Ghost 05 - Fairytale Come Alive

by Kristen Ashley

  Likely, this didn’t help her sleeplessness.

  She decided not to think about that either.

  “Miss Bella,” Sally called, taking Isabella from her thoughts. “When we get home, are you going to teach me how to be ambidextry?”

  Isabella started to answer but Jason turned (again) and corrected (again), “Ambidextrous.”

  Sally glared at him, losing patience, “Jace! That’s what I said! Am-bee-dex-try!”

  Isabella leaned toward the girl, wrapped her hand behind her head, gently pulled her close and kissed her shining hair.

  Then she answered, “I’ll do my best.”

  And she would, in the few days she was going to remain there.

  Sally was gaining strength. She’d broken her right forearm which was in a cast thus Isabella had told her she’d need to learn to be ambidextrous while her arm healed. She’d also had a couple of ribs broken which they’d been told would heal quickly. She’d had a number of deep contusions which were fading.

  Other than that, shockingly (and thankfully), she was fine.

  Therefore, Isabella reckoned, she’d get Sally settled. This, she decided, would take a day or two (or three). And then she’d get out of Prentice’s hair.

  It must be said she didn’t want to be out of Prentice’s thick, dark hair.

  In fact, Isabella spent way too much time thinking how much she wanted to run her fingers through it.

  Nevertheless, although Prentice had been polite and even grateful for her help, he was just that. Nothing more. His politeness and gratitude were of the distant variety, and not, Isabella guessed, just because he had a lot weighing on his mind.

  Which meant it was time for her to go.

  At least, she thought (with not a small amount of sadness), this time it wouldn’t be ugly.

  Things were settled between her and Prentice, in a way. It was over. They were acquaintances, ex-lovers of both varieties. There was so much water under the bridge, it was a wonder the bridge wasn’t flooded.

  Even in the short expanse of time after the drama of their mini-reunion, they’d moved on.

  Or, at least, it was clear Prentice had.

  Isabella was just pretending. Then again, she was good at it as she should be, she’d had enough practice.

  But the good thing was that meant that this time she could stay in touch with the kids from afar and not worry that Prentice was going to blow his stack.

  Prentice rolled to a stop in the drive of his house and Isabella watched him as he looked around at the cars parked everywhere.

  She bit her lip.

  She probably should have told him about the party.

  It wasn’t her idea. It was Annie and Debs’s idea.

  She’d just cleaned the house and baked the chocolate cake and, maybe, bought all the decorations, blew up the balloons and hid them in her rooms.

  He turned in his seat and locked eyes on Isabella, who was sitting behind Jason.

  Isabella sucked in breath.

  When she returned a week ago, he seemed somewhat angry and definitely impatient. This had gone away.

  She could easily read annoyance and impatience in his eyes now.

  Annie and Debs had talked Isabella into the party, insisting it was a fabulous idea the latter who, during their planning session the day before, had shown absolutely no ill-will to Isabella and was again treating her like the sister she always wanted but never had, a change in attitude that Isabella was also too exhausted to process.

  Looking at Prentice, Isabella felt maybe they were wrong.

  “Um…” she started hesitantly and he shook his head.

  Then he turned away and got out of the SUV.

  Isabella scrambled out and saw that Jason was looking around, eyeing the cars, a smirk on his mouth. Prentice unbuckled Sally and carried her in his arms as Jason hurried forward to open the door. Isabella, ever the coward, trailed behind.

  So far behind, she heard the congregation inside shouting, “Surprise!” but she didn’t see it. It took her a couple of seconds before she entered behind Prentice and his family.

  In the great room were Annie and Dougal, Fergus, Dougal’s parents, Prentice’s parents, Fiona’s parents, Debs, her husband and two kids, Morag, her husband and two kids and Mrs. Kilbride. The great room was festooned with pink and white streamers, bunches of pink and white balloons were fastened here and there and there was a big banner hanging on the stairs that read, “Welcome home Sally!”

  There were trays groaning with food all over the bar-slash-counter that delineated the kitchen from the great room. The pièce-de-résistance, Isabella’s chocolate cake on a high cake stand Isabella had unearthed, the chocolate frosting decorated with swirls of pink and white icing, sat right smack in the middle of the culinary extravaganza.

  But it was worse.

  Annie was holding a little, adorable, squirming black kitty with a pink and white bow around its neck.

  Isabella stopped next to Prentice, spied the cat and mumbled, “Oh dear.”

  Sally’s eyes honed right in on the feline.

  “Kitty!” she shrieked with pure joy.

  “Oh dear,” Isabella repeated.

  Prentice put Sally on her feet as Annie came forward with the cat. Then his gaze cut to Isabella.

  At the look in his eyes, Isabella went directly on the defensive. “I didn’t know anything about the cat. I swear.”

  He straightened and turned to her. “The party?”

  Isabella bit her lip but decided it best not to answer.

  “The cake?” he went on.

  Isabella hugged her middle and cupped her elbows with her hands. She’d snuck down to the kitchen in the wee hours of the night to make the cake on the sly.

  She didn’t explain this. Instead, again, she decided not to answer.

  “Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

  Sally was on her knees, Annie in a crouch in front of her. The kitty was jumping excitedly around Sally as Sally tried to stroke it with her good hand and Annie was doing her best to keep the cat from overwhelming the just knocked over by a car little girl.

  Sally tilted her head back to Prentice and requested loudly, “Can I keep her, Daddy? Can I, can I, can I?”

  “Sorry, mate,” Dougal murmured and Isabella saw that he’d sidled close to Prentice’s side, “you know Annie.”

  Annie grinned up at Prentice, completely unrepentant.

  “I vote we push her off a cliff,” Isabella said in a soft whisper and then felt the blood drain out of her face because she meant to think it not to say it.

  Dougal and Prentice’s heads turned to Isabella.

  Isabella’s hands released her elbows and clenched into fists.

  Dougal burst out laughing.

  Prentice didn’t laugh but his face changed. He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Then his eyes dropped to her hands and she forced her fists to uncurl.

  He quickly guarded his expression and looked down at his daughter.

  “You can keep her, baby.”

  “Hurrah!” Sally shouted.

  Prentice bent down and picked up Sally, carrying her to the couch. “But you’ve got to rest. You’re just out of hospital.”

  “Can I have cake?” Sally asked.

  “In a minute,” Prentice answered.

  “Hurrah!” Sally repeated.

  The partygoers closed in on Prentice and Sally. Jason and his cousins claimed the attention of the cat. Annie got close to Isabella.

  “I need to talk to you,” Annie said out of the corner of her mouth, being cloak and dagger.

  Isabella looked at her friend, knowing Annie’s cloak and dagger was never a good thing but she had other, more pressing things on her mind.

  “And I need to talk to you,” her look turned severe, “Annie, a cat?”

  Annie gave Isabella a “What?” look and Isabella gave her a “You know!” look in return.

  Then Annie grabbed Isabella’s hand and dragged her d
own the hall, up the stairs and to the guest suite.

  “Annie, what on earth?” Isabella asked when Annie stopped them in the sitting room.

  On the couch were coats and bags. Annie dug through them, pulled out her big, suede, satchel purse and yanked out a magazine.

  “I’m sorry, Bella, something’s happened,” Annie said and handed the magazine to Isabella.

  Isabella took it, saw it was one of the way too many celebrity gossip magazines and she stared at the cover.

  Confused, she looked at Annie and asked, “You dragged me up here because you’re upset Bianca Preston is adopting another child from Africa?”

  Annie’s eyes bugged out, her hand shot forward, she ripped the magazine out of Isabella’s hold and opened it to a page that Isabella saw had been marked by Annie turning down the corner. She flipped it in half and handed it back to Isabella.

  Isabella instantly understood.

  She saw a full page photo of Prentice, Jason and herself walking from the Range Rover toward the hospital. It had been taken several days before.

  Prentice was close to Isabella, guiding her with a hand at the small of her back. Jason was walking close to Isabella’s side. Isabella and Jason had their heads bent, eyes to the ground as they walked. Prentice was gazing straight ahead.

  They all looked pale, tired and worn.

  Isabella’s eyes flew to the caption.

  Socialite Isabella Evangelista, with her new beau, handsome, award-winning architect Prentice Cameron and his son, Jason, visiting the hospital after a tragic accident involving Cameron’s daughter.

  Isabella’s eyes flew to Annie and she said the first idiot thing that came to mind.

  “Prentice has won awards?”

  Annie’s eyes bugged out further then she snatched the magazine from Isabella’s hands and snapped, “That’s not the point. Prentice is going to freak.”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  Prentice was going to more than freak.

  He’d always wanted a quiet life, a simple life and that was what he’d given his family. He’d moved them to their private house on the cliff close to the sea. He (obviously) excelled at his work (awards!) and she knew he enjoyed travel (or, he did twenty years ago, she had no idea about now).

  But he wasn’t the kind of man who wanted his photo in celebrity gossip magazines.

  And he wasn’t the kind of man who wanted his children’s photos in celebrity gossip magazines.

  And he certainly didn’t want to be referred to as Isabella’s “new beau”.

  “This isn’t good,” Isabella whispered.

  “No, it isn’t,” Annie returned.

  Always, for Isabella, it was something.

  Something dark.

  Something bad.

  Even in the middle of a miracle.

  Isabella gazed at her friend. “What am I going to do?”

  Annie got close. “Show him the picture. Talk to him for once. Explain how this is for you and how you deal with it.”

  Isabella sighed and nodded but added, “And I need to go. They’re going to be all over the village –”

  Annie grabbed Isabella’s hand. “No, you don’t need to go. You need to stay. You’re experienced with this. They aren’t.”

  Isabella stared at her friend. “If I go, the photographers will lose interest.”

  Annie snorted and shook the photo in front of Isabella’s face. “Hardly. Prentice is hot. Look at him. Incredibly photogenic. And Jason is a good-looking lad. You’ve all obviously been run through the mill and you still look amazing together. And it looks like you’re definitely together. They’re going to eat this up. They always do when it’s about you. Bella, they’re going to descend on them like flies on doo-doo.”

  Isabella looked to the photo.

  Prentice did look great, even though his face was tired and his mouth was tight, he’d never looked so handsome.

  And Jason was a good-looking lad, with his father’s eyes and his mother’s hair. Pre-teens the world over were going to be in throes of ecstasy.

  Isabella closed her eyes.

  Then she muttered, “Damn it.”

  “Talk to him,” Annie encouraged.

  Isabella opened her eyes. She had no choice.

  “I’ll talk to him.”

  Annie squeezed her hand.

  Isabella took the magazine, shoved it in her nightstand and then they went back to the party.

  It was a smash hit, especially the kitty and the cake.

  Everyone was nice to her, more than nice, even so far as being warm and friendly, like she was welcome.

  Like she belonged.

  It was a nice day and Isabella had to admit that Annie and Debs were right. A party after a tragedy that ended in a miracle rather than further despair was just the thing.

  Isabella did her best to keep Sally from tiring herself out too much, the exuberant kitty from causing Sally further injury and she consistently cleared away party debris so clean up later wouldn’t be overwhelming.

  The only weird thing that happened was when she was standing, talking to Debs and Fergus, Prentice brought her a plate piled high with food.

  Without a word, he handed it to her and walked away.

  Fergus, Debs and Isabella stared at the plate. Isabella with surprise, Debs and Fergus with knowing looks.

  Not hungry, Isabella nibbled from the plate then put it aside.

  Not long after, she was gathering discarded plates for the bin when fingers curled firmly around her upper arm.

  She looked at the strong hand at her arm and then at Prentice who the hand belonged to when he pulled the rubbish out of her hands, dragged her to the bin, dumped it in then dragged her to the counter. He prepared another plate for her, setting it on the counter and piling the food on it while he kept her imprisoned next to him, his hand still on her arm.

  When he was done, he turned to her, plate in hand, and demanded, “Eat.”

  “But –” she began, so shocked she didn’t know what to say.

  He interrupted her. “Eat.”

  “I had some. It was lovely but I’m full. I couldn’t eat more,” she explained.

  “You had barely any. It is lovely. There isn’t any way in hell you’re full. And you’re going to eat more.” He paused then said, “Now.”

  She stared at him stunned.

  Then she said, “Prentice, really, I’m full.”

  His eyes narrowed, he (and the plate) got close, his face dipped to hers and he asked in a low, quiet, dangerous voice, “Do I have to feed you?”

  Her mind filled with images of Prentice feeding her finger food. Her body reacted pleasantly to these mental images.

  She swallowed, shook her head and took the plate. He dropped her arm.

  Isabella ate while Prentice stood watching her. This was a difficult task. Firstly, she was confused as to why he was practically force-feeding her. Secondly, his eyes on her did crazy things to her heart, her belly and her head.

  When she cleaned the plate, she asked, maybe a little snotty (but really, he was force-feeding her!), “Happy?”

  “Not really,” he returned. “But it’s a start.”

  Then he walked away.

  Isabella glared at him and then felt eyes on her. Prentice’s Mum was looking at her as was his sister as was Jason and Mrs. Kilbride.

  They were all grinning.

  “You’re getting too thin,” Mrs. Kilbride called out then she advised helpfully, “Now you should have some of your delicious cake!”

  At that, Prentice pivoted on his boot, went directly to the cake, cut an enormous piece, slapped it on a plate and handed it to her.

  Dougal burst out laughing.

  Prentice tipped his head to the cake.

  Isabella glared at him.

  Prentice calmly accepted her glare.

  His every-colored eyes on her did funny things to her heart rate.

  She ate the cake.

  Seriously, she needed to get out of there.
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  As soon as she could.

  * * * * *

  Prentice

  The last partygoer was gone and except for the decorations which Sally didn’t want them to take down yet, everything was clean and tidy and his children were in bed.

  Even Sally’s new cat, christened Blackie, was curled asleep at Sally’s feet.

  Prentice needed a whisky.

  In case he received a middle of the night phone call with bad news that would necessitate him being alert, he’d refrained since Sally had her accident.

  With Sally home recovering, still in possession of all her important faculties, now asleep in bed and with Elle knocking herself out to care for him, his offspring and his home, including throwing a welcome home party for his injured daughter as well as sleeping in a bed not far away from him, he needed a fucking whisky.

  He was considering what to do about Elle as he poured it.

  This was a departure since for the past week when he wasn’t worried about Sally, Jason and getting the work done on a deadline that was fast approaching, he normally spent his time considering all the things he’d like to do to Elle.

  Regardless of the fact that she still looked exhausted and was losing weight mainly because the woman kept so busy she didn’t fucking eat, not to mention the fact that she’d left him and his family four weeks ago without looking back and for reasons only known in that crazy fucking head of hers, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her.

  He didn’t want to be attracted. He wanted to be over it and move on, as she clearly was.

  But he was attracted to her.

  Very attracted.

  In fact, he thought about this so often and there were so many different options, his mind had automatically started cataloguing the things he wanted to do to her. Where he wanted to put his mouth, his hands, his fingers, the different positions he wanted to try, the various rooms and furniture available.

  Christ, it consumed him.

  He’d never experienced anything like it, not even twenty years ago.

  Then again, he hadn’t had her twenty years ago.

  He was replacing the bottle when he heard, “Prentice?”

  His eyes cut to the door of his study.

  Elle stood there wearing jeans that fit her too well (even if she had lost weight) and a stylish but see-through purple blouse with tiny pleats down the front and a camisole he could see underneath. Her feet were bare, her hair was in a messy bunch that had slid to the back of her head and she’d taken off her jewelry but still wore her makeup.