Overprotected, Page 5

  “You miss California at all?” he asked.

  “I hardly remember it,” I lied.

  “Palos Verdes is still the same. Man, I miss the beach. The views here are great, don’t get me wrong. But the coastal views… I miss not being able to park up on Via Del Monte and just sit and stare at the coast, all the way up to Malibu. You know?”

  I remembered. Early afternoon, when the fog finally slunk back out to sea and the view from our house in Malaga Cove stretched for miles showing off curved beach line, Pacific Ocean and endless city, the sight was a cause to take a deep breath and hold it, hoping the view would last more than a day.

  “Do any other employees live here?” He eyed the closed doors lining the hall.

  “No. Our cleaning service comes in three times a week. Gavin lives in Brooklyn. Eddy, our chauffer, lives in Queens.”

  “I see.”

  “There’s a den here.” I paused at another open door and let him peer into the room Stuart had used to hang out. A plasma TV

  hung on one wall, complete with gaming options. Couches sat in an inviting L-shape, a walnut coffee table between them. This room also had a dormer window, but the view faced the towering apartment buildings behind the townhouse.

  “Your dad’s obviously doing very well.” Colin scratched his head and let out a chuckle. “This place is… really spectacular.”

  I lifted my shoulders. I was used to visitors being taken in by an opulence I now passed by with second nature.

  Uncomfortable with us sharing the close space, I left the den and went out into the hall for a breath. Colin followed, his scan taking in each door.

  He stopped at the one that led to the roof and touched the security keypad. “Every exit on the same code?”

  I nodded. “Daddy will have you change it once a month for security.”

  Colin continued down the hall, eyeing windows and casings. “Is that the only way in up here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mind if I take a look at it in the daylight?”

  “Sure.” I recited the code. He continued to the roof exit, entered the security code and opened the door. This time, I followed him up the steep stairway. He had a nice body, but I felt ashamed watching him. So what, he probably stared at you. Get over it.

  Unlike me, he seemed unaware that I was behind him and that I might be taking the time to check him out—like I had felt him do.

  He was probably used to girls staring at him. The thought registered a frown on my face, a frown I quickly dissolved, disliking that I’d even had the thought.

  On the patio, he set his hands on his hips as his gaze swept the rooftop area. A soft breeze always sung between the tall buildings, and the current lifted the dark hair from his face.

  He crossed to the corners, looked over the edge and then upward at the tall apartments flanking us. “Has the emergency ladder been kept in working order?”

  I shrugged. I had no idea—security had been Stuart’s job.

  His sweeping gaze finally settled on me. His midnight eyes sent a fluttering through my system. Would I ever not have a reaction to them?

  “Has it? Or do you know?” He started toward me, his gait as confident as it had been when we were children and he’d been intent on making my day miserable if he felt like it.

  For a second, I couldn’t speak. He stopped inches away, waiting for my reply.

  “Uh…” You sound like an idiot. Don’t let him think he still gets to you. “I’m pretty sure it is. But you’ll have to ask Daddy.”

  I turned and took the stairs down, relieved when my feet hit the hard wood inside.

  I crossed to his bedroom and heard him close the roof door sometime later. He studied the hall again on his way. He passed me in the door jamb, his lips curving up a little when he brushed by.

  “The other rooms up here, can I see them sometime?”

  “Sure, they’re not locked.”

  He opened his suitcases and let out a sigh. “Guess I should unpack.”

  There was a knock at the open door. With a swish of fabric and a wave of perfume, Mother sashayed in. “Knock, knock…”

  She surveyed the area with a smile. “I just wanted to make sure everything was satisfactory.”

  “It’s fine, thanks,” Colin said.

  Floating directly to his suitcase, her long fingers combed through his wardrobe. “This will never do. Ashlyn cannot be seen with anything less than a man who is completely put together. If Socialite got a photo of this… well. We’ll shop this afternoon. Meet me at three o’clock in the main foyer.” She grazed past him, her shoulder brushing his arm as she swiveled to the door. A trickle of discomfort and embarrassment caused me to itch at her behavior. She paused, grinned. “I’m so glad you’re here. It’s just like old times, isn’t it?”

  With some major exceptions—like the fact that Colin and I weren’t kids anymore.

  Mother swiveled out the door.

  Colin’s cheeks had pinked from Mother’s visit. He scratched the back of his head, something I’d seen him do before when he seemed uncomfortable. “Is she serious about taking me clothes shopping?”

  His voice squeaked.

  I suppressed a smile. Why did his discomfort cause me to feel vindicated somehow? “I’m afraid she is.”

  Colin glanced at the jeans and blue sweater he wore. “I’ve been told I have lame taste in clothes.”

  “Mother’s very particular.” She was more than particular. She was an unabashed snob about what she wore, Daddy wore, and I wore.

  Anyone seen with us—who she could control—wouldn’t be seen in anything less than designer perfection.

  “Wow.” Colin shrugged. “Okay then.” His grin sparkled like a rising sun. “You’ll come, right?”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The melody arranged itself in my mind.

  After pulling on my pink robe, I secured my hair in a claw at the back of my head. It was past midnight, the grandfather clock chimed two. But I had to play.

  The music room welcomed me, its double doors spread wide like open arms. After entering, I closed them, even though the music would carry. The need to play pulsed through my veins, and I abandoned concern for satisfaction. Thoughts of the day rambled through my mind flashing pictures of Colin, of being out in the city. I couldn’t remember when I’d had so much fun shopping. No traces of the old Colin seemed to exist. Even though Mother preened and primped and fluttered around him like a peacock, he had patiently endured her hours of insistence that he try on dozens of pieces.

  He’d been accommodating, charming and agreeable. I’d watched with speechless admiration.

  My fingers tapped over the cool ivory keys. Music filled the room now: a slow, delicate melody that forced me to close my eyes and completely submit to wherever the tune took me. Images of Colin filled my thoughts, spun around my heart, and flowed to my fingertips, a melody so overpowering I dismissed any negative thoughts attempting to enter my mind. My heart lured me in a mysterious direction, and Colin was at its center. Tonight, I was willing to go there.

  So taken by the sweetness of the creation, I was startled by a movement when at last I opened my eyes. My fingers stalled.

  Colin.

  He wore black sweats and a long sleeved tee shirt in black, the color electrifying. With the hushed stealth of a panther, he crossed to the piano.

  “That was amazing,” he whispered.

  Flustered, I quickly tapped Fur Elise on the keys.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were done.”

  “I… I am.” I felt exposed—naked. He’d witnessed something so deeply personal, something he had been the inspiration for. Could he see that? The idea flushed me with embarrassment.

  He came closer, as if wanting to see for himself the keys I used to create. “Keep playing. Please.”

  I took a deep breath. I reached for some sheet music paper to make notes, wishing he’d leave but glad he was there at the same time.

  “How do you do t
hat—create like that?”

  “I just hear it.”

  “I could never hear it let alone create music in some organized way. I’m impressed.”

  I accepted the compliment with a nod, and tight muscles began to relax. “Thank you.” I pressed my fingers to the keys again.

  “I felt the music.” His eyes followed my fingers. “I guess I was exposed to another side of music.”

  I tried to deal with the emotions flooding my system. To be spontaneously taking him in as the tune ebbed from my soul took my heart to a dangerously vulnerable place. “I like contemporary music, too. Mom’s favorite is disco.”

  He laughed. “I can’t see your mom liking disco.”

  The sound of his laugh relaxed the taut muscles of my back. I continued to let the tune out, even as I stole glances at his face. The musical chords changed. The gentle expression in his brown eyes comforted my exposed nerves, and caused my fingers to find minor chords in enticing harmony.

  “Dad tolerates my music,” I said, fingers chasing each other up the shifting keyboard. “He’ll listen because he wants to support me, but I catch him checking email on his phone a lot of the time.” I replayed the tune still fresh in my head—Colin’s song.

  He listened, and when I finished, our eyes met. Silence echoed after the music.

  My heart pounded so hard, I thought it might be visible through my robe. My robe—I forgot what I was wearing. My hair. No makeup. I was getting ready for bed when I’d been compelled to create. Aghast, my cheeks burned. I stood. Had he purposefully come in to see me like this, to catch me with my guard down?

  “You reminded me of when you were little, just then,” he said, joining me. “With your hair back like that.”

  I gathered my notes and went around the other side of the piano to avoid him. He caught up with me, skimming my arm with gentle fingers. “Is something wrong?”

  “It’s late. I’m going to bed.” Brushing past him, I was out the door before he could say anything else.

  “Ashlyn,” he whispered in the darkened hall, staying right at my side. When I didn’t respond, he reached for my arm. I froze and he dropped his hand. “What? What did I do?”

  I swallowed. The dim lighting of the hall cast half of his face in a soft light. Had he really forgotten how he’d treated me? Did he think I had forgotten?

  I continued to my bedroom, ready to bolt inside, ready to slam the door in his face, but he stepped into the opening.

  “I don’t understand. Did I say something wrong about your music? I’m sorry.” His expression twisted in confusion.

  My pounding heart wouldn’t slow. His presence boomed with his every breath, each flash of his eyes. I’d read scenes like this in my romance novels. The heroine cornered by the hero, the two of them locked in a love hate heat.

  Colin’s hands lifted, and held in the door jamb. “Whatever I did,”

  he said softly, “I apologize. I really enjoyed your music. I—”

  “This isn’t about my music,” I blurted.

  He cringed, glancing around as if to signal to me that my voice was too loud and might carry. His expression shifted from confused to sober, and his brown eyes stared into mine. I couldn’t feel my heart beating. I wasn’t sure I was even breathing.

  “What’s wrong?” His whisper slipped into my soul, just like it had countless times before, and wound around my tender heart.

  “You really don’t know?” I forced sarcasm into my tone.

  He shook his head.

  I finally had the moment to hurt him, or try to, like he’d hurt me so many times before. But when I thought about bringing up the way he’d teased me, I realized how childish I would sound.

  He waited, his hands tightening on the wood. He had no clue the damage he’d caused when we were children. None. I was baffled. How does someone trudge through life so narcissistic that they toss people and their feelings aside without care or thought or comeuppance? Or was I over sensitive, taking good-natured teasing too seriously?

  “Forget it. You need to leave,” I said, frustration bubbling.

  “But I don’t know what I… Ash, please talk about this.”

  “You can’t be in here. It’s a rule. Daddy’s rule. He’ll fire you.”

  Surprise flashed across Colin’s face. “Charles was serious?”

  I nodded.

  “Then let’s take this back to the music room.”

  “I’m going to bed.” I crossed to the door and wrapped my hand around the knob.

  Colin didn’t move. His eyes narrowed. I locked my knees, refusing to be the first to concede. Hot seconds popped by. The rise of his chest gradually grew more rapid beneath his black tee shirt.

  He swallowed. “So, we’re good then?”

  I nodded.

  He reached for the knob, his warm fingers enfolding mine, eyes never leaving me, and he brought the door closed.

  I stared at the door. A twinge of pleasure echoed inside of me.

  <> <> <>

  I dreamed of him that night. Instead of walking out my bedroom door, he pressed me against it, and kissed me. His body was strong, warm. His hands—those long fingers—touched my face, skimmed my neck then wound around me. So tight.

  I woke with a longing that lingered in my body in an unattainable, delicious gnaw. When I got out of bed, I felt light. I stared at my silly smile in the mirror and covered my pink cheeks with my hands.

  You’re seriously pathetic.

  Colin’s dream kiss played over and over in my head, like his melody. I showered quickly, threw on my uniform so fast I almost forgot to button the blue and green plaid knee skirt after I zipped it. I tore into the dry cleaning bag covering my white blouse and slipped on the crisp shirt.

  I flat-ironed my blonde hair, brushed some tulip-pink blush on my cheeks and sprayed my favorite perfume at the nape of my neck and my wrists.

  Above, I heard movement. Colin’s room was directly over mine, and the thought sent a tingle through me, stirring the insatiable hunger the dream had left behind. Was he getting dressed? After the shopping spree, my imagination easily conjured him slipping in—and especially out—of clothes.

  I took the stairs down to the entry, glancing up to see if Colin would emerge. He didn’t.

  Mother slept in, so I ate breakfast alone. Stuart had waited for me in the kitchen. Lately, he’d even gone so far as to toast a bagel for me and pour me a glass of chocolate soy milk. I’d grown to hate mornings and breakfast, feeling obligated to eat what he prepared whether I wanted the meal or not.

  What would Colin eat for breakfast? Excitement drifted through me and I stepped into the walk-in pantry in search of a box of Kashi cereal.

  “Health nut, huh?” Colin’s chipper voice came from behind me, causing me to jump.

  “Uh, yeah.” How had he made it into the small space without me hearing him? He didn’t move, only grinned.

  A few seconds later, his gaze swept the pantry shelves, but his body remained blocking the entrance. Delicious fantasies of his kiss against my bedroom door drizzled into my head, causing my cheeks to heat.

  “Excuse me.” I squeezed past him, his shoulder pressing briefly into my chest as I turned and slid by.

  Out in the opening of the kitchen, I let out a breath and gathered my thoughts. Bowl. Soy milk. Spoon. I collected all three and sat at the black granite counter top.

  “Wow. This pantry looks like Dean and deLuca. Impressive.”

  I smiled around a chew.

  “Maybe I’ll have caviar on toast, or… hmm, Scottish oatmeal?

  Or one of these bagels. I’ll bet there’s cream cheese in that massive fridge over there, right?” He turned, his dimpled smile lighting the white kitchen with even more brilliance.

  He wore a pair of black slacks and a black sweater, the hint of a light blue shirt skimming the collar around his neck. “What? Is this too dressy?” He gestured to his clothing. “Your mom picked it out.”

  He looked… hot in all black. “
No. You do realize that you’re only escorting me to school. You’re not coming to my classes.”

  “Repeat high school? I hated it the first go round. I’ll wait in an obscure corner somewhere.”

  Through the years, Daddy had insisted my bodyguards stay at whichever school I was attending, and they all had—sitting in the lobby with the newspaper or a laptop until I was finished.