He was late, again.
Dana swept the hair out of her eyes and glanced at her cell phone for the third time. The digital readout flashed NO MESSAGES in pale green.
Damn!
She looked out the window at the street in front of the Burnaby Grill. The restaurant was small and on the higher end of Bangor eateries. While she wasn’t much for Australian-style food, they did have a large salad bar and excellent sour apple martinis. John liked their menu and he seemed at ease the first and only time they had visited. After the traumatic events at the Smith Copper mine, she would have eaten at a hotdog stand if it would put a smile on his face.
“Ma’am, would you like another drink?”
Dana glanced sideways at the waiter. The young man was obviously attracted to her and doing a horrible job of hiding it. “No thanks,” she answered tightly, not bothering to conceal her annoyance.
The man flushed crimson and walked briskly away without looking back.
John, where are you?
Dana fiddled impatiently with the swizzle stick in the drink. He was on his way. At least he claimed to be when they spoke an hour earlier. The conversation was broken and raspy but his tone came through crystal clear. The longer Dana waited the more concerned she grew. She picked up her glass and absently swirled the dregs of the martini, letting their conversation replay in her head.
“Dana?”
“Hey, where are you?”
“Hospital parking lot. They just discharged Walt.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s on two weeks leave but he should be fine.”
“Are you okay?”
“Why?”
“You don’t sound very good.”
“I’m fine. 7:30?”
“That’s fine. I need to finish up some edits anyway. Burnaby Grill?”
“I’m on my way.”
Click.
Walt had woken up three days ago. She was covering a story in Concord, New Hampshire, at the time. John’s involvement in his recovery came to her third hand and lacked detail. Something had happened that day which disturbed him emotionally as well as physically. When they did speak the omissions, more than the spoken phrases caught her attention. His abrupt disconnect from their phone conversation confirmed that he was upset and trying very hard not to show it.
John Smith was adept at reading people with or without touching them. A talent he had obviously developed out of self-preservation. He was the worst liar Dana had ever met though. Even more pathetic were the awkward attempts to cover up in her presence. She wanted to be insulted but all she felt was pity. He would not appreciate the emotion and she struggled to find a way to curb it before he did walk through the door, assuming he did not stand her up completely.
Their relationship started as a business arrangement, a human-interest piece that became far more than either of them anticipated-sleeping with him was not part of the initial plan though not an unwelcome development. She knew John was hurt by that first encounter. In truth, she had not given much thought to how he might perceive her actions until much later. Selfishness was ingrained after too many bad experiences.
Looking back, Dana was disgusted by the callous side of her nature. There was a lot to like in the normally reserved John Smith and she felt the fool for not having realized it sooner. He was smart and possessed an understated sexiness in his shy glances and subtle moves. She was drawn to his sincerity and sweetness. John was a distinct departure from the older man or bad boy persona that usually appealed to her. After their initial ‘difficulties’ she had discovered a willing and generous sexual partner. He was anything but rusty.
Now that the relationship was really starting to progress, Dana felt at a loss. For the first time she had a man who wanted to please her above himself. John did not appear to have a hidden agenda. He kept a strangle hold on his emotions when out in public. He could not afford to do otherwise and as a reporter neither could she. In private however, he was free and open to her, especially in bed. While she understood the necessity, the contrast frequently set her teeth on edge. To be so desired after a lifetime of pursuit left confusion and a healthy amount of fear in its wake. Nor could she shake the persistent notion that Sarah Bannerman was still an intimate part of his life.
The latter galled her for Walt’s sake. She had been in his shoes. A substitute caught in blissful ignorance until in the throes of a drunken passion her lover declared his allegiance to someone else.
Dana set down her glass and checked her phone again.
NO MESSAGES
In the past she would have gone home and ignored any attempts by a would-be lover to contact her for at least a week. She cared about John, which worried her. It was dangerous to get close. She had done it once and regretted the experience to this very second.
Max Cassidy’s sly leer flashed through her mind. Dana swallowed hard and hugged herself against an involuntary shudder. It was high irony that John played such a pivotal role in finally freeing her of Max’s manipulations. She owed him respect and compassion. Were such obligations the real reason she reciprocated his stilted advances? The thought roiled Dana’s insides and she cast a baleful eye on the martini glass.
“Damn it, John, hurry up,” she whispered. As a rule, Dana hated introspection. Dwelling on past mistakes and unknowable futures was counterproductive to a mind always in forward motion. She needed distraction and chafed at the selfish twinge. She had meant to cheer John with dinner and quiet conversation. His tardiness allowed too much time to think and she could feel the slow burn of resentment building within. If he did not hurry, she would say something heartless and inane when next they spoke. Which was the last thing he needed….
“Dana?”
She looked up into those startling blue eyes and flashed her most sincere smile. “Hi.”
“Sorry I’m late,” John draped his jacket over the back of the booth and slid into the bench. “Did you want another drink?”
“Sure,” Dana answered automatically while discreetly studying him from beneath her lashes. His movements were slow, almost jerky, and the skin around his mouth and eyes was gray and tight with strain. “You weren’t going to come at all, were you?” she ventured quietly.
“Can I help you, Sir?”
She blinked to keep from glaring at the intrusive waiter. Evidently oblivious to her annoyance, John answered. “A sour apple martini and a Fosters.”
“Any appetizers this evening?”
“We’ll let you know,” Dana answered curtly.
“I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
John leaned back against the cushion. “That was a bit harsh.”
“He’s been ogling me for 45 minutes,” she growled. “Harsh is being kind.”
“Oh.”
Dana sighed and sat forward, trying to catch his restless eyes. “You never answered my question.”
“What made you think I wasn’t coming?”
“The hospital is a ten minute drive, maybe fifteen in heavy traffic.” She sat back, willing tension to abate before things got out of hand. “I was getting that stood up feeling.”
He refused to meet her eyes. Instead, he picked up his knife and rolled it between thumb and fingers, focusing on the dull shimmer of the blade as it caught the overhead light.
“John?”
“What?”
“If you don’t want to be here…”
“No, it’s fine…I’m fine…”
It was a slip of the tongue but it proved her point in spades. Dana chewed thoughtfully on her lip and scanned the restaurant for the waiter. The idea of leaving the safety of a public venue filled her with apprehension. What could she say? How could she reach into the dark place John had clearly retreated to? There were no ready answers, only the obvious necessity of making him comfortable enough to speak.
She spotted the waiter by the bar and waved him over.
“I’m sorry for the delay…”
“We’ll just have the check.”
John looked up. “We will?”
Dana nodded sharply, giving him no room for argument.
The waiter frowned and reached for his electronic pad. He punched a selection of buttons and indicated the front desk with a lift of his chin. “Dee will take care of you at the register. Have a nice evening.”
She intended to, John’s reticence notwithstanding.
Outside evening had drawn in. The street was ablaze in lamps and taillights and neon of every color snaked over windows and doors. John paused by her parked sedan and turned, not quite touching her. “Look, I’m sorry I was late…”
“Don’t do that.” She hated his insipid courtesy and need for approval. Qualities that were so much a part of the man she was falling for and yet so out of place in the world at large. She hated herself more for not being able to accept those aspects at face value and for always looking deeper. With John there was only the truth. Beneath the abilities she respected lay a troubled heart, which she feared. “Don’t apologize.”
“Dana…”
“Are you hungry?”
“Well yes…” He glanced meaningfully over her shoulder. “Wasn’t that the point of meeting here?”
She bit back a sigh and crossed her arms. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks. Cardiac arrest really takes it out of a person, you know?”
Her source had related the bare bones of the incident in the hospital. This new detail caught in her throat. Dana quelled an anxious shudder. Later she could break down and give vent. Right now she wanted off this street and inside the relative safety of the Smith house, for herself as much as John. “Go home. I’ll pick something up and follow you.”
“Dana, let’s just…”
She reached to touch his arm and flinched involuntarily when he pulled back. The rejection was purely for self-preservation. She knew that and could respect the boundary but it still hurt. “No,” she murmured. “Let’s not.”
He turned away without reply and walked stiffly to the end of the block. She watched him pause momentarily and then cross against the light. The blare of a car horn rent the air and the driver shouted an obscenity before accelerating through the intersection. John paid no heed. He reached his jeep and glanced back.
Dana shivered, seeing the haunted look in his pale eyes despite the distance. “Let’s not,” she repeated to the wind as he wrenched open the door and disappeared inside.
Forty minutes later she drove through the open gates of the Smith house. Several boxes of Chinese takeout rested on the seat, filling the air with pleasant smelling steam. There was enough food for five people. John was more than capable of cooking for himself, whether he chose to do so was another matter. She could be his keeper if not his lover. The idea filled Dana with an odd sort of warmth. The latter idea was preferable. The former would work in the short term.
The very short term.
Smiling to herself, Dana gathered the food and a small satchel from the floor of the car. She stepped out into the coolness of evening and nudged the door closed with her hip. Small, discreet lights illuminated the steps and shone down on the entryway. She could hear the indistinct mumble of a television as she approached the door and pressed the bell.
The sound of chimes and the intermittent chirp of crickets temporarily overrode the television and then faded.
“Come on,” she pushed the bell a second time. The gate had been open. John was obviously expecting someone. It could be Bruce or Walt come to enlist his assistance yet again.
It could be Sarah…
Dana shook her head decisively. Tonight was not for confirming suspicion or laying blame. She pushed the bell again and followed up with a sharp knock on the heavy, wooden door.
Footsteps slowly approached and the slide of the deadbolt sounded abnormally loud in the quiet night. The oak door swung inward and John leaned against the jam. “You came.”
“You need to eat.”
“I see.”
“I doubt it.” Dana looked him up and down, noting that he had changed and combed his hair. She sniffed appreciatively and brushed light fingers over his freshly shaven jaw. It was a start.
Ignoring John’s troubled frown, she walked into the den, dropped the satchel and nudged it half under the end table before moving into the kitchen. Two plates and utensils were laid out on the counter next to a bottle of wine in a bucket. She put the cartons down. “Interesting…”
John wandered into the kitchen and leaned on the counter. “You don’t have to do this.”
Dana eyes flickered over his tired face and she smiled crookedly. “And if I didn’t, who would?”
“You’re my keeper now? Nursemaid?”
“Hardly.” She spooned food onto the plates and reached for the wine. “Not sure how well this will go with egg rolls and Lo Mein but let’s give it a try shall we?”
“Would you stop it!” John snapped. He pushed off the counter, stumbling slightly as he straightened. “I don’t want you here. Right now is not a good time.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Dana, get out…please.”
She crossed her arms in defiance of the plea. “Tell me what happened at the hospital.”
The pale blue eyes turned hard as one large hand came to rest on the counter. The fingers clenched, rose and fell back with a dull thump. John looked to the ceiling and then the floor. His hand dropped to his side and leaning heavily on his cane, he limped out of the kitchen.
Dana fought down an ironic giggle. The situation bore striking similarity to some of her less spectacular dates. As usual, her obstinacy was the cause of frustration.
The volume of the TV rose significantly, signaling further withdrawal.
Dana frowned and poked at the Lo Mein noodles with a fork. She could sense John’s pain. Close and hot, making the large house feel like a suffocating closet. Remembrance skittered across her nerves and she exhaled shakily. Lost for a moment in the fear and frustration of a fractured childhood.
Run away! Hide! Never let him in! The monster is here, watching her cower in the corner. A gargoyle’s stone countenance resting on the body of the man she called father. Silent, immobile and unrepentant as he ushered her into the closet-the prison-and locked the door.
He was love and love was twisted and perverse.
Dana dropped the fork. It clattered loudly against the plate and tumbled to the floor. She covered her eyes with trembling fingers and leaned back against the counter. It was not true, at least not with John. She sucked in a deep breath and forcefully pushed back the past. This moment in time was more precious than any of its predecessors. She would reach beyond her demons. Touch the future whatever that may hold.
Pulling out a clean fork from the drawer, she plastered a smile onto her face and took both plates into the den. John did not react as she placed the food on the coffee table. Undaunted, Dana returned to the kitchen for the wine bucket and glasses. She deposited them next to the plates and crossed to the television. The flat screen flickered and snapped as she depressed the power button and turned around.
The couch was empty.
“Damn it,” she ground out. Light taps and heavier footfalls drifted down the stairs in the foyer. Dana snatched up the glasses and bucket and followed. Halfway up the stairs the sound of a slamming door stopped her cold.
Was she trying too hard? Chasing after something that could never be? Were they really that different in hopes and needs?
Dana leaned against the railing and sighed. If she retreated now could she ever look John in the eye again, much less explore a relationship?
“No.” Dana smiled grimly and continued up the stairs. She rounded the banister and confronted the closed door. “John?”
Silence.
She set down the glasses and bucket and pressed her hand to the wood. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
Silence.
Damn you! She rapped the door with her knuckles, wincing at the instant ache. “What happened at the hospital?”
Seconds stretched into minutes. She leaned her head against her hand. Would he speak if she did? How far, how deep did she have to reach? “John…I’m...” A sigh stuttered out and Dana stepped back, leaving just two fingers on the door. “I’m worried about you.”
The lock clicked loudly and the door swung inward on silent hinges. John turned and walked slowly to the bed. He sat on the end and shook his head. “You’re not up here because of me.”
“What happened?” Dana repeated as she cautiously entered the darkened room. His resentment and fear were palpable and she cringed when his eyes rose and caught the light of the hall.
“He would have fallen,” John murmured distantly. “I pulled him back.”
“Fallen?” She crossed to the bed and sat down near the pillows, leaving him space to breathe. “You mean died?”
John looked down at his hands hanging between his knees. The fingers twitched and tangled together seeming of their own accord. “Yes.”
“And that’s why they had to resuscitate you? Because you and Walt were in physical contact?”
“Yes.”
“I see.”
He laughed suddenly and she recoiled at the hysterical edge. “You do?”
“Well, I…” Dana grinned sheepishly and shifted tact. “What did Doctor Gibson say?”
“The usual.”
“That’s it?”
John shrugged. His eyes wandered into the shadowed corners and out into the bright hallway. Not focusing on any one thing for more than a moment before moving on. “I could have let him go,” he whispered.
“But you didn’t.” Dana moved closer. Her skin tingled as the heat from his body bathed her right side. He trembled but did not pull away. She bit her lip and tried to catch his eye. “John?”
“I wanted to.” One hand rose and pinched the air between thumb and index finger. “I was this close,” he turned and studied her face with glassy eyes. “What does that make me?”
“Human,” she reassured. “It makes you human.”
“Outside the mine when I was holding Sarah I saw Walt in a casket and for a split second I was actually happy. Euphoric even,” John sucked in a shaky breath and looked away. “Christ, Dana. How could I want that for anyone?”
Images of the rain soaked night flashed through Dana’s mind. John had been white as a sheet and seemed on the verge of being physically ill, as Walt was loaded into the ambulance. She assumed he was suffering from shock. Back in the safety of his living room, after a hot shower and two cups of coffee, John explained what happened in the mine. He told her about the tunnel collapse and the arduous swim to rescue Kate from the flooding cavern. The story confirmed her impressions and she never bothered to ask about a metaphysical aspect.
Now Dana wished fervently for the chance to relive those first crucial hours. Too caught up in inherent selfishness, her one-track mind had missed the most important and personal piece.
She looked at John’s hunched shoulders and listened to the unsteady rasp of his breathing as he fought for control. To covet what one perceived as theirs was only natural but he could never give in entirely to those urges. Standing in the pouring rain outside the copper mine, John confronted the road not taken. He took a few tentative steps and retreated, terrified and disgusted by the contemplation of a future no longer his to seek.
“You didn’t want it,” she said. He shuddered and she dared to touch his arm. “You didn’t or you never would have gone to that hospital.”
“I didn’t do it for him, I did it for me!” He shouted, wrenching violently away. “Don’t you see that?”
“I don’t…”
“No, of course you don’t.” He stood and paced to the open door. Reaching out, he ran his fingers down the edge and then grasped the knob. “I can’t…I just can’t…” The words died away and he slammed the door closed.
Dana started at the heavy thump and tinkle as a picture fell off the wall in the hall beyond. John leaned against the wall, his face half hidden against his upraised arm. His whole body shook with strain and she could barely hear the words spilling out between ragged breaths.
“I had to choose, don’t you see that? I could have left him there and he would have died. No one would have known, except me. I could have lived in that purgatory, lived there with her. I went to that hospital because I was selfish, because I didn’t think I could stand the guilt if he died and I hadn’t tried to stop it. It had nothing to do with Sarah or even Walt…”
“Not at first,” Dana quietly interjected. She rose and crossed to stand at his back. He straightened and they brushed against each other. The effect was electric and clearly disturbing to him. John winced and ducked away, gasping softly. She let him go. “You have a conscience. You are not that kind of person.”
“Purdy knew.” He murmured faintly. “He confronted me right after the CT scan.”
“So what?” Dana shrugged and shifted further into his periphery. “Gene is not fit to judge anyone’s morals.”
John laughed softly. “Ironic.”
“Isn’t it?”
He looked up and held her eyes. “Dana, don’t put me on that pedestal.”
“What? I’m not…”
“I’m not a better man, sometimes I wonder if I’m a man at all.”
She stepped back as he pushed off the wall and walked to the window. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“I’m a coward,” John breathed. He pulled back the curtain and looked out into the darkness. His reflection glared back, pale and hollow-eyed. “Hiding here, pretending to move on.”
Dana pushed a hand through her tousled hair. There was no countering the desires of a broken heart. For a moment all John had ever wanted was within reach. He made the correct decision to turn away, a small consolation that held no weight in this room full of ghosts. She sighed and moved to stand behind him. “No man is above reproach and I would never put you on that pedestal. You should know me better than that by now.”
He looked at the floor and then up into her reflection. “A realist?”
“To the core,” she wanted to say more, to reassure against the burdens of obligation and loyalty that had forced him to make the correct decision. Had he chosen without emotional coercion, she could have admired him. As it was she felt a stab of resentment for Sarah and Walt and their idyllic, little life. A deeper pain that something precious had been lost. Washed away in the pouring rain that fell like tears upon them all. John was a simple man caught in circumstance drowning beneath the layers heaped upon him by the ignorant. She was outraged on his behalf and again felt a flash of pity.
“I know what you’re thinking.”
Dana glanced up. His eyes were a dark steel blue beneath their long, dusky lashes. She suppressed a shiver, thinking of the feathery touch of those lashes against the bared skin of breast and thigh. “You’re a mind reader now,” she chided gently.
John flushed and reached to cup her cheek. Skin brushed skin and he froze. His suddenly unfocused gaze drifted across her expectant face as his mouth contorted into a slack, desperate frown. After a moment, he leaned forward and brushed her lips with a tender kiss.
She responded in kind. A chaste pressing of lips that parted only slightly as they drew back. “That’s not fair,” she reminded. “Rules are rules.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s never nothing.”
“What difference does it make?”
Dana stepped back, “You tell me.” She hated to challenge him, especially when he seemed so defenseless. Self-respect was scarce enough however and she would not come second to her own past or his.
“I saw you leaving,” John exclaimed hotly. “I saw us arguing and you walking out that door.” He grabbed her arm and ushered her across the room. Flinging open the door, he propelled her into the hallway and towards the stairs. “So why don’t we just skip the preliminaries and you can just be on your way. Don’t forget the perfume and black teddy hidden in the den on your way out!”
His distress was too obvious to be funny. Still, it took all of Dana’s willpower to not laugh out loud as they faced off in the hallway. His anger was justifiable, even healthy but she could not get over the image he must have received when they touched. “The panties are red,” she finally managed.
“What?”
“The panties that go under that teddy are red. Guess we didn’t get that far in your head.” She watched his face transform from outright fury to thinly veiled hysteria as the words slowly sank in.
“No, no we didn’t.” he admitted.
Dana stepped forward, forcing him to either meet her eyes or turn away in blatant dismissal. She was counting on the man she knew and not the angry façade he was trying to project. John blinked and drew a deep breath. When he looked up, she was surprised by the veil of unshed tears. “Listen to me, Johnny Smith,” she whispered fiercely. “I’m not leaving.”
“Dana…”
“Do you hear me?” She closed the gap, feeling confident in spite of the uncertainty surrounding them. This was a challenge she recognized and understood. “Do you?”
“My visions don’t lie.”
“But they can be changed,” Dana insisted. “And I will change this one…”
“Stop!” His hands rose, palms out, and pushed weakly against her. “I can’t do this…”
“You’re not doing anything…”
“Dana, back off, please, before I do something we’ll both regret.”
She stepped back but held his gaze with a critical frown. “What makes you think I regret anything I do?”
John laughed beneath his breath. “You did,” he countered in a voice tinged with irony. “At least once.”
The reminder was unnecessary but she supposed it was deserved. “Touche’. Everyone is entitled to make mistakes.” She crossed her arms. “I made one that night and I don’t want to make the same one this evening.”
“What do you want from me?”
His voice was plaintive and small, barely an echo in the large hallway. “From you? Nothing,” she assured and took a step. “For you is something else again.”
“I can’t make love to you tonight.”
“Why?”
John moved back, flinching when he encountered the wall. “Maybe never again.”
Was this how it ended? Dana stared into the wide, misted eyes and saw darkness amidst the embers. He wanted, he needed, yet he refused to take. There lay the fundamental difference between them. John could not possess what was not his to seek. She was no different than Sarah in that regard. The consideration, the restraint was almost sickening to behold, especially in light of her own failed morality. On a night not so long ago she had used him, selfishly, recklessly. He had given her the gift of understanding and compassion in return. Dana reached out and took his hand. “Yes, you can.”
“Dana, you deserve more than second place…”
She kissed him gently. John’s body was rigid against hers, the fingers cold as ice. She probed his mouth more vigorously, fighting the last stand of morality he did not need to prove. Her tongue slipped over teeth and gum and into the hollow of his cheek. Her free hand slid up his back and cradled his shoulder blade, massaging the skin beneath the dark cotton.
John parried her advances with languid strokes, tentatively leaning into her embrace as his mouth grew soft and pliable.
Dana released his hand and brought her fingers to the buttons of his shirt. She popped them without looking and slid her hand over the warm skin beneath. John gasped into her mouth. His eyes closed to slits and his lips moved over hers. Kissing deeper, harder than before. Encouraged, she pulled back and trailed kisses across his jaw and down into the hollow of his throat. Her other hand slipped down his back and around to the small silver buckle between them. She tugged it experimentally and looked up with a wicked grin.
John cradled her face with trembling hands. He kissed a path over her eyelids and cheeks, finally capturing her mouth. He countered her thrusts with aggressive stabs and nips of tongue and lip. A low moan rattled in his throat and spawned icy shivers down her back.
Flashes of Max, Gene, a dozen more flickered before her mind’s eyes. Dana forced herself to breathe and relax through his sudden aggression and the memories it stirred. Beyond John’s fervor lay tenderness and light, qualities that set him apart from all of the intimate relationships that had come before.
John bent and nuzzled her neck before moving on to the malleable flesh of her earlobe. He sucked hard and released with a sharp nip. She pressed close, rubbing her abdomen over his restrained penis and enjoying the way his breath caught at each stroke. The unwanted memories slowly faded as his large hands trailed over her ribs and down to the roundness of hip and buttocks.
Dear God…
“No!” The word slipped out as a feral hiss. John’s features twisted into a horrified grimace. He thrust her away and leaned on his knees. “I can’t do this…I just…”
“Damn you!” Dana spat. The meager vestiges of self-control lay on the floor between them. There was no room left for questions or doubts. She grabbed John’s shoulders and pushed hard, forcing him to stand erect. “I don’t care.”
“You should,” he whispered faintly.
“I want to be with you. God, why is that so hard for you to understand?” She released him with a jerk. “Screw your morality, your past, your future…screw it all! If I didn’t want to be here I would have walked out the door!”
He stared at her, lost and openly vulnerable to anything she might say. Dana swallowed hard, her stomach doing an anxious flip at the shadows chasing across his unwavering gaze.
Damn it!
She touched his face, trailing hesitant fingers over cheek and jaw to the slightly-parted lips. “You’re not always right,” she assured. “And isn’t that a good feeling?”
“I don’t know.”
The desolation in his voice brought tears to her eyes. Dana blinked rapidly and reached for his hand. The fingers were cool and limp. He did not resist as she gently placed them over her heart. “Feel this.”
John swallowed audibly and looked at the floor.
Memory? Dana covered the now trembling fingers with hers. Secret sorrows chased across his pallid features. Questions built and died in the back of her dry throat. She could not compete with the past, their past, and John could not expect her to. Maybe such challenges were all in her mind?
Maybe not.
She squeezed his hand. “Do you?”
“I do,” he said softly.
“I want to be with you tonight.” She slid her hand into his open shirt and found the rapid flutter of his heart. “Only you.”
“I can’t promise that.”
Dana smiled wanly. “Then lie to me.”
“I can’t promise that either,” he replied, the trace of a grin pulling at his lips.
She turned and pulled him gently back into the dark bedroom. Shadows fell on the rumpled spread and crowded the corners. Details blended and softened the edges of the furniture and the tired lines on John’s face. His eyes were fever-bright as they roamed over her body.
Dana tugged his shirt free and pushed if off his shoulders, popping the last three buttons in the process. “Sorry,” she said, not feeling the least bit apologetic as the material fluttered to the floor. “I’ll buy you a new one…”
John bent and kissed her hungrily. One hand cradled her head while the other guided them to the bed. She knelt on the edge and his lips dropped to her neck, nudging and biting the tender flesh as he sat down. She leaned into his arms and they sank back onto the mattress with him on top.
His hand moved to her thigh and drew upwards. The skin burned and tingled with the pressure. Dana nibbled his ear and trailed her lips over the base of his neck. Tasting the skin and hair and the bitter tang of cologne. She shivered as his probing fingers stroked the inside of her thigh and brushed her throbbing clit.
He drew back and she caught the hint of a smile before he ducked away. Satisfied for the moment, Dana urged him to one side and reached again for the belt buckle. The metal clicked loudly in the quiet room. She released the button beneath and snaked her hand inside. He shifted, allowing her to nudge the black denim over one hip. Tentative kisses fell upon her hair and the side of her upturned cheek. She leaned forward and nuzzled the fine blond hair on his chest and lipped eagerly at one hard nipple. John gasped aloud and she suckled harder. The muscles of thigh and buttock tightened beneath her feather touch. His tongue flicked across her ear and he blew a shaky breath. Dana kissed her way across his sternum and up into the hollow of his throat. She lingered on the pulse point, enjoying the flutter of vein and muscle.
With a soft grunt, John rolled them further onto the bed. His strong hands urged her higher and he writhed as her belly and pubic bone dragged across his genitals. Dana arched, presenting her throat to his eager mouth. He stretched to lick the chords even as his fingers released her bra with a muted click. She pulled one arm free then the other and tossed both shirt and bra into the corner of the room. The touch of his lips on her heated flesh was fire and she swallowed a moan as he captured her right nipple. His tongue rapidly circled the areola, teasing it to tingling hardness. She leaned closer and pulled back, reveling in the slow, moist drag of his mouth. John bowed his head against her stomach and nuzzled the soft skin. Dana trembled at the butterfly brush of his lashes as he blinked. She could feel his pleased smile as his hand slipped over her ribs and down to her thighs. She lifted enough to expose the clasp and zipper of her skirt. He released them with a deft touch and nudged the material down towards her knees.
Dana moved with it. Easing down over his body, blowing softly on one nipple and then the other. He shuddered and she paused at the juncture of leg and torso. Sweat and lust filled her nostrils and dampened the skin beneath her lips. He ran awkward hands through her hair as she butted playfully. She kissed and licked a trail to the soft, golden curls surrounding his shaft. The hands stilled and then fell away as she enveloped the head. He exploded in her mouth and Dana drank greedily. She caressed the pulsing veins and opened wider, taking more of him. He moaned and shifted, dragging the tip over her teeth. The skin of her breasts prickled against the fine cotton of the spread, the reaction igniting sensation. She plunged up and down slowly and then faster as he found her rhythm and began to rock his hips.
The world dimmed and brightened, framed by Dana’s growing arousal. She raked his length and licked the rigid veins. Her panties grew damp and sweat broke across her brow. John’s movements were jerky now as he approached climax. Clumsy fingers tangled in her hair and brushed across her ears. Dana slowed, savoring the tremors that coursed between them.
She could feel reality slipping away from John. Slowly spiraling out from the warmth of the shadowed room. He was breathing fast and shallow as she pulled back. Lost in mounting pleasures that filled her with a different kind of joy. She released him with a final, languid stroke around the rigid tip. John’s body jerked and his hands slipped to her shoulders as he sat up.
The light from the hallway splashed across his face. Dana shivered at the sorrowful gleam in his eyes before he looked away. For a moment she had reached something deeper. She knew it by the secretive smile and the playful progression. Reality had obviously reasserted itself. Short of asking, there was no way to tell what had given him pause. She resented the intrusions of memory and prophecy. She hated IT. The gift, the curse, the thing that set him apart even here with her. The tangible recollections of a life turned askew were even more dangerous. Sarah Bannerman was too easy a target and Dana knew her personal malicious streak was miles wide when given rein.
John’s hands glided down her arms and grasped her fingers. He pulled up and lay back on the bed, urging her on top. She complied, drawing her gaze up the length of his broad frame in a visual caress. She lingered on the soft, fine hair that frosted his chest and then looked up.
His gaze was direct and unwavering, drawing her in as he leaned up to kiss her firmly.
The moment had passed and Dana eagerly shoved distraction aside. She would make him forget the past and the future, everything that would stand in the way of a few stolen moments. Forcing a smile, she straddled him and settled down, shuddering at the exquisite ache as he filled her. John grunted and thrust upward. His hands moved to stroke her thighs and encircle her waist. Dana bent forward, urging him to fondle her tight cheeks. She hissed through her teeth as the large hands kneaded the tender flesh until it burned.
Dear God…
She would chafe from his ministrations but it was worth the discomfort to feel his firm body beneath her. Each ragged breath and tremulous touch was sweet reward.
Dana reached back and found his hands. Their fingers entwined and she leaned back onto his legs. John’s hands pulled free and fell to her thighs. Feather light, they slid up the insides and rested on the apex. His thumbs pressed slow circles against her throbbing mound. She squeezed hard in response and he groaned low and deep.
John bent his knees and she breathed deeply as he shifted and sat up, his body cradling her close. He would not meet her eyes though and Dana swallowed her unease. She preferred silence during sex. The sounds of arousal were their own speech, eloquent and easy to interpret. During their first encounter talking was a requirement as John fought to control the visions that assaulted him. This was different. He was controlling emotions, not imagery or sensation. His body could not be compelled to lie but his mind was elsewhere. A locked door she could not open. She would have preferred speech to the gnawing uncertainty.
Tentative fingers cupped her cheeks. Dana stared hard at the blond head now dark and damp with sweat. John’s rapid breath tingled the skin of her breasts. He nipped her shoulder and kissed his way to her wrist. With a deep sigh he pulled her forward and rolled them gently to the right. Sitting up now his restless gaze traveled across her stomach and up to her breasts. His hands followed, tenderly touching the skin and massaging the nipples till they burned. Dana licked her lips and concentrated on encouraging the arcs of sensation spreading up from her groin.
John’s leaned forward and suckled hard on her right nipple. She gasped and rode the tiny sparks until they faded. It was not enough and she realized with a start that she would not climax. God knew she had been close and it was not for lack of trying on either side. Clearly John wanted, needed her to be happy. He was struggling with the need to prove something, though she could not be sure to whom. As his mouth moved toward the hollow between neck and shoulder Dana made her decision. She would lie for both of them.
His attentions were growing more frenetic. Leisurely exploration evolved to a kiss of bruising force. Dana cleared her mind of all but intent. She countered his erratic thrusts and held his tongue for a long moment between her teeth. John pulled free and descended upon her neck. He butted and she arched beneath him, squeezing rhythmically as his hips rocked.
Damn you…
She wrapped her legs around his waist and bucked hard. John coughed and pulled back. The normally bright blue eyes were hooded and dark with shadow. They skittered across her face as frightened as deer and fell away. He thrust and she moaned softly, allowing the moment to build. Again and again he drove deep and hard while looking everywhere but at her. Dana sighed deeply and writhed in faux ecstasy. She felt him relax ever so slightly as he leaned down to kiss her.
And damn myself…
His hands came down beside her head and began to knead the sheets. The knuckled were taut and chalky in the dim lighting. His lips compressed into a thin line as he plunged into her with frantic strokes. She tried to keep up and finally settled for squeezing continuously.
Orgasm caught her by surprise. He froze and then jerked hard, once, twice, three times. Dana dragged her fingers over one sweaty shoulder and down his arm as John collapsed to one side. She listened carefully, knowing what she would hear and trying hard not to flinch when it came.
A sob, quiet and clenched deep inside his heaving chest.
Dana rolled onto her side. The diffused glare of the hall light was splashed across the upper part of John’s face. She could see the muscles moving as his jaw clamped. He squinted and then opened his eyes wide to the ceiling above, refusing to turn even when she laid an arm across his chest and hugged him tightly.
“Hey…”
A tremor passed between them. He blinked and licked his lips. “What?”
The reply was more breath than word. Dana reached to stroke his cheek and pressed firm fingers over the tears trailing down. “It’s okay.”
“I’m sorry,” John whispered dully.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I used…” his voice caught and he swallowed audibly, “used you.”
In truth, they all used one another. Dana could not think of a time where she had not taken advantage of something that would forward body or mind. It was a sad lesson taught by an angry, bitter father who saw value only in achievement. To simply exist as his daughter had never been enough. She learned early on to fight and to expect reward for every deed, no matter how small.
John could not be more different. He did for the sake of doing. The thought that he had or even could take advantage of her was abhorrent. Regret flushed Dana’s skin. She cupped his cheek and drew a finger across the slightly parted lips. Her actions not so long ago had opened him to the possibility of taking without regard. She felt cheap and stupid for teaching him that lesson and responsible for the pain it wrought.
“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want,” she murmured. “Do you honestly think you could?”
He sniffed deeply and turned. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and marked pale trails over the bridge of his nose and down the opposite cheek. “I don’t know,” he said shakily.
Dana pulled him closer. For a moment there was resistance and then gradually he succumbed. Easing down until his face was nestled in the hollow of her neck. He cried in near silence. Great heaving sobs that shivered ice through her veins as he clumsily stroked her back.
Would Sarah be able to handle this? Was she partly to blame for this catharsis? Did it really matter?
The question rose unbidden and Dana held him tighter in response.
John, do you see what I’m thinking? My God, what does it mean to both of us if you do?
She smoothed back his damp hair, patting it tenderly. He had to be strong to withstand the expectations of a world gradually awakening to the abilities God or fate had granted him. She knew this for fact but there was no sign of that strength in the shadowed room. Here he was a broken, shattered wreck and that scared her more than anything Max had ever done.
John shifted and she reluctantly allowed him to roll away onto his back. One hand covered his eyes and the other reached blindly for her limp fingers. He squeezed and drew a shaky breath.
“What happened, John?” Dana prompted softly.
“I couldn’t let him go so I told him….I told him I slept with Sarah.” He sighed, “In the vision I was facing off with death. Only death had a face and a name and Walt trusted him implicitly because he looked like his father.”
“So Walt was in a coma and he was dying?”
“Yes. I had to make him angry enough to fight back. The light…the white light you always hear about from people who have near death experiences…”
From anyone else such assertions would sound ridiculous even crazy. Dana licked her lips and slid down to rest her head on his shoulder. “It’s real.”
“It is and it would have taken him, maybe me too.”
“So you pissed him off and…”
“We fought and the light faded away and then I woke up.”
“That simple?”
John chuckled and shook his head. “I wish.”
The most obvious question still remained. Dana fought it for a long moment. Wondering at the point and hoping selfishly that he would tell the truth. Finally, “Did you sleep with her?”
“No.”
The denial was too quick. Dana swallowed disappointment and stroked his clenched fingers with her thumb. Did he know that she had faked it? Was this payback or simply the need to hide some small part of himself away from her baser instincts. Dana could not be sure of which but a part of her felt sure she had earned the lie more than the truth. He had forgiven her transgressions. She was determined to do the same even as she pondered the stability of a relationship based on deceptions.
“There’s something else, isn’t there?” she ventured quietly.
Silence.
Please… Lover or friend, neither was possible without communication. Dana propped herself on one elbow and reached out to gently but firmly grasp John’s chin. “Hey.”
Silence and resistance to her prodding.
“John, I need you to look at me.”
He remained immobile, every muscle visibly taut.
“Look at me!”
He flinched at her exclamation. “Why?”
She laughed sardonically. “Why the hell not?”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“Aren’t you tired of being used, Dana?” he countered darkly.
“Aren’t you tired of hiding?” she replied in a gentler tone. “What happened after you woke up?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” she snapped irritably. “I get the run around from people all the time. I deserve better than that from you.” It was a selfish comment but she was desperate. “Talk to me.”
“You do,” he intoned. “But I…I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Without sounding maudlin and just a little desperate.”
“Gee, thanks,” he mumbled.
She smiled to take the sting from her words. “Just who do you think you are talking to here? You saw my past you know what a screwed up mess I’ve made of it…”
“Tit for tat?” he interrupted harshly. “I showed you mine so now you show me yours.”
“I already did,” she reminded playfully.
He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “True.”
Dana leaned down and picked up the rumpled bedspread from the floor. She pulled it over them and snuggled close. His heart was pounding beneath her fingers. She smoothed the damp hair and pressed firmly. “You need to let this out, John.”
“Why?” he demanded. “What good will it do?”
“It might make you feel better…”
“I feel fine!”
“Your heart is racing a mile a minute here…”
“We just had sex Dana, what do you expect?”
“Yes, I was there.” She sat up and studied his upturned face. His eyes were closed his mouth thin with strain. If their earlier activities had brought any measure of peace it was gone now. She felt a pang of sadness and covered his clasped hands with hers. “Tell me what happened in that hospital room.”
John groaned softly and turned over. He spooned her hip with his body and restlessly fondled her fingers. “Why do you want to hear this?”
It was the last question Dana expected. She cocked her head and tried to catch his eye. “You’re serious?”
“Do I sound like I’m not?”
“No.”
“Well,” he prompted with a trace of irritation.
Dana sighed, unable to hide her exasperation. “John, you look like hell. You obviously haven’t been eating or sleeping. Is it so hard to understand that I give a damn?”
He smiled wanly and briefly met her inquisitive stare. “Well, when you put it that way…”
“This has something to do with Sarah…she was there when you woke up.” She said it with certainty, barely allowing for his stiff nod before adding. “She said something…or rather she didn’t, right?”
John sucked in a ragged breath and squeezed her fingers. “She was with Walt, where she should be. Purdy was praying I think. He said ‘thy will be done’.”
He trailed off and she cupped his cheek, encouraging him to meet her eyes. “And?” she encouraged gently.
“And?” He relented and looked up, smiling sadly. “Not long after I woke up last year Sarah came to see me. She told me about her family and when we touched I saw a happy life. I felt like an intruder even though from my perspective only a short time had passed.” He reached up and fingered a loop of Dana’s hair. “I felt the same way three days ago,” he whispered. “An intruder on a life that…” The hand fell away and he looked down at her bare leg, blinking rapidly.
“A life that should have been yours,” she completed.
“Something like that.”
Dana could hear his regret and raging guilt, not only for feeling so cheated but for unloading a trainload of sorrows into her lap. His earlier hesitation made sense now and she wondered how anyone could breathe under such weight. Memory and reality were one and the same for John. How could she ever hope to fit in? “Do you want me to stay?”
He sat up slowly and took her hands. His voice was warm and steady when he finally spoke. “Yes, I want you to stay.”
“Because of her?”
John did not flinch at the question. “No, because I need you here.”
Dana did not miss the emphasis. She smiled softly and leaned in to receive a tender kiss. He tasted of tears and she endured a painful flutter. There was no cure for the anguish he still carried. Moving forward meant a choice to accept that reality or walk away. She knew that she cared for John by the fact that such a question even existed. For now, that feeling would suffice.
She kissed him again and sat back.
A genuine smile rested on the pale lips. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
*THE*END*
