Seduced: The Unexpected Virgin (12 page)

Not that she’d ever said so much aloud, but he’d felt her emotional distance like a third person in the room with them every time he’d been with her. On her deathbed, every conversation they’d had had been about what she hadn’t yet accomplished in her charitable works.

It was why he’d started the Cara Miller Foundation. He couldn’t be what she’d needed when she was alive, but he could damn well fulfill her dying wish.

Of course, this was a hell of time to remember all of this. But this was a hell of a situation to be in.

Cara—the love of his life—had pushed him away. And now he was involved with yet another stubborn woman determined to keep her emotional distance. So here he was. Right where he’d sworn he’d never be again.

The funny thing was he’d spent so much time trying to protect Ana from himself, he never wondered who was going to protect him from her.

He was well on his way to falling in love with her, and she…well, who the hell knew what she felt for him.

What exactly was he supposed to say here?
I wanted it to be a big deal. I wanted you to care more about me. Why do you think I waited to sleep with you…? I waited because I wanted it to matter. I wanted you to care.

Yeah. That would sound about as manly as a thirteen-year-old girl. Hell, actual thirteen-year-old girls sounded tougher than that. At least the ones he knew did.

If he said anything even approaching that, it would send Ana running for the door. If she hadn’t already been walking in that direction anyway.

B
efore Ward could even consider how to handle this, the bathroom door opened.

She’d pulled her hair back off her face with a clip and scrubbed off the last traces of her makeup. She’d dressed once again in jeans and a sweater, but this time they weren’t clothes she’d bought God only knew where. They were her own clothes, obviously favorites. The jeans flattered Ana’s curves, the sweater was conservative, hiding as much as it revealed, only hinting at the bounty beneath.

Looking at her now, it seemed so obvious she’d been a virgin. As inherently sensual as she was, she kept that part of herself tightly under wraps. Hidden under layers of prickly defenses and steely determination.

Whatever emotions she’d been wrestling with when she’d stormed off into the bathroom were now tightly under control. She looked very much as she had the first day they’d met. Wary. Reserved.

She gave him a quick once-over, judging his emotional state more quickly than he’d judged hers.

Her expression shifted to exasperated, as if she’d just read every thought that had passed through his mind while she was dressing and then dismissed them as being tiresome.

“Stop torturing yourself,” she muttered, walking past him and out of the bedroom.

“Torturing myself?” he asked, following her.

She marched straight to the kitchen. “Yes. Obviously you’ve been playing it over and over again in your mind, trying to figure out what you should have done differently. Or maybe telling yourself how you should have guessed. Or—”

“Enough.” He reached out for her arm, spinning her around to face him as he cut her off. So far, she was right on target and as whiny as he sounded in his own mind, he sure didn’t need to hear her voice his doubts aloud. “If you think you know me so well, then you should understand exactly why I’m…what was the word you used? Oh, right, torturing myself.”

“Honestly, though, I don’t.” For a moment, genuine confusion flickered across her face, then she shrugged. “I guess I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Trust me, that’s the kind of thing a guy notices. How could you imagine otherwise?”

Again she gave a little shrug, this one seeming almost self-effacing. “With all the women you’ve been with, and all the experience you have, I just thought…” She let her words trail off, leaving him to draw his own conclusions.

“That I was such a self-indulging wastrel that I wouldn’t notice your virginity?”

“No! I just—”

“Thought I was too self-absorbed? Too selfish? Too what?” His anger grew with each question until he was looming over her, glaring down at her upturned face.

She met his gaze defiantly. “Why are you so sure this is all about you? It was my virginity. Why can’t you just accept that if it’s not a big deal for me that it shouldn’t be a big deal for you, either?”

“Because I can’t.”

“Why?” Her chin bumped up and her gaze narrowed in deter
mination. This time it was her stepping closer to him. “What would you have done differently if you’d known? What would you have changed?”

“I…” But before he had a chance to think of an answer, she continued, getting right in his face.

“Would you have been more sensitive?” she continued. All signs of the nervous virgin had vanished. Or maybe that had merely been a figment of his imagination, anyway. “Would you have been more attentive to my needs? Would you have made sure I climaxed three or four times, instead of merely twice?”

“That’s enough,” he all but growled out, his own temper rising to match hers. Her flippant tone was driving him crazy.

She arched a haughty brow. “Or what?”

“Let’s not go there.” He stepped away from her before he did something he regretted, like pull her back into his arms and make love to her all over again. Which would so not be helpful right now, even though the tension between them was still simmering.

“Look,” she began again, her tone marginally softer. “I never meant to deceive you.”

“Then what was it you did want?”

“I just didn’t want it to be a big deal.” She spoke slowly, enunciating each word.

“But it is. You were a virgin. At… How old are you? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven?”

“Twenty-seven,” she muttered, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. As if her age were something to apologize for.

“Nobody’s a virgin at twenty-seven by accident. Certainly no one who’s as beautiful and vivacious as you.”

Again, that defiance flashed in her eyes. As if his words were insults rather than compliments.

“How I look doesn’t have anything to do with it. It’s not as if I didn’t have opportunity.”

“That’s precisely my point.”

“It’s just the way I was raised. That’s all.” She spun away from him, stalking to the other side of the room to stare out the window. “From the time I was twelve, my mother drilled it
into my head. I couldn’t mess around with boys. I couldn’t sleep with them. I couldn’t even date them. If I fell in love with some boy, and fooled around or had sex, I’d just end up pregnant and married by the time I was twenty. Just like almost every other poor Latina girl in Southern California.”

Though her back was to him as she stared out the window into the darkness of the neighborhood, he could see the tension in the lines of her back. He could hear it in her voice, like she was quoting a lecture she’d heard over and over again, complete with hand gestures slicing through the air.

“If I got pregnant by twenty, it was all over. I’d be dooming myself to a life of poverty. The only way out was to stay out of trouble. Finish my education. Start my career. By the time I accomplished my goals and got a job out in L.A., I realized I was the oldest virgin in the city. And then there I was. Twenty-three, working in Hollywood, this beautiful and vivacious woman—” she practically sneered the words “—and every guy I dated expected me to be sexually experienced. Men were actually insulted if I didn’t fall into bed with them on the first date.”

There was enough bitterness in her tone for him to know there was more to that story.

“What is it you’re not telling me?” He almost didn’t want to know.

She shot him a surprised look. “It was nothing.”

“Is it nothing the same way your virginity was nothing?” Her jaw tightened and her cheeks flushed. “Yeah,” he continued. “That’s what I thought. Why don’t you tell me anyway and I’ll be the judge of whether it was really nothing.”

“Just the occasional actor who made things awkward when I didn’t jump into bed with them.”

“Who?” he bit out the question.

“Does that really matter?” Her tone sounded beleaguered.

“It matters.” How was he going to hunt down the bastard and kill him if he didn’t have a name? “Who was it?”

She studied his expression, her gaze narrowed and assessing. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“I’ll let it go when you tell me who it was.”

“Ridley Sinclair.”

Ward immediately swore. Christ, he’d been talking to the guy just a few hours ago. Ridley Sinclair, who was supposedly happily married to the love of his life. And now he was finding out the guy was a cheating bastard. Who’d made Ana’s life difficult.

“I’m going to kill him,” Ward muttered.

Ana flashed an exasperated smile. “Please don’t.”

“He’s why you left Hollywood,” he surmised, piecing together another complicated swath of the puzzle.

“Not the only reason.” Indignation laced her voice.

“So there were other men who harassed you?”

“It’s not important!” she insisted. Again. “What’s important is that I now have a job I love. A job I care about and where I can make a difference. I’m just desperate to make it work. That’s what matters.”

But despite all her protests, he could tell she still felt the sting of Sinclair’s behavior. And as a result, she still didn’t trust Ward entirely. Maybe she never would. But he understood her better now. Christ, no wonder Ana had freaked out last night and left the party. She must have overheard Sinclair’s slurs.

He crossed to where she stood and pulled her gently to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

She pulled away just enough to rest her palm against his cheek. “It’s not your fault.”

“Maybe not. But I was the one who dragged you to that party.”

“Hey.” Her tone was a little defensive, a little accusatory. “I could have said no.”

“I made it pretty hard for you to say no,” he countered.

“And I still make my own decisions.”

Boy, that was the truth. He’d never met a more bullheaded woman. Still, he sensed there was something she wasn’t saying. Something she didn’t want him to know.

“If I really didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t have gone.” Her voice wavered. “I just didn’t expect it to be so hard.”

He tipped her chin up forcing her to meet his gaze. “Well,
next time something is hard for you, talk to me about it instead of just leaving. You’re not alone in this relationship.”

“Is that was this is? A relationship?” Her voice caught. For once, Ana seemed…timid almost. Unsure of herself.

He didn’t know which and didn’t want to push the matter. Neither emotion was the giddy, joyful, postcoital rush of love he wished she was experiencing.

“Yes,” he said firmly. Whatever doubts she’d been having, he wanted to banish them.

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay.”

Then she pressed her body closer to his. Pushing up onto her toes, she pulled his head down to hers for a kiss that seared his very soul. Instantly, he felt himself harden again, which shocked the hell out of him. He’d just had her. It was inconceivable that he would want her again so soon. Not to mention impractical. His knowledge of virgins was fairly limited, but he didn’t think she’d be up for a second round any time tonight.

After giving himself a moment to relish the feel of her against him, he extracted himself from her and set her firmly aside. He let his hand trail down her arm. “We’ll pick this up in another day or two.”

“But—”

“No arguing about this,” he interrupted her. “You don’t get to have everything your way.”

She frowned, but gave a reluctant nod.

“I want to see you later today. After we’ve both gotten some sleep. No more keeping our relationship a secret.”

“I can’t—”

“I mean it. I’m done sneaking around.”

“I mean, I can’t do it today. I’m having Sunday dinner with my parents.” She frowned, considering. “We eat around two. Maybe we can meet up later?”

He hesitated only a moment. “Can I come?”

“You can’t seriously want to have dinner with my parents.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause they’re my parents. Why would you possibly want to meet a middle-aged, Mexican couple?”

“Because they’re your parents,” he said slowly. “Unless they don’t want to meet me, I want to meet them.”

“I—” she began, but then broke off. “Okay. You can meet my parents. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He left quickly after that, but as he made his way back to his condo, he wasn’t able to shake the uneasy feeling he had about Ana losing her virginity. As calm and blasé as she seemed, he still wished he’d known ahead of time. Then he could have…what?

All the same questions she’d badgered him with flitted through his mind. In the end, he reached the same conclusion she had.

He wouldn’t have done anything differently. Except, maybe she was right. Maybe he would have choked. But maybe not. In the end, the only conclusion he could come to was that he simply wanted it to matter to her. Because it mattered to him.

So much for her plan to quietly lose her virginity without him even noticing. That plan had gone about as well as her plan to quietly introduce him to her family.

“We could go see a movie instead,” she offered Ward. It was her fifth attempt to distract him since he’d shown up on her doorstep ten minutes earlier.

“No.” He grimaced as he helped her into the passenger side of his Lexus. “You’re jaded about Hollywood, remember? I don’t think moviegoing would be particularly relaxing. Besides, they’re expecting you.”

“They’d get over it.” She’d never hear the end of it if she canceled now. But she was still trying to talk him out of it. “It’s not like I have dinner with them every Sunday.” Of course, she did, actually eat with them every Sunday, but that just sounded lame.

Ward shook his head anyway. “I’m looking forward to meeting your parents.”

“Great.” She smothered a groan. A moment later, as he started the car, she directed him to head west on Claremont.

He flicked on his blinker, but sent her a puzzled look. “I
thought your parents still lived on the Worths’ estate, over by the coast.”

“They do.” She had to unclench her jaw to explain. “We’re not having dinner there.” She paused, hoping he’d let it go, but he didn’t. Finally, she explained, “When my parents found out I was bringing a date, they decided a mere meal in their apartment wasn’t enough. So we’re going to my uncle Julio’s house.”

Ward flashed her a charming smile. “Oh, are they fans?”

“Of you? No, they’ve probably never heard of you. But I’ve never brought a date anywhere. The mere idea of me in the company of a man was enough to excite their anticipation.”

He must have picked up on the dread in her voice. “What exactly can I expect?”

She blew out a harsh breath, decided honesty was the best policy and delivered the blow. “A full-blown party. Thirty, maybe forty people.”

He gave a bark of laughter that sounded incredulous. Maybe even a little nervous. If he was wise, it would be nerves.

“I thought you said you were from a small family.”

“Small immediate family,” she corrected. “Just me and my parents. But I have ten aunts and uncles here in the States, all within driving distance. I have nearly thirty cousins. Plus spouses.”

He blew out an impressed whistle. “And kids?”

“So many you’ll be nervous you’re going to step on one when you’re crossing the room.” For the first time since they got in the car she dared to look at him. He looked neither shocked nor horrified. Which she took as a good sign. “We can still call and cancel,” she offered.

“No.” He flashed her a cocky smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”

She gave him a few directions as he steered the car toward her uncle’s neighborhood. It was much like hers, but a little older, a little shabbier, a little more working-class. The houses were small, but built early enough in the California property boom that the yards were spacious and well shaded with fruit trees.