Forgotten (Shattered Sisters Book 2) (24 page)

A few minutes later, the back door slammed. Then the sound of an engine came, and Caroline's car headlights moved slowly away from the house.

Joey stiffened, then pulled free of Ash's arms and limped to the top of the stairs they'd descended. "Caro?"

Her sister came up slowly, her face tear-stained. “I let him take the minivan. He’s going to a hotel." She clutched a small satin-bound book in both hands, bit her lip and handed it to her sister.

Joey stared at it and shook her head slowly from side to side. "It isn't true. None of what he said is true."

Caroline pressed the book into Joey's hands. "I don't know what to believe anymore. Was our entire childhood just one big lie?" She closed her eyes and turned toward the stairs, starting up them. "It would explain a lot. I mean, I never could understand our mother having an affair with your birth father.”

“My birth father was a real player, according to Toni.” She sighed, lowered her head.

“Read it, Joey. I can't"

"No. I won't read it."

Caroline stopped halfway up the stairs. "You've always been the strong one. I can't do it. You have to." She moved the rest of the way upstairs and disappeared into one of the extra bedrooms, closing the door behind her.

Ash stood in the center of the living room, watching. Joey looked at the diary. She stared hard at its cover, and he knew she was trying to work up the courage to open it. But at last she seemed to decide against it. She crossed the room and set it down on the coffee table. Then she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"What can I do, Joey? What do you need?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath and let her head tip back until she faced the ceiling before releasing it. When she looked down again, there were fresh tears in her eyes. "Just hold me, Ash." As he moved forward to wrap her in his arms, she went on. "Yes, hold me. The only time I feel right anymore is when you hold me." She melted against him, her bones going limp.

Ash shifted his stance, scooped her up and held her tightly as he mounted the stairs. She wasn't faking the emotions that racked her body. She wasn't faking the tears that burned red trails into her cheeks, or the tremors that passed through her, or the desperation he felt in her arms. She clung to him as if he was the last life preserver on the
Titanic.

No, he decided as he reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the bedroom, she definitely was not faking any of this. What, then?

He nudged the door open with one foot and carried her inside. Was she really turning to him for support and comfort in the most confusing time of her life? Why, for God's sake? It was almost as if
she
were beginning to believe this phony marriage was for real.

He heeled the door shut, crossed the room and lowered her to the bed as gently as if she were a fragile bird with a broken wing. He caught himself brushing the spun-honey hair away from her cheek, where tears had glued it in place, then stroking the tears away, as well. And even knowing this was all a sham, her feelings for him, and his for her, he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her quivering mouth.

Whatever delusions she was suffering, he was showing symptoms of the same—the way his throat tightened until it hurt to swallow, the way his eyes stung, the way his stomach clenched. He reacted to her pain as if he really was her husband, as if he really was in.
..
in love with her.

In love with her? God, what a harebrained notion that is!

He pushed the errant thought aside and went into the bathroom to start a hot bath. He sifted through the cabinet there, sniffing one bottle after another until he found a scent that seemed soothing, then sprinkled the water with perfume. He draped a thin towel over the light fixture on the wall, taking care that the material didn't touch the bulb.

The effect was a softer, slightly pink hue rather than the harsh white glare. He pulled the thickest, softest towels from the shelf and stacked them near the tub.

Without even asking himself why a man who was only passingly fond of a woman would go to so much trouble, Ash slipped out the bathroom's other door and trotted down the stairs to search for wine and glasses. He found both, and returned without pouring, carrying the full bottle of white zinfandel, which he already knew was her favorite wine. He left the bottle and glasses beside the tub, shut the water off and returned to the bedroom.

She lay just as he'd left her, eyes red rimmed and wide, staring at the ceiling, looking shaken and vulnerable. The surge of emotion that flooded him was ridiculous and silly and inexplicable. But that didn't stop him from feeling it, and he decided to stop trying to figure this out and just go with it.

"Joey?"

She blinked, but didn't face him. "I'm all right. I can handle this."

"Never doubted it." He moved around the foot of the bed and sat down close to her.

"Caroline was right about that, you know." Her voice was as coarse as cherry bark, but no longer wavering or weak. "I
am
the strong one. I'm the one Mom leaned on when things went bad. And now Caro's doing the same thing, turning to me when she can't turn to Ted."

"You're right." He reached up and began freeing the buttons down her shirt. "But you know something, Joey?"

She shook her head, finally meeting his eyes.

"You have someone to lean on now."

Her lips trembled, turning upward at the corners, but it wasn't quite a smile. "If I lean on you any harder, I'll break your back." She closed her eyes briefly. "I'm not usually like this, you know."

He finished unbuttoning the shirt and moved his hands to the fly of her jeans, deftly releasing the snap, sliding the zipper down. "Like what?"

"Weak. Dependent. Weepy. I usually hate women who act the way I'm acting right now."

He tilted his head to one side, giving that some thought. "Look at it this way, kid. A man wants his woman to lean on him once in a while. Just so he knows she still needs him." He turned away from her, taking her foot in his hands and removing her shoe, then her sock. He repeated the process with the other foot.

She took a deep breath. "I do, you know."

"Do what?"

"Need you."

He turned fast, catching her gaze in time to see the anxiety in her eyes before she averted them.

"It scares the hell out of me. I hate it, and God knows I never meant for it to happen. But all of a sudden I don't..." She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes closed tightly. The act didn't stop the tears from seeping through to dampen her lashes. She swallowed loudly and rushed on. "I don't know what the hell I'm going to do without you."

"Hey..." A fist gripped his heart as Ash gathered her into his arms, held her to his chest, stroked her hair. The words that leapt into his throat and danced on his tongue were reassurances, promises that she'd never have to be without him. He bit them back, just barely restraining himself from blurting outright lies. Of course she'd have to get along without him. They weren't married. She'd lied and schemed to get him here with her, though he still didn't know exactly why. And no matter how comfortable or how
right
it felt, it was just a game. They were two grown-ups playing house, and nothing more.

She pretended they were married, he pretended to believe it. He couldn't tell her of his deception—no matter how powerful the urge to do just that had suddenly become— until she told him about hers. He had to know the reason for her lies. She'd started this and only she could end it.

He held her close and pushed the blouse down her arms. She remained still, not objecting when he unhooked the bra and stripped that away, as well. He ignored the warm skin of her back beneath his hands, and the gentle curve of her spine, and the soft swell of her breasts pressing to his chest. He'd have to be heartless to try to make love to her now, when she was an emotional basket case. But that was exactly what he would do if he looked down at her naked, beautiful body.

Instead, he rose, lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bathroom. There he lowered her to her feet "Lose the jeans, fair lady. Your frog-prince hath deduced ye be in need of a relaxing bath and some fruit of the vine to ease your weary mind."

She smiled, just a little, then glanced around the bathroom. Ash turned away from her on the pretense of filling the glasses. In truth, he didn't think his chivalrous mood would last two seconds if he had to stand there and watch her slide out of those jeans. He heard the brush of the denim over her legs, her hopping steps as she kicked out of them. He closed his eyes in agony and waited for the gentle lapping of the water to tell him she'd sunk into the tub before he faced her again.

She lay in water to her chin, her knees poking up. Her bandages were soaking off, but he thought the water would sooth the partly healed wound. Her head rested on the white porcelain; her lashes caressed her cheeks. "Mmm, smells heavenly."

Ash put a glass of wine close to her face, touched its cool rim to her cheek. Her eyes opened, then she lifted a dripping hand to take the glass from him. She sipped. Ash's gaze stubbornly fixed itself to her lips, loosely pressed to the rim of the glass, slightly parted as the pink liquid flowed through them. She lowered the glass to the side of the tub. Her tongue swept over her lips, sweeping up the traces of wine there. Ash swore under his breath.

"What's wrong?"

He met her gaze head on. Not much sense in lying about it, was there? It must be written all over his face. "I'm an insensitive clod, driven by a one-hundred-eighty-proof libido, and sadly lacking in princely chivalry, no matter how I try to fake it."

She frowned at him. "In English, Your Highness?"

"Okay, in English. I want you, Joey. Here I am, blown away that you'd even think about leaning on me in your hour of need, that you'd trust me to help you through this crisis. And all I can think about is stripping naked and climbing in that tub with you." Her green eyes rounded, but he held up two hands before she could speak. "Don't say it. I'm a rutting buck, a pig. I know."

She looked to be deep in thought for a moment, took a slow sip of wine, then another, while Ash awaited her condemnation. Then she stood. Graceful as a swan taking flight from the glistening surface of a lake, she rose out of the water. Rivulets streamed down her body. Droplets clung to her belly, glistened on her breasts. She reached out, caught the front of his shirt in two hands and pulled him closer. Her lips pressed to his as her hands worked the buttons of his shirt. A second later she pushed the material down over his arms and the shirt pooled at his feet.

"Do me a favor, Ash?"

"Name it." His voice croaked as if he really was a frog. His hands skimmed over her wet skin and he found it hard to breathe.

"Leave the mind reading to me. You're no good at it."

"No?"

She shook her head, shoved at his jeans. "No. I want you, too. I want you to hold me and make this crazy world disappear, just for a little while."

Ash glanced at the bathroom door to be sure it was locked, then kicked away his remaining clothes and stepped into the tub with her. Joey's arms slipped around his waist and her body pressed tight to his. He groaned under his breath, bending over her, catching her mouth beneath his and kissing her deeply. His hands slid up and down over her back, tracing its contours, then lower, to cup and squeeze her perfect buttocks, and lower still to the backs of her thighs. He lifted her legs, wrapped them around his waist and then anchored them atop his hips, slowly lowering himself into the water.

They made love tenderly, so slowly it was torture, but bliss too. Trying to be quiet, not to splash or moan, they clung and rocked until they both lost themselves to feeling. And then as his muscles uncoiled, Ash stretched out, lying back in the tub and pulling her down atop him, her chest pressed to his. He massaged her shoulders, rubbed her back.

"Mmm. Nice."

He smiled, glad he could give her something "nice" to counterbalance all the not-so-nice things in her life right now. "Feel better?"

"Yes." She relaxed against him, and her voice was drowsy.

"Think you'll be able to sleep now?"

"Umm-hmm."

"Right here in the tub?"

"What?" She lifted her head, but her eyes were heavy lidded.

"The water's getting cold, fair lady."

"I thought frogs liked cold water."

"Not this one."

She settled her head on his chest again. “Well, I guess that proves it. You're no frog."

"Oh, no?" He gripped her tight and held her as he rose. He reached for a towel, wrapped it around her and saw goose bumps rising on her thighs.

"No. You've evolved."

He smiled as she tucked her head down on his shoulder and closed her eyes. Stark naked and dripping wet, he carried her back into the adjoining bedroom, tugging down the covers on the bed. He stood her on wobbly legs and rubbed her vigorously with the towel, then urged her to lie down and pulled the covers over her. "How's the leg?"

"A little sore. No problem." She burrowed deep, hugging the comforter around her shoulders, her head sinking into the soft pillow. Closing her eyes, she released a long sigh. "Maybe you were a prince all along and I just couldn't see it."

"I'm no prince, Joey."

Her lips thinned, but she said nothing. Ash used her towel to dry off, then went back to the bathroom to drain the tub and swipe up the water they'd splashed all over the floor. He unlocked the door into the hallway, so the kids could use the bathroom during the night if need be. Then he poured himself some wine, refilled Joey's glass and took them back to the bedroom with him.

She lay very still, and he would have thought her asleep except that her breathing wasn't deep or regular. He set the wine on the nightstand.

"What am I going to do about that damned diary, Ash?"

He shrugged, facing her. Her eyes were open now and searching his. "Read it?"

She licked her lips. "You think?"

"That's what I'd do."

She nodded. "Okay. I'll read it. Only...only not now. I've got enough to deal with right now, with the Slasher, and Caroline and Ted breaking up, and this thing with you—"