Phantom Waltz

by Catherine Anderson

  She came to the third picture. “Oh, my! Crash and burn. He nearly did splits with his little front legs.” She sighed and lowered the pictures to her lap. “Thank you, Ryan. How thoughtful. These are a lovely memento.”

  “Of the evening—or me?”

  The faintly challenging note in his voice took her by surprise. Her gaze jerked to his, and the determination she saw there alarmed her.

  The distinctly masculine scent of him surrounded her—a tantalizing blend of leather, fresh air, horses, and spicy cologne. He hunkered down, nudged up the brim of his hat, and gave her a long, solemn perusal that made her stomach feel as if she were riding a roller coaster.

  “I think we need to talk,” he said, his voice a silky rumble.

  “About what?”

  “About you and me—and what happened between us last night.”

  His straight-to-the-point manner unnerved her. He was a man on a mission, and she had a bad feeling she was it.

  She remembered last night with brutal clarity—how he’d crouched down just this way and kissed her. Never again. He was too potently attractive, too charming, too everything. She’d be lost if he touched her. Even worse, she had a feeling he knew it as well.

  She just wanted him to go away and leave her alone.

  As though he guessed her thoughts, his eyes began to twinkle. “That’s exactly why we need to talk. I really screwed up last night, and I’d like to mend my fences if I can.”

  He had screwed up? The way she saw it, she’d been the one who botched it all by getting turned on by a silly kiss and throwing herself at him.

  “I, um …” He jerked his hat off, raked a hand through his black hair, and scratched above his ear. When he met her gaze again, his eyes reflected heartfelt sincerity. “I had such a good time with you at the pulls. We just clicked. You know what I’m saying? That so rarely happens, finding someone I can laugh with like that. I don’t want to muck that up with the other. You know?”

  “The other?”

  He nodded. “Yeah—you know—the physical thing. I, um …” He puffed air into his cheeks. When he met her gaze again, he smiled. “I won’t lie and say I’m not strongly attracted to you. That kiss knocked my socks off. But physical relationships are a dime a dozen, and a friendship like the one I sense we can have doesn’t happen every day. If I have to choose, and I think it’s obvious you want no part of the physical thing, I’ll take the friendship.”

  Bethany’s heart clenched. “You want to be friends?”

  “You got something against friendship?”

  “No, of course not. I just—”

  “You just what?”

  “I just don’t see how that can work.”

  “Why not?”

  A searing heat flooded into her cheeks. How could she tell a man that being around him made her want a whole lot more than an occasional friendly pat on the shoulder? “I’m very attracted to you,” she settled for saying.

  He smiled again and rubbed his jaw. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. That being the case, friendship becomes a tad difficult to pull off.”

  “Not true. If we both agree from the start that a wonderful friendship is our focus, and neither of us steps over the line, we can pull it off very easily.”

  For some people, caring wasn’t a decision. If she was around him very much, she was bound to fall in love with him.

  “I, um—I’m not so sure I can keep it on a friendship basis,” she admitted ruefully. “I’d muddy up the water before we ever waded in, and I can’t take that chance. I don’t want to get hurt, Ryan.”

  “I’d never hurt you, honey. You don’t hurt your best friend.”

  The husky sincerity in his voice was nearly her undoing. His best friend. A tight sensation banded her chest. “Oh, Ryan, I know you wouldn’t mean to. It’s just—sometimes things just happen. You may have good intentions, but everything goes wrong. I’d be one of those things. You make me feel so vulnerable.”

  He sighed and smoothed a hand over his hair. “If that happens, we’ll just go with the flow and see where it takes us.”

  “It can’t take us anywhere,” she said. “That’s the whole problem.”

  “Why can’t it?”

  Looking into his eyes, Bethany realized he honestly didn’t know. Tears rushed to her eyes, and an acidic burning slid up the back of her throat. With hands gone numb from nervousness, she jerked the towel from her head and lay it on her lap. She knew her hair must look a fright. She didn’t care. Let him see her at her worst.

  She carefully returned the photos to the envelope, her fingers trembling as she folded down the flap. Wishing with all her heart she could avoid this conversation, she swallowed a lump in her throat that she felt fairly certain was her pride and forced herself to look him in the eye. “I have no feeling in certain parts of my body. You could jab a pin in the calf of my leg, and I wouldn’t feel a thing.”

  His gaze flicked to her terry-draped knees, then returned to her face.

  Before she lost her courage, she went on to say, “I’m not sure I can have a normal physical relationship with a man. Chances are, probably not.”

  “And on the strength of that iffy prognosis, you’ll turn your back on life?”

  “I haven’t turned my back on life. I’ve just learned to accept that some things may no longer be possible for me. Maybe it’s easy for you to go with the flow and see where something takes you. It isn’t for me. Chances are, I’ll only disappoint you and get hurt in the process. I’d just as soon pass.”

  “Who did this to you?” he asked so unexpectedly she couldn’t school her expression. His lashes swept low, and his smile became a clench of white teeth. “You’re so … controlled. Do you realize that?”

  She stared bewilderedly at him. “Controlled?”

  “Reasonable. Calm. It’s not natural, and it sure as hell isn’t healthy. Somebody hurt you. It’s written all over you. I see it in your eyes every time you look at me. And you know what else I see?”

  She shook her head. “No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”

  “Damn straight. It’s worrisome.” He leaned closer to peer into her eyes as if there were a crystal ball inside her head. She knew he was teasing, but even so, she had the feeling her heart had become an open book. “I see anger. Deep down where you can’t reach, you’re so pissed you could take something apart.”

  A tearful laugh nearly strangled her. “Really. You can see all that?”

  “Oh, hey. That and more. You’re smoldering and churning like a little volcano about to erupt.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re crazy?”

  “A few people have made noises to that effect. I ignored them.”

  “Most women get hurt somewhere along the way, and they don’t erupt later in life like volcanoes,” she pointed out.

  “They don’t usually get hurt the way I suspect you did,” he countered. “Maybe they get dumped a couple of times before they find the right guy, and maybe they get their hearts broken. But it’s not usually over something quite as devastating.”

  She formed a steeple with her fingers and touched the tips to her lips.

  “And you know what else? I’ll bet they scream and cry and get angry and unload all the hurt and anger on someone, their moms or best friends. Someone. Otherwise, nine-tenths of the female population would be certifiably nuts.”

  “Are you saying I’m certifiably nuts?” she asked teasingly.

  He searched her gaze. “No, honey. Just that you’re hurting, and that it’ll never go away if you don’t talk to someone about it.”

  “I can’t allow that one incident to affect the rest of my life.”

  “So there was an incident.” He winked. “Caught you with that one.”

  “So? My last observation stands. You don’t let one incident affect the rest of your life. You move on.”

  “You shouldn’t move on, pretending it never happened, though. Venting and getting it out of your system
is the far better choice. You ever try it?”

  “Of course, I—” Bethany broke off and stared at him as she remembered back.

  “Did you scream and cry?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Did you throw things and call him a few vile, filthy names?”

  She laughed again, the sound ringing hollowly. “It happened right after the first surgery, and I wasn’t supposed to move much. My family was hovering all around me. I couldn’t vent, as you call it. Not without upsetting everyone who loved me.”

  “That sucks.” He shifted his weight onto the ball of his other foot and settled his crossed arms on the opposite knee. “I got hurt once. Back in high school.”

  “You did?”

  “Oh, yeah. Like you say, practically everyone gets hurt at least once. It happens to guys, too. Not on the same plane as you did, of course. But at that age, you aren’t very philosophical and don’t think of how much worse it could be. It just hurts like hell.”

  For some reason Bethany had never pegged Ryan Kendrick as the type who might have gotten his heart broken. He struck her more as the heartbreaker type.

  “Did you vent?” she asked.

  He narrowed an eye at her. “If I hadn’t, would I be encouraging you to? Of course, I did. And I felt a world better afterward, too.” He leaned closer to whisper, “You wanna go find the little creep? I’ll smack him for you.”

  She laughed again and shook her head. “That won’t be necessary. It’s been eight years. I really am over it.”

  “Liar.” All trace of humor fled from his expression. “Name me one thing you’ve done to get over it.”

  She shrugged. “I handled it in my own way. Paul was—”

  “Ah-ha. Now we’re getting somewhere. The rotten little bastard has a name.”

  She couldn’t handle this. He looked too deep, saw too much. She felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She ran shaky hands over the envelope.

  “Yes. Paul.” The name stuck at the back of her throat and became a huge, dry lump she couldn’t swallow. “And he wasn’t really rotten, just a nice young man who wanted to have a normal life, and there were no guarantees he could ever have one with me.”

  “So the nice young man walked out on you.”

  The memories hurt. Even though she no longer had any feelings for Paul, the sense of betrayal was still razor sharp. She bent her head and flicked a fingertip over a snagged tuft of terry. “Yes.”

  “And you say he was a nice young man?”

  “He really was a nice boy, and he was also only eighteen, which is really young to handle that sort of thing. Looking back on it now, I don’t blame him for ducking out.” She shrugged and tried to smile. “A lot of grown men might not have handled it as well.”

  “Don’t make excuses for him. You’re not his mama.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “Well,” he scolded. “When you’ve been hurt, you don’t make excuses for the jerk who hurt you. That’s his mama’s job.”

  “We’ve gotten a little off track. I was trying to explain to you why I—”

  “Not necessary. I can see you’re not ready for anything but friendship, honey, and that’s fine by me.”

  “I’m not sure it’s fine by me.”

  “I’m not talking about a steamy affair. Just friendship. Where’s the risk in that?”

  She brushed at her cheeks. “Maybe. Let me think about it. Maybe.”

  He touched a fingertip to the end of her nose, then thumbed a tear from under her eye. “What’s there to think about? Everyone can use another friend. We could have so much fun together.”

  She clenched her hands on her lap, so tense that her nails dug into her flesh. Her heart skipped a beat. She feared he might see the longing in her eyes. She searched for something else to focus on and found herself staring at his shirt button.

  The front door swung open just then. She looked up to see Jake standing there, his long, denim-sheathed legs braced apart, his eyes a piercing blue as he glanced first at Ryan, then at her. When his gaze came to rest on her face and he saw the tear tracks on her cheeks, his expression went from surprised to furious in one second flat.

  “What the hell’s going on here?” he demanded, his voice vibrating with rage.

  Bethany jumped with a start. Her brother was nobody to mess with when he got his dander up, and nothing got Jake’s dander up quicker than a threat to her, real or imagined. She hoped Ryan would have the good sense to stay crouched down. At least then she could be sure Jake wouldn’t hit him.

  But no. Ryan pushed slowly to his feet. The two men were well-matched physically, both of them tall, bulky through the shoulders and arms, yet lean enough to be lightning quick. Bethany glanced worriedly at her hand-painted terra-cotta flower pots on the floor in the corner of the entry. Then she could only wonder where her head was at. Her brother and Ryan would half kill each other before one of them went down. And she was worried about her pots?

  “Hello, Jake.” Ryan extended his palm for a handshake. When Jake didn’t reciprocate, Ryan kept his arm extended and said, “In answer to your question, nothing’s going on. Bethany and I were just talking.”

  Through teeth clenched so tightly she was surprised he could speak, Jake snarled, “Talking about what?”

  “The feasibility of our being friends.”

  Bethany’s heart dropped. At that moment she would have tapped Ryan with her toe to get his attention if she’d been able to. Not the truth, she wanted to cry. Don’t tell him the truth.

  “Our personalities really click,” Ryan said. “We have a great time together.”

  “That’d better be all that’s clicking,” Jake said softly.

  Ryan finally lowered his arm. He glanced down at Bethany as he returned his hat to his head. The man clearly didn’t realize how volatile Jake’s temper could be. Either that, or he didn’t have the good sense to recognize danger when he saw it. He actually winked at her.

  “Don’t come sniffing around my sister,” Jake ground out. “If I can’t kick your ass, I’ve got four brothers who’ll be standing in line behind me. Nobody makes her cry and gets away with it.”

  Bethany wiped frantically at her cheeks. “I’m not crying, Jake. I got a lash in my eye. Ryan was just trying to get it out.”

  Both men raised their eyebrows and looked down at her incredulously. Okay. So it wasn’t the most believable lie she’d ever told. She didn’t want 450 pounds of testosterone wreaking havoc in her house.

  As if she’d never spoken, Ryan looked back at Jake and said, “As bad as it may look, I did nothing to make her cry. We were talking. That’s all. I’ll also remind you that she’s a grown woman. If she doesn’t want me sniffing around, I guess she’ll tell me.”

  “Don’t press your luck,” Jake said silkily.

  “If telling you the unvarnished truth is pressing my luck, one of us has a problem with his temper, and it sure as hell isn’t me.”

  Bethany fully expected Jake to punch him then. To her surprise they just eyed each other stonily, both of them eking every inch they could from their considerable heights, their bodies taut. She finally decided it was a man thing—some mysterious sort of silent communication that took place between bristling males that gave quailing females heart attacks.

  Ryan tipped his hat to her, gave Jake another long, smoldering look, and sauntered out the door. Bethany had seen cold molasses move faster.

  “Good night, Bethany,” he said before pulling the portal closed. “I’ll be in touch.”

  She wanted to say, “Just go. Hurry!” Instead she shakily said, “Good night, Ryan. Sorry about this.”

  He flashed her a grin, winked again, and said, “Hey. Not a problem.”

  Chapter Seven

  Bethany was so angry with her brother she wanted to shake him. “I can’t believe you acted like that!” she cried. “You’ve got no business barging into my house and treating my friend that way.”

  Standing over her with his fi
sts resting at his hips, Jake scowled thunderously. “Your friend?”

  “Yes, my friend. I am allowed to have friends, aren’t I?”

  “Friendship is not what that guy has in mind.” His gaze dropped to her bathrobe, then jerked back to her face. “Why were you crying? Did he get out of line with you? If he did, I swear to God, I’ll break him in half.”

  Just the thought of Jake and Ryan getting into a fight made her blood run cold. “Ryan Kendrick didn’t get out of line with me. Get that thought straight out of your head. What makes you think he’d even want to?”

  “Why wouldn’t he want to? And if he didn’t, why were you crying?”

  “Not over anything Ryan did.”

  Bethany wheeled around and started up the hall. Jake fell in behind her, his boots thumping loudly on the bare wood floor. She stopped to lay the photographs on the hall book-shelf.

  Jake spotted the envelope. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing important.” She tossed the damp towel in the general direction of the bathroom hamper as she passed the open doorway. “Just some snapshots he brought over for me.”

  “Of what?” he asked suspiciously as he snatched up the envelope. A befuddled look came over his chiseled features when he withdrew the photos. “Whose foal?”

  “Ryan’s.” As she continued up the hallway, she explained about their date the previous evening. “He brought me the snapshots as a memento.”

  “You went out with him and didn’t tell me? How many times have I told you never to do that? I also warned you to stay away from him.”

  “Yes, well, I’m in the habit of making my own decisions. Why don’t you do me a big favor, Jake, and get married? That way, you’ll have someone to fuss over besides me. If this keeps up, I’m going to move back to Portland, where I can have some peace.”

  Jake followed her into the kitchen, looking comically disgruntled, his sable hair ruffled into furrows from his long fingers. “You can’t move back to Portland. I need you at the store.”

  “Baloney. The computer field is flooded with qualified people.”

  “It’s dirty pool, using that as a threat. Think how disappointed Mom and Dad would be if you moved away again.”