it.” He climbed onto the futon and made a grab for her. She leaped backward, almost losing the cake but steadying herself before it fell. Too late, though. He was over the couch, his arm catching her around the waist.
She squealed and held the plate high with both hands, then realized what a mistake that was, because he pulled her closer. Without her arms for protection, her breasts pressed against his chest. Her nipples hardened and her breathing came in shattered, raspy bursts. Her lips felt full and her whole body flooded with a warmth fueled by need.
And it wasn’t a need for chocolate, that was for damn sure.
“Ella?” His voice, low, seemed as soft as a caress. His brow furrowed, concern turning his eyes a deep jade. “Are you okay?”
She spun away, right out of his arms, and brought the plate down in front of her, the cake suddenly a buffer between the two of them. “I’m…of course…yes. I mean, why?”
He cocked his head, studying her, and Ella was absolutely certain he could see every thought in her head. And so help her, she wanted him to. Against every ounce of better judgment in her body, she just wanted to jump in and go with the flow and lose herself in—
American Pie.
She blinked, confused, as she realized the tinny melody of Don McLean’s “American Pie” was filling the room. “Oh!” She jumped, suddenly remembering. “That’s my phone. That’s Tony.” She’d assigned different rings for different friends, and that was Tony’s assigned tune.
Saying a silent thank-you to the patron saint of cell phones, she scurried away from Shane, then dropped to the floor beside the couch. She set down the cake, and when her fingers found her purse, she dug out her phone. “Hello? Tony? Hello? I’m here!”
“Ella?”
“Tony! Hi! I was afraid it would roll over to voice mail. It’s so great to hear from you. I miss you.” The words were bubbling out of her faster than she usually spoke, and she could only hope that he attributed her excitement to enthusiasm and not the real cause: guilt.
“I miss you, too.” His voice seemed to hold a hint of a smile. “It sounds like you’re doing okay, then. You’re going to be okay tonight?”
“What?” She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“The blackout. I just saw the news. I was wondering—”
“Oh! Right. I’m fine. And I’m sure they’ll get the power back on by morning.”
“Hmm.” Tony sounded less than confident. “I hate the idea of you going through that by yourself.”
“Not a problem. Really. Shane was here. He was—”
“Shane?”
Ella closed her eyes and drew in a breath, renewed guilt—foolish, since she hadn’t done a thing—flooding through her. “He was here when the power went out. He refinished my kitchen cabinets while I was at the library today. They look great.”
“Nice,” Tony said. “But I told you we’d do a total remodel later in the summer.”
“I know, but…” She trailed off with a shrug. It was so much nicer to have had Shane put in the work than to have Tony whip out his credit card. “It was his idea,” she said after a beat. “A going-away present.”
“Is he still there? Is he staying the night?”
“No.” The lie came automatically to
Ella’s lips. “Of course not.” She turned, giving Shane her back, afraid that he’d be able to read the lie in her expression.
“He left right after the blackout?”
“Right.”
“Bastard,” Tony muttered.
“Excuse me?”
“Didn’t he even think that you might want company? I mean, there’s no power. There could be looters. There could be—”
“Tony,” she interrupted. “I’m fine. And you need to get back to work, don’t you?”
“Yeah, actually I do. I just saw the news and wanted to call.”
“Great,” she said. Her phone beeped, and she pulled away long enough to check the screen. “My battery’s about to die,” she said. “And I can’t recharge without power, so we should cut this short. I’ll see you on Wednesday?”
“Absolutely. Shall I come over straight from the airport?”
She remembered her plan to seduce him in the sexy nightie. But that plan would have to wait since she already had another agenda in place for Wednesday. “Sure. We can catch a taxi from here to SoHo.”
A pause, then he asked, “Why are we going to SoHo?”
“I promised Leah we’d go with her to an opening.” It sounded like a ton of fun, and Ella loved going out with Tony’s sister. “The show’s by some artist she’s dating and she’s totally nervous. Matty’s going to be there, too,” she added, referring to his second sister. “Maybe even your father.”
“A real family affair,” he said, but without any of the enthusiasm she felt.
“Well, yeah. But we can come back to my place after.” Actually she and Leah had talked about the possibility of Leah, Matty, Ella and their dates renting a helicopter for a nighttime sky tour of the city. From the sound of Tony’s voice, though, she didn’t think now was the time to pitch it. She’d pick a time when he was more amenable. Like never.
“Well, I suppose we can go, but let’s not plan to stay too long. By the way, have you and Leah gotten together since I’ve been out of town?”
“Checking up on me?” she asked, unable to prevent the edge that crept into her voice. She knew well enough that Tony thought Leah was too much of a party girl. Ella knew better. Leah just liked to have fun. She wasn’t reckless or foolhardy. She didn’t slack off at her job. She just liked people and she liked dancing and she liked the rush that came from exploring the city. Ella totally empathized. Tony, unfortunately, did not.
“I’m just curious.”
“Right,” Ella said. She almost picked an argument, but her battery was low and, since they’d had this battle before, she knew the outcome. Stalemate. She’d continue to hang out with Leah and Tony would continue to complain and life would go on as usual. According to Leah, that was simply one aspect of the family’s dynamic. Always had been, always would. “But no, since you asked, I haven’t gone out with Leah in a few days.”
“Good, then.” There was a muffled sound while he talked to someone away from the phone, then he said, “Okay, I’ve got to go. Love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said, and this time she turned around and flashed Shane a radiant smile, feeling as if in some small way she’d scored a victory. She just wasn’t sure what she’d won.
5
“EVERYTHING OKAY IN PARADISE?” Shane asked as she slid her phone back into her purse.
“Oh, sure.” She stood back up to find him holding the plate of chocolate cake.
“Hmm.”
She lifted an eyebrow, suddenly feeling tense and edgy. “What?” she demanded.
He just stared at her. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to. That little noise you made was enough.”
“Dammit, Ella. You’re the one dating Tony. Does it really matter what I think?”
She should have said no; she really, really should have. Instead she said, “You’re my best friend. Of course I want to know what you think.”
“I think it seems like you’re fucking the family, not the man.”
“What?”
“Come on, Ella. Every time we talk, you’re raving about something you did with Tony’s family or with his sisters or something funny his dad said. So who are you in love with? The family or the man?”
“I take it back, Walker,” she said, bristling. “I don’t want to hear your thoughts.”
For a moment she thought he was going to argue, but he stayed quiet, then nodded and muttered a soft, “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.” He held up the chocolate. “Peace offering?”
“I…” She trailed off, suddenly uncomfortable and desperately afraid that there was more truth in his words than she was willing to admit. “You can have it. I’m fine.” She turned around, making a pretense of moving one of the candles away from the wall.
“El? I said I was sorry.”
“I know. I’m fine. Really.”
“Is there something else? What did Tony have to say?”
“Nothing,” she said. “It’s nothing at all. I…I just realized how full I am. Truly.”
“Well, come over here and sit at least. Don’t you want your drink?”
Actually she did want the drink. Would have liked to get good and drunk and pass out in her bed and wake up when this was all over. That probably wasn’t an option, but a few sips of liqueur would take the edge off.
She moved around the couch, then took a seat in the far corner. It was a futon couch, the kind where the back folds down into a bed. And it was, in fact, her bed. But she tried not to think about that as she sat there sipping the warm, fragrant drink.
Shane sat at the other end of the couch, but unlike her, he wasn’t jammed into the corner. Instead he was casually leaning back, his shoulders seeming incredibly broad against the back of her white sofa. She shifted in her seat, suddenly feeling even more warm, and she eyed the air conditioner with longing.
“It is hot in here,” he said, then took a bite of cake, managing to chew and swallow even with a wicked grin.
“Don’t choke on it,” she said, feeling surly.
He laughed. “Do you remember tenth grade?”
“When we got trapped in the theater and they locked the school—”
“And McCullough killed the lights and we couldn’t figure out how to turn them back on.” He picked up and finished her thought, and she couldn’t help but grin at their easy rhythm.
“This feels kind of like that,” she said. “Stuck in the dark with no power.”
“In a lot of ways.” He shifted, casually draped his arm on the back of the couch, his fingertips not quite touching her shoulder. “I remember thinking it was an adventure and how glad I was that I’d gotten trapped with you.”
“You are such a liar!” She tossed a pillow at him. “I distinctly remember you telling me you wished that Diana Madison was there.”
“True,” he conceded. “But that was only because I wanted to make out with her. Since the feeling wasn’t mutual, I would have ended up spending an entire night talking drivel with her. You, I wanted to talk to.”
“You thought she talked drivel and you still wanted to get in her pants?”
“Being a gentleman, I’ll only admit to wanting to get in her shirt.”
“Some gentleman.”
He pointed to himself. “Is that a dig I hear? I’ll have you know I was a paragon of virtue. I didn’t try anything with you, did I?”
“You never tried anything with me.”
“True. Now why is that?” His fingers slid down and brushed subtly over her shoulder. “I mean, you were hot back then. Not quite as hot as you are now but definitely smoldering.”
She swallowed, not sure what to say. What to do. His hand barely touched her, and yet she was certain she had scorch marks along her shoulder from the fire his fingers ignited. Only yesterday his touch would have been a refuge. Now it was a danger zone. “Kind of astounding, huh?” she finally managed. “I mean, both of us being teenagers with raging hormones. And yet we went a whole night in t
he dark.” She licked her lips and drew in a breath. “I guess it was just the same as it’s always been. You know. Our friendship is too important to risk screwing up, even back then.”
“Especially back then,” he said.
“What do you mean?” She cocked her head, trying to read the undercurrents in his statement, and didn’t even notice that he’d pulled his fingers away.
“Our lives were such a mess back then. We cleaved to this friendship. We held on tightly to each other and that’s what kept us both from drowning.”
She nodded. That was true enough. In a lot of ways, they’d raised each other. She’d grown up hating that her family was missing-in-action and desperately wanting a family of her own. Needing it. But that need hadn’t ever diminished the importance of what Shane had been—still was—to her.
“It’s different now,” he said almost as if he’d read her mind. “Now we’ve managed to get ourselves settled. We have lives and careers that matter to us. We’re not teenagers trapped in warring or neglectful families. We’re not looking for those kinds of ties anymore.”
“Yes, but—” She didn’t know what to say. She knew she wanted to argue, because somehow he seemed to be diminishing what they had now. But she didn’t quite know how to argue.
“Come on,” he pressed. “You know I’m right. It’s different now. That night you told me every little detail about you and Chris Tobias. Believe me, I’m not expecting to hear the details about you and Tony tonight.”
“I so didn’t tell you every detail about Chris.”
“Did, too.”
“Did not.”
“What about your tingling toes?”
She squirmed a little. “Everyone thinks about tingly toes.”
“Yeah, but you admitted he didn’t make your toes tingle. If memory serves, you went into great detail about the way he kissed and how you kept on kissing him hoping that your feet—and the rest of you—would start to tingle.”
“Yes, you’re right. But I was—what?—sixteen? I wanted grand romance, passionate kisses and tingly toes.”
“So what did you do?”
