The Red Diary (24 page)

In the end. though, Elaine had decided she couldn't leave Davy. Nick had never alluded to his concerns, but she'd said if he was working to keep them all fed, the least she could do was stay home and care for their brother.

"Maybe you could take some night classes somewhere close," he recalled telling her, "when I can be here with Davy." "Yeah, maybe," she'd said. But she'd never done it. As Nick watched Davy's fist move in circles with the sandpaper, he told himself again that Henry deserved what Phil was doing to him. Henry had cheated Nick's dad, and now Henry's new partner was cheating him. It seemed appropriate; what goes around comes around.

Henry's actions all those years ago had led to this-an alcoholic father with a heart condition, and a sister and brother whose lives would never be all they could have. In comparison, seeing Henry lose a little cash seemed minor, even if somehow satisfying.

And Nick wasn't the one doing something wrong. In fact, it wasn't any of his business.

"Looks good, Dave," he finally said, breaking free of his thoughts. "Now let's start painting so we can make the movie on time. I know you hate to miss the previews."

Lauren sat curled on the sofa in a short, satin pajama set, watching an old movie on cable, nibbling on the last of the

chocolate chip cookies she and Carolyn had picked up at the mall after lunch. Izzy lay stretched out asleep on her pink pillow at the other end of the couch. She knew most people would consider it a boring way to spend Saturday night, but she felt perfectly content.

Of course, much of her contentment was due to Nick and the new hope she felt surrounding their relationship. She didn't know how long it would last with him-in fact, she felt unsure enough that she'd not mentioned any of it to Carolyn-but she was just thankful for what they shared right now. And when she began to worry about the future. when she imagined him calling the whole thing off, she thought of the rose she'd pressed in her sex journal because it had simply been too special to discard. She thought of the inexplicable way it connected fantasy and reality, him and her. She still had no idea what it could mean, how Nick could have known, and certainly Nick Armstrong was a dangerous person to have started caring about. But when they were in bed together and when she felt his tenderness, or when he unthinkingly told her something about Davy; or a memory about his mother-she knew these were things he didn't give to just every woman.

A knock on the door jarred her, and she flinched, waking Izzy. The cat's head jerked up, eyes opening, as Lauren rose to answer. But-oh damn it, look at me. Why am I never dressed when someone knocks on my door lately?

She scurried across the smooth tile in bare feet and checked the peephole, utterly surprised to see Nick on the other side. Her heart surged as she opened the door, but she tried not to let the full measure of her enthusiasm show. "Nick." Nick arched one arm against her door frame, feeling unavoidably frank, honest. He didn't smile. "Is it okay that I'm here?" "Of course. Why?"

He peered into her blue eyes, trying to read them, even worrying a little; he didn't know why he'd come. "Because we didn't have plans."

''That's all right. I'm not busy."

"And because I wasn't gonna come back tonight-I have other things I should be doing, a business to run." ''Then ... why did you?"

Good question. He summoned more honesty. "Because I did some paperwork, painted Elaine's garage door, and took Davy to a movie, but the whole time ... I was thinking about you." Wanting you. He made no attempt to hide the look in his eyes. Seemed he couldn't get used to her; nothing made the desire fade to normal.

"Come in," she said, sounding a little breathless. This meant nothing, though. Because he'd thought about plenty else today, too-Elaine, Davy, their father.

All it meant was that after a lifetime of constant worries, it was all too easy to just let a sweet, sexy woman take over his thoughts for a change.

Of course, a little guilt over keeping Phil's secret from her had begun to eat at him, but he'd insisted to himself that it was all right in the long run, that it was a victimless crime--other than Henry, the one man he wanted to see victimized. And frankly, the fantasy he'd read in Lauren's journal this morning had somehow managed to overshadow his guilt. Through the day, her handwritten words had returned to him as images in his head, visions of her tied with purple scarves. The very idea that she wanted that filled him with such profound hunger he could barely process it. Because it went deeper now than mere pictures in his brain; with those visions came knowing her ... knowing she was intelligent, and compassionate, and inexorably understanding. So without quite planning it, after stopping by his dad's apartment, then dropping Davy at home, he'd come here. Not a smart move. Not if he didn't want something more with her, something like he knew she wanted. Yet here he was anyway.

As he slid his arms around her, he drank in her pretty, fresh scent and whispered in her ear, "I feel like a shit, kind of." She pulled back to meet his eyes. "Why?"

"I .. ." He didn't know how to say this, didn't even know if he wanted to voice the thoughts bubbling inside him. "I ... didn't

come here just to take you to bed, but .. ." His gaze dropped to her breasts, nipples jutting through silk. "Now that I'm here. I don't wanna wait."

"Nick-" She braced her hands on his chest to gaze up at him with those velvet eyes. "It's okay. Because I know." "You know what?"

Her words came softly. "I know what you can't quite say. I know it's not just sex anymore."

He opened his mouth to protest-a natural instinct-but Lauren lifted two fingers to his lips. "Shhh." Then she stepped back, reached down, and took her top off over her head so that she stood before him wearing only a small pair of satin shorts. He loved that she wasn't like Carolyn. He loved even more, though, that she was like Carolyn for him.

Minutes later, they lay rolling in Lauren's bed, their bodies intertwined, the fan overhead turning in slow circles to keep them cool as they moved together. Somehow, she wriggled away from him, turning over, putting her back to him. Shadows from the moonlight streaming in made a perfect silhouette of her curves, but he reached to roll her beneath him again. "No." She pulled away, then peeked over her shoulder. "Like this. From behind."

Yet he had other things in mind. "Soon, baby, not yet." He reached for her again, but she balked.

"My way," she said in the darkness.

His arousal increased with her commands, then grew hotter with his memory of her scarf fantasy. It escalated even higher when he made a decision-not to let her call the shots. Without giving her a choice, he rolled her body toward him and firmly covered it with his, his cock nestling in the soft hair between her thighs. "No," he said, hoping she could see the wicked glimmer in his eyes, "my way."

She struggled slightly in his grip, but her eyes brimmed with the same heat that burned in his veins, too. When he pinned her wrists above her head, she flashed a look that bordered between defiance and pleasure, then arched against him, even as she twisted and writhed a little more. "Oh, baby," he murmured, pushed to the edge by her teasing resistance. He was so tempted in that hot moment to confess what he'd read that morning, so tempted to ask her to let him tie her with scarves ...

But of course, he couldn't. He could never tell her. And yet he kept going back to that book for more of her deepest desires, more of what he knew only he could give her-if only he could tell her what he knew. His eyes fell shut as he groaned in frustration, and he loosened his grip.

"What is it?" came her small whisper. "What's wrong?"

Shit. He hadn't meant to react that way. "Nothing, honey." He let go of her wrists, grazing his fingertips slowly down the expanse of her arms until he gently seized her breasts. ''Nothing.''

Then he kissed her-slow, deep, tender-just to have her for a moment in a way that had nothing to do with her fantasies. Still, being able to bring those fantasies to life proved an irresistible temptation, so as he kissed and touched and tormented, he held her down, just enough to let her feel his control, enough to make her submit. Just like he knew she wanted. Then, finally, he rolled her to her side and gave her what she'd demanded earlier, entering her from behind.

Somehow, though, even as he pumped himself into her eager body with growing abandon, other things chipped away at his pleasure, no matter how he tried to forget about them.

The red book .. Phil's embezzlement.

Yet why did Phil's secret bother him? He pushed it aside.

At least the secret about the book allowed him to bring her pleasure-pleasure that stretched beyond the normal plane of sensuality, pleasure only he could give because only he knew how.

Concentrating on that, he reached around to press his fingers into the hot juncture of her thighs, listened to her moan, then made her come. It washed everything else away.

Lauren floated on an aqua blow-up raft in the pool the next day, in a flowered bikini that only a few days ago she'd thought she'd never wear in front of Nick. She lay peering at the cloudless blue ceiling of sky in total relaxation, knowing he floated somewhere nearby, too. They hadn't spoken in a while, but even when they weren't communicating, she sensed his presence.

When a splash shook her raft and drops of cold water rained down, she jerked her eyes open to find him at her feet, shimmering wet as he pushed his hair back over his head.

Their gazes met, and the world stood still.

He didn't have to say a word, didn't even have to touch her-she knew what her ocean god wanted. And she instinctively understood now that somehow, some way, Nick knew or felt her innermost thoughts, that he was somehow meant to bring her private fantasies to life, make them all come true.

Logic still told her it was impossible, but she knew it wasn't. Because it was happening.

Don't fight believing in it. Let go of yourself, let go of the logic, let yourself believe in this magic. The magic meant more than the past, more than Nick's reluctance, more than her own doubts. The magic meant everything.

Without ever letting her gaze leave her magnificent ocean god, she parted her legs and let the magic begin.

Chapter Fourteen

Hours later, as they lay among the tangled sheets on her bed, kissing, touching, even laughing, it dawned on them that they'd entirely missed lunch. "Wanna get a pizza?" he suggested.

"One problem. Somebody would have to get dressed and go to the door to get it." He winked. "Not a problem. You can do it."

She tilted her head against the pillow. "Why me?" "I made breakfast this morning." She let out a laugh beneath him. "You made the cereal and toast this morning, huh?" "I toasted, I buttered, I poured. Hard work."

Without warning, she rolled over, pushing him deep into the pillow as she rubbed her chest against his and purred in his ear. "I'll agree you've worked hard today, but most of it was long after breakfast." "So your sex slave pleased you?"

Her mouth dropped open as her eyes went wide. "Sex slave?"

"You've gotten bossy. No, like this. Do it faster. Let me on top."

He accepted her playful slug, and they lay smiling lazily at one another when she said, "I've never had fun in bed with a man before."

It caught him off guard, and he raised on one elbow to look down at her. "Really?" "I mean, fun like this. Fun like ... laughing."

He tipped his head back in recognition. "Ah." He understood what she meant-he supposed he'd laughed in bed with a woman before, but maybe it hadn't felt ... genuine, easy, like this did.

Just then, the white cat silently bounded up onto the bed. "Hey, Iz," Lauren said, scratching behind the cat's ear. Isadora walked across Nick's body, settling on the far side of him. curling into a warm ball. "You're such a slut, Izzy," Lauren said. He let out a laugh. "What?"

"Listen to her, giving you her most seductive purr, and cuddling so close to you. She's had the hots for you from the beginning."

"Guess you're lucky I chose you," he teased, lowering a kiss to Lauren's forehead. Then he flashed a grave expression. "You know what this means, don't you?"

"What?"

"You have to get up to order the pizza now, too. If I do it, I'll bother the cat."

A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You're impossible. "

Sitting up to ease across the bed, she reached for the phone, and he enjoyed the view as she placed the call, the phone cord twisting halfway around her bare torso.

"Hope you like onions," she teased as she hung up, "since the procurer of the food gets to choose."

"I don't like brie, but lucky for you, I'm easy when it comes to pizza. By the way," he added, "if the accounting gig ever falls through, I think you've got a future in nude modeling."

"Is that so?" She struck a pose, more silly than sexy, then proceeded to her dresser, where she wiggled her ass at him while digging through a drawer. "Well," she said, slipping on a pair of small pink panties, "I'm afraid it's not likely, so you're the only one who gets the pleasure of seeing me."

"Yep, guess your job is pretty secure."

"My entire future, really." She threw a little sundress over her head, forgoing a bra. "All of my dad's interest in the company will be mine someday. That's why I'm involved in so much top-level stuff-Dad's never said so, but I know he's grooming me to take charge."

As he absorbed the words, she covered her mouth and looked like she'd just uttered something blasphemous. "I'm sorry, Nick. I wasn't thinking. You probably don't want to hear about that part of my life."

But to his surprise, it hadn't bothered him. Somewhere along the way, he'd quit resenting Lauren for having the life he thought should've been his. And if he'd never known her or Henry before any of this had started, he'd be damned impressed that she was going to run the Ash conglomerate one day. "It's okay," he said, absently stroking the cat at his side. "Really? Because I know how much it hurt you when-"

"It's okay, Princess, really. It's your life. It's what happened. I don't blame you. I'm ... glad for you."

As she came to the side of the bed and bent over him with a quick kiss that easily turned into more, he realized he truly meant what he'd just said. He was glad her life was good and her future set.

When the doorbell interrupted their kisses, she broke away, scurrying from the room, her dress playing about her thighs. "Damn, Izzy," he said without really meaning to talk to the cat. Suddenly, an entirely new kind of guilt nagged at him. He'd not thought about the future fate of Ash Builders, of Lauren's lifelong connection to the company, when he'd decided to keep Phil's pilfering to himself. What Phil was doing to Henry, he was also doing to Lauren.

"Shit," he muttered, disgusted. He had to tell her. A little over twenty-four hours after finding out, he already knew he couldn't keep it inside.

Because he cared for her. He'd done his best not to care, not to let any of this mean anything. But suddenly, it was undeniable. Nothing else in the world could make him do something that would ultimately help Henry Ash.

Resigned to giving up what only a day ago he'd seen as justice, he let out a sigh and thought, Now, how do I do it? How do I tell her? After all, he ácouldn't explain to her how he'd discovered Phil was cheating Ash Builders. As far as she knew. he'd never even been in her office, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to come that clean. He wished like hell he could tell her the whole truth, but she'd hate him. At least after he figured out how to tell her about Phil. part of his conscience would be clear. "Unbelievable," he said, gazing down at the cat. He'd finally found the justice he'd been waiting for his whole life ... and he was going to put an end to it, for Lauren Ash.

They ate in bed, holding the pizza slices over the box to keep from dripping, although preventing Izzy from walking through it was more challenging. "If I find orange paw prints in this house, Isadora Ash," Lauren scolded, "you're in trouble.

When they'd eaten their fill and set the pizza aside, a glance at the clock revealed it was after three. "So," she asked with a teasing grin, "up for a quickie?"

He playfully chastised her. "Is sex all you ever think about?"

She gave her head a provocative tilt and fluttered coy eyelashes. "Lately."

More than lately, Nick thought. But, of course, he couldn't say that, couldn't allude to knowing her sexual fantasies in any other way than occasionally bringing one into bed with them. He'd almost feared what he'd done earlier in the pool would be too much, build her suspicions-yet he'd been unable to resist.

"On the other hand," she said, "it's a beautiful day and tomorrow it's back to work for both of us, so maybe we should get outside, hit the beach."

He would've loved nothing more than that, but he had a secret to tell. And what she'd just said was probably the best opening he'd get. Now that he'd made the decision to do this, he didn't want to put it off. "Speaking of work, I've seen the rest of your house, but I've never seen your office, even though I walk past the door all the time."

She blinked, and he thought, Nice segue, Armstrong.

"It's just an office," she said. "Desk, chair, computer. Nothing special."

"I have a spare bedroom at my place," he told her, realizing he could make the truth work for him. "that I'm thinking of converting into an office for Horizon. I'm kind of interested in seeing somebody's home office, since I don't know what I'd need."

"I could help you," she said instantly.

And he thought, God, she s so sweet. "That'd be good." And it really would be, but right now, he had to concentrate on how to tell her a man she trusted was cheating her family business out of what likely added up to a lot of money. He hadn't even thought yet about how the news would affect her.

"Come on," she said. "Let's go take a look."

He took a deep breath as he rose from the bed, then pulled on his jeans and followed her down the hall, but knowing what awaited her inside her own office, and knowing he had to be the one to break it to her, suddenly made him feel a little sick. "This is it." She spread her arms, stopping in the middle of the room to face him.

He looked around, taking in details, trying to pretend he'd never sat in the chair by the bookshelf or turned on the desk lamp. His eyes flickered across the spine of the red book and he made sure not to linger. "It's nice," he said. Cherry furniture with claw-footed legs, plus the burgundies and hunter greens, made the room seem the most formal in the house other than her sitting room downstairs.

"I'd recommend a desk with more drawers," she said.

Hers possessed only one flat pencil drawer. ''There's always junk you need to stow somewhere. And you'll definitely want a big filing cabinet since I'm sure you have a lot of paperwork."

"Yeah," he said, watching her flit around the room to show him things, and feeling like even more of an ass because he couldn't tell her the truth without putting on a pretense.

That was it he couldn't take this anymore. While Lauren talked about her computer, he took a step closer and leaned over to look, purposely pressing his palm down on the stack of invoices he'd discovered yesterday.