Jennifer Greene: Pink Satin

A low, shivery laugh. Greer darted for the door. His hand slammed against the wood even as she was fighting with the lock. She managed to release the chain, but couldn’t reach the knob.

There was a sick scream in the back of her throat, trying to get out, but she remained silent. How could she scream? This couldn’t be happening to her. It really couldn’t. Maybe if she’d invited it…but she knew she hadn’t invited it. She knew she’d in no way encouraged Ray. As an adolescent, she’d blamed herself for inviting the gropes and grabs that had scared her witless, believing she must have unconsciously asked for trouble. Then during her entire adult life, she’d protected herself by denying every damn possible sexual feeling-and she hadn’t invited Ray.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, grabbing at her blouse, groping for her skirt. Greer felt a rage suddenly explode inside her. A rage almost as old as she was. It wasn’t her. It was him. Dammit. Had he felt this way about her all along?

His voice rasped in a low, heavy bass. “You like it a little rough, do you, darling?”

Her knee failed. Her fist didn’t.

He jerked back, bent suddenly double; a hoarse cry of pain escaped from his mouth.

Greer opened the door, and backed away. “Get out. Now.”

The minute Ray was gone, Greer pushed the lock button and then fumbled frantically to hook the chain. The room was so silent that she should have felt relieved. Instead, her limbs started trembling as if she’d just been tossed into the Arctic Ocean.

She couldn’t get warm. She ran her hands up and down her arms; it didn’t help. Her teeth were actually chattering. She walked to the bathroom, turned on the hot water and splashed some on her face. He’s gone, the voice in her head assured her. She was safe.

Only her heart couldn’t seem to stop pounding, and when she turned off the water, her white face stared back at her from the mirror. She winced, seeing the top button gone from her blouse, her skirt askew, the sick glaze in her dark eyes.

She turned away from the mirror, hurrying out of the blouse and her skirt, bundling them both up in her hands. A moment later, she was under the pelting spray of the shower, turned on as hot as her skin could take it. It warmed her up, but when she stepped out, she grew cold again.

She’d brought a cotton robe with her to the conference, and after she wrapped that around her, she dragged the blanket from the bed, draped it over her shoulders and curled up in the chair. If there was a thought in her head, she couldn’t bring it into focus. If she could just get warm… She doubted she would ever be warm again. It seemed the only thing that mattered.

When she heard a quiet knock on the door, her whole body went rigid.

Another knock.

When she didn’t answer, Ryan’s jaw tightened. “Greer. It’s Ryan, and I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

“Ryan?”

He waited, an endless period of time. He was pushing his hand through his hair for the dozenth time in the past three hours when the door finally opened.

He’d never seen such a fragile smile in his life. Her hair was damp and had the look of having been rapidly finger-combed. She was wearing a pink cotton robe that buttoned to the neck. Her face was pasty white, with twin spots of color in her cheeks, and he didn’t wait to see any more.

He bolted inside, slammed the door behind him and gathered her immediately in his arms. She was tense and cold, and suddenly her whole body was shuddering.

“I could hardly believe-what on earth are you doing here? How did you even know where I was? And why-”

“Hush, honey.” Her violent shuddering tore at his heart. His palm cradled her head, pushing her cheek to his shoulder. His other hand gently caressed her shoulders and back, kneading, massaging those terribly tense muscles. Finally, some of that shaking stopped, and she lay quiescent against him.

“Greer.” His voice was quiet and infinitely tender, but there was unquestionably a demand for an answer in his low, vibrant tone. “Did he scare you? Or…hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that. I…” Greer lifted her head to stare at Ryan. If she could just stop feeling so terribly disoriented… Ryan looked exhausted. Taut furrows of strain aged his features; lines seemed embedded on his face that hadn’t existed days before. His striped shirt was wrinkled; he was wearing suit pants but no coat. He was beautiful. And she was so desperately glad to see him that she could hardly think of anything else. Confusion suddenly darkened her eyes. “You’re over the flu? I was so worried.”

A fleeting look of surprise and almost humor touched his eyes and then his eyes skimmed past her and around the room. His jaw clenched when he saw the covered dinner cart, and his arms first tightened, then soothed. She felt the gentle sweep of his hand, pushing back her hair, combing through it. “Would you mind not worrying about me for the moment?” he murmured.

He planted a single kiss on her mouth. A firm kiss, which seemed to bring a troubled world back into focus again. And when he lifted his head, she found herself inches away from clear blue eyes, blue like ice, blue like fire. “You knew! ” she whispered suddenly. “When you just asked me if I was scared, I…how could you possibly have any idea what just happened?”

“I’ll explain everything in a little bit. Just tell me what did happen first.”

He didn’t let her go. He moved her determinedly away from the door, but he kept an arm around her shoulder, and he paused more than once to press his lips on her forehead, her neck, anywhere he could reach. His hands went to her waist, lifting her.

She’d thrown the blanket on the bed. He took it, covering her even as he half carried, half propelled her down onto the pillows. He reached down to push off his shoes, and then came to her.

“I was so frightened… ” Her voice seemed to be coming from miles away.

“Yes.” He wound his arms around her and just held her. If he could have wrapped her up in his body, he would have. She’d stopped trembling, and there were suddenly tears.

“I have never in my entire life behaved like such a fool.”

He didn’t contradict her. He didn’t do anything to stop the tears or to still the suddenly frantic rush of words. He slid his arm under her waist, covered her again with the blanket and lay down next to her.

“You don’t understand,” she said frantically.

“Tell me.”

“We were getting along so well. We never had. I thought if I tried to be more understanding-and it was working. I mean, he made sexual remarks all the time, but I never paid any attention. He knew I wasn’t interested in him; he had to know.” Images flooded her mind and then receded. “I don’t see how he could possibly have misinterpreted anything I’d said or done.”

“Greer…”

“ No. It must have been my fault.”

“It was not your fault,” he said emphatically.

“It was. So stupid,” she said incoherently. “From the time I was a kid…you can’t possibly understand. I just hated it. I grew up faster than the other girls; they all resented me, but the boys started getting interested in me. Dammit, that’s where it all became so confused, and it wasn’t something I could talk about with anyone. I didn’t want all that attention just because I filled out a bathing suit.” She looked at Ryan fiercely, through blurred eyes.

His thumb gently brushed away that film of tears.

“I figured it was my fault,” she said softly.

“Nothing,” he repeated, “was your fault.”