She found the loop on the train, slid her finger into it, and lifted the hem. All right, she’d make him feel a black tie affair given in one of the great mansions on Prairie Avenue, old Chicago’s “street of the stately few.” His family had had a red-brick French-style mansion on the genteel, wealth-laden street back when Chicago’s fans called the city the gem of the prairie and its critics called it a universal grog shop. Before all the oldest, wealthiest families moved to Lake Forest.
Inevitably, thoughts of the Clayworth estate brought visions of her and Drew on the fateful Christmas night. Tonight all the memories came out of hiding. She was coming out of hiding to close that door.
Terrified—but determined, she reminded herself—she glided back downstairs to explain her actions the night everything changed between them, and then she’d ask about her father. If her courage didn’t fail her.
She found Drew leaning one broad shoulder against a pillar.
He lifted his eyebrows, straightened, and lazily strolled to where she waited in the center of the room.
“You look beautiful. I’m sorry I’m not wearing black tie.”
“You’re not sorry! I’ve seen the donor benefit guest list. You usually decline to put on your tux at the last minute.”
“Guilty as charged.” His beautiful mouth curled into a deep smile. He reached out and pulled her gently closer. “Shall we dance?”
A wicked little spark of excitement made her slowly smile back. “I’ll hum.”
“Go for it,” he chuckled into her ear.
Held in his arms, gliding around the dim room, she began humming, “I Could Have Danced All Night.”
It sounded truly awful, and she thought of stopping to put him out of his misery, but then she felt his slight wince and his arm tightened around her, trying to disguise his reaction.
Memories of other, happier times roared back. She hummed louder and broke into full song, sounding worse and worse.
She felt him shaking with silent laughter as he twirled her faster and faster around the dim room, the faint light a halo around them.
He chimed in with a nice clear tenor, as if trying to help her find the right key.
Refusing to give in, she sang even louder, her voice rising to a high, squeaky croak. He twirled her faster, their dreadful duet broken by snatches of their gasping laughter.
She tried to ignore the slow, warm, diffused excitement coming up from deep inside to glaze her skin with heat.
In the middle of the room, at the height of the song and their laughter, he dipped her so low her shoulder-length hair brushed the floor.
He brought her up, and his face looked alive with delight. “It’s reassuring to mere mortals that you’re not perfect. You still have a tin ear.” He laughed like he couldn’t stop. Deep, full of joy.
She caught it, joining in, dazzled by him.
He’s close enough to kiss.
Her laughter died in her throat and she took one step back.
His arm tightened around her so she couldn’t move.
Time fell away like it had in the Secret Closet. The past rushing forward to collide with the present.
He lifted her chin with his thumb, and she felt him stroke her cheek. Ever so slowly, he lowered his head and she closed her eyes, wanting his kiss.
His lips brushed against her mouth and a shock rippled through her body. For one insane instant, she opened her lips wider, letting his tongue trace the contours, tasting her. Tasting him. Molding her lips to his wonderful, warm, sensual mouth.
No!
Fear brought sanity, and she pulled away. She drew a deep, strengthening breath, trying to recapture her courage. “For a second you let me in,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed into slits, the concentrated cornflower blue seared through her. “I let you in once before. Remember?”
He opened the door, and she had to walk through.
“Yes, I remember. I betrayed you, and you’ll never forgive me.” She said it in all its stark reality.
Something flickered in his eyes. He dropped his arms and stepped back.
But he still seemed to be touching her. She felt his heat. Felt tension quivering around them. Time seemed to stand still. Waiting for her to make another mistake.
No matter what it cost her, she needed to finish what she’d started a lifetime ago. “I don’t need your forgiveness for what I did. I’d like your understanding. I told your uncle that you were leaving school to go sail in the Fastnet because I was seventeen and terrified that you’d be killed like your parents. I truly believed that I was the only person on the planet who could keep you safe.”
She forced herself to keep gazing into his eyes, to somehow penetrate the barriers he’d set up, so smooth, so light, so unassailable. “Maybe I could have done it differently, but I didn’t know how. All I knew was that I had to risk losing our relationship to save you.”
She had to look away, couldn’t let him see what it cost her to dredge up these feelings of aching fear and love.
He gave nothing away. His face was cool and beautiful in the dim light.
I need to get away. Now!
She gathered up the hem of the gown in both fists. “I’ll change and let you out. The security code is already set.” She turned and ran.
She ran away from his silence The only answer he’d given. She knew it was stupid to go over the past like this, as if she could change it, or he could understand it at last.
How could she stop memories, really? They lived inside, replaying over and over the feeling of being kissed by Drew with a slow, sensual heat and wanting to kiss him back forever. Wanting to give him everything like she’d once offered. Like she’d offered tonight.
He’d rejected her then and now.
Drew let her go, determined to regain his usual detachment. Determined to stop his urge to go after her and pull her back into his arms.
Christ, he wanted to understand. Wanted to forgive. Wanted her.
Somewhere, back in the recesses of his subconscious, the truth knocked every other excuse over like a game of dominoes until any fool could see it. Without truth serum, with nothing but the ache in his gut, he knew he’d never stopped wanting her.
Just like he’d first wanted her at nineteen.
It had been inappropriate then. Absolutely. Impossible.
They had been too young, too inexperienced, and he had been too rubbed raw from pain.
Restless, he roamed around the room. All this sexual energy, all his aching regrets, all his pounding yearnings building inside him needed an outlet, a way to make her understand his feelings.
Christ, I need to understand.
He let all the memories roar back in. Athena breaking her promise to keep his secret. His rage and pain at being betrayed by the one person he trusted above all others. He’d been vulnerable on so many levels he couldn’t admit. Sometimes he still felt like that vulnerable boy believing that he’d betrayed his parents with his judgment and they had betrayed him with their choice to leave him behind.
Then he’d been an impetuous kid, lashing out at the world, lashing out at Athena. Yes, she’d hurt him and potentially saved him by doing it. Or so she truly believed.
Maybe I believe her.
He stopped and gazed down at his family’s trappings of wealth. The solid gold ornaments. The priceless jewels on the napkin holders. Beautiful, tangible symbols of their power. For one hundred and fifty years, Clayworths had taken chances, fought overwhelming odds to seize what they wanted.
He was a Clayworth to his very core, and he wanted Athena.
He slowly mounted the stairs.
CHAPTER