“You could have fucking told me,” Dalton barked.
Noah flinched when a newspaper landed next to his head. “Careful.”
Dalton glared. “Careful? You’re talking to me about being careful? On my way to get milk I picked up The Metro and who do I see on the front page?”
Oh shit. “I thought you went for milk yesterday.”
“Don’t change the subject. Look at the fucking paper.”
Noah pushed himself upright, grabbed The Metro and groaned. Fuck. He and the boy were pictured clinging to the cliff, blood trickling down Noah’s face. Fucking mobile phones. Who’d recognized him? Probably some hack at the paper.
“You told me you’d tripped and hit your head on a chunk of rock,” Dalton said.
“I did.” He tossed the paper on the floor and lay down again.
“Falling off Beachy Head? What the fuck were you doing there?” Dalton dragged his fingers through his hair as he paced. “Christ, Noah. Don’t you think this has gone on long enough? What are you punishing yourself for? Because you didn’t fucking die in Afghanistan? You think dying now will make things right? You have to talk to someone. You need to get your head sorted out.” He stopped walking and stared at him. “If the psychiatrist isn’t helping, talk to me. Tell me what happened. I can handle it. I’m your friend.”
Noah felt himself closing down, shrinking away from his skin. He looked the same on the outside, but inside, he was a mess. His problem, no one else’s. He rolled onto his side.
“You know what happened,” Noah said in a cold voice. “It was in all the papers. We were ambushed. Not all of us walked away. Now fuck off and leave me alone.”
Dalton sat on the edge of the bed. “I can’t.”
Noah’s jaw twitched. “Yeah, you can.”
“All right. Then I won’t.”
“Don’t you have better things to do? Like finish your novel? You’re not earning any money hanging around here staring at your laptop or pestering me. If you can’t afford the rent, I’ll throw you out.” Noah half meant it.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get your money. I busted a gut for a year so I could take this time out to write, but you’re bloody distracting.”
“That’s your problem not mine,” Noah snapped.
“I’m worried about you.” Dalton lowered his voice. “I want you back, Noah. I want the guy I knew, the friend I had.”
Noah ground his teeth together. This wasn’t Dalton’s fault. Noah knew he was impossible to live with, and though he sometimes wanted Dalton gone, he suspected he wouldn’t have survived this long without Dalton pushing and cajoling him toward life.
“Sorry,” Noah mumbled.
“How sorry?”
Noah lifted his head and exhaled. “What do you want me to do? Going to cook bacon and eggs and make me eat them?”
That had been the tradeoff for their arguments, Dalton getting him to shove food in his mouth.
“Come out tonight. I know where there’s a party. We’ll get drunk, look for a couple of women to rub up against. I’m falling out with my hand.”
Only one word would get rid of him. “Fine.” Noah threw the duvet over his head, and a moment later he heard the door close.
It wasn’t fine. Nothing was fine.
* * * * *
Ash arrived home physically and emotionally exhausted. First thing that morning, she’d picked up a copy of The Metro and stopped so abruptly she almost caused a pileup of pedestrians behind her. The story about Noah appeared to be one of heroic rescue.
But…oh God…why had he been there in the first place?
The article said seven months ago Noah had come back from Afghanistan a hero after saving the life of a soldier who’d been bleeding to death. He’d been working as a war photographer and been ambushed. It sort of made Ash wonder—those loud fireworks, the way he’d trembled in her arms, his inability to speak. Post-traumatic stress disorder? Had Noah gone to Beachy Head to kill himself?
The thought had preoccupied her the entire day as she’d tramped all over London, giving tourists glimpses into the world of Charles Dickens. Dickens had been accustomed to walking the city streets, twenty miles at a time, in order to experience the sights, smells and sounds. London Then And Now, the company Ash worked for, thought it fitting their guides did something similar, though the sights, smells and sounds had to be quite different now. Twice a week, armed with a portfolio of photographs, Ash led up to fifteen avid visitors on a rambling walk covering Dickens or the Ripper.
It was bloody exhausting, particularly when worry about Noah kept threatening to choke her. But then everything she did was exhausting. Urban garden work two days a week, tourist guide two days a week and one day at the CAB. Plus worrying about Kay not getting any modeling work, concern that Mike never had any money despite a fulltime job, and until a couple of days ago, anxiety over Ronan, though that hadn’t entirely gone now that she knew his mum was terminally ill.
Kay pounced the moment Ash walked in. “There’s a bath ready for you. Mike has cooked. We’re going out.”
Ash groaned. “Nooooo.”
Kay pushed her toward the stairs. “Yes. We have to celebrate. I’ve got a contract for a job.”
“Oh, that’s great, but—”
“No buts.”
Kay guided her into the main bathroom and closed the door. The tub was a treat. Ash only had a shower on her floor. The other three had to share this bathroom. She stripped off, checked the water and climbed in. The moment she slid into the warmth, she relaxed. Bliss.
“Fifteen minutes and dinner’s ready,” Kay called through the door. “Just put your dressing gown on in case you spill…well, I’ve hung it on the hook.”
“Where are we going?” Ash got no answer.
She asked again when they were sitting around the table eating the only dish Mike made that was edible—spaghetti bolognaise. Ash couldn’t help but notice he’d managed to use every pan and utensil in the kitchen.
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise,” Mike said.
“Tell me,” Ash said.
“Wouldn’t be a surprise if we told you, would it?” Ronan pointed out.
“What do I need to wear?” Ash asked. “Camouflage gear? Flippers and a snorkel?”
“That little red dress,” Ronan said.
Ash tensed. “The one I’ve never worn? The one that has no back in it? The one that practically shows my—”
“Yes,” all three of them chorused.
Ash had a bad feeling. They were planning something and she didn’t like surprises. They never turned out well. But she did what she always did and smiled good-naturedly, determined to be cheerful because that was the most effective way to protect herself and keep people happy. She wouldn’t be the one who’d spoil the fun. The last thing she needed was for her friends to pity her, which was why Ash had never told them who she really was.
* * * * *
Noah tilted his chair until the back hit the wall, and then he stared at the group of women standing a few yards away by the bar. Voices too shrill, makeup too thick and their ogling glances far too obvious. He could probably have had any of them. He wanted none of them.
Dalton leaned to put his mouth by Noah’s ear. “You could at least try to look as though you’re enjoying yourself.”
Why should he? He hadn’t wanted to come and he wouldn’t have if Dalton hadn’t resorted to threats. This might be a private party, but most of the people here were after the same as those in every other bar. To find someone. The guys were thinking of a quick fuck while the women looked for something a little more long term. Noah couldn’t get his head around long term. Not anymore.
“Seen anyone you fancy?” Noah asked Dalton. “You’ve spent long enough with your head swiveling around.”
Dalton spun back to face him. “Not yet.”
Noah frowned at the guarded look on Dalton’s face. What was he up to? Ah shit. Noah felt too jaded to care. The group at the
bar all looked their way now. Noah wondered if they’d come up with some bet on which one of them he’d go for. He knocked back his ice-cold vodka—Christ, the drinks here practically stuck to his hand—and pinned his gaze on the largest woman. She wore huge earrings that drooped to her shoulders and a white dress she looked ready to fall out of. Noah turned on his empty, megawatt smile. Her gaze flicked from side to side as if she couldn’t believe he was staring at her and then she gave a tentative smile in return. Bingo.
“Don’t,” Dalton snapped at his side.
“Don’t what?” Noah kept staring, kept smiling.
“You fucking well know what. Leave her alone.”
“You brought me here to have a good time. It’s only a game.”
Dalton slammed his pint on the table and liquid sloshed out. “Not to her.”
Noah sighed, let the chair legs fall to the floor and dropped his gaze. “You can’t have it both ways. You want me to have a good time? This is me having a good time.” He stood up, walked to the bar and grabbed the hand of the woman in the white dress. “Dance, sweetheart?”
The incredulous faces of her friends almost made Noah smile for real. Contrary to what Dalton thought, Noah wasn’t being mean. Not entirely. Why not dance with her? Unlikely anyone else would ask.
Once they began to move, Noah regretted his impulsiveness. She had as much rhythm as a walrus. Her breasts swayed one way, her head the other, and it was making him seasick.
“What’s your name?” she shouted above the music.
“Noah.”
“I’m Tracey.”
He really didn’t want to know. One dance finished, another began and Noah should have thanked her and walked away, but that’s what she expected and what her friends expected, so he didn’t. It was himself he was trying to hurt, not her, but that wasn’t what would happen.
“Do you work for Credit Suisse?” she shouted.
“No.” How the hell had Dalton got them in here? “Client.”
“Your face is familiar.”
She jigged and jiggled, and Noah dragged his gaze from her breasts, annoyed he was beginning to find them fascinating if only as a place to suffocate himself. He looked over her shoulder and his gaze got stuck. Fuck, someone who can dance. A tall, slender woman in a short, tight, red dress with a scoop back danced with an equally talented guy in a black t-shirt. When she spun and Noah saw her face, he blinked in astonishment. She looked straight at him and looked just as stunned.
The waitress.
Telltale tremors of desire trickled into his groin. His cock twitched. He thought about an opening line until he reminded himself she’d said no. A woman who’d actually said no to him. Fuck.
And she was with a good-looking guy.
Which pissed him off for no accountable reason. And the guy looked vaguely familiar.
Noah pulled his partner close and plastered his lips to her mouth, mentally begging her not to open. As he sensed her trying to, he pressed his lips harder to hers, and while he kissed her, he stared at Ash—who fucking smiled at him as if she knew exactly what he was up to, which was more than he did.
What the hell was she doing here? It had to be a coincidence, didn’t it? The music changed again, and this time, Noah jerked his lips away from whatever her name was, said, “Thank you,” and turned his back.
He’d only taken three strides toward Ash before a pretty blonde stepped in front of him.
“Hi, remember me?” she asked.
“No.”
Noah tried to move past her, but she stepped the same way.
“My name’s Kay. I was at the wedding on Saturday.”
“Good for you.”
She put her palm on his chest and Noah froze.
“Want to dance?”
“No thanks.”
Noah turned and saw Ash on the other side of the dance floor—with the same guy.
Leave her alone.
“I only want a dance,” the blonde snapped.
“Excuse me.” Noah pushed past her through the mass of bodies.
Leave her the fuck alone. She said no. She thinks you’re a wimp.
He tapped Ash on the shoulder.
“You were supposed to flounce off in a huff when you saw me kiss that girl,” Noah said in her ear. “Do I have to kiss everyone except you to make you annoyed?”
“Just the guys.” She laughed.
Noah looked at the man she was with. The good-looking bastard really did look familiar. He glared at Noah.
“Am I interrupting?” Noah asked him.
“We live together.”
Fuck. Noah had caught what the guy said above the pounding music. But when the man reached for Ash, she elbowed him in the chest. “Back off, Ronan.”
The guy laughed, kissed her on the cheek and walked away. What the hell did that mean?
“So you and he…?” Noah asked.
Her shoulders slumped and she pouted. “Not now. I’ll have to dance with you instead.”
It took a moment to register she was teasing. No one did that anymore.
When she headed back into the middle of the dance floor, Noah followed. She looked as though she’d been poured into that dress. It clung in all the right places and showed her beautiful ass off to perfection. She turned, smiled, started to dance and Noah’s pulse raced as if he’d sucked up pure oxygen. Fluid and graceful, she flowed like a curling ribbon that wrapped and tightened and came undone in front of him.
Every turn brought them nearer, and in the end, they danced so close, they were breathing each other’s air. He couldn’t take his gaze from her face. They moved in such perfect harmony, Noah felt as though invisible threads were strung between them. Their mirrored movements slid from fast and frantic to slow and sinuous and back again through song after song. Wet through with perspiration, they danced back to back, chest to chest, chest to back with an arrogant sexiness that emptied the floor around them. They swayed, twisted and turned until they were no longer two people but one entity.
Noah became consumed by the thought of fucking her. Drunk on the thought of what she’d feel like as he slid into her, how she’d clasp him, fuck him with her cunt. He wanted his naked body pressed against the length of hers, front to back, back to front, every fucking position there was. He’d yanked out a corner of his shirt in the hopes of hiding his erection, but she had to have felt it. Noah could almost taste the hormones as lust circled them, tied them in knots and roped them together. The wonder was he wanted her to touch him.
“You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered in her ear.
Her wide smile of sweet pleasure made his heart pound. The honest delight in her eyes had his cock throbbing in time with his heart. Noah slid his hands from her waist onto her thighs and let them drift backward to clutch her under the crease of her butt. He swallowed his shudder. When Ash put her hands on his backside, his cock swelled and launched an all-out assault on his zipper.
When she tried to pull back, he clung tighter. “If you move, I’ll get arrested.”
She laughed and spun so her back was to his chest. That’s not going to help. Noah groaned and pressed his face into the nape of her neck, unable to stop his tongue from drifting onto her skin. He gripped her hips and leaned into her so she could feel the heat and hardness of his cock. The return pressure on his groin from her backside made the breath catch in his throat. The middle of a dance floor and he wanted to fuck her where they stood. He slid his hands up the front of her body, barely managed to avoid grasping her breasts, and crossed his arms to rest his palms on her shoulders while he kept licking and kissing her neck. Ash trembled against him. He could feel the fast rise and fall of her chest. She wasn’t going to say no this time.
“Come home with me. I want to fuck you,” Noah muttered in her ear.
Ash’s knees wobbled. This was not her. She wasn’t a siren. She didn’t dance like this, lead a guy on like this, want a guy as much as this.
Maybe it should be her.<
br />
Though Ash hadn’t forgotten what she’d read in the newspaper. What if Noah was too damaged for her to help? What if he pulled her down too? Ash had spent too long climbing out of the pit to fall back now.
He spun her in his arms so they were face-to-face, hip to hip and slung his arms over her shoulders.
“Don’t say no,” he whispered. “Please.”
The depth of her attraction to him, coupled with Noah’s hypnotic intensity scared Ash. She liked blandness, she lived for ordinary because that way she knew what to expect and she could stay in control. Passion was dangerous.
But it felt good. Ash felt…just felt for the first time in a long while.
“Ah, Christ, are you having to think about it? You don’t feel what I do?” he asked.
“I’m scared.” Petrified.
“Not as scared as me.” He closed his eyes and pressed his damp forehead to hers. “Please come home with me.”
Something in his tone pushed her to voice a decision already made. Ash swallowed hard. “Okay, but I have to tell my friends I’m leaving.”
He exhaled and nodded. “I have someone to tell too.”
“I’ll meet you outside in a couple of minutes.”
He lifted his head, ran his fingers over her mouth and walked away.
As he left her, the breath caught in Ash’s throat. The need to stay near him almost felled her. She turned to scan the dance floor, saw Kay with Mike and wriggled through the mass of bodies to their sides.
“I’m leaving with Noah,” Ash told them. “Tell Ronan.”
“Great.” Mike beamed at her but Kay pouted. Ash felt a frisson of delight that Noah wanted her and not Kay.
She retrieved her coat from the cloakroom and checked her mobile and wallet were still zipped in the inside compartment. She stepped outside to find Noah waiting, his hands in the pockets of his chinos. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a creased, untucked white shirt and a half-smile on his lips. Ash’s mouth watered.
Noah snagged her hand and pulled her away from the club and around a corner onto a darker road. When he stopped walking and tugged her into his arms, a little whimper slipped from Ash’s mouth.
“You are so cute,” he whispered.
An Ordinary Girl Page 7