Chapter 36
CAMERON
After I see Radha out, I return to find Tara waiting for me in the entryway.
She's quite a refreshing contrast to Radha, with blonde silky curls, and green eyes. But tonight, her usual sunshine personality seems subdued.
Understandable after the drama of the day.
“Well, today’s tension is nothing a glass of wine can't resolve. Come join me in the living room,” I say.
I walk toward the bar, then choose a bottle I brought up from the cellar. "Want a glass?" I ask while opening it.
Tara shakes her head. "I need to have my wits about me."
“Don’t be a stick in the mud. We should celebrate.”
“And why is that?”
“I popped my own cherry. It’s my first arrest. Now I can safely be counted among the rock ’n roll hall of fame.”
Tara laughs. “Okay. You convinced me. I have some good news to share.”
I hand her a glass before settling in next to her on the sofa. "What's the news?"
"Today Mr. Rudin asked me to be Fabiana's understudy."
"Well deserved and about time." I clink my glass to hers. "You said Fabiana's a prima donna. What did she have to say about that?"
"Here's the thing: Fabiana doesn't know yet."
"Isn't she going to find out?"
Tara shrugs. "Not necessarily. Mr. Rudin said It will be our secret. He's afraid to raise her ire."
"But how is this good news if you can't tell anyone about it?"
“You’re right. It’s just a small win. The truly good news would be if lightning strikes her dead on opening night. But I'm not sure there're too many lightning storms in Nantucket."
"Short memory," I remind her.
We both laugh. I feel compelled to pull her close, to pick up where we left off last night.
She must feel it too.
The tension between us is visceral. I want to reach over and pull her into my arms, back into my bed.
Sensing this, she stands abruptly.
I've pushed too hard.
"All right, I'm going to go to bed. I have an early day tomorrow."
I stand too, not ready for this moment to end. Not after everything that happened today.
But Tara's the one who hugs me. The moment her body presses against mine, I feel everything I've been holding back since I walked through that door tonight.
The need. The fear. The desperate hunger for this woman, who stayed strong for my daughter while I was being processed like a common criminal.
I hug her back, slower than I should, letting myself feel the soft curves of her body against my chest.
Then I do something I shouldn't. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in that rose scent that's been driving me crazy for days.
"Tara," I whisper against her skin, my voice rough with everything I can't say. "I wish you knew how much I want you."
"And I wish you knew how hard it is for me to resist you." The raw, honest confession hangs in the air between us, unfiltered.
I force myself to pull away before I do something we'll both regret. Before I pin her against the wall and show her exactly how much I want her.
Tara turns and walks toward the staircase. I watch the sway of her hips, the graceful line of her neck. Everything I can't have.
Not yet.
Not while my life is falling apart and I can't promise her anything stable.
Mrs. Bellows appears from the kitchen just as Tara reaches the stairs. "Oh, Tara," she calls out. "This came to you by messenger this afternoon."
Tara walks back to take it from her hand.
I catch a glimpse of expensive-looking stationery, hand-addressed in gold calligraphy.
"Who's it from?" I ask, moving closer.
"Miss Swain," Tara says, examining the elegant script.
"That lady who hooked you up with the opera?"
"Yes," she says, opening the envelope. "It's an invitation to her house tomorrow—a small soirée to commemorate Moby Dick's opening night. Would you like to come as my date?"
"I'm not sure if I know how to talk to fancy opera folk. I don't have a tux."
"Miss Swain isn't like that," she says. "You'll like her. I'll ask if we can bring Posey and Edison."
I consider it. "After everything that happened today, stepping into Nantucket's social scene seems the wrong move."
Tara considers it. "Maybe. But it could be the right move."
"How so?"
"A lot of important people will be at the party. Charm them. Their sympathy, their support, can be important."
I shrug. "If you think so."
"Let's try it. But I'll be introducing you as my boss."
"Agree."
"Good," she says. There's something in her smile that makes my chest tighten.
"It'll be nice to have you there," she says softly, her eyes holding mine for just a moment longer than necessary.
Then she's gone, disappearing up the staircase. Leaving me alone with the memory of her warm body pressed against mine.