Red-Hot Nights: Daring in the Dark

Maybe for Elliott. Cold day in hell and all that.

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on, Si. You two already don’t like one another. And what else are you going to talk about? What have you got to do stuck there in the dark with one another? This blackout could last several hours.”

“Not a chance.”

“Think about it. It’d be better this way.” Was it only twelve hours ago that he’d declared nothing Elliott did could compromise their friendship? He was rethinking that position. “You don’t know Tawny the way I do. She’s not going to give up on this until one of us tells her. I can try feeding her some line about wedding plans, but when she finds out the truth, that’s just going to make it a thousand times worse.”

“I don’t see why your conversation can’t wait.”

“I’m telling you, she’s sexy and sweet but beneath those soft curves and big green eyes she’s relentless when she wants something. She’s a steel magnolia.”

Simon recognized that truth. He’d experienced it firsthand when she’d sunk her teeth into the topic of his love life. He considered banging his head against the counter or perhaps the cabinet. Anything solid would do.

Could this night possibly get any better? First he was trapped with a woman he wanted beyond reason. Now said woman was about to hound him to no end for news sure to crush her. And he was the lucky devil doing double duty. Not only was he in the firing line to be shot as the messenger, but who else was around to endure the messy aftermath? And when it was all said and done, he’d wade through hell and back if he thought she needed him.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Simon, you are the best friend a man could have.”

“We’ll talk about that later.” This wasn’t for Elliott. This was for Tawny. Because she deserved better than hearing the truth over the phone while Elliott was locked in with his new lover. Because it might render him asunder, but he would give her a strong shoulder to cry on and be there for her.

“Okay. I’m grateful. Eternally grateful. Let me talk to Tawny for a minute.”

Silently Simon passed the phone back to Tawny.

“Yes? … He is? … Okay. Stay safe and I’ll talk to you later,” she said. She flipped the cell phone closed, disconnecting the call. She picked up her glass and polished it off. Putting the empty goblet on the counter, she looked at Simon expectantly, some of her former exasperation lingering in her eyes and the set of her mouth.

“I understand you have something to tell me?”

Apprehension knotted Simon’s gut. The proverbial shit was about to hit the proverbial fan.

“Let’s go in the other room. You’ll want to sit down for this.”

SIMON LOOKED GRIM. SO MUCH for the let’s-all-jump-in-bed ménage-à-trois theory, although she already pretty much knew that was toast. What could possibly warrant that rigid, resigned set to his jaw, and was that a flash of pity in his eyes when he looked at her?

The truth slammed her. She sucked in a calming breath. Elliott was dying. He’d been handed down some awful diagnosis and the two of them were going to break the news to her. She was the worst human being possible, having erotic dreams about Simon and wallowing in a private lustfest while poor, brave Elliott faced the specter of death alone.

Simon leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees, his fingers linked together. He turned to face her. “Elliott should be the one telling you…. I was only coming to lend moral support…. I’m not sure where to begin.”

Tawny squared her shoulders and sat straighter on her end of the sofa. She’d be brave. “How long has he known?”

Simon did a double take. “How long have you known?”

“Well, just now.”

Simon slanted a questioning look her way. “Now?”

“I figured it out and Elliott can count on me to stand by him, even if the wedding doesn’t happen.” He might be too sick or he just might not have enough time to make it to the altar.

“Tawny, what is it that you think you know?”

“Elliott’s dying, isn’t he? What is it? Cancer? A tumor? How long does he have? I knew he’d been acting different lately, but I thought …”

Simon waved a hand, stilling her. “Let’s back up a bit. You think Elliott’s dying?”

“Isn’t he? You look like the Grim Reaper.”

“I always look like the Grim Reaper.” Simon sighed. “As far as I know, Elliott’s healthy as a horse.” Whew. She sagged against the sofa, limp with relief. As long as Elliott was healthy, nothing could … “He’s been seeing someone else.”

What? She shot up. “Bastard.” She’d kill him. Here she’d been feeling guilty over dreams, when all the while Elliott was playing Bury the Bone with someone else. “Is it someone I know?”

“I think you’ve met him.”

It took a few seconds for the definitive him to soak through her haze of shock and anger. “Him? Did you just say him, as in Elliott’s seeing a guy?”

Simon offered a curt nod. “That’s what he told me this morning.”

“A man? A man! I’ve been dumped for a freaking man?” Another woman was bad enough, but a man? She’d never been so angry and humiliated in her life. And don’t forget betrayed.

The hot press of tears gathered. Dammit. She didn’t get really mad that often, but when she did, instead of ranting and raving she cried. It sucked.

Simon shook his head. “I don’t think he necessarily wants to break up. He just wanted to come clean. He says it’s only been once and he thinks he’s bisexual.” Simon looked grimmer than ever.

Elliott’s nerve floored her. He didn’t necessarily want to break up? That was rich. And it fueled her anger. She didn’t have anything against homosexuals, but she wasn’t marrying one. She tugged at the ring on her finger. It stuck on her knuckle. That was the final detail that totally unhinged her. Tawny, the family screwup, had once again managed to not get it right. Her anger spilled over in the form of hot tears rolling down her cheeks. She tugged again. Finally she yanked the ring off. She shoved it into Simon’s hand. “I won’t be needing this any longer.” The last word ended on a sob.

She was so angry she was shaking. And blubbering.

Simon slid across the space separating them. She caught a glimpse of his face. He looked positively stricken. He folded her into his arms, pulling her against the wall of his chest, cradling her, rocking her back and forth. “Please don’t cry, Tawny. It’s going to be okay.”

Stern, austere, sarcastic Simon offered her solace. That this man who didn’t like her very well was reduced to having to comfort her went a long way in cooling her anger and stemming her tears. Crying when she was angry had proven a curse of embarrassment since childhood.

That was almost as humiliating as her being inadequate enough to send Elliott to seek male companionship. She ought to have some measure of pride and pull away, but somehow it felt less embarrassing to simply stay where she was, pressed against Simon’s chest. Plus it was a very nice chest.

“How amusing for me to offer you advice on your love life when mine was down the toilet and I didn’t even have enough sense to know it,” she said against his shirt. “How pathetic.”

“Tawny, never refer to yourself again as pathetic.” He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her head back until she looked at him. He gentled away her tears with his thumbs. Her skin tingled beneath his touch. His jeans-clad knee pressed against her bare leg. “There is nothing remotely pathetic about you. You’re beautiful and sexy.”

Simon could obviously lie with the best of them. She knew her eyes and nose were swollen from crying. Some women cried prettily. She wasn’t one of them. She was fairly certain she wasn’t looking her level best. And then there was the little matter of Elliott dipping his wick … definitely where it didn’t belong. “Yes, I’m so beautiful and sexy, I drove my fiancé to being gay.”

“Right now I’m very pissed with Elliott. And even though he’s my friend, he’s an idiot.” He patted her awkwardly on her shoulder.

Poor Simon. Small wonder he’d been so reluctant to broach this subject. “It was bad enough that he stuck you in the middle. You don’t have to say all of this. And don’t worry, I’m through crying. When I get angry, I cry. Charming little quirk.” She dashed away the last of her tears.

“Elliott is all kinds of a fool.”

She sniffled. This was the man she’d seen the day he’d photographed her, the man she’d glimpsed behind the wall of reserve. He really could be very nice. “It’s very chivalrous of you to say that.”