Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion Book 1) (23 page)

It wasn’t a short ride to her husband’s house. God, just the word sounded foreign on her tongue. But if she was going to ask for help, then it was time say the word out loud. Even if she didn’t know exactly what she was going to say when she got to his door.

They got off the highway and Laguna Point’s craggy coastline came into view. The waves crashed and foamed just below them on the winding coastal road. Buildings got ritzier and more glamorous with every turn. By the time Carl pulled up to the address Michael had given her, all the spit had dried in her mouth.

“Are you sure this is it?”

“Yep.” He craned his neck up at the apartment complex. “You sure are movin’ on up there, lady.”

She opened the door, wincing as she read the fare. It took almost half the money in her pocket, but she didn’t short him on the tip. Including the extra twenty she’d promised him. “Thanks.”

“Pleasure.” He gave her a wink and took the money from the small window. She slung her purse and duffel bag over her shoulder, then dragged her suitcase onto the huge, circular sidewalk. Her driver pulled away right after she shut the door, and she had to stifle the urge to call him back.

This so couldn’t be right. She could smell the ocean from where she stood, though she couldn’t see it thanks to the monolith of a building in front of her. A huge stone garden with a steel and glass sign told her she was indeed in the right place.

Laguna Estates.

The other side of the world from Carson.

She’d never cared about the way she looked until right then. For God’s sake, she hadn’t even taken time to change out of her work clothes. She tucked her hair behind her ear, wishing for one of her hair ties. She should have taken a shower or made herself a little more presentable—something.

Gilded glass gleamed out of the shadows, drawing her closer. She crossed the sidewalk to the rocky alcove that shrouded the front door. A woman Chloe’s age strolled through the huge doors, barely glancing at the doorman who held the door open for her. He gave the woman a deferential smile, his posture positively perfect.

Had Chloe dropped into an alternate reality? She was used to seeing some of this behavior thanks to working on The Strip, but this was crazy.

The woman wore white from head-to-toe with gold flashing at her ears, fingers, and even her ankles.

Realization clicked like a flashbulb. Holy shit, that was Victoria Sheer.

Chloe swung around as the actress passed her by without a hello, a smile, or even a spare look. Shock and awe faded as her suitcase twisted onto its side thanks to her oh so graceful manuever.

“Can I help you, miss?”

Chloe stumbled and made a little yelp as the doorman saved her suitcase from scraping over the flagstaff. “Um, hi. Sorry.”

“That’s quite all right. Are you here for a resident?”

She shoved her purse back on her shoulder and smiled at him. “Yes.”

He glanced at her suitcase, but he didn’t betray a single thought about the status of her battered to hell suitcase from her first year at college. He probably thought she should be asking for the service entrance. “His or her name?”

She blinked. “Right, sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Michael Shawcross.”

A flash of surprise betrayed his features before they smoothed again.

“He’s my…friend.”

Was her wedding ring actually burning a hole against her leg? Hmm.

He opened the door. “Shall I announce you?”

“Announce me?”

“Unless you have a code?”

“Oh.” Maybe she should have texted Michael before she’d come over. What if someone was up there with him? What if he wasn’t home? Cripes, she hadn’t really thought this through.

“Your name, miss?”

“Chloe.”

“Your last name?”

Just how pretentious were the people in this building? “Adams.”

He pressed a button. “Mr. Shawcross? I have a Miss Adams here to see you.”

“Chloe?”

“Yes, it’s me.” She leaned closer to the panel inside the door.

“Send her up.”

The inside door clicked open. Chloe struggled with her suitcase over the track for the door. The wheels had been tortured with multiple bus rides over the years. They barely rolled.

“Eighteenth floor, miss.”

“Thanks.” Chloe spun back around. “What’s your name?”

“Barney, miss.”

Her grin widened. “Like Pretty Woman.”

“As you like.” He winked and turned back to his station.

Chloe gave a little laugh as she headed across the lobby to the bank of elevators. There were signs for various perks in the building. Dry cleaning, a gym, a pool, and even a café. Fresh coffee at their fingertips each morning?

Man, talk about living the dream.

The doors slid open silently, and Chloe stepped across the threshold. It felt like an eternity, but she was blessedly alone in the car. She didn’t have to unleash her babbling on another person for at least a few minutes. The light flashed and a light chime prompted her to get moving as the doors opened. Her suitcase clattered over the track before rolling silently onto the carpeting.

Michael stood in the hallway. He wore battered jeans, an old T-shirt, and a worried look on his handsome face.

Nerves jumped around under her skin. What the hell was she doing here? She should totally turn around. This was a mistake. An impulsive, horrifying mistake.

He came farther down the hall. Her gaze dropped to his unreasonably sexy bare feet. That really wasn’t fair. She’d always had a thing about old denim and bare feet.

Okay, grab a clue and calm down.

“Chloe? Is everything okay?”

“Yes.”
No, of course everything wasn’t all right. Her entire life was spiraling into a shitstorm tornado. Just ask him. Spit it out. You can do it.
“If it wouldn’t be an imposition.” She swallowed down the huge lump in her throat. “It’s okay to say no or whatever, but do you think I could stay here?”

E
ither Michael was still dreaming
or the universe had flipped over while he was watching a marathon of
Roadies
. No other way this could be happening.

When Chloe froze, he met her partway down the hall. She had a duffel bag over one arm and a small dull brown hard shell suitcase by her feet. Even her luggage was plain, modest and without frills, because that was how she lived her life.

“You want to what?” he asked, needing her to say it again. Only way he could begin to believe she’d decided voluntarily she wanted to live with him.

“I want to stay over.”

Ah, the picture was getting clearer. He propped his arm against the wall. “Stay over like what, a sleepover? Maybe we’ll watch movies and do each other’s hair? I know, we can make brownies and talk about boys.”

She gazed down at her feet, chin trembling, and for one panicked second, he was sure she was going to cry. Then she lifted her head and nailed him with the power of those direct dark eyes.

“That sounds really fun. I can’t wait to hear about your experiences with boys too. Do you spit or swallow?”

His eyebrows nearly rose right off his head before he started to laugh. Hard. Damn, this woman. She never gave him an inch.

And thank God for that. He’d had way too many people act like he was important or impressive just because his dad made tons of money and his mom got married a lot. The rockstar trip was much the same, although that was a mixture of adulation and feeling overlooked, depending on the day or his marital status.

“Come on in and we’ll talk.” He bent to grab her suitcase and went back up the hall to his door, holding it open so she could pass him.

“Thanks.” She smoothed back her hair and strode forward, stopping on the threshold to gasp. Almost immediately, she started to back up. “I can’t stay here.”

He looped his arm around her shoulders to keep her from backing into the hall. She was practically shaking. “Too late. You already asked and you know I can never say no to you. Besides, don’t you want to know if I swallow?” Before she could move, he bent to whisper against her ear, “If it’s you I’m drinking down, the answer is hell fucking yes.”

She shut her eyes and just sagged against him. “You didn’t tell me you had a place like this. I mean, I could tell from the doorman, and the ritzy building, and I know you’re in a band and doing well for yourself, but all this?”

“Take a breath before you pass out, all right?” He nudged her farther inside and closed the door behind her. “You forgot a couple of things. My dad is insanely wealthy and lined my diapers with gold thread, and my mom has married a number of rich men, if you’re making a list.”

Chloe covered her face with her hand. “Oh God. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Never say those words. Not in reference to arriving or in reference to, you know, not coming.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re nuts.”

“Maybe a little. I’m also really glad you’re here.” He eased her duffel off her shoulder and placed both beside the long, low black leather sofa. “Want a drink?”

“Is that your solution to everything?”

“It used to be,” he answered honestly. “But I’ve been dry since after we got married. I meant liquid, non-alcoholic. You know, in case you’re thirsty.”

“Sorry.” She grasped her throat and didn’t move. “I’m extra touchy today.”

“Well, that sounds fun.”

The slightest hint of a smile curved her mouth. “You’re incorrigible.”

“About the whole marriage thing. It occurs to me I never showed you this.” He withdrew his wallet and flipped it open. “I was waiting for a good time, and then I forgot. But you haven’t seen it, and you should.” He pulled out the folded white piece of paper that had knocked his world on its ear a week ago. “Make copies if you’d like. Have them verified by Johnnie Cochran or some such.”

“I think he’s dead.”

“Oh. Too bad.”

She took the paper and read it silently, chewing on her lower lip. “So that’s how you found my address.”

“Yeah. Phone number wasn’t much help though.”

Seeing her smile made all his annoyance at the fake number seem like it was insignificant. Now it was. In only a week’s time, they’d come a long way.

At least they could tell the grandchildren they’d known each other for years, and it wouldn’t be a lie. Exactly.

Wait, what? What grandchildren? Getting married by accident was one thing. But accidental procreation? All right, you could do that too, but it was totally a different kettle of diapers when little people were involved.

“Thank God I stopped drinking,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair.

Chloe handed back the marriage license. “What did you say? By the way, I’d like a copy of that.”

“Sure. Coming right up once I have a home office and a scanner. Or else we go to Kinko’s. That name always sounded dirty to me.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Are you okay?”

“Yep, fine. Never better. Let me grab you a drink.”
And me a reality check.
“Be right back.”

“Do you have diet Co—oh yeah, you hate Coke. Fudge.”

“Fudge? If you’re going to live with me, honey, I should warn you. Only actual swear words allowed.”

“I’m not living with you. This is just temporary until I get my feet back under me—” She pressed her lips together as if she’d said too much. “What kind of soda you have?”

“Dr. Pepper and grape. Lots of Dr. Pepper. I have this thing for spicy flavors lately. So weird.”

She flushed. “I’ll take that, please. Thank you.”

“Gotcha. Be right back.”

In the kitchen, he poured Dr. Pepper into two glasses of ice. His mother’s insistence on always serving company tea cookies on a tray had him opening the cupboard and taking out the box of Girl Scout cookies he kept for that purpose. Not that he’d actually ever served cookies to anyone. Like who? His mangy bandmates? Right. Not happening.

He blew off the layer of dust on the box and took out a couple of lemon cookies to arrange on the plate on the counter. His mother would be proud.

Taking a bite of cookie, he cocked his head. Tasted okay. Didn’t smell funny. Probably fine.

Maybe the sweets would get Chloe to start talking.

He wanted to ask questions. Lots of questions. Like why she seemed to be barely holding on to her composure, and why her fingers shook every time she fiddled with her hair. Hair she’d forgotten to tie back for once. Maybe she’d tell him what was going on if he gave her space. Demanding never seemed to get him anywhere.

Chloe was on the phone when he walked back into the living room with the two glasses and plate of cookies.

“Sure it’s okay if he spends the night? I can call my dad, see if he can—”

“Or he can come here,” Michael interrupted, setting down the drinks and plate. “This is his home now too.”

It felt more than a little weird to have her there—and to invite her son to move in as well. But she was his wife, so that made Axl his stepson.

So freaking weird. And yet nice in a way. Especially since the kid wasn’t there to remind him of all the ways he wasn’t cut out to be a parent, step or otherwise.

Chloe shot him a look and rose to walk to the French doors, stopping dead as if he’d just realized how close he was to the beach. From her end of the conversation, it was either that or she’d had some kind of mental break.

“Ah, yes, um, yeah tomorrow. Yes, I’ll get him. Noon? Oh, great, right. Um, thanks. You’re a lifesaver. I’ll call Axl tonight in bed. I mean before bed. Okay, bye.” She clicked off and tucked her phone into her pocket, then stepped forward and pressed her palms to the glass. Almost as quickly, she dropped her hands and started buffing the glass with her shirt. “Holy shit. You’re on the beach.”

“Above the beach, but yeah. Is Axl okay? Where is he?”

“With my neighbor, Lori. He’s fine. I can’t even think with that out there.”

He took the opportunity to cup her shoulders and rest his chin on her head. “You like the view?”

“Like it? Are you crazy? How do you live here every day and do anything but look out?”

He didn’t tell her he forgot to even glance outside some days. He’d gotten too used to the view, too jaded.

Feeling her tremble from excitement made him see it all as if it were the first time. The strip of white sand beach, the relentless roll of water toward the shore, the sparkle of the waves under the fading sun. It was almost time for the sunset, and he couldn’t wait to experience it with her.

“Wait here,” he murmured.

She barely glanced back as he headed into his bedroom to grab the light blanket off the end of the bed. He barely used it even in the winter, since he was perennially hot. But she’d get chilly outside as the sun went down.

And if things progressed the way he hoped, she could use it as a cover-up.

He came back out to find her still staring through the glass. She hadn’t opened the door and gone on the balcony. Did she think he’d snatch away the toys if she enjoyed herself too much?

“Let’s go out,” he said, stroking a hand down her hair.

The instant he opened the door, she flew across the space and right to the rail. So much for being afraid of heights.

Smiling, he watched her lean forward so that her loosened hair blew in the breeze like a banner. “I smell it,” she said over the wind. “The ocean. Oh, God. Michael.”

After he set the blanket on the chaise, he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. It was cheating to take advantage. So not fair. He should let her have her moment, and not take something for himself.

Being near her was like standing in the path of the sun. As much as he just wanted to bask in her warmth, he needed more. Had to taste every part of her and remind himself that even if none of this made sense, even if it never did, he didn’t have doubts when it was just the two of them.

Was it insane? Sure. Absolutely. An insanity he craved.

Maybe that was all he needed to know.

To try to bring himself back, he laced his fingers with hers. He’d picked the hand that still bore Snake’s ring. That should’ve been a cold shower to his libido, but it wasn’t. Not today. Logically, he knew he couldn’t expect her to turn her back on her past so soon. If he wanted her to be his—and fuck, he did—he had to give her reason to want to be.

“I don’t come out here enough anymore. Barely check out the view. I love it, but I’ve gotten too used to it.”

“How could you get too used to this?” The delight in her tone could have buoyed him for weeks. “It’s like a fantasy. The warm breeze, the smell of the sea, the sun starting to sink into the ocean…”

“I guess sometimes you stop seeing what’s right in front of you.” He toyed with her hair, turning a handful of it to study the twined colors of red and gold in every strand. “That’s why I saw you but I didn’t see you for all that time. I’d slotted you away as forbidden and looked right through you. My loss,” he said as she turned to face him.

She studied him for a long moment with the pink and orange hue of the setting sun haloing her head. “Not just yours. I didn’t see you either.”

“I was the last thing you wanted to notice. You’ve had enough of dealing with guys in bands.”

“Yeah.” She lowered her gaze, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks. “Axl comes first in everything. I can’t risk him.” She took a deep breath. “Michael, what I do affects him. I can’t make a mistake and hurt my little boy.”

“I understand that. And he’s so lucky to have you. My parents—” He broke off and stared into the distance at the crying seagulls. “Me and Mal weren’t their priority, put it that way.”

“Mal?”

“My older brother. Irish twins.” Michael smiled and curled her hair around his fingers. “He was on the drums at the House of Blues. Giant bald dude. Looks like me not at all. Doesn’t act like me either. Rarely says a word unless he feels like it, and most often they’re rude.”

“Your brother is in your band?”

“No. He’s not. He has no interest in that life. He just pinch hit for Ry when he injured his wrist. We made a deal. One night only, then he split.”

“But that night he was amazing. I mean, I wasn’t really focused on anyone but you, but I could tell he was really good. I kind of pay attention to drummers, you know, after Snake.”

Michael tipped up her chin, relishing the ruddy flush of her cheeks. Her feelings telegraphed onto her beautiful heart-shaped face like a projector on a wall.

No wonder he was transfixed.

“You were focused on me,” he said quietly. “Just like I was focused on you. Only you. For the last week, you’ve been like a spotlight. You’ve blinded me. I can’t see anything else around your glow.”

“It’s attraction.”

“You’re right. It absolutely is.” He swayed closer, knowing she would be able to feel how hard he was for her. Constantly.

Wanting Chloe had become a primitive beat in his blood. He couldn’t imagine living without that all-consuming need ever again.

“That’s just not all it is.” He traced the bow of her mouth. “I want to get to know all the things I don’t know about you. All the hidden chambers and vaults you hide away to keep them safe. You can open them for me.”

“Let’s say I do. And you get bored. You go on tour, and that pretty Tabitha girl shows up in your dressing room. Then what? I shouldn’t even have a right to get mad, because we did a crazy thing.” Chloe flicked her windblown hair out of her eyes. The sun was lowering in the sky, and with it, up came the chill. “Who gets married after a couple of hours?”

“Two people who’ve been looking for something, and finally found it.”

Her gaze shot to his and stayed. “That’s not enough to build a life on. Chemistry fades. The excitement will fade. It has to.”

“So we don’t build a life yet. We build a relationship, day by day.”

“But we’re married. We’re supposed to have all of this figured out, and how can we? I had to run from reporters to even get here. My picture is everywhere. Today I lost—” She swallowed hard. “I lost so much, and now this is what’s left.”

Of all the questions he needed most to ask, one roared to the fore. “Axl is okay?”