A Kiss in the Dark Read online

  Brittany made a gentle stab at the back of his hand with her fork. “Promise you won’t tell….”

  “Promise, if you’ll get dessert from the kitchen. It’s in the fridge.”

  Brittany collected the dinner china and silver, carrying it out to the kitchen sink. She was glad of a chance to be alone, to try and figure out how she was doing.

  Of course, she was clueless. Ethan was flirting with her, but only casually, the way he’d naturally flirt with any woman from two to ninety.

  And while he wasn’t quarrelsome or being a jerk, he also wasn’t showing any real response to the sensual gauntlet she’d tossed down between them in the form of the erotic story she’d read to him.

  Opening the refrigerator, she groaned at her ineptitude when it came to seduction. Ethan probably thought she was stupid. He was ten years older; more worldly, and certainly more experienced.

  Francesca couldn’t come back to New York soon enough. By her sister’s return tomorrow night, Brittany was afraid she’d have screwed up irretrievably her one chance with Ethan.

  She reached past the bottled water on the top shelf of the refrigerator to the square white box. It was very light—definitely not cheesecake. With his sophistication, Ethan would be the type to prefer fancy European puff pastry—and not a mousy book editor.

  Only he could turn her confidence to dust like this, she thought, telling herself to snap out of it.

  “Did you find it?” Ethan asked, when she finally returned to the dining room.

  “Got it.” She set the box down in front of him.

  He pushed it toward her. “You open it.”

  Brittany took her seat and reached for the box. He was probably afraid of squishing the dessert.

  She slipped the silver cord from the white box and opened the lid.

  “Do you like it?”

  Brittany was silent a moment. “It is cheesecake, after all,” she said finally, surveying it.

  “I never said it wasn’t.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I had Dawson take me, grumbling all the way. Well, he drove me. He refused to come inside Saks with me.”

  “So what did you do, tell the saleslady what you wanted and let her select one for you?”

  “Yes. She remembered me from when you took me there. I told her it was for you.”

  Brittany lifted the “dessert” from the box. She let the black stretch lace chemise dangle from her finger.

  “What do you expect me to do with this?”

  “Why, wear it, of course.”

  “Wear it?”

  “Yes, I’m going into the library now. You can change into it and join me there.”

  “But you can see right through it!”

  “No, actually I can’t. But I can use my imagination. You know, like you do. So go ahead and change. I’ll be waiting for you to read me another story.”

  With that, Ethan got up and made his way from the room to the hall. She could hear his footsteps on the marble floor as he made his way to the library to wait for her.

  He certainly had picked up the gauntlet. And tossed it right back into her court. Now what?

  “I’m waiting…” Ethan called from the library.

  Well, was she a gutless wonder? A woman or a mouse?

  She picked up the scrap of lacy fabric, eyeing it speculatively. Ethan had said he couldn’t see her, and that was true enough. So she could do this because, after all, he believed she was beautiful. She’d told him so herself.

  Gathering up her courage, she carried the chemise with her to the library where Ethan waited.

  “You’ve changed, then?” He was behind his desk again. Confident and in control.

  “No. I thought I’d do it in here so you could enjoy using your imagination.”

  He didn’t comment.

  “I have just one question,” she said, laying the chemise on the back of the sofa while she stepped out of her shoes.

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  “Why? Why the lingerie?”

  His laugh was low and sexy. “I thought it only fair to warn you that I don’t play fair, either.”

  “Oh.”

  Brittany’s hands shook as she undid the top button on her favorite weekend outfit. It was an easy Empire-waist tank dress of lightly crinkled cotton. The style was relaxed and it buttoned from neck to hem.

  She finished with the buttons, letting the dress slide to the floor. But she didn’t, couldn’t, look at him.

  Then she picked up the chemise.

  “Uh-uh. Take off your underwear,” he instructed.

  “Maybe I’m not wearing any,” she countered, annoyed with him, yet pleased he was developing his other senses. Even if he believed his sight would return, he was learning ways of coping unconsciously that would aid him if it didn’t.

  “Are you sure you can’t see?” she demanded, his silence making her very nervous.

  “I’m certain. As you’re a book editor, it’s not farfetched to imagine you would be wearing underwear—am I right?”

  She mumbled something under her breath while stripping down. Naked, she pulled on the lacy chemise. The bit of froth was meant to display what it covered and only served to make her feel more naked. It skimmed her body to graze the tops of her thighs. Slim straps crossed in back, the neckline scooped low in front and the sides were slit.

  “The least you could do is loosen your tie,” she said.

  He obliged her. It only made him look sexier.

  “I’d like it if you stretched out on the sofa while you read to me.”

  “Any more instructions?” she asked, petulantly.

  “Since you asked. I’d like it if you’d stretch out on your stomach on the sofa while you read to me.”

  “On my stomach…?”

  He shrugged. “It’s an image I get.”

  It was an easy enough request to honor. Reading him a story was a problem, however.

  She’d forgotten to bring the book.

  Her mind cast about frantically for a few seconds until she hit upon a solution to her dilemma.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I left the book on the entry table, and I need to get it,” she said, improvising.

  When she returned to the library she carried one of the oversize hardback picture books she’d recalled seeing on the foyer table. Ethan wouldn’t know the difference. He’d only hear her turning the pages. All she had to do was make up a bit of erotica to please him.

  Right. A new wave of nerves hit her as she stretched out on the sofa on her stomach as Ethan had instructed and opened the book.

  She heard Ethan help himself to a drink of water from the silver pitcher on his desk as she frantically searched for inspiration, flipping through the picture book. The book wasn’t much help. It was a study of the architecture of college campuses.

  Inspiration finally struck when she turned the page and saw a coed at an introductory tea in the dean’s office.

  “I’m waiting…” Ethan prompted.

  Brittany took a deep breath, tried to forget what she was barely dressed in, and who she was with. She closed her eyes and began “reading.”

  “It’s November, halfway through freshman year. I’m transferring to West Lewis College, a small girls’ school on the East Coast.

  “When I arrive at the dean’s office to register, his secretary informs me there has been a scheduling mix-up. The dean is having a tea for the mothers at his home. She sends me to his on-campus residence to wait for him.

  “When I arrive at his large Victorian brownstone, his housekeeper shows me to his study to wait, telling me it will be about a half hour until the tea is over.

  “His study is cluttered with paintings, statues and plants. The walls are dark, the sofa and piano bench covered in burgundy velvet. I can hear the chatter of women in the parlor, as the housekeeper
has left the door ajar.

  “I select an Edith Wharton biography to read. The fireplace is lit and I find the room warm. I shrug off my blue uniform blazer and lay it on the piano bench. My white blouse has come untucked, so I shove it back inside the waist of the green-and-blue plaid pleated skirt that matches my school blazer. After tugging up my white knee socks, I toe off my loafers and stretch out on the velvet sofa on my stomach and open the book to read.

  “As I read, I can hear the dean’s deep voice mixed in with the women’s high voices. But as I get caught up in the book, the voices drift away.

  “After I read a few chapters of the biography, I realize Edith Wharton interests me enough that I consider doing a paper on her for my freshman writing class.

  “When I return to chapter four, I hear a door I hadn’t noticed on the other side of the room behind me open. Since I can still hear voices in the parlor, I know the tea isn’t over. It’s too early for that, at any rate. I am about to look over my shoulder to see who has joined me, when a low whispered command stops me: ‘Don’t look up… just keep reading.’

  “The authority in the male voice brooks no objection, so I obey. I return to my reading, not looking up even when I feel the man’s hands move my legs so that he can sit down on the sofa.

  “The words on the page blur in front of me a few seconds later when I feel his long forefinger hook the edge of my knee-high sock and tug it down to bunch at my ankle. I draw a quick intake of breath when I feel warm breath on the back of my knee and the lingering sensual kiss that follows. Tremors of desire creep up my thighs. I shouldn’t allow this—I shouldn’t. This is bad. I’m bad if…

  “The log in the fireplace shifts, falling in a crackle of sparks in the warm, hushed room. I can smell the faintest hint of after-shave. What if the housekeeper returns! I do nothing. Just wait.

  “My eyes close tightly, banishing guilt as I allow the hand that inches up my pleated skirt to reveal my white cotton panties to him. I can feel his eyes gazing, and then his hand smoothing over the taut cotton… his finger trailing along the elastic edges suggestively.

  “I quiver, and start to look over my shoulder. His hand shoots out and tugs my ponytail, arching my neck backward, holding me firmly. ‘Keep reading,’ the low voice pleads. ‘Don’t take notice of what is happening. I only want to please you. Understand, young lady?’

  “He releases my ponytail and I nod, returning to my book. I turn the page, managing to read the first paragraph before being distracted by his hand slipping beneath my abdomen.

  “I freeze when I hear footsteps but they go past the door. ‘Lift up…just a little…. Yes, like that,’ he urges. He begins peeling my panties down from my waist, tugging them to my knees.

  “My face flushes to have a stranger—to be exposed so—I begin to lower my stomach to the velvet sofa to hide….

  ‘“No, no. You must not hide from me,’ he instructs, sliding his hands beneath my hips to lift me until I am braced on my knees and elbows.

  “‘Very nice. Now dip your back, young lady, and continue reading while you display yourself to me.’ His hand pushes insistently on the small of my back. I obey, caught up in a wanton fog.

  “I feel his hand smooth the insides of my thighs, spreading them apart a bit more. My breathing is shallow. The room has become a hothouse. The velvet sofa beneath my elbows cushions my arms as I try to continue holding the book. Reading it is impossible.

  “When I feel his soft, blowing breaths on my damp curls, I clamp my lips together tightly, fighting the urge to do the same with my legs as he teases. I drop the book when he closes his mouth over my pulsing need, beginning a slow, sucking kiss as his thumbs separate and hold me in place for him until the room begins to spin. I bite my lip to stifle my cry of pleasure as I come against his mouth.

  “Moments later, I realize I haven’t heard the dean’s deep voice amid the women’s chatter for some time.

  “Had he been called away from the tea to handle something urgent—in the study…?

  “I hide my face in the sofa pillow as I hear the stranger leave the room.”

  Brittany opened her eyes, blinking out of the sensual trance she’d slipped into. She stared at the picture book she still held, realizing she’d forgotten to turn the pages. Had Ethan noticed?

  He was very quiet.

  What was he thinking? Had she gone too far?

  Finally he broke the silence. “What made you do it?”

  So he had noticed she hadn’t been turning the pages of the book. She repeated his question, stalling for time, “What made me do it?”

  “What made you decide to read erotica to me in the first place?”

  He hadn’t noticed she’d made up the fantasy, she understood with a sigh of relief. Nevertheless, that didn’t make his question any easier to answer. There was no way she could tell him the truth—that she’d deliberately set out to seduce him into thinking of her as a woman instead of a “pal.”

  So she lied.

  “I read somewhere that people with phobias about flying were encouraged to take erotica along to read during flight as a distraction from their fears.”

  “I’m certainly not afraid to fly.”

  “I know. You’re an international stud.” She could have bitten her tongue for that slip. “I read it because you are afraid.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything,” he said obstinately.

  “I think you are.”

  “Well, you’re wrong.”

  “Then why are you refusing to even consider the fact that you may indeed be permanently blind?”

  “I think it’s time we called it a night,” he replied, dismissing her, obviously not wanting to discuss his blindness.

  “I think it’s time you faced the truth,” she insisted.

  “Good night, Miss Astor.”

  “You’re sending me home?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you mind if I dress before I go? Or have you forgotten I’m practically naked…?”

  “Oh, no. I haven’t forgotten. Let’s just consider tonight a draw.”

  6

  ETHAN PACED THE apartment late into the night. He’d finally come to stand before the floor-to-ceiling windows where he’d been for the past half hour, staring out sightlessly from force of habit.

  Brittany was right. He was afraid.

  He’d thought by now his sight would have returned. The few weeks since the accident had stretched to seem like a year. By now he should be seeing light and shadow, shouldn’t he?

  Something, anything.

  He was afraid to ask the doctor. Afraid the doctor would confirm his worst fears—that his sight wasn’t going to return, ever.

  He slammed his hand on the window frame, allowing himself the indulgence of his feelings—his true feelings—now that he was alone.

  A cry of mental anguish escaped his lips and he clamped his eyes shut. But he couldn’t shut out the reality or stop the flood of tears.

  Turning from the window, he returned to the library where he threw himself down on the sofa, emotionally exhausted from confronting his demons. He’d taken so much for granted—the privilege and the passions of his life.

  Brittany’s scent was on the sofa pillow. Inhaling it, he felt his mood lift. He pictured her lying on the sofa—first in the bit of lingerie he’d bought her, then in the schoolgirl uniform of the fantasy she’d read to him.

  Oh, yes, he felt much better.

  Well, hornier, anyway.

  He smiled. What would he have done without Brittany? Without her to challenge him, he would surely have gone mad by now. What was a beautiful career woman like her doing spending her leisure time reading to him? He hadn’t asked her why she’d wanted the job. He’d have to rectify that when he saw her again on Monday evening.

  Had reading the erotica to him affected her, too? He sensed that despite her daring, she was shy. H
e wondered what kind of woman the freckled, horse-crazy young girl had grown into.

  If only he could see.

  He felt around on the end table until his hand came in contact with the remote control. Picking it up, he flicked on the TV, surfing the channels until he heard a familiar voice. Somehow he no longer felt like being alone. Lulled by the comfort of the TV, he drifted into the embrace of sleep.

  In his dreams he could do all the old things—ride his polo ponies at breakneck speed, drive his sports cars around hairpin turns… see.

  The aroma of fresh coffee woke him—French vanilla. He recognized Dawson’s heavy tread on the carpet. It was true that his other senses had heightened to make up for his lack of sight.

  At the rattle of cups when Dawson set the tray down on the coffee table, Ethan pushed himself into a sitting position on the sofa. “Dawson, why are you bringing me coffee in the middle of the night?”

  “It’s almost noon.”

  “Why didn’t you wake me when you came in?”

  “You looked comfortable.”

  “Oh.” Ethan rubbed his hands through his hair. The last thing he remembered was a freckled Lucy Ricardo asking him how long he’d been dean of the university.

  Boy, did he need coffee! He took the cup Dawson set before him.

  He drank down the steaming liquid and waited for the caffeine to kick in as Dawson brought him up-to-date on his polo ponies.

  “You know what I want to do today, Dawson?” he asked when Dawson finished.

  “Go to the stables?”

  “No. I thought we’d go shopping.”

  “Shopping,” Dawson repeated without enthusiasm.

  “Shopping.”

  “Saks?” Dawson inquired, resigned.

  “Saks.”

  “But this time I’m going to need your help, Dawson.”

  “What about Miss Astor?”

  “What about her?”

  “Couldn’t she take you shopping?” Dawson asked hopefully.

  “No. I want this to be a surprise.”

  BRITTANY PUSHED THE spiderweb away from her face, but it kept drifting back. She swatted at it again. And again, grumbling.

  Francesca’s giggle woke her.

  Brittany blinked open her eyes to see her sister kneeling on the edge of the bed, the black lace chemise Ethan had bought Brittany dangling from her forefinger.