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"Josh has a muscle that knots in his shoulder when he gets nervous. It's quite painful. Will you tell him to sit down and have you work it out for him?"
"I am not nervous, I'm pissed off," Josh seized his wine glass up, but Lauren saw him flinch as the movement jarred his shoulder. She shook her head. She was being silly. They were all being silly.
"Come here," she leaned forward, taking the wine glass and placing it on the coffee table. "Come. Sit. "
She took his long fingered, unsteady hand in hers and tugged. "Sit down on the ottoman next to my foot.
I'll work it out and then we'll eat. "
"You don't need to do that," he grumbled, but when she tugged harder, he sat, presenting her with his back.
Lauren felt over the line of his shoulder and found the knot without difficulty. She had taken a couple credits in alternative healing, and had enjoyed exploring the more tactile healing practices, such as massage. She began to work it with gentle pressure, imagining it loosening and easing out, and let the work of her fingers be guided by that image.
Marcus sat down on the carpet so he could stretch his legs out under the coffee table and prop his back against the sofa. He was shuffling a deck of cards, and, as Lauren watched, he spread them out on the glass-topped table in a circular fan around the candles grouped in the center, which were wafting light vanilla fragrance through the room. Celtic harpstrings played their magic on the CD player, the notes combining with the effect of the candles to create a magical atmosphere, capable through the ages of lowering a woman's defenses.
Josh's back had been tattooed as well, but at the moment her attention was drawn to the unmarked area, the skin brown and stretched smoothly over muscle and bone. He was lean, the sign of someone whose body had been sculpted by labor, not a gym. She could well imagine what it would be like to knead and stroke not just that shoulder, but the ridges of the spine, the curve of the lower back, and rest her palms on his waist.
His skin felt warm beneath her touch and she recalled the slight sweatiness of his palm. Nervous, Marcus had said. Did girls make Josh nervous? A smile curved her lips at the thought. He hadn't seemed nervous in the tree. Maybe he only got nervous when he wasn't holding the cards, so to speak.
Like Jonathan? The unexpected thought erased her smile. No, she decided. Not like Jonathan. In a way, though he had submitted to her, he had held the cards all along. She had wanted love, and he had used her belief in that to almost destroy her. It was only when she realized love was not what drove him, and, more importantly, that she could not change that, that she had been able to break free. Of him, at least.
The memories he had inflicted upon her were like a Bible imprinted on her soul that she kept searching to find an interpretation that would make sense to her. Well, at the moment, she wasn't in church.
"Do you like cards, Lauren?" Marcus asked. She felt Josh stiffen beneath her touch, but did not break her rhythm, soothing his shoulders down again.
"You should say no," Josh warned.
She had her own demons to fight, far larger and more wicked than any mischief Marcus could devise.
She gave Josh a reassuring squeeze and cocked a curious brow at Marcus.
He laced his fingers on the table top, and fixed his gaze on them both. There was no trace of mischief left now, just a meditative thoughtfulness. As the silence drew out, it seemed to draw Lauren in, surround her along with the haunting percussion music in the dreamlike candlelit atmosphere. She could hear the soft roar of the distant beach, filtering through the cracked sliding glass door.
Oh, yes, Marcus had set a stage. She recognized it, but she enjoyed a man who would expend some effort arranging a seduction scene. For there was no doubt about it, Marcus intended to seduce. But seduce them into what?
So often, with Jonathan, she had been uncomfortable, stressed by the constant struggle to figure him out.
Here she was warm, enjoying the feel of a man beneath her fingertips, the sense of mysterious anticipation emanating off of Marcus, and the magical quality of her surroundings, a secluded home on a private island, two beautiful men in attendance. . .
Marcus was waiting, and she realized her inviting expression was not enough. While he would press limits with what Josh desired, he wanted her permission to continue on his course, and he wanted it verbalized.
"I like cards," she said.
Marcus smiled then, an easy, open gesture. "I thought you might. " He settled his hands on either side of the cards, and his gaze shifted to Josh, though he spoke to them both.
"What would it be like, do you think, to pretend we were. . . no, not pretend. " He tapped a pensive finger on the table. "What if we let down our defenses, all those social walls we create to fence in acceptable behavior and fence out anything else, and found the children in ourselves again? That sense of wondrous, unselfconscious adventure, when games were fun and yet utterly serious, the fate of the universe hanging on our shoulders until Mother called us home to dinner. "
He had her undivided attention. She knew he had Josh's as well, though Josh was keeping his attention on the window, his hostile eyes focused on glass instead of his friend. "That time when we openly embraced our need for someone to love us, care about us, believe that we were essentially good people, worthy of being loved," Marcus said. "The time of our lives where, if we were privileged enough, we were equally capable of spending a day as heroes or watching butterflies. Think how it would be if we could do it, in our very adult bodies, recapture that which we did not appreciate then. The savoring of quiet moments that first time you did anything, that intense joy and faith in life, in who you are and what you could be to others. Think what it could mean to everything else in your life. You can recreate that in a
place like this. "
Marcus leaned forward, eyed Lauren as if he were a god about to impart one of the deeper mysteries of the universe. "A game, as you well know, can be a serious thing with a serious intent. "
Her brow furrowed, her mind considering the layers of meaning, but he wasn't done spinning out all the fabric to it.
"When you were young, nobody played the game if they didn't want to play. And when you played, you trusted your playmates because they were, after all, your comrades-in-arms, those who would help you save your universe. So," he shifted, leaning back against the sectional sofa and stretching out his well-defined arms on either side of him. His dark hair brushed his bare shoulders and his jewel green eyes met Lauren's. "Would you care to play High Card Wins?"
Josh rose, moving away from Lauren's touch, and taking his wine glass with him. "I can't believe you're pulling this shit," he muttered, draining it in two angry gulps.
