Forbidden Promises

by Synithia Williams

  Russell’s thumb slowly rubbed back and forth over her back. She’d worn a thin sheath dress, with leggings and knee-high boots. The material of her dress did little to block the heat of his hands or the softness of his caress. Was he trying to seduce her? After realizing she needed a distraction they’d casually hung out, and they’d only kissed. Kissed enough for her to be very aware it had been way too long since she’d been with a man and for her to stop analyzing how he kissed and just enjoy being kissed. Enough for her to almost forget her dad had orchestrated this entire setup for a reason. Almost.

  “I’d like to hear you play one day,” Russell said close to her ear again.

  Her palms were slick on the cup in her hands. Nerves. From anticipation or anxiety was yet to be determined.

  “I’m just playing for myself while I’m here. I need to practice in case I’m called in for the audition in California.”

  That wasn’t a lie. She spent most afternoons locked in the music room of her family’s estate practicing. She knew the pieces backward and forward by now, but she still practiced. She wanted them to be automatic. To be so lost in the music that she didn’t think about the difficult parts and just became the music. That was the only way she would get the coveted spot.

  His hand stopped caressing her back. He pulled his head back. India let out a sigh. Relief, disappointment? She really should figure out which. Maybe a bit of both.

  “I’d almost forgotten about your plans to go to California.”

  She nodded and took another sip of her beer. “I’m really excited about the opportunity.”

  He shifted until he stood in front of her. Blocking the view of the band playing. His hand slid with him from her back to rest on her waist.

  “Maybe you’ll find a reason to stick around a little longer.”

  He really was good-looking. She hadn’t missed the interested looks thrown his way by other women. Here she was, on the arm of arguably the finest guy in the room, who was showing particular interest in taking their dating to the next level, and she still got panicky and nervous at the thought. What the hell was wrong with her?

  “I do have a reason. Byron’s campaign.”

  Russell eased her body closer to his. “There are other reasons.”

  The look in his eye definitely said he hoped she’d consider him a reason. For a second she felt bad that he hadn’t been a part of her stay-or-go considerations, then his hips shifted. Something hard brushed against her belly. She sucked in a breath. Had he really just given her a dick nudge? She let out a shocked laugh, and he must have taken it for encouragement. His lips curved and he nudged her again. Oh yeah, that was definitely a rising mass between them.

  “Russell, I...” She struggled for the right words. They’d kissed but he’d never been so sexually blatant. He hadn’t come across as the pressuring type, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d read a man’s signals wrong.

  Russell’s lids lowered. His lips puckered and he came in for a kiss.

  India pressed her free hand firmly on his chest and pushed. “It’s kind of hot in here. Let’s go outside and get some air.” Her voice was firm and steady, but inside her pulse skyrocketed as she worried if he’d make a scene or not.

  He blinked a few times. His gaze cleared, and he immediately stepped back. Color rose in his cheeks and he nodded. “Yeah, let’s get some air.”

  She let out a breath but didn’t relax when he took her hand in his and led her through the crowd outside. The cool early-spring night was welcome after the heat and press of bodies inside the museum. He led her away from the DJ to the far side of the plaza. They stopped next to one of the pillars. The music was up, but not as loud since they were outside.

  Russell let go of her hand and rubbed his face. He wouldn’t meet her eye. The silence between them was long and awkward.

  She broke it first. “What was that?”

  He finally met her eye, his face embarrassed and regretful. “I’m sorry. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m stressed, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to pressure you into anything.” He looked at the ground. Lines bracketed his mouth and his brow was furrowed.

  His move had been juvenile and stupid, but it didn’t warrant the devastation in his eyes. India put a hand on his arm and kept it there until he looked at her again. “Hey, apology accepted, but never do that again. If something is going on, you can talk to me about it.”

  He let out a heavy breath and met her eyes. “It’s nothing you want to hear about.”

  “Try me. If anything, we’re friends.”

  “That’s the thing, I’d like us to be more than that, but I’ve got this other...thing going on in my life.”

  India dropped her hand and stepped back. If her dad hooked her up with a guy who was married, she would kill him.

  He shook his head and reached for her. “Nothing crazy. I promise. Just drama from an ex.” He closed his eyes and let out a rueful bitter laugh. “Exactly what I shouldn’t bring up when I’m trying to start something new.”

  India’s panic subsided. Drama with an ex she could talk about. “I can relate,” she said. Russell bringing up his ex didn’t bother her, probably because even though she liked him and enjoyed the time they’d spent together, in her heart she knew she didn’t want things to get too serious between them.

  His head popped up. A curious but wary look in his eyes. “You can?”

  She leaned back against the pillar. The coolness of the marble seeped through her thin dress. “There was this guy I had a really hard time getting out of my system. Even though I knew nothing would come of it. Some people just get beneath your skin like that.”

  His shoulders relaxed. “My ex. She’s...manipulative. I know that. I broke things off with her over a year ago. We’re done, but she still pops up asking for help.”

  Help that, she could tell by the disgust in his voice, he continued to give. “Because you’re a good guy.”

  “And good guys finish last.”

  She bit her lip. “Russell, you don’t have to keep helping her. You’re very attractive, you could have—”

  “A ton of women,” he finished for her. This time when he laughed it wasn’t bitter, but neither was it happy. “I get it. I know the effect I can have on women.” He said it without an ounce of arrogance. He sounded almost as if his good looks were an annoyance. “I took advantage of that in high school and college. Then I got caught by the ultimate player’s trap. I fell for the wrong woman. She turned the tables on me. Hit me with the same games and tricks I used to play. Before I knew it, I was the one heartbroken.”

  He shook his head. “Getting over that wasn’t fun, but it taught me a lesson. I don’t want to play around anymore. I want what my parents have. I know marriage isn’t easy, but if I’m going to deal with drama, I’d rather it be with a woman I love and who loves me instead of a bunch of meaningless women.”

  “Do you miss it? The freedom of nights of meaningless sex with no emotional ties.”

  Russell laughed and leaned a hand next to her head on the pillar. “Not as much as I thought I would. Once I realized what I wanted, it’s kind of hard to give up the dream.”

  Russell’s sincerely spoken confession made her like him even more. He deserved a maturity medal or something. Bronze, not gold for that stunt back there. She didn’t know how many players reformed their ways because someone broke their heart. If anything, she would have expected that to make them want to play the field more.

  “Why did you agree to date me? We’d never met, and I know my dad put you up to it.”

  His eyes flickered with an emotion she couldn’t name. His body stiffened, and he dropped his hand. “Your dad wanted to introduce us. He had nothing to do with me calling you after the party.”

  His tone didn’t waver, nor did his gaze. Still, she didn’t believe that was the entire story. Her d
ad had something on Russell. What could it be? Obviously, something big enough to make Russell agree to date her. That was enough for her to know she couldn’t keep trying.

  “You know, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to take this further romantically,” she said.

  “Because your dad introduced us, the thing with my ex, or that really bad move back in the museum?”

  “A bit of the first two, and since you apologized, I’m not going to hold the thing in the museum against you. As a friend, I hope you realize you can do better and cut her out of your life. The thing with my dad... I don’t want to be a part of his game.”

  She moved to go around him.

  Russell placed a hand on her waist and stopped her. “India, your dad doesn’t have anything on me. He always brags about you. I’d seen pictures and heard him mention you were his favorite. When he told me you were in town and that he thought I’d like you, yes, I was intrigued. Then I met you and I didn’t care about anything else. Even if we never go out again, I want you to know that.”

  She nodded and his grip on her loosened. She believed him and appreciated his words. She was so paranoid when it came to things related to her dad. Grant didn’t do anything without some type of motive, especially when it came to introducing people to his family. Byron may not be a part of whatever her dad planned, but India didn’t doubt Grant hoped something specific would come of them getting together.

  “I’m sorry for accusing you of playing games.”

  He shrugged. “After what my ex put me through, believe me I don’t want to toy with anyone’s emotions.” He nodded toward the museum. “Want to go back and try to salvage the night? I promise no more high school prom moves.”

  India chuckled and took his hand when he held it out to her. “Sure.”

  He took her hand and stepped back. India looked into the crowd and her gaze collided with Travis’s. He stood in front of the DJ booth, a beer in one hand, the other slipped into the pocket of his dark slacks. His focus solely on her. Her legs and lungs stiffened while her heart did a Travis-is-near dance.

  Travis looked away from her to the woman by his side. Camille. He said something that made Camille smile and laugh. Her hand rested on his chest. He took it in his, slipped her arm through his and led her inside the museum.

  The entire episode couldn’t have taken more than a second, but she felt as if she’d just run a race. Her heart pumped wildly, and she struggled to breathe. He’d seen her, looked almost upset to have spotted her, then in a blink flirted with Camille and moved on as if they hadn’t made eye contact. So that was his game now? Grab her attention, rob her of breath, then pretend as if she didn’t exist?

  Uh, yeah, because his heart isn’t skipping beats when he looks at you.

  “You okay?” Russell asked warily.

  India had stopped in her tracks when she’d seen Travis. Embarrassment blazed through her. She wanted to hate him, because she hated the way her world came to a standstill every time while he felt absolutely nothing whenever he saw her.

  She turned, lifted up on her toes and kissed Russell. He froze for a second, then his arms were around her waist and he kissed her back. She didn’t care they were in a crowded square, surrounded by people. That two minutes ago she’d told him they should count their losses and move on. She didn’t even care part of her passion was fueled by a need to channel the stirrings of desire from the intense look in Travis’s eyes.

  Well, maybe she cared a little, but that wasn’t the point. The point was she wasn’t going to continue to be the stupid girl who’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have. She was going to be the girl she’d been on tour. Young, carefree and not succumbing to anyone else’s expectations.

  When she pulled back, Russell’s eyes were wide with surprise. “What was that for?”

  “Because you are a nice guy. Forget your ex, my father, everything. Let’s just enjoy tonight and have a good time.”

  He smiled and nodded. “Good with me.”

  * * *

  HE STAYED AWAY from her as long as he could. Travis had tried to pretend seeing India at the art museum wasn’t a big deal. Tried to tell himself he would get used to seeing her in town on dates. He was here on his own date, after all. She wasn’t his, wasn’t ever going to be his, and even if he decided to try to make her his, Elaina would plot to kill him and Grant would help dispose of his body.

  The museum had a small section set aside for local artists. One of his paintings was displayed in that corner. One among a half dozen other local artists. A feel-good display for the people in town to see what their neighbors could do. He’d asked Camille to come tonight so she could see, but he hadn’t told her about his work on display. He hadn’t told anyone.

  Outside of the Robidoux family, not too many people knew he painted. That part of himself had never been up for public knowledge. But after the divorce, when he’d started indulging in his hobby again, he’d taken a portrait-painting class at the museum. The teacher was also one of the new employees at the museum who hadn’t known him as a Robidoux family attachment. They’d sparked a friendship and begun discussing art. Now, not only had that friendship led to Travis becoming a member of the museum’s board, but he’d also been convinced to add one of his portraits to the local artists tribute.

  He’d held his breath in anticipation when he took Camille to the section to view the paintings. Waited anxiously for her to scan the various works, read the names of the local artists, see his and turn to him with surprise in her eyes. Instead, she’d scanned the paintings, ignored the names of the artists, then looked around, noticed they were alone in the secluded corner and immediately tried to put her hands down his pants.

  He didn’t typically have a problem with women being forward, but not when he was trying to share a piece of himself. He wanted to find out if Camille could be the one. The one he really started over with after the divorce. He’d led Camille away, disappointed but also trying to convince himself that her not noticing his name on the wall didn’t mean they weren’t well matched.

  Then he’d seen India. India with Russell. His entire body had frozen as a wave of happiness at seeing her bowled him over. He’d turned away quickly before instinct overrode good sense.

  He’d told himself he would stay away from her. Ignore her. Except, when India wandered over to the local artists exhibit by herself just as Camille said she wanted to check on the people selling her family’s beer at the event, he followed India instead of Camille.

  He watched her, breath held and heart racing. Her eyes scanned the paintings. She stilled. Her head tilted the side. Her full lips parted, and she slid closer to the painting. Her hand held out as if she wanted to touch. At the last second she drew back.

  He came up next to her. She didn’t turn his way, but he could tell from the way her body tensed she knew he was beside her. With her back to him, he was free to soak in her presence. The slender column of her neck. The way the simple sheath dress fell over her curves. The citrus scent of her perfume just as bright as her personality.

  “Do you like it?” he asked, studying her.

  “It’s a portrait. You never do portraits,” she answered, still examining the painting. “Who is she?”

  “It’s not really a portrait. Just a profile.” He kept his eyes on her, his chest tight with anticipation. The portrait was of a woman with her back to the canvas, her face slightly turned so only the slope of her jaw, soft curve of her neck and the shadow of long lashes on soft cheeks was shown. Her curly hair was pulled back in a thick puff at the base of her skull. Shoulders bared except for the strap of a white tank top.

  “A very good profile. You painted her so perfectly. As if you wanted to reach out and touch her.”

  “Maybe I did.” He focused on India’s profile. Her distinct beauty he’d tried to capture from memory. His fingers flexed, his hand lifted. He stopped hims
elf just in time.

  She wasn’t his. He was here with someone else. So was she. They’d create a scandal, and even though he’d accepted the choices he’d made, he didn’t want to hurt Elaina or her family. They deserved better than having their family torn apart because he couldn’t shake this fascination he had with India.

  “Does Elaina know you painted her like this?”

  Travis frowned. His eyes shot to the painting. “Elaina?”

  “It’s her, isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. Disappointment settled like an elephant on his chest. “No. It’s not your sister.”

  She looked at the painting again. Her eyes widened. She sucked in a breath. When her bright eyes met his, he saw the question, the confusion in their depths.

  He looked away first. “It’s just an image I had in my mind. No one in particular.”

  “Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “For a second I thought...”

  You were right. What would she say if he’d answered the question in her eyes and admitted she was the woman in the picture? If he admitted that he had thought of her too much after she’d left and even more after his divorce. He was too embarrassed to admit any of that and couldn’t face her pity, or worse, her discomfort from talking about a situation that couldn’t be undone.

  You’ll never be happy with her, Grant had said in a cold, calculating voice. You’re both too sentimental. Too lost in your artistic sides to amount to anything. Don’t disgrace Elaina because your sentimental side noticed India.

  Grant had been right. He and India wouldn’t have been able to make things work after Elaina admitted she was pregnant. He’d taken Grant’s offer to cover law school and married the sister he’d already “ruined” according to Grant.

  “Oh well,” India said when he didn’t respond to her unanswered question. “How did you get the museum to display your work?”

  Relief relaxed his shoulders. He could let his guard down if they talked about art. “I took a class a few years ago.”