JENNIFER LABRECQUE - Red-Hot Nights - Daring in the Dark

She huffed out a breath. “I don’t feel quite so stupid if you didn’t have a clue either.”

“I thought he was joking when he first told me.”

“Well, I know he couldn’t have possibly orchestrated a blackout, but how convenient for him. This way he could stick you with telling me, the scum-sucking son of a bitch.”

He bit back a laugh. She definitely had a colorful way with the English language. He didn’t want this woman pissed at him. “I know you’re hurt. I would be, too. But in the morning you’ll feel differently about all of this. You and Elliott can work this out.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, which did incredible things to her already pretty damn incredible cleavage, and directed a haughty look his way.

“Why don’t you ring him?” Simon tried again. He’d spent enough time around women to know that talking, venting, was a big deal. And Elliott, who avoided confrontation at every opportunity, certainly wasn’t going to initiate a conversation. “Talk to him. I’ll go in the other room and give you some privacy.”

She threw up a staying hand, her nose in the air. “Not going to happen. I have nothing to say to Elliott. Well, maybe a thing or two, but not while he’s there with his new lover.” She shook her head. “No thanks. And I don’t even want to think about what they’re probably doing right now.”

“That makes two of us,” Simon said without thinking.

“And what’s there to say other than he’s a two-timer who better not have given me some communicable disease he picked up while he was out screwing around?”

“He says it was safe sex.”

“I hope he’s not lying about that,” she said.

“No. I asked him bluntly.”

“That’s a relief. So other than the satisfaction of cussing him out, I don’t need to talk to him. There’s no going back and there’s no going forward. We’re playing on a whole different ball field now. I’d had some doubts in the last couple of weeks and this just nailed it.”

Had she really been having doubts? His skepticism must’ve shown.

“I can tell what you’re thinking. Sure that’s a convenient way for me to save face, but it’s true. Ever since I started having—” she stopped as if she’d almost said something she shouldn’t “—well, second thoughts. And I’ve had an increasing sense of Elliott trying to shape me into what he wanted me to be.”

Elliott had laughingly said once on a double date that he possessed a better sense of style than Tawny. Simon also recalled another comment that Elliott needed to take her shopping. Both times Simon had thought Elliott out of line and far off the mark. Simon liked her sense of style. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Elliott has very specific ideas.”

“Uh-huh. Trust me. My parents have been trying to mold me long enough. I recognize the signs. Regardless, Elliott and I are history.”

Which left her a free agent and him still constrained by the bounds of friendship.

COULD SHE HAVE POSSIBLY made it any clearer than if she’d held up a sign inviting him to kiss her again? And again. And then take it further. To pick up where he’d left off, with his fingers brushing against her wet panties.

They both obviously wanted one another. He’d felt her damp underwear and she’d felt his rock-hard erection. And she’d just told him in no uncertain terms that she no longer had a future with Elliott.

Simon’s hair stood up at the crown where she’d run her fingers through it. She rather liked it because it made him much less intimidating and proved him human.

“People say and do a lot of things they don’t really mean when they’re angry,” he said in the tone of a peacemaker.

Was he implying she was irrational and should make allowances for Elliott’s wandering penis? Ha. She was very much in touch with rational thought. “I’m not angry.”

Simon simply looked at her.

“Okay. Maybe I’m still a little mad that he cheated on me and that it was with a man.” She cringed inside, feeling fat, ugly, lacking and unwanted. “How can I even compete when I don’t have the same equipment?”

Simon shook his head, a touch of anger marking his face and the movement. “You don’t compete. As difficult as it might be to believe, this isn’t about you.”

Freaking easy for him to say. “Have you ever had a girlfriend tell you she’d discovered her inner lesbian after sex with you?”

“Uh, no.”

“I didn’t think so. Don’t you think that might leave you feeling a little deficient? Like your equipment wasn’t up to par or you had some serious operator error going on?”

Simon looked like a man facing a firing squad. “I know it feels that way, but this isn’t because there’s a problem with you. Elliott’s the one with the problem. And I sure as hell wish he’d talked to me before he did something stupid that buggered up his relationship with you.”

His vehemence and apparent disapproval of Elliott surprised her. Usually, right or wrong, men stuck together. And she’d always sensed Simon didn’t like her, so his reaction doubly surprised her.

She picked a People magazine off the bamboo chest and fanned herself. “I’m surprised you don’t think it’s his lucky day that he’s managed to get rid of me.”

Simon sat ramrod straight. “I’m sorry you misunderstood my actions that way.”

What? As if she was some neurotic she-devil who’d misinterpreted his friendly demeanor? She was pissed and hot and sweaty. He’d picked the wrong day and the wrong gal to pull that holier-than-thou crap. She stood, bracing one knee on the couch, and planted her hands on her hips.

“Whoa. Stop right there. You’re sorry I misinterpreted your actions? If you’re going to apologize, then do it right. If you’re not, then save your breath. But don’t even think about giving me some backhanded apology.”

He had the grace to look slightly ashamed but still arrogant. And very sexy with the candlelight flickering from the table beside him. “You’re right. I’ve acted like a jerk and I’m still acting like a jerk.”

That surprised her. But then again, she never really knew quite what to expect from Simon. “I didn’t call you a jerk. Not exactly. Well, maybe that’s what I was implying.” She’d had it with all the prevarication. What was the point? “Let’s just cut to the chase. You’ve never liked me. You’ve barely managed to be civil and I’ve never known why. I thought that day you photographed me it was different … I thought … well, never mind. I’m a big girl, and after finding out that my fiancé prefers men, I don’t suppose it can get any worse. So while we’re sitting here with nothing else to do, why don’t you enlighten me? Tell me why you’ve never liked me. They say confession is good for the soul.”

“I don’t think …”

“Oh, come on, Simon. Get real. There’s something about the dark of night that brings out the daring. You know how it is. Things you’d never think about in the light of day. Things you’d never do or say otherwise somehow seem okay in the dark.”

Their hot kiss—her tongue in his mouth and his hands on her ass, pulling her harder into his erection—still lingered between them. She saw it in his face. “We both know I’ve never had the guts to ask before and I probably won’t have the guts to ask again. In fact, after tonight our paths probably won’t cross again. So let’s get daring in the dark and have a real conversation,” she said.

The idea of not seeing Simon again was far more disquieting than the thought of not seeing Elliott again. She was needling Simon, but it was better than flinging herself at him. What she really wanted to do was lose herself in his arms, feel the heavy thud of his heart beneath hers, taste the heat of his passion, wallow in the desire that left her aching, wet and feeling like a desirable woman. She longed to discover firsthand whether the real passion between them was as potent and incredible as her dreams.