Free Dance of Desire (1001 Dark Nights) by Christopher Rice

bumps. And the only office parties I’ve been to are yours.”
    “That’s not an answer, honey.”
    “Belinda, I do not sniff cocaine!”
    “Alright, there’s my answer. No one calls it sniffing cocaine.”
    “I thought you came over to talk about The Desire Exchange.”
    “I did, and to erase all evidence that Joel Claire ever set foot in this house.”
    “And I appreciate that, but why are you asking me about my drug history?”
    “I just need to know if you have any allergies.”
    “To cocaine?”
    “They’re just gonna give you a little something to relax you while you’re there.”
    “Belinda, I do not do drugs!”
    “Oh, come on. You never smoked a joint?”
    “Not one I liked. No.”
    “Well, as long as you keep an open mind, I guess.”
    “Why would I need to keep an open mind if they’re gonna drug me?”
    “You’ll have to have an open mind to take the drug, sweetie.”
    “I have a headache,” Amber groans.
    “Want a Percocet?”
    “No. I’ve had too much to drink today, thank you.”
    Amber can’t remember the last time she’s heard tires squealing on her quiet residential street. But that’s exactly what she hears now. Tires squealing.
    “So has someone else apparently,” Belinda mutters.
    Headlights swing across the front windows of her house, headlights belonging to a large pickup truck which pulls into her driveway so fast, the front bumper knocks over one of her trash cans.
    “Is that him?” Belinda asks. “Is that Joel? If it is, get my purse.”
    “Why?”
    “’Cause my gun’s in it.”
     The shadow that strides past the front windows is over six feet tall. But it’s missing its familiar cowboy hat.
    “It’s not Joel,” Amber says quietly.
    “Who is it?” Belinda calls after her as she heads for the front door.
    She opens it. Caleb lowers his hand. It’s curled into a tight fist and he had the side of it aimed at the door, not his knuckles. A polite knock wasn’t his plan. His sandy blond hair is mussed. His broad chest is heaving with big, fearful breaths. If she hadn’t just witnessed his hijinks with the truck, she would have assumed he ran clear across Dallas to get to her house.
    Gone is the confident guy who struck down Joel that afternoon. He’s forgotten whatever words he was practicing on the ride over, that much is clear. He looks fearful and boyish, and together, they make him look innocent.  Over six-foot-four, chorded with muscle and somehow innocent. Dangerously innocent.
    “Oh, my,” Belinda says. “You weren’t cheating too, were you?”
    “Belinda, this is my brother. Caleb, this is my boss, Belinda Baxter.”
    There’s a second or two of shocked silence before Belinda says, “You have a brother ?”
    “On paper,” Amber says.
    Caleb flinches. It sounded terrible, the way she said it. But she couldn’t think of another way to make the obvious chemistry between them seem less dirty and wrong.
    “I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you before you left,” Caleb says.
    “Oh my God. Momma told you?”
    “You told your mother ?” Belinda cries.
    “Please don’t go,” Caleb says.
    The quiet authority of his request shoots through her bones. This isn’t the sauntering Caleb who can deliver a precise punch powerful enough to knock a man off his feet. This is the Caleb of fifteen years ago—needy, hungry.
    “Why not?” she asks before she can stop herself.
    He stares into her eyes. His lips part but nothing comes out.
    For a few seconds, the only two things in Amber’s world are the two of them and the years of unspoken feelings between them.
    “Miss Baxter, I don’t mean to be rude, but do you think I can have a moment alone with Amber?”
    “Of course,” Belinda says, grabbing her Gucci purse off the foyer table. “I’ll just, you know, take a walk into the middle of the nearest freeway now that Amber’s mother thinks I’m a freak.”
    Caleb steps aside to let Belinda pass, gives the woman a polite nod. Once she’s behind