Nights in White Satin

Blurb

Celine Valentini and Peter Cortland found the promise of love seven years ago. But an accident almost claiming Celine's life ripped away any future with Peter. Circumstances bring them together again. Can inner fears be overcome, or will unresolved jealousies in Celine's past succeed in causing her destruction.

Excerpt

The door opened and he stood before her still cloaked in the garb of Pele. "I think you owe me that explanation." She waited expectantly for him to invite her inside.

After a moment's hesitation, he stepped back, allowing her to enter. "How did you get here?"

"Grandfather let me borrow his car and told me where to find you." She stopped in the middle of the living room and rounded on him. "I saw you at the hospital. Why didn't you ever tell me you had a child?" There was a catch of hurt in her voice that she was unable to suppress and she turned away again. Why hadn't he ever told her such an important thing as that?

"Celine, I'm sorry if I've hurt you yet again. I should have told you." She felt his hands at her shoulders. She shrugged them off and moved away from him. Turning back, she raised her chin and faced him from across the room. "How much more have you hidden from me, Peter? Do you also have a wife tucked away somewhere?" She wanted to stay calm, but the longer she thought about it, the more agitated she became.

"Let me get this makeup off and change, then we can talk."

"Fine. I won't be put off this time."

"I know that. I planned to tell you. Would you like something to drink while you wait?"

"No."

Turning, he walked with a stiff gait towards another doorway, probably his bedroom, without saying anything else.

Celine turned back to survey the room around her. The walls were light beige, the furniture looked comfortable in varying shades of dark green. She noticed several framed photographs on a small side table and walked over to study them more closely. There was one of a much younger Peter holding a toddler in his arms. They were both smiling into the lens of the camera. Celine surmised it was a photograph of his daughter. A wave of unexpected jealous pain arrowed through her at the knowledge it had probably been his wife who took the picture. She carefully set the photo back down on the oak table and turned away.

An urgent need washed over her to touch Peter. Pivoting away from the table, she walked to the doorway she'd seen him pass through. He sat before a dressing table staring at his reflection.

"Peter."

She saw his shoulders stiffen at the sound of her voice. He reached to pick up a towel and a jar of cleansing cream. He looked away from her reflected image.

"I'll be out in a minute."

Taking her courage in hand, she stepped farther into the room and walked to him. She knelt before him and looked up into his face. How did she begin to tell him what was in her heart? She bit at her lower lip.

"Peter, I--"

"Don't," he stopped her with a shake of his head, the look in his eyes solemn. "I don't want your pity, Celine."

"It's not pity I'm offering." She took the towel from his hand and began to clean the white makeup from his face, stopping at the painted black teardrop. For the first time she thought she understood all that it represented in his life. She stared at it for a long time, feeling the black void it represented, the suffering and loss inside him. Leaning up she pressed her lips to its center. Closing her eyes, she opened her heart, tasted the terrible pain and loneliness that was encompassed by that lonely, sad symbol.

He stilled beneath her touch. She placed a hand against the front of his white satin shirt, felt the erratic beating of his heart. "I've missed you so much," she whispered against his skin, the scent of greasepaints and man teasing her senses. Peter's arms wrapped around her and he lifted her, settling her on his lap. "God, Celine, you're more temptation than a man can stand," and he tilted his head to capture her lips.