Now & Forever 3 - Blind love (24 page)

The ride home was bittersweet. The weekend could not have
been more perfect.

“Buying that cottage was the smartest thing my parents ever
did,” Peter said.

“Giving birth to you was the smartest thing they ever did.”
Lara smiled as she watched the scenery breeze by the window.

Peter squeezed her hand briefly. He wasn’t looking forward to
getting back to the real world where he had papers to grade, a house to share
with his dad, Fran to contend with and Lara returning to her room next door.
Peter enjoyed having her around all the time yet he wasn’t ready to make a
commitment.

Sunday night, Peter carried Lara’s small suitcase up to her
door. Fran was waiting inside.

“Well, it’s about time you two got home from
your…your…illicit weekend. You have company, Lara,” Fran said and stepped away
from the door, revealing Andres Volinsky standing behind her.

Lara gasped.

“Andres! What are you doing here?”

“You aunt told me you regained your sight and might be
interested in coming back to the ballet. So I came here to try to…convince you.
Madame Fouret wants to see you dance.”

“Lara, who is this?” Peter asked.

“This is Andres Volinsky, my former dance partner…”

“And lover,” Andres added.

“Andres!” Lara said, blushing.

“Former lover…but you never know,” he said.

Peter’s face got red. “Lara is with me now.” His jaw tightened.

“We’ll see for how long.” Andres shot Peter a disdainful
look.

“I’ve invited Andres to stay for a few weeks to get you into
shape, so you can go back to dancing and return to New York City…where you
belong, Lara.”

Lara stood by silently.

“Lara, why don’t you stay with me? Then Andres can stay in
your room,” Peter offered.

“Good idea.” She turned furious eyes on Fran. “Andres, I’ll
talk to you tomorrow.”

“You could at least thank me for arranging this,” Fran said.

“For arranging to get me out of Uncle Jim’s house faster?
You’ve interfered with my life, butted in without my consent or desire.
Thanks…for nothing,” Lara retorted.

Peter was standing at the door, waiting. “Are you going back
to dancing in New York?”

“I don’t know. I’m pretty old to go back.”

“What about your idea of teaching dance? You could teach
right here. Who is this Andres guy? Are going to sleep with him again?” Peter
fired questions at her.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. Andres became my
partner after Keith died…and no, I have no intention of sleeping with him. I
love you, remember?”

“How was your weekend?” Sam asked them as they walked in the
door.

“Sam!” Lara said, rushing over to him.

She gave him a big hug, then stood back and looked at him.

“It’s so great to finally see your face. You’re even more
handsome than I thought you’d be.”

“Thank you, Lara.” Color tinted Sam’s cheeks.

“The weekend was fantastic.” Peter put his arm around Lara.

“So romantic…” she sighed.

Sam smiled.

“Lara I’ve put your suitcase in the bedroom, I’ve got to talk
to Dad for a few moments.” Peter took his father’s arm and ushered him into the
kitchen.

“What’s up, Pete?” Sam sat down at the kitchen table.

“Can Lara stay here for a few days?”

“With you?”

“Yes.” Peter put the flame under the kettle for tea.

“Sure.”

“Fran invited Lara’s old dance partner to train her to go
back to the ballet. I want to ask her to come back to South Africa with me in
May but I don’t know where she stands with this guy.”

“Back to South Africa…as your wife?” Sam raised his eyebrows
and smiled.

“I’m not ready for that yet…” Peter said, moving to the
cabinet.

“You want her to come with you without marriage? I don’t
think that’s a good idea. It’s risky for her…I doubt she’ll say yes.” Sam shook
his head.

“How risky is it? I love her, I’m not going to desert her in
a strange country.”

“Then marry her, Peter.”

“Marriage? I…” he opened the cabinet door and took out
several mugs.

“I almost lost your mother that way.”

“What way?” Peter turned, giving his father his full attention.

“By not proposing soon enough. Not marrying her when I should
have.”

“What happened?” Peter sat down at the table.

“We were at college together, but you know all that. Anyway,
she went off to graduate school in New York City while I went to graduate
school at Austen Mansfield in Florida. Your mother was the most beautiful woman
in New York and she was dating every rich, handsome, accomplished guy there. I
was in agony.”

“What did you do?”

“I got the hell out of Florida! I hated to leave but I was
terrified of losing your mother. I transferred to Columbia University for my
second master’s year and proposed to Ellen the day I got the acceptance letter.
Had to do it over the phone.” Sam chuckled at the memory.

“And?” Peter prodded, resting his chin in his hand.

“I married your mother right after our first year ended. I
was lucky to snatch her up before someone else did. Of course, after we
finished in New York, we moved back to Austen Mansfield. I got my doctorate
there and she taught piano. Mac was born there.”

“So you think I might lose Lara by not proposing now?”

“You could, Pete. I was lucky. You may not be.”

Sam reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small box.

“I’ve been meaning to give you this. Now seems like the right
time.” Sam handed his son the box.

Peter opened it to reveal a stunning diamond ring with two
emeralds on either side. He shot his father a quizzical look.

“It’s the engagement ring I gave your mother. I’ve been
saving it. Mac got engaged too quickly. When I decided to give them the lake
house, I saved this for you. I don’t know if you need it now, but in case you
do…If not now, then whenever you’ve found the right girl.”

Peter’s eyes were bright with unshed tears, as he remembered
his mother wearing it. He didn’t want to make a marriage commitment yet,
especially with Andres on the scene. Peter needed to be completely sure Lara
loved him, was committed to him before he’d propose. Still he was honored to
have the ring.

“It’s beautiful, Dad. Thanks.” Peter put the ring in his
pocket and gave his father a brief hug. He went into his room and smiled to see
Lara unpacking.

* * * *

“I’m going to clear some space for you, honeybee,” he said,
emptying a few drawers. He stepped out of the way and watched her move in. He
liked the idea. He liked it a lot.

“Now I’ll be with you every day…and sleep with you every
night,” Peter said.

“Bear, you have a one track mind!”

“I know. I hope you’re on the same track. My job here is over
in May and I have to go back to South Africa. Will you come with me?”

Lara stopped and looked at him.

“Leave the country? What would I do there?”

“Live with me.” He stretched out on the bed, lacing his
fingers behind his head.

“It’s almost eight months away. Let’s see how we feel when it
gets closer.” She resumed unpacking.

“I’ll contact the university and see if you can teach dance
there. We need to apply for your visa, so we can’t wait until the last minute.”
He sat up.

Peter tried to hide his disappointment at not getting an
enthusiastic response. Lara seemed reluctant and his father’s words echoed in
his head.

“Please give me some time. I need to sort out my life.” She
folded lingerie and placed it in the empty drawer.

“Will there be a place for me in your life?” he asked,
suddenly unsure of himself.

“Of course! You’re my bear, aren’t you?”

“This bear wants some honey.” He pulled her onto the bed next
to him and kissed her with passion.

Chapter Fifteen

Peter stopped practicing piano and moved his chair to the
window to watch Andres and Lara dancing across the way. Lara was practicing her
turns with Andres holding her waist and spinning her. Peter felt a bolt of
jealousy shoot through him as he watched her turn again and again while Andres’
hands moved on her ribcage, balancing her.

Lara’s forehead was damp with sweat. She stopped and Andres
moved his hands up over her breasts. Lara pushed his hands back down to her
waist. He leaned over and kissed her neck while his hands crept up again. She
pushed them down again. Peter was ready to jump through the window and punch
him in the jaw when she wiggled free of Andres’ grasp and reached for a small
towel.

“I told you not to do that, Andres. We’re not a couple
anymore. I’m with Peter and you shouldn’t touch me.”

“Tell me you don’t like it when I do that,
chérie
? You used to love it. You used to
love it when I put my hands…” He took a step toward her.

“But I don’t anymore. If you want to dance with me, Andres,
you’ll have to keep your hands professional…get it?” Lara held out her hand,
palm up, to stop his advancing.

“But we dance so much better together when we are lovers,
chérie
.”

“Andres! Back off. Dancing…only.” She mopped her face with
the towel.

Peter was still steaming, but Lara was handling it.

“Okay, okay. But if you change your mind…or need a massage,
let me know. I still like you,
chérie
.
We were good together.”

“I love Peter and won’t be needing any massages from you,
okay?”

“Another hour, eh,
chérie
?”

“One more hour, then that’s it for today.”

“Soon you will be good enough to perform for Madame Fouret
and it will be because I came here to train you. There are lots of ways you can
repay me, Lara…”

“Back off. There are lots of women in the ballet. Find
someone else.” She stretched her legs and got into position.

“Ah, yes, there are lots of women there…but none
so…so…responsive…so sexy,
chérie
. I
remember…”

“Forget it. Now let’s do this step again,” she said, focusing
on the dance.

Peter was boiling over. How dare Andres talk about her like
that? He wanted to punch him. Lara was his now, even if he hadn’t proposed to
her yet. He tried to flush from his mind the idea that she had been “sexy” with
Andres. He made up his mind to wait until Andres put so much as a finger in the
wrong place on Lara again, then he would punch him out.

Peter tried to concentrate on his piano but gave up as the
ballet across the way was too distracting. He set up papers to grade on the
table facing the window but couldn’t focus. Keeping an eye on Andres became
watching Lara dance. Her grace and determination held his attention.

The constant repetition showed her progress to be
painstakingly slow. She was rusty.

At five thirty, Lara returned to Peter’s house. Peter was in
the living room, marking papers. Lara kissed him, then headed for the shower.
Afterward, she came out in a robe with a towel on her head and plopped down on
the sofa.

“Andres is a slave driver.” She rubbed her head with the
towel.

“It looked more like he was trying to drive you into bed.”

“Oh, did you see all that?” She blushed.

He nodded.

“You weren’t spying or anything, because maybe you’re worried
or jealous?”

“Right.” Peter penned a B+ on a paper and turned it face
down, focusing on the next one.

“Peter, are you going to watch all our rehearsals?”

“Only the ones where Andres is feeling you up.”

“Come on, I stopped him before he did anything.” She
unwrapped the towel.

“Not from where I was standing. He had his hands on you.”
Peter put down his pen.

“For a few seconds. Calm down. I can handle him.”

“I hope you can, before he handles you.”

“You need to get over this. Andres and I will be working
together for a few more weeks and you’re going to drive yourself crazy worrying
about him touching me. He’s not going to do anything.” She rubbed her hair
briskly with the towel.

Peter joined her on the sofa. “What will you do when your
training is done?” He pulled her closer.

“I’ll probably try out for Madame Fouret, but I won’t get
chosen.”

“Why not? You’re a great dancer.” He massaged her shoulders.

“I’m not a great dancer anymore. Three years is a long time
to be away from the dance, bear.” She pulled his hand to her lips for a kiss
then turned to face him.

“What if she does choose you?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Then I’ll return to New York and dance, I suppose,” she
tossed off, running her hand up his chest.

“What about us?” Peter grabbed her wrist and stilled her
hand.

“It will only be for one season. I’ll come back when the
season is over.”

“When will that be?” He continued to keep her hand immobile.

“In June.” Lara shot him a quizzical glance.

“By June, I’ll be gone.” He let her hand drop.

“I forgot you’re going back,” she said, her brows creasing.

“What happened to teaching dance instead?”

“I’d like to…but if you get picked by Madame Fouret…well it’s
a great honor. I won’t though, so don’t worry. I’m too old.” She retrieved a
hairbrush from the pocket of her robe and began to brush her damp hair.

“Too old at twenty-eight?”

“Most dancers are nineteen or twenty. I’m not in my physical
prime anymore.”

“You are for me,” Peter snickered.

“Peter!”

“Besides, it’s dangerous for you to go back to New York. The
guy who attacked you may still be there. He’ll recognize you but you won’t
recognize him. He could kill you, honeybee,” Peter said, his arms closing
protectively around her.