Night Magic (11 page)

The living room lights snapped on. Her heart leaped into her throat. Thirteen people shouted “Congratulations.”
Lancelot barked in surprise and outrage. They all wore those stupid conical party hats held on with strings of elastic under the chin in day-glow shiny colors. Even Brian and Brina. They blew tweeters that razzed out like tongues and little whistles that shrieked in odd tones. Tamsen tossed rice at them and Lanyon had what seemed like a bucket of Mylar confetti that he kept dumping in handfuls over them. Little Jesse shrieked with joy as he scooped up the shiny flakes to throw them again. Bagheera, Tamsen’s black cat, batted at the falling glitter. Kemble held up an arm to shield his face, laughing, and Jane ducked her head. It was Brian who finally held up a hand.

“Okay, enough everybody. Don’t drown them.” He came up and put his arm around Jane, nudging Kemble out of the way. “Welcome to the family, Jane.”

That set off another round of cheering. Maggie provided Mr. Edwards and Ernie with party hats, which looked particularly silly on their beefy frames. Jane was blushing so hard she thought she might faint. She shook her head, trying to fend off the others who came up for hugs. She wasn’t used to being the center of attention, ever. “Please, please,” she demurred as Maggie and Keelan kissed cheeks and held her close. “I’m the one who’s honored.”

Brian shook Kemble’s hand, though she saw a shadow cross the older man’s face.

“Jane can keep us in line,” Lanyon grinned, tossing another handful of Mylar.

“Lord forbid,” Jane said fervently. “I’m sure I couldn’t.”

“No one can keep Lanyon in line. Stop with the confetti, little brother.” Drew’s quelling look actually did have some effect. Drew was looking very drawn and tired to Jane.

“Oh, all right,” Lanyon pouted. “I guess the only reason you want me around is because you need some music for the wedding dance.” He stomped over to the baby grand that stood in an alcove under an arched window between some lush ferns. He started to play “Feelings,” until Tristram threw a couch pillow at him, at which point he switched to “You Light Up My Life.”

Tristram rolled his eyes. “I give up,” he said and turned to Kemble. “Good job, bro.” It seemed heartfelt. The two brothers hadn’t always gotten along, but Tremaines always stood together when it counted, and apparently this was one of those times.

“I know,” Kemble said.

Did she see a shadow cross his face as well? Jane almost dropped the glass of champagne Tamsen was handing her. Was Kemble already regretting his decision? Champagne sloshed all over Tamsen’s dress. And they’d all dressed up for the occasion. The men were wearing suits, and the women had on lovely dresses. Tremaine women all dressed so well. Oh, why had she let this whole thing happen so quickly?

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, using the little napkin she’d been given with the glass to lean over and daub at Tamsen’s lovely green chiffon skirt.

“It doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t,” Tamsen protested.

Then the napkin was gently taken away. Brina smiled at her and stilled the nervous flutter of Jane’s hands as she clasped the glass stem. Brina took them in her own and turned to her son. “Are you going to dance with your bride, or not?”

Dance? Jane never danced. Well, with Drew all those years ago, when they took ballroom dancing together at that little studio down in Redondo, and that once in Paris with that young man who held his cigarette so negligently between his lips, though that had been swaying mostly. She couldn’t do this. In front of all of them? Would he hold her tightly? What if she showed on her face how that felt, because she could imagine just how it . . . would . . . feel . . . 

Lanyon broke into another song, an old one. She kind of recognized it. Tamsen dashed over to the piano. “I know that one.
‘All For Love.’ Start again.”

Did Lanyon not know that Kemble didn’t love her? Jane thought it was pretty clear. Was the song his way of pouring salt in a wound? Kemble blinked down at her. Oh, dear Lord, he looked scared. He probably thought he’d have to hold her up to keep her from tripping over her feet. Which he might. She’d always been clumsy. Then his spine straightened. “Yes, I am going to dance with my bride.” Still, she saw him swallow before he held out his hand.

Lanyon’s piano chimed through the song’s opening notes again. The implications of accepting a marriage offer Kemble had made because he was trying to escape his pain washed over Jane. They were married, mad mistake that it was. He was stuck with her because his foolish honor would keep him from calling the judge and asking for an annulment on the grounds of “he’d made a huge error.” And now he wanted her to take his hand—she, who had never let herself touch him—and consent to be held in a dance. Which was just a precursor to what he would expect tonight. She’d been insane to accept him yesterday. Insane and selfish.

His hand was hanging out in midair and everyone was watching. Uncertainty was growing in his eyes. She should run, right now. Out the door and back to her mother’s house.

That would be more selfish than anything. Leave him feeling like he hadn’t been enough again? She’d never do that to him. She wanted to make him comfortable. Well, it started here.

She put her hand in his, felt the warmth, the slight moisture born of nerves, and that damned electric shock that went right to her groin. Her lungs sucked in air without her bidding. She must have been holding her breath. He gathered her into his arms as Tamsen’s clear voice carried over the room. He settled his right arm at her waist and drew her into his body. She knew that body. Well, most of it. She’d seen him down at the pool all summer, every summer, for as many years as she could remember. She’d seen him fill out, put on muscle in his shoulders, arms, thighs
, and get a light dusting of chest hair—just a little—along with a vee of dark hair that pointed down into those trunks than hung on his hips. She’d seen the way they clung to his groin when he came out of the water. And she remembered with acute intensity what seeing that had done to her body.

She was only five foot three, though her heels gave her another inch or so. She had to look up into his face. She could feel the flush rising up her neck. The tingle of touching his hands and being pressed against his hard body went right down to the vee between her thighs. Somehow she put her left hand on his shoulder. Her hip was touching his thigh when he began to move. Miraculously, her feet went with him, because he had her body pressed to his and she really couldn’t do anything else.

Everybody else seemed to melt away. There was only Kemble, his arms strong under the fabric of his black suit, his eyes locked on hers. She should just bury her face in his shoulder, but she couldn’t look away from their blue. Not as intense a blue as his father’s eyes, and she was sure he knew that. But they were the kind of blue that looked steady. It was as if the touch of his body to hers had cast a spell on her, woven her round with a languorous sensuality that stole her willpower. A lock of his black hair fell over his forehead and he didn’t even notice or break his hold on her to push it back in place, as he usually did. It was like they were magnets, locked together in the dance. She knew every line of his face: the sensual lips, the black brows and straight nose, but she stared at his features as though she’d never seen him before. He was a Tremaine through and through. She only had to look at him to know it. And she wasn’t. But at this moment, she couldn’t even care about that.

He was hers. When the dance ended it might all fall apart, but in this instant they moved together as one, their bodies entwined as though they belonged together. She wanted this moment engraved in fire in her memory like a scar that would be with her forever, no matter what happened later, to treasure long after everyone else had forgotten its existence.

She realized Lanyon’s music and Tamsen’s voice had trailed away. She and Kemble were still dancing. She heard the clapping from far away. Tristram whistled. He would.

Kemble stopped moving. He looked around as if he was surprised the family was still gathered around them. Jane stepped awkwardly out of his arms.

“My turn,” Michael said and stepped up, shouldering Kemble out of the way in an exaggerated move. “Mrs. Tremaine, may I have this dance?”

Jane was having trouble getting her breath. She just nodded. If she could dance with Kemble, she could dance with anyone. Michael swept her up in his arms, but he didn’t hold her as tightly as Kemble had. Tristram picked up Jesse and started whirling him around. Lanyon started in on another tune she didn’t know. Keelan went over to Mr. Edwards and pulled him forcibly into the center of the room. Jane peered around Michael, looking for Kemble.

He stood where Jane had left him, looking a little lost. “I refuse to dance with my brother,” Drew drawled at him. “So don’t ask.”

As Jane and Michael twirled she saw Maggie step up. Maggie had on a swirly print skirt with red roses on it and a pretty, lacy blouse paired with dress cowboy boots that were shiny red.
“I’ll take that ride,” she said to Kemble. She was all of five feet tall and her boots gave her maybe two inches, so she was looking Kemble squarely in the chest. Kemble looked down at her, startled, as if he had just awakened. He smiled. Then he looked up and found Jane, and the smile became a grin.

“You’re on, cowgirl. I hear you know how to rodeo.” He clasped her hand and drew her in. Jane had to peer around Michael’s massive shoulder to be sure Kemble wasn’t holding Maggie as tightly as he
had held her.

“I ride the big broncs, bucko.”

“I sure hope you aren’t talking about my little brother. Hold on.” How could anyone ever call Tristram little? Kemble swung into some dance that had a lot of stomping, and Lanyon, catching the mood, changed to something up-tempo and twangy.

Brian and Brina joined the dancing crowd. Tamsen was doing her best wailing country singer imitation until Tristram put Jesse down and stalked over to drag her out onto the smooth old timber floor, shiny with wax. Ernie corralled Jesse for a tooting contest with the whistles.

That floor got a workout. Drew hunched on the couch for a while, but she broke her rule after a few dances and let Tristram entice her into a “who can dance cooler to a fast song” contest which Drew easily won, in spite of all Tristram’s experience with Hollywood starlets before he had met Maggie. After which Drew paired up with Mr. Edwards, and Maggie with Tristram, Keelan with Devin. Lanyon slowed down the tempo, and Tamsen did a creditable Patsy Kline imitation, only with a lot less vibrato than the original. So Kemble came back over to dance again with Jane. It didn’t have the magic of that first dance. The love in the air around them made Jane acutely aware that she and Kemble were the exception in the Tremaine family, not the rule. But she couldn’t deny how being close to Kemble’s body made her feel. Her panties were going to be pretty much soaked if the dance went on too long.

When everyone finally collapsed in various heaps, Mr. Nakamura magically appeared with a variety of beverages he knew would suit every taste. Tristram and Maggie each had a beer, along with the security contingent. Tamsen chose iced tea. Brina and Drew continued with champagne. Mr. Nakamura brought the other men
Scotch, though Jane suspected Lanyon didn’t much like Scotch. At his age, he’d never admit it.

When Jane had thanked him quietly, she took a glass of cold water and went to collapse into one of the club chairs.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Keelan said. “No rest for the wicked. You two have to cut the cake.”

“Cake?” Jane asked, nonplussed.

“I’ve been waiting for that cake all afternoon,” Lanyon said, abandoning his piano. “I thought you’d never get back from the courthouse.”

“Cake,” Jesse yelled, triumphant.

“Really? Before dinner?” Brina asked, vainly trying to stem the clamor for cake. She soon realized she was grossly outnumbered. She sighed and nodded to Mr. Nakamura.

Jane shot an embarrassed look at Kemble. Everyone had taken so much trouble for them. He shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t expected it either, but he obviously didn’t feel as bad about it as Jane. Every kind gesture his family made revealed her fraud more clearly.

Mr. Nakamura wheeled out a butler’s trolley from the kitchen. On it was a two-tiered cake with cream-colored frosting. One of those little bride and groom couples stood on the top.

“Kee and I made dinner, just so Mother could work on it,” Tamsen announced.

“You made the cake?” Jane felt tears start to her eyes. Drew slipped into the kitchen.

“Where was I going to get a carrot cake on short notice?” Brina asked, rising. Carrot cake was Jane’s favorite. “You know, Jane, you aren’t the only one who makes desserts,” she added with mock severity. “Just the one we depend on to do it every day you can be here. Mr. Nakamura, do you have the cake cutter?”

He held up the triangular silver implement with delicate filigree holes. He looked a little pinched and unsmiling. Jane had an uneasy feeling that all was not right with him. She’d have to ask him about it later. She’d have to find out why Drew was so pale and drawn as well. But right now, she and Kemble were herded over to the trolley. Mr. Nakamura handed Jane the knife. Under shouted instructions, Kemble took his place behind her and placed his hand over hers on the knife. Jane sure hoped no one in the room knew how that affected her. And she sure wished she could control these darned blushes.

The cake was cut. Kemble handed the plates around. The chatter of the full living room was
comforting. Jane promised Lanyon there would be seconds when he was ready, as he swore to his mother that things like cake never spoiled his dinner. He was right. The boy had a hollow leg. Well, he wasn’t a boy anymore either. She was so lucky to be part of this family, though that thought promptly brought up its dark companion. She was an interloper who had taken advantage of Kemble’s moment of weakness.