The Ballerina's Stand (17 page)

Beneath her, Jason was a big powerful man who was still protecting her, still reining in his strength and his need.

Though she couldn't see his features as clearly as she wanted, Lauren watched in fascination as Jason threw his head back. His hands settled on her hips, his grip hot on her skin as he lowered her until not even air came between them. His jaw clenched, the muscles of his neck and shoulders went taut as he held back.

But Lauren didn't want him to hold back. She didn't need him to protect her, not now, certainly not from him.

Impatient, yet knowing it was worth it, she waited until he opened his eyes. The frustration there answered hers. Holding his gaze, she moved. She had to.

Now—now he was hers. This was how she wanted him.

Closing her eyes, the burning pain of her eyes receded, and she let go of her restraint. Every thought left her brain as he moved with her. Harder. Deeper. Farther.

The heat built, setting her afire a second before she exploded in a flurry of white-hot stars. He joined her an instant later, melting what was left of her sanity.

Spent, Lauren collapsed onto his chest, his arms coming around her, holding tight. She hid her face against the side of his neck as much to hide her eyes as to recover from the wild woman she'd become.

How could she possibly feel self-conscious? But she did, her cheeks warming with a blush.

Jason's lips, gentle and warm on her forehead, brought tears to her eyes with the sweetness of his kiss. She clung to him, not wanting the moment to end. Ever.

He wouldn't understand that, and she couldn't tell him. Her brain didn't seem able to send the signal to her hand to sign anything coherent.

He turned, settling her on the sheets and leveraging up on an elbow. “Your eyes,” he said, misunderstanding her tears.

Reaching over her, Jason grabbed the medicine and slowly, as carefully as he'd ever touched her, he opened the tube and put the medicine in her eyes. Though the goo warped her vision, she couldn't look away. His hair, mussed from her touch, his injured lip, the line of his jaw...

Once he'd placed the first bandage, he paused. “You okay?” he asked, so close she could easily read his lips. At her nod, he kissed her, hot and sweet. She cupped his jaw with her hand, enjoying the rough feel of his skin.

Finally, he lifted the piece of gauze. She nodded and slowly lowered her eyelid, letting him know she was ready. She didn't want to stop looking at him, but the medicine and darkness helped ease the nagging pain in her eyes.

The darkness didn't seem as bad this time, especially when Jason settled back against the pillows and dragged her into his arms. He guided her head to rest on his shoulder, fitting her perfectly to him.

Moving her hand to the center of his chest, she felt his heart hammering beneath her touch. “This,” she made the sign. “Feels,” her middle finger slid down his breastbone in the next sign. “
R
-
i
-
g
-
h
-
t
.” She couldn't see him, and feared reaching up to feel his lips in case she hurt him, but she hoped—really hoped—he smiled.

* * *

D
EAR
G
OD
,
HOW
could the woman in his arms destroy and save him in the same instant? Jason held Lauren. And as she fell asleep in his arms, he let her, resisting the urge to have her again.

Adrenaline hummed hard in his blood, his heart beat harsh against his ribs. He wanted her again. He'd never been like this with anyone else before.

Something inside him had changed since meeting this woman.

He'd moved away from his family for a reason. Away from, he'd hoped, that strong need to take care of them, and a fear of failing. He wasn't the oldest who'd learned to take care of things early, like Wyatt. He didn't have DJ's military training. He didn't even have his sisters' ability to cook.

That fear of failing multiplied with Lauren. He had to admit to himself that her deafness played a factor in his fear.

She was the most independent person he'd ever met. She didn't need him.

But right now, she did need him and that felt good. Damn good.

But who was he kidding? Once Lauren was on her feet again, and healed, she had one hell of a life to return to. A life of success and performances around the world.

A life that until recently had nothing to do with him.

The silence suddenly felt heavy around him. As one of six kids growing up, there was no such thing as quiet, much less silence in the house. And while he didn't mind quiet, there was something different about this. For the first time, he heard the emptiness.

Lauren's independence and resiliency were traits he admired about her. And he wouldn't change that, not one bit.
He
had to learn to deal with it.

Because she made him want all the things he'd thought he didn't. Home. Family. Ties.

He looked down at Lauren. Slowly, softly, so he wouldn't wake her, he stroked the curls of her hair that tangled around her shoulders. While it was faint, the rasp when he rubbed the strands together was there. His ears sought out the sound—any sound.

Her soft breath. In. Out. Just a whisper. In the distance, the clock in the front room ticked, and the electricity to the appliances farther away in the kitchen, kicked on. Otherwise—nothing.

There was no conversation. Holding on to each other like this, even if her arm hadn't been in a cast, would have made conversation in sign impossible.

Could he be content with that? Could he adjust to the eternal silence—interrupted by the ear-shattering sound of music from time to time?

Would texting be the only true way to communicate complete ideas? Lifting his free hand, the one not wrapped around her, he stared at it.

Sign language was the hardest thing he'd ever tried to learn. It wasn't just about learning how to move his fingers, it was a whole different way of thinking. It wasn't an exact translation of English—it was more a way of getting concepts, intentions and meanings across. It was the purest of communication.

And yet, that simplicity was what stumped him. He loved the finesse of word usage. Enjoyed writing arguments to persuade or dissuade a person or jury. He relished debate. All those things were possible, but so much more difficult in sign.

Jason forced himself to slow his racing thoughts. Those things wouldn't go away. His job met most of those requirements. But they weren't things he could ever fully share with Lauren. Not in the same way. Was he okay with that?

She moved then, slipping away in her sleep to curl into the pillow rather than him. The empty air felt cool against his skin. Jason didn't pull her back to him, though he ached to do so. Maybe this was good. Maybe it was what he needed to clear his head, but right now, a clear head wouldn't help his heart.

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

F
INALLY
,
THE
NEXT
MORNING
, the doctor removed Lauren's bandages. Except for the letter-filled square of light on the wall, which made her eyes hurt just glancing at it, the examination room was dark. Jason sat in a nearby chair. She kept her gaze down, surreptitiously watching his shadow out of the corner of her eye.

Even barely able to see him, she was aware of Jason. Of how his broad shoulders dwarfed the chair. Of the subtle scent of his aftershave.

The doctor brought her abruptly back to the present when he put a big black contraption with dials and lenses in front of her. She recognized the device from eye appointments in the past. He tapped a little cup where she knew she was to rest her chin. She leaned forward to do so.

She waited for what was coming. Light. She'd had this done before. But this time it would hurt. A lot.

The older man leaned around the frame and carefully touched her shoulder. She pulled back to look at him. He glanced over his shoulder at Jason, then awkwardly mimicked the sign for “Ready?” that Jason made.

She took a deep breath and nodded, resettling her chin. The beam of light seemed to cut clear through her skull, but she didn't pull away. Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes in protest.

He worked quickly, for which she was thankful. Finally, he turned off the painful light and moved the instrument back against the wall.

Jason stood, coming closer. She looked up, seeing him more clearly, his presence reassuring. The frown on his face, not so much. The doctor talked too quickly for her to read his unfamiliar lips. She only caught a word here and there. Jason listened, nodding occasionally. Once the doctor finished, Jason faced her, his form shadowed still, but he was signing slowly enough that even in the dim light she could read it.

“No apparent permanent damage.” Every ounce of air whooshed from her lungs in relief. She had to gather her strength to focus. Jason's hands were still moving. “Still wait. Wear the
b
-
a
-
n
-
d
-
a
-
g
-
e
-
s
another two days. Keep putting in
m
-
e
-
d
-
i
-
c
-
i
-
n
-
e
.”

Two more days? After these past two of essentially being trapped inside her own head, she was hungry to see.

Lauren's disappointment at having to wear the bandages longer threatened to eat away at her relief. “All the time?” she asked, and Jason translated for the doctor.

The doctor shook his head. He reached into a drawer and pulled out a form to hand to her. She tilted it toward the light. A schedule. Two hours on, an hour off, to start, extending the time off with each switch, leaving the bandages on all night for the next week, just to give her eyes a total rest.

But soon. Very soon she would be able to see all day. Her eyes watered, partially from the misuse, and partially from the joy of the confirmation she wouldn't lose her sight.

Lauren looked over at Jason. His smile showed even in the dim light. She couldn't look away. Couldn't stop her eyes from drinking in the images she'd feared she'd lost forever, at the face she'd kept trying to envision clearly in her mind, and never quite got right.

Except when she'd taken off the bandages last night... Maybe two days wouldn't be so bad. She hoped neither man saw the blush that warmed her cheeks.

* * *

O
NCE
THEY
WERE
situated in his car again, Jason took Lauren's hand and put it on the radio dial. Did she want the music? He didn't know how else to ask her with the bandages back in place.

She shook her head. Then pointed at her forehead and put her hands together in the double
g
for pain. “Head hurts.”

He made the “okay” sign against her palm then started the car.

After a block, she reached out, her hand moving in the air, missing his arm by only a couple of inches. He stopped at the light before taking her hand in his. She nodded and pulled her hand back to sign. “My studio. I want to see it.”

Jason just stared at her. The car behind him honked. After the jerk spread a layer of rubber on the pavement to go around them, Jason hastily pulled over to the curb.

He'd known this was coming, known she'd eventually ask. And she'd been sneaky. She'd asked in the car instead of at the apartment where he could more easily dissuade her. She sat there patiently, waiting for him to respond.

If the silence hadn't already weighed a ton, it would have knocked him over.

Jason reached out and put a hand on her knee. She turned to face him. Lord, he wished he could see her eyes, read her thoughts. He picked up her hand and, with his fist, made the nodding motion against her palm.

With a growing sense of dread, Jason pulled away from the curb. This was not what he'd intended. He couldn't guarantee he could keep her safe. He didn't know what was left of the place. If anything.

That same dread kept him from even meeting the minimum speed limit. The twist of her lips told him that she knew he was dragging his feet. She didn't say anything. But her body language silently called him on it.

Finally, Jason turned onto the street where just a few nights ago, the studio had glowed in the dark night. He shuddered as the memories flooded his brain.

In the harsh afternoon light, no one could miss the blackened shell of the old theater. Or the wide yellow strips of caution tape wrapped around the south end of the building.

As they drew closer, he saw the rest more clearly. Even after seeing it afire the other night, he was shocked by the damage. It was heavy on the one side, but thankfully not as much on the other.

Parking across the street, Jason killed the engine. He sat, staring at the building. Someone had boarded up the front entry. Thankfully the right portion of the lobby actually looked intact. He knew there'd be smoke damage, but it looked salvageable.

The doctor had said Lauren could take the bandages off an hour at a time. But they both knew she wasn't ready to deal with full sunlight. How would they do this?

She couldn't seem to sit still. Her breath was loud in the closed space of the car. She unfastened the seat belt and curled her hand around the door's handle. She paused, and he knew it wasn't fair to make her wait any longer.

Slowly, he explained that he'd come around and get her, then lead her inside where he'd help her take off the bandages. He rummaged in his glove box to find a pair of sunglasses that he hoped would help if it was still too bright.

It took several minutes, and numerous tries at spelling and sign, but finally she nodded.

* * *

“Y
OU
FOLKS
GOT
business here?” A man's deep voice came out of the cavernous blackness that had been the practice studio. Every muscle in Jason's body went on alert. He stepped closer to Lauren, gently putting his hand on her elbow as a tall man came in through the wall next to what used to be the front door. The same way they'd come in.

Lauren looked around, her uncovered eyes wide with shock and pain. She didn't need anything more to deal with right now.

“We might ask you the same.” Jason faced the man as he stepped out of the shadows. “This is private property, and this is the owner.”

The man actually grinned. He reached into his pocket and whipped out a badge. “I'm Detective Mark Capetti. I'm the fire investigator on this case. They said you were injured.” He met Lauren's stare. Jason could tell she was trying to focus, without much success, on the man's lips.

“She's deaf.” Jason signed what he could so Lauren could use both lips and hands to put the message together. “Normally, she reads lips well, but her vision's still diminished. We have to stay in the shadows as much as possible.”

The man nodded. “I'd heard that. Sorry you were hurt, ma'am.” He talked more slowly, thankfully not louder as so many people did. “I'd really like to ask you some questions. I've been waiting until you were better.” Jason translated, much more slowly, and Lauren worked to focus on both men's lips and Jason's hands.

Lauren nodded. The man grinned again. Jason wondered how long he'd been on the job. Though he looked well into his thirties, he had a strong determination. And a friendly attitude. Jason wasn't sure why he'd expected something else.

“It may be slow,” Jason cautioned. “She doesn't speak and I'm only slightly proficient in sign. You don't happen to know sign language, do you?”

The investigator shook his head. “Sorry. But you can help?”

“I'll try.”

The man pulled his cell phone out and tapped it several times. He soon brought up a bright white screen. Jason hoped the man didn't plan to text with Lauren. She couldn't yet focus on a too-bright phone screen. Then he realized what he was doing. He guessed investigators didn't use those little wire-bound notebooks any more?

“Ready?” Jason asked Lauren, and she nodded.

“I know they asked for a statement. Has she been able to give that?”

Jason shook his head. “Ask
her
the questions directly. I'll explain if there's something she doesn't understand. She's good at reading lips, so moving closer and facing her when you talk should help.”

The man's ears turned a bright pink, but otherwise, he didn't react to Jason's soft reprimand. The investigator nodded, then moved closer to Lauren and repeated his question. She shook her head in answer.

“Okay then. You'll still have to do that later. We were able to talk to the boy.”

“
D
-
y
-
l
-
a
-
n
?” Lauren asked and Jason repeated.

“Yeah. But I haven't read it yet. I'll ask what questions I need for now. I may need to get back in touch.” At her nod, he continued. “Do you have any idea how the fire started?”

Lauren worked to watch the man's lips, then slowly shook her head, looking away, as if she couldn't resist staring at the blackened walls.

“You were here the night of the fire?” Capetti asked Jason.

He nodded. “I got here after it started. A man pushed past me as I went inside.” He met the officer's gaze. “I'd have gone after him, but I had to get Lauren out.”

“Would you recognize him?”

Jason thought about that a moment. “Maybe.”

“What'd he look like?” The detective pinned Jason with an intense stare.

Jason frowned, trying to bring back the memory. “Not as tall as me. Five-ten maybe?”

Capetti tapped on the phone screen, making notes. “Hair?”

“Dark. Kinda long. Scruffy.”

Capetti stared at the screen for an instant. “You think he was homeless or a derelict?”

Jason had to think about that. “No.” He shook his head. “I didn't get that impression.” Then another thought occurred to him. Should he bring up his suspicions about the flowers Lauren had received the other night? With a sigh, he tapped her arm and spelled, “
F
-
l
-
o
-
w
-
e
-
r
-
s
?” She stared at him, a frown deep on her brow. Then he saw the realization dawn.

“My phone had a picture.” She pointed at the blackened space where the office had been. “It was there. In my purse.”

Jason pulled his new phone out and scrolled through his recovered texts and found the photo she'd sent him. He aimed the screen at her. She vigorously nodded and showed the investigator. He frowned and looked at Jason as she signed.

“Did you ever figure out who sent them?” Jason asked, repeating slowly with his hands. She shook her head.

“A couple of nights before the fire, someone—she didn't know who—sent those flowers.”

The man took the phone, trying to make the picture bigger. He looked at Lauren. “Can you send me that?”

She nodded and handed the phone back to Jason. “Send to him?” she signed.

Jason nodded, and Capetti handed him a business card with his email and phone number on it. The soft ding of the message seemed loud in the empty building.

Lauren's hands were moving. “They should still be at my town house,” she told him.

Mark frowned. “Where are you staying?” He looked at Jason, and Jason ignored the speculative gleam in his eye. “Not at home?”

Lauren shook her head. She lifted the bandages she held in the fingers of her casted hand. “I only have an hour break from this.” Jason repeated her words, not elaborating. It was a challenge. This was her conversation. Her words. “I need his help.” She pointed at Jason and looked up at him. “Can you explain?”

She gave him permission to elaborate and not just interpret. He took his time explaining her injuries and the limitations of her eyes. Mark tapped notes onto his phone's screen. He nodded occasionally.

Jason watched as Lauren wandered around. He was impressed with her strength—and her sneakiness. While he was busy explaining, she took the opportunity to explore while the officer was distracted. She was careful, staying where the floor was solid, though he still worried water damage could have weakened the wood.

“Be careful there, ma'am,” Capetti spoke, then shook his head as he realized she couldn't hear him.

“Don't worry. We all do that.” Jason smiled, feeling a sudden kinship.

“How long has she been deaf?” Mark asked.

“All her life.”

“But I thought she was a dancer.”

“Yep. World famous.” Jason wondered if Lauren ever got a kick out of confusing people. Somehow, he thought so. Pride made him smile.