Enthralled (Dark Passions) (3 page)

  
I laughed, and brushed his lips with mine. He covered my mouth with his and
gave me a deep, lingering kiss. Pulling back, he said, “I’ve got some day
clothes for you over there,” and pointed toward a folded pair of jeans and what
looked like a fuchsia halter top on an avocado colored leather chair. “There’s
also a pair of platform shoes in your size under the chair, and you’ll find a
black velvet purse with a few hundred dollars in it under the clothes.”

  
“What’s the money for?” I asked.

  
“In case you get lost,” he said, tracing my earlobe, “Or need to run an
errand.”

  
I climbed off him and padded over to the pile of clothes. I unfolded the jeans.
There were rhinestones on the jean pockets, and the legs were flared.

  
I smiled at Bradley over my shoulder and said, “How
very
seventies.”

  
His eyes fixed to my behind, he said, “I can’t wait to see your tight ass in
those things.”

  
I scowled at him, said, “You dirty man,” and threw the jeans at him.

  
He chuckled softly and smirked at me. “Come on,” he said, getting up. “Let’s go
do something. It’s not every day you get to go back to New York in the
seventies.”

  
I ran over to the bay window and pulled back the curtains. The sun came
flooding in, making the silver walls sparkle. I looked down the side of the
building and noticed the red brick, white colonnades, and the intricate curls
of the wrought-iron balconies. “I can’t believe we’re at the Chelsea Hotel,” I
gushed. “This is incredible,” I added.

  
“Darlin’,” Bradley said in southern accent, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Get
dressed. I’m taking you on another adventure.”

***

  
Both of us were missing our caffeine fix, so Bradley took us to a quaint little
café around the corner from The Chelsea. It was a warm, sunny day in May – May
8
^th
, 1978 to be precise. A soft, silky breeze blew through the air,
and the trees were sprouting tight little green buds. The café had a patio with
round tables covered in red and white gingham tablecloths, fenced in by a
wrought-iron railing.

  
The chairs had heart-shaped backs, also done in wrought-iron, and Bradley
pulled mine out for me. The waitress immediately came over and took our orders.
When Bradley sat down across from me, the sun shone in his face, making his
green eyes heart-stoppingly brilliant. A lock of his wavy brown hair fell
across his forehead, and he quickly brushed it aside. He was wearing a beaten
up brown leather jacket, with seventies style wide lapels, emphasizing his
broad shoulders and his ridiculously muscular chest. Through his white t-shirt,
I could make out the ripples of his chiseled abs.  As my eyes roamed all over
him, I sighed in wonder and contentment. Could this gorgeous man really be
mine? I was finding it hard to believe.

  
“What’s wrong Mel?” he asked, searching my face.

  
“Nothing!” I said too brightly, giving him an overenthusiastic smile.

  
Bradley sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Are we back to this
again?” he asked, his tone stern.

  
I looked at him confused. “Back to what?” I asked.

  
He started rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Back to where you try to hide
from me, when you’re supposed to be opening up to me,” he said, giving me a no
nonsense level stare.

  
I averted my gaze and bit my lip, my mood suddenly darkening. Here we were, having
such a perfect day, and now my insecurities had to creep up and ruin things. I
finally took a deep breath and raised my eyes to meet his. “What is this to
you?” I asked, my voice full of anxiety and uncertainty. “I mean, what’s going
on here? Is this serious for you? ‘Cause before I get in too deep, before I
totally open myself up to you, I need to know where you’re at. If you want
this, as badly as I do.”

  
Bradley’s eyes filled with heat, and he reached across the table to cover my
hand with his. “I’m very serious about this, Melanie,” he said, his voice
strong and insistent.

  
I shook my head and pulled my hand away. “Serious about this, this adventure?
Or serious about me?” I asked, and I could feel my features crumple under the
weight of my insecurity.  “’Cause it’s not the same thing, Bradley. I mean,
this is great. A fabulous fantasy come true. And I’m enjoying every minute of
it. But I really don’t know where you stand.” I sighed and shrugged helplessly.
“I mean, you want to know everything about me. And I feel I’ve already given
you so much of me, but you’ve barely given me anything of you in return.”

  
He stared at me, his features darkening. “I’ve given you everything I can,
Melanie,” he said, sounding slightly shocked.

  
I shook my head forcefully. “No,” I said. “I mean, yes. Yes, you’ve made some
of my biggest fantasies a reality. You’ve been generous with your money and
your time. You’ve been so incredibly attentive. Reading me better than anyone
ever has, understanding my needs even better than I do myself.”

  
His eyes softened, and he reached again for my hand. “I’d do anything for you,
Melanie.”

  
I felt my expression become pained, and I let out a shuddering breath. “Then
give me something of you, Bradley. Not your attentiveness. Not your money.
Something about you. About your past. About
your
deepest desires.” I
felt tears well up in my eyes. Angry at myself for losing control, I picked up
a napkin and started dabbing violently at the corners of my eyes. Bradley
stilled my hand, grabbed the napkin, and gently, almost gingerly, wiped away
the remaining tears. Then he cupped my chin in his hand and tilted my face so
that our eyes met. For a moment his eyes looked pained and uncertain.

  
He sighed, released my chin, and slumped back in his chair. “It’s hard for me,
Mel. Sharing myself. Sharing my past.”

  
I looked at him desperately and said, “It’s not easy for me either, but you
keep pushing me to reveal more and more of myself all the time. I’m just asking
for a fair exchange.” Bradley looked vaguely into the distance, his expression
unreadable. “Look at me,” I said, my tone forceful. He slowly turned his head
until our eyes met. “I told you about my mother. How she took off. What a
train-wreck she was. How it affected me. Now I want to hear about you. Tell me
something about your childhood. Something. Anything.”

  
Bradley’s eyes became distant. He seemed to be deep in himself, considering
something. Then he opened his mouth as if to speak, but then closed it again.
He shook his head and sighed in frustration. “I don’t want to burden you with
my issues,” he said, his expression pained.

  
I reached for his hand, wrapping my fingers around it. “Hey,” I said softly,
searching for his eyes. “I’ve burdened you with mine.” Then something occurred
to me and I pulled back, narrowing my eyes at him. “Do you think I’m too weak?
Is that it? Too weak to lean on?”

  
He gave me a sharp look and his expression became stormy. “Melanie,” he said
hoarsely, “You’re one of the strongest women I know. Don’t you think I realize
how hard it is for you to trust people? And yet you trust me. And you keep
opening up to me.” He studied me for a moment. “Being able to make yourself
truly vulnerable to someone else is a sign of great strength,” he added,
looking at me with admiration.

  
I looked at him pleadingly, yet with determination. “Well, I know you’re a very
strong, powerful man. You’ve shown me that over and over. But I need to know
you trust me, too. Prove to me that you think I’m strong. Show me you can lean
on me.”

  
Right then the waitress arrived with our lattes. Realizing we were in the
middle of something, she quickly set them down on the table and disappeared.
Bradley brought his glass mug to his lips and took a long sip while studying
me. Then he sighed and leaned forward, his eyes becoming deadly serious, and
his mouth forming a grim line. “Okay, here goes,” he said, his face looking
both tortured and reflective. “My mom wasn’t exactly the most stable woman
either,” he began. “She’s an alcoholic,” he said matter-of-factly. “I mean,
she’s been sober for years now,” he said, his face cautiously optimistic, “but
she was a complete mess when I was a kid.”

  
I became deadly still, sensing where this was going. “She couldn’t look after you
properly,” I said softly, and he nodded.

  
“She was always out of it,” he said, a sense of betrayal creeping into his
voice. “And we weren’t wealthy. We couldn’t afford a nanny. I was making my own
snacks and tucking her in when she passed out by the time I was seven.”

  
Just sitting there listening to him, my heart started to ache for that little
boy. “Where was your dad during all of this?” I asked.

  
Bradley sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “He worked really long hours.
As an insurance salesman. He had a really strong work ethic,” Bradley said,
with pride in his voice. “Worked his way up from salesman to vice president of
the company.” Brad’s jaw tightened and his face became determined. “He told me
my mom’s illness was a blessing in disguise, because it taught me to be
self-sufficient early on.”

  
I looked at him steadily, doing my best to mask the anger I was feeling.
“Self-sufficient at seven?” I asked, my tone probing and cautious, “That’s
asking for a little too much, don’t you think?”

  
Bradley shook his head in disagreement. “It worked out well for me. Taught me
to take responsibility,” he said, his eyes going hard.

  
I reached again for his hand, stroking it. “But who did you have to lean on?” I
asked softly, my eyes searching his. “Everyone needs a shoulder to lean on
sometimes. Who was ever there for you?”

  
Bradley’s eyes became pained, and he turned his head away. When he looked back
at me again, his eyes were guarded and unreadable. “I learned to lean on
myself.”

  
“Because you couldn’t trust anyone else to hold you up,” I said, unable to hide
the anger in my voice this time. I squeezed his hand, and looked him steadily
in the eye. “You can trust me, Bradley,” I said evenly. “You can lean on me. I
won’t let you down.”

  
Bradley reached over and stroked my hair. “Telling you this was a big step for
me,” he said. “And I’m telling you now, Mel, leaning on people is not what I
do. I hold others up. I take control. It’s part of my makeup. I’ve been doing
it for too long to change.” His eyes scanned my face for a reaction. “Do you
think you can live with that?” he asked.

  
I sighed, and bit my lip. “For now,” I said. Then I considered, and added, “And
for as long as it takes. I’m not going anywhere.”

  
I could see relief wash over his face. He smiled at me and said, “Drink your
latte, Mel. It’s getting cold.”

  
I ran my finger along the edge of the glass. “We were in the middle of
something important,” I said.

  
He nodded, and said, “But we’re closing the subject. For now, yes?”

  
I nodded tentatively, and took a sip of my coffee.

  
“Good,” he said. “Then drink up. We have an arduous afternoon of shopping ahead
of us, and you’ll need as much of a caffeine boost as you can get.”

***

 “This
necklace is perfect for you,” Bradley said, picking up a plastic daisy choker
from the vendor’s display case. His face was deadpan, but there was a teasing
note to his voice. I raised my eyebrow at him, took the necklace from his hand,
and fastened it around my neck.

  
“Those are really popular,” the vendor chirped up. “Selling like hotcakes,” he
added.

  
I glanced at Bradley, and, angling myself so that the vendor couldn’t see my
face, I rolled my eyes.  Then, in a low voice, I said “I’m glad this flower
child thing didn’t make it past the eighties. How unbearably cheesy.”

  
Bradley grinned at me and stroked one of the plastic daisies with his finger.
“We’ll take it,” he said to the vendor. Then leaning in close, he whispered,
“Consider yourself collared,” with that mischievous look in his eye that I was
coming to love.