by Mary Campisi
The studio door opened and Quinn called to her. “Arianna? What do you think about—” She glanced at him, frozen in the doorway with Hope in his arms.
“Look who’s here, Quinn.”
Quinn advanced on them slowly, his eyes on her and the gun she had pointed at the man she detested. “Why don’t you give me that?” he said once he’d reached her. “Guns and babies don’t mix well.”
She sipped in small breaths, focusing on his face. Nobody had eyes like Quinn Burnes. They pulled you into their silver depths, held you until you had to look away. Their intensity had once scared her until she discovered he was just as wounded as she was. Eve had changed all that, softened the lines around his mouth, the doubt in his heart.
“Arianna? Give me the gun.”
She lowered her arm and handed it to him. “Make him go away.” Her voice almost cracked when she added, “Please?”
Quinn smiled and she relaxed a little. “I’ll make him go away, but Ash and I have a few things to settle first.” He shot her ex-fiancé a warning look and then turned back to her. “Will you take Hope? I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Arianna held out her arms and cuddled the baby against her chest. She’d once thought she and Ash would have children; dark-haired like him with cleft chins and strong jaws…
“Go ahead, Arianna. Take her to the studio. There’s a bottle in the fridge.”
She hugged the baby tighter, sifted her fingers through the silky dark hair, and murmured against Hope’s soft cheek, “Just make him go away.”
***
Ash studied Quinn Burnes as he flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed,” the gun in his left hand as though he hadn’t decided if he were going to use it on Ash or not. Seeing the man with a baby was about as ridiculous as Arianna with a gun pointed at him. It was too bizarre, too out of place…unless…“Do you and Arianna have a baby?”
“What?”
You’d have thought Ash had asked the man if he favored women’s underwear. “You and Arianna. Is that your baby? Together?” He’d thought his only problem was going to be winning her trust. Pete said she wasn’t involved with anyone, but maybe he’d been wrong; maybe Quinn Burnes had jumped to the rescue and landed in her heart and her bed.
“Of course not. She’s my friend.”
“Are lovers and friends mutually exclusive?” Burnes was too damn good-looking, too arrogant, too invested in himself and what he wanted with his flashy cars and big bank accounts. Maybe Ash should have thrown around wads of cash and pulled out the Ferrari.
“It’s not her baby.” His eyes narrowed on the vicinity of Ash’s throat. “Why are you here?”
“I love her. I want her back.”
When Burnes laughed, Ash considered lunging at him but forced himself to remain calm. “Yeah, good luck with that. She hates you. Not just the lukewarm-you hurt-my-feelings hate, but the in-your-gut fire hate. I would rather rip out your heart than hear it beating hate.”
Okay, he got the picture. He hated that he needed to depend on Quinn Burnes if he were going to have a shot with Arianna. “What if I told you I wasn’t who said I was?”
“I’d say that’s the first bit of honesty I’ve heard since you walked in this room.” Burnes placed the gun in the open register and leaned back against the counter, arms across his chest.
“I’d just as soon shoot you for what you did to Arianna, but I really don’t want to go to jail for killing your sorry ass. And I know you’re not who you said you were because Ashford Thomas Revelin doesn’t exist. Trust me, I looked.”
Ash might need Burnes’s help, but he was not going to be intimidated by his lawyer theatrics. “You’re right. I made the name up. Well, not exactly. Revelin was my great-grandmother’s maiden name. I didn’t tell Arianna who I was when we first met because I needed to know she cared about me for me.”
“Right. And once she did, you’d unload the rest on her? What is it, Revelin? A jail record? A wife? Ten kids with five different women?” Quinn Burnes’s voice grew quieter, more menacing. “What the hell was so secretive that you couldn’t tell her?”
“You know Lancaster Development?”
“The condos and office buildings? Who doesn’t know about them? Did you scam those people? I hope you did because I heard the owner is one tough son of a bitch. He’ll nail you if he hasn’t already.”
“He’s my brother.”
“Your brother.”
Ash doubted many people surprised Quinn Burnes, but judging by the tightness around his mouth, he’d just done it. Or maybe that was shock, starting at the corners of his mouth, spreading to his nostrils, the bridge of his nose, landing in those silver eyes that narrowed to slits. “Peter Lancaster is my brother. I’m Ash, the younger sibling, the one who plays while his brother works. Until now. I’m going to step in and help him out.” That thought had flitted into his head exactly three seconds ago, or maybe it had perched in Ash’s brain since his conversation with Pete. His brother needed his help, and whether it was office-related or personal, Ash would not let him down.
“And what will you help him do?” Quinn Burnes glanced at Ash’s tattered jeans and T-shirt. “Change his oil?”
The guy was a real pain in the ass. Lawyer-types always were and from what he remembered this one was only in it for himself—personal injury. He hated asking, but Quinn Burnes was his only hope. “I need your help.”
“If it has to do with Arianna, you should know better than to ask me that.”
At least he was loyal. Maybe if he opened his mind, he’d see the truth—Ash had left to protect her. “My brother discovered Arianna wasn’t exactly who she said she was. He didn’t trust her or her intentions. He threatened to expose her if I didn’t break it off.” He’d read the file so many times it was burned in his heart. The young woman on those pages was not the Arianna Sorensen he knew.
Burnes laughed. “Expose her? What did she do? Pose for Playboy to pay for college?”
Ash shook his head. “She has a degree in English from Rutgers, not NYU, like she said. And she’s never studied in Paris or Rome, or even been out of the country. She comes from some rinky-dink town in northwestern Pennsylvania. Her mother washed dishes in the local hospital and her father was a maintenance man in a factory. She stole eight thousand dollars from her parents, ran away, got pregnant, and lost the baby, all before her eighteenth birthday.”
Those silver eyes sparked. “Arianna? The woman who was here a few minutes ago?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
Burnes laughed. “That’s crazy. There’s no way she did any of those things. I’ll stake my life on it.”
“Then you’re a dead man.”
“Why would she lie? People screw up all the time.”
“People lie all the time, too,” Ash said. “Pretend they’re somebody they aren’t.” He should know; he’d spent years playing at being someone else, deleting details of his real life, like the luxury cars, vacations, the Black Card. He’d gone “bare bones” so people accepted him for who he was, not what he owned. And because it was a game to see if he could do it. The hell of it was, the longer he did without the extravagance, the less he missed it. He’d spent the last two years traveling the country on his Harley, taking photos, living in small towns…and he’d never felt more alive…except when he’d been with Arianna. But what she’d done, erased her past and created an image that left others behind? That was cold and desperate.
“So, if what you say is true and you broke things off to protect her, what happened? The threat is suddenly over?”
Ash met Quinn’s pointed stare. “You could say that.”
“Or you could tell me how you know the threat’s over.”
Damn lawyer. They always wanted the details. “My brother’s wife found out what he did and now she’s threatened to divorce him if he doesn’t make things right for me and Arianna.”
“Tough woman.” And then, “Look, I’m sorry for how this went down, and I’m sorry
to hear about your brother’s issues, but Arianna’s happy. It took almost a year of therapy to get her to a decent place in her life. I don’t care who she was or what she did. She’s my friend and I won’t let anyone hurt her again, especially you.”
“Just give me a chance.” He hated begging, especially to Quinn Burnes. “Let me come clean about who I really am. I’ll tell her I had second thoughts and got scared.”
Those silver eyes turned deadly. “Oh, a lie built on a lie. How refreshing.”
“I’m not going to tell her the real reason I left. If there’s any hope for us, she’ll have to own up to it.” Ash shrugged and pretended he wouldn’t accept her any other way, which was just one more lie. She could pretend she was a descendant of the Rockefellers and he’d let it go, but he didn’t want it that way, knew it would remain a wedge between them. “I want her to trust me enough to tell me about the baby, the money, all of it.”
“Good luck with that,” Quinn said this as though he thought Ash had an insurmountable task ahead of him, beginning and ending with impossible. “I’ve known her a lot of years and she’s never once mentioned a family or a hometown.”
Well, that was something Ash knew about. Soon after the breakup, he’d made a trip to the town, asked a few questions, but not too many, and learned that nobody talked about the girl who left them, and if they did, they sure as hell didn’t tell a stranger. He’d identified the Sorensens on that first trip: mother, father, sister, two granddaughters, but never approached them until the second trip, a few months later. That’s when he and Edgar Sorensen formed an unusual friendship of sorts, sitting in the garage amidst lawn equipment and a torn-down 1962 Ford F150 pickup. They drank beer, talked motors and Harleys, and let the companionable silence of acceptance and unacknowledged loss settle between them. “The town’s called Endicotte.”
“Endicotte,” Burnes repeated, and then, “Here’s the deal. You get one shot, but if she refuses you, that’s it. You leave.”
Ash cleared his throat and forced back the spurt of fear shooting through his gut. He’d given up hope of a life with her when he left over two years ago, but now his brother had gifted him with a second chance. He intended to win Arianna back, and this time, it would be without the lies between them.”
***
She’d only agreed to meet Ash because of Quinn. He’d asked her to hear Ash out. Odd, coming from the man who had wanted to hunt down her ex-fiancé and find a way to make him pay for ripping her heart in half. Of course, she’d stopped him. She did give him permission to investigate Ash Revelin once the man had disappeared with no more than a four-sentence note. Funny thing was, there was no Ash Revelin.
Maybe this last piece was God’s way of punishing her for her past. She wasn’t who she said she was…but then neither was Ash. All the days and nights of wondering what had really happened, why he’d walked out of her life—their life. She could find out very soon. If she asked. If he told her the truth.
She didn’t want him to know how much she cared. That showed weakness and she would not be weak around Ash Revelin.
“Hey.”
She looked up and there he was, the man who had haunted her for more than two years. Why did he still have the power to make her forget to breathe? She didn’t want to remember the way his lips twitched when he thought she was being too serious. Or how dark his skin was against her paleness. Even as she fought the remembering, the past swirled around her, landed in her brain in a whoosh of emotion and memories, snapshots of their first meeting, first kiss…last time they made love...
He slid into the booth opposite her and said, “Nice place.”
The Banana Tree was anything but nice. Filled with dark wood, half-drawn shades, and a handful of customers drowning in their own past, the bar held a certain desperation about it, as one who has almost given up on itself but can’t quite do the deed of ending it all. It did not speak of hope or second chances. And certainly not forgiveness. The dingy bar provided the perfect backdrop for listening to Ash’s lies and then walking out of his life as he’d once done to her.
“Thanks for agreeing to meet.”
“I only agreed to see you because of Quinn.”
A flash of something—anger, remorse, pain?—darkened his expression, and then, just as suddenly disappeared. “I forgot Quinn resides at the right hand of God and the law.” His dark eyes narrowed on her. “Whose baby is that I saw yesterday?”
“It’s Quinn’s.”
He laughed. “Burnes has a child? So he got trapped.” Ash rubbed his jaw, his lips twitching as if the possibility of a woman ensnaring Quinn Burnes was enjoyable.
“It wasn’t a trap.” Not the kind he meant anyway. The only trap that almost caught Quinn was the one she unknowingly helped set—leading Eve’s estranged husband to Quinn’s home where the brutal man intended to steal his wife back and murder Quinn. Thankfully, the only one who got caught in the mess was Alexander Maldonando, the estranged husband.
“The Quinn Burnes I knew wasn’t looking to settle down.”
She met his gaze, held it, pushed the words through the pain. “Things change. Quinn’s married with a wife and child.” That could have been us. It should have been us.
“Damn.” Ash rubbed his forehead. “Who would have thought?” And then, “Is he still chasing ambulances?”
“Actually, he’s not. He’s painting.”
“Painting? What? Houses?”
“Of course not. He’s an artist. So is his wife.” She ignored the twinge of envy circling her words. “They work together.” Like we planned to do. “He also does legal counseling for start-up companies and small corporations.”
“So, he’s noble and he’s a family man.” His blew out a disgusted sigh. “Now I really don’t like him.”
There probably was more truth to those words than he wanted her to see. Thankfully, the waitress took that moment to descend upon them. Arianna ordered another scotch and Ash a beer. He used to enjoy the darker microbrewery types but he’d chosen a no-fuss-on-tap beer that reminded her once again how things had changed.
“Why did you really come back?” She didn’t want to talk about Quinn or his new livelihood or anything for that matter. What did a person say to someone who had crushed her dreams and not had the decency to stick around and explain why? Had she meant so little to him she didn’t warrant at least that? Or was there more, something darker, more hideous and unforgivable that sent him away, kept him away all this time? Ash Revelin was like a scab that wouldn’t heal, and his reappearance had ripped that scab open to expose the rawness beneath. It was too painful to be around him. Too unsettling. She’d listen to him because of her promise to Quinn, but once this conversation was over, she planned to stand up and walk out of Ash’s life.
He’d never been one to struggle for words, and certainly not when he was with her. In fact, he’d had comments about everything back then—her skin, her smile, her laugh. Her touch. Her mouth on his…Oh, but he was struggling for words now. He opened his mouth, closed it, cleared his throat as his gaze zeroed in on her chin, skittered to her nose, landed on her eyes. Finally, when she thought she might have to repeat the question, he spoke. “I want another chance.”
“You said that earlier.” She’d jump in the Schuylkill River in January, naked, before she’d give him anything, especially a second chance.
He must have read her thoughts because he scowled and snatched the beer the waitress had delivered seconds before. “My real name’s Ash Lancaster.”
“Lancaster?”
He tipped the bottle to his lips and drank, eyeing her reaction. When she didn’t continue, he set the bottle on the table and said, “As in Lancaster Development.”
“Oh.” Oh. Everyone in Philly knew about Lancaster Development; they owned the majority of upscale real estate in the city: condos, offices…The Silver Strand…
A faint blush crept up his neck. “The first day I met you I was just checking out the area. My brother sent me on o
ne of his scavenger hunts and I grew bored.” He shrugged and the blush spread to his cheeks. “What did I know about condos and office buildings? I was only looking for a way to pass an hour before I had to report back. And then I met you.”
Talk of that first meeting brought back too many memories—the instant connection, the laughter filling the shop, the intense look on his face when he asked her to dinner. More memories crowded her brain, weighed down her heart—long nights of passion and promise, dreams of a future that would grow stronger each year…hope to heal the past…
Ash broke through the memories. “I wanted to tell you who I was, but I had to know the money wouldn’t matter.”
She would have loved him if he’d owned nothing but the camera and backpack he carried into her shop and were simply the half-broke photojournalist he claimed to be. “Did trust ever cross your mind? Even once? Or were you not planning to marry me anyway so it didn’t matter?” Putting sound to the questions she’d battled since he left pinched her brain and jabbed her heart until she grew lightheaded. How many times had she wondered if he’d ever really cared or if she’d just been a game?
“I wanted to marry you,” he said in a voice that sounded as if all of the oxygen had been sucked from it. “I’d never wanted anything more in my life.”
She ignored the pain that leached into his words. “But you left.”
His dark gaze flitted over her face, landed on his beer. “My parents died when I was nine. My brother was nineteen. He’d just started his second year at Duke but he transferred to Rutgers so he could live at home with me. Spoiled me rotten, gave me everything and still it wasn’t enough. I wanted my parents, a normal family, not a brother who got saddled with me. I had so damn much guilt. And anger. I rebelled, flunked out of two schools, then finally finished.”