Saving Red

by Carter Blake

  Through the red flannel shirt, I can see his heavy corded muscles bunch and tense. His large thighs strain at the denim, and his ass… my god, but the man has the most perfect backside.

  His hair is longer than the last time I was here. Shaved on the sides and hanging thickly over one half of his ruggedly handsome face.

  As if sensing my presence, he turns; blue eyes, dark and intense as they land on me.

  Flames lick at my flesh, burning through me, setting my entire body on fire.

  I feel the heat warm my cheeks, and when I start to take a step backwards I lose my footing on a patch of ice and go sprawling, landing hard with a sickening crunch.

  Pain—sharp and hot—slices through my head as it bounces off what I assume is an icy patch of concrete.

  My vision darkens instantly even though I can hear and sense the world moving around me.

  A few deep, growl-like curses, are muttered above me. Hands, big and strong, are touching me. Calloused fingers stroke my face, and for a moment I don’t want my vision to return, prepared to spend a few more moments of bliss in the man’s embrace.

  “Damn it, Red, open your eyes,” he demands roughly.

  I blink several times, until the pinprick of light expands, revealing the smoldering blue eyes that have haunted my dreams for the last six years.

  “What the hell were you thinking, wearing heels out here?” His tone is harsh, his expression brooding, but there’s a tenderness to his touch as he studies me, that makes the pain seem to dissipate, replaced by an aching hunger that clenches my core.

  “Always my savior,” I try to joke, grinning up at him.

  He grunts. “Because you’re always getting in trouble.”

  I try to sit up and groan when the world spins.

  “Here.” One arm snakes under my knees, the other behind my back, and he hoists me up against his god-like body.

  As much as I hate being the damsel in distress, I’m not about to complain when he’s touching me.

  As I inhale his scent—all male and woody—the butterflies in my stomach start to do a little dance of joy.

  He’s intoxicating. Reeking of pure primal masculinity.

  Compared to the guys on campus—even the football jocks who are gym buff—Ash is one hundred and ten percent sinew and muscle.

  I rest my cheek and palm on his chest as he carries me back up to the house, squirming to get closer to him.

  He lets out a harsh breath. “Stop that.”

  “What?”

  “You know what.” His tone is laced with frustration.

  “I’m not seventeen anymore.” I blink up at him and reach out to run my fingers across the ink along his neck that peeks out from his shirt. “You don’t have to be such a… gentleman all the time.”

  “You think that’s what I am, Red?”

  “That…” I know I’m pressing too hard when I say, “Or a coward.”

  A feral noise rushes from his lips, and my feet hit the floor with a hard thud when he releases me. The only thing stopping me from falling, one large arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

  He doesn’t say anything, no brooding remark like I usually get, just a concentrated look that makes me wonder if I went too far.

  Hunger.

  Lust.

  Stubborn determination to stay the hell away from me. That’s what I see when I look in his eyes.

  A man’s cough makes both of us tense. Ash drops his hold and takes a step back.

  “Miss Redmond?” A deep, velvety voice says almost lyrically behind me.

  Frustrated by the stranger’s rotten timing, I turn to face the intruder, only to be met by a pair of striking light brown eyes. Eyes the color of honey, framed by thick black lashes.

  The man is devastatingly handsome, in the typical blueblood way. Chiseled features, strong jaw, straight nose, dark hair just long enough to give him a sexy mussed look that would make a woman beg to run her fingers through it.

  One side of his grin tilts up higher than the other in a smirk that tells me he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on people.

  “I’m Jared Wolfe.” He takes a step towards me, hand outstretched. “I’m the lawyer from Wolfe, Perrault, and Associates, who’s handling your grandmother’s estate.”

  I take his hand, and stammer, when I feel the slice of energy that sizzles between us, “Ri-right. Sorry, I didn’t think you were coming until later.”

  He doesn’t let go of his grip, just keeps those hypnotizing eyes focused on me. “If it’s a bad time—”

  “No. It’s fine.” I shake my head, glancing at Ash from the corner of my eye, who’s standing all dark and brooding, glaring between us. Ignoring him, I turn back to Jared and grin up at him. “Why don’t we go into the study?”

  The man’s smile broadens, and he gives a small nod.

  I swear I hear a low growl come from Ash’s direction when I turn and start to walk away.

  The man is so hard to read. I swear, one minute he’s looking at me like he wants to tear my clothes off, and the next he’s treating me like I’m a child that needs protecting, or worse—a spoiled rich girl he can’t stand being in the same room with.

  In the study, I glance around the giant room with its unread books, and antique furniture, and suddenly feel extremely self-conscious.

  The large mahogany desk where my grandfather used to sit and drink bourbon and smoke cigars, while I colored on the floor beside him, is another reminder I’m just playing grownups; that I really have no idea what I’m doing.

  As if sensing my unease, Jared motions to one of the leather chairs. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  “Okay.” I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and sit down.

  He follows suit, sitting in the adjacent chair and placing his leather case on the desk. Leaning back, he steeples his fingers in front of his mouth and studies me.

  I shift uncomfortably under his intimate gaze. “What exactly did you want to talk about?”

  He gives me a sympathetic look, one that makes my stomach flip flop, because I know what it means—trouble.

  “You’re aware that the estate has been left solely in your name?”

  I nod, sitting straighter and bracing myself for the but that I know is coming.

  “As trustee of the estate, my law firm is legally—”

  “What do you mean, trustee?”

  “Your grandmother entrusted my firm to oversee the estates’ finances while she was ill or incapacitated. Now that it’s in your name, my company holds the right to oversee the estate until you turn thirty.”

  “Thirty? But that’s years away.”

  “Yes.”

  “I don’t understand. Why would she give you that much power?” I don’t even know the man. And I’m pretty sure my grandmother never mentioned him.

  “She trusted me.” His grin is dark and full of hidden meaning. “And I hope you will too.”

  An unsettled feeling stirs in my stomach. But my grandmother was a smart woman, she wouldn’t have given just anyone that much power without fully trusting them.

  “Okay,” I say, uncertainty making my voice catch. “So, what happens? What do I do?”

  “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of paying the staff, and any bills that ensue, and you’ll be given an allowance.”

  “An allowance?” Each word he utters makes me feel more and more like an incompetent child.

  “It’ll be enough to let you live the lifestyle you were already living. You can go back to school and finish—”

  “And if I want to stay here?”

  He frowns. “It’s your house, legally. If that’s what you want, you can stay.”

  Then why do I feel like I suddenly need permission from him?

  “And you?”

  He cocks an eyebrow. “And me, what?”

  “Where do you stay?”

  A deep chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Not here, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “Rig
ht.” Heat warms my cheeks, once again I'm feeling foolish.

  He tilts his head that same seductive grin playing on his lips. “Can I make a suggestion, Miss Redmond?”

  “Of course.”

  “You’re a very beautiful, young woman, who has recently come into a great amount of wealth. You need to be aware that there will be many men who will take an interest in you.” He nods towards the door, and I know where his mind wanders.

  Ash.

  Defensiveness steels my spine. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own love life.”

  Again, that grin. “I’m sure you are. I just want you to be careful.”

  Careful. I hate that word. What I want is to be wild, to ride the wave of danger. To live and love and not worry about the damn consequences.

  What I want is Ash.

  “Thank you for your advice, Mr. Wolfe.” I start to stand and he takes my hand.

  “Jared,” He says, thumb stroking across the back of my hand, sending small bolts of electricity sparking through me.

  “Jared,” I repeat, unable to break from his mesmerizing gaze.

  He leans closer, his expression full of intent, and his gaze drops to my mouth.

  Hot.

  Intense.

  The man is all charm and raw sexuality, and it’s nearly impossible not to respond to his touch.

  It’s not the same all-consuming, carnal desire that I get with Ash, but it’s something. I just can’t think straight enough to figure out what.

  “Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asks, not loosening his grip.

  “Dinner?” I repeat. My voice is weak, shaky, and annoyingly childish, even to me.

  He keeps watching me, lips quirked up in a sexy grin. “Tomorrow night?”

  “Oh… all right.” I give a small nod. “Tomorrow.”

  “I’ll see you then, Ella.” His voice drips with promise.

  I watch his back as he exits the study, seeing Ash still standing in the foyer, all fire and broodiness, with his dark scruff, and plaid shirt rolled up, exposing his inked forearms. A striking comparison to the cool and collected man who just asked me out on a date.

  It was a date, right?

  I haven’t been on one in months. Too busy with school. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. It has nothing to do with the fact I’m obsessing over a man that doesn’t want me.

  Maybe Jared Wolfe is exactly what I need to get my mind off Ash Hunter.

  Chapter 2

  Ash

  “What did he want?” I demand, when Ella walks out of the office, her cheeks flushed.

  Her eyes widen slightly at my outburst. “It’s none of your business.”

  I rough my fingers through my hair and try to contain the anger that bubbles up in my chest. “Do you have any idea who that man is?”

  “He is… was my grandmother’s lawyer, and now he’s mine.” She starts to turn away, and I move between her and the door.

  “What do you mean yours?”

  With a heavy sigh, she says, “He’s in charge of the estate, for now. I guess my grandmother didn’t think I was old enough to handle all of this.”

  I can hear the hurt and resignation in her voice, but there’s also something more… relief?

  “So, what does that mean?”

  “It means you still have a job. And I can go back to my old life and not have to worry about any of this.”

  “You’re leaving?” A lump sits heavy in my stomach.

  “I haven’t decided yet. When I have dinner with Jared tomorrow, I’ll—”

  “You’re having dinner with him?” My voice is rough, edged with the frustration I can’t hold back.

  “Yes.” She holds my gaze, chin jutted up stubbornly as if daring me to protest.

  “You need to be careful around him.”

  “Funny. He said the same thing about you.”

  “I’m sure he did,” I mumble, then catch her arm when she starts to walk away.

  Instant heat pulsates through me, and I see it in her eyes too.

  As if burned, I release her quickly, which only gets me an eye roll and a frustrated sigh.

  “I mean it,” I warn. “The guy is a predator. If he asked you to dinner, it’s because he wants something.”

  “I know what he wants.” Her words are confident, but her expression is filled with uncertainty.

  “You sure about that?”

  “I’m not as naïve and innocent as everyone seems to think I am.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to. I can see it in your eyes.” She takes a step towards me, finger jamming in my chest. “The way you look at me. Like I’m some fragile, over-privileged child that can’t take care of myself. I’ve been on my own for a long time.” There are tears in her eyes when she continues, her palms now on my chest giving me one solid push that doesn’t even make me flinch. But still she continues, “Yeah, I have money. A lot of it. But that doesn’t mean my life has been easy.” Another shove against my chest. Her words laced with all the heartbreak and anxiety she’s obviously been bottling inside of her. “I just wish for once in my goddamn life, someone would treat me like an adult.”

  I capture her wrists when she goes to shove me again. She looks up at me, desperation pouring from her eyes. I can’t help my reaction. The only thing I’ve ever wanted for her is to keep her safe—especially from me. But I’m starting to wonder if by keeping my distance I haven’t left her exposed to even more danger.

  “You want to be treated like an adult?” I dip my head, so close I can feel her uneven, ragged breath against my lips.

  “Yes,” she whimpers, gaze dropping to my mouth. “Please, Ash.”

  That’s all it takes for me to lose all self-control. My lips crash against hers, taking the kiss I’ve been so desperate for.

  She sucks in a small breath, her mouth parting and allowing me entrance. I sweep my tongue against hers, and devour the little moan she gives.

  Her hands are on me, fingers curling in my shirt, pulling desperately until they snake underneath, her touch skating across my abs.

  Tangling my fingers in her hair, I take what I’ve wanted for so long, feeling the softness of her body melting against mine.

  All control gone, I know there’s no holding back. Not now when I’ve actually had a taste of what I’ve been missing.

  “Red,” I growl against her lips when her fingers move to the buckle of my pants.

  Shit. If I don’t stop now, I’m going to end up fucking her right here in the front hall where any one of the staff could walk in on us.

  This is wrong.

  I’m all wrong.

  I do this and there’s no way in hell either of us are walking away whole. There’s too much between us. Too much heat. Too much history. Too many secrets.

  I pull back quickly, regretting it the second I see the hurt in her eyes.

  “Red—”

  “No more excuses. Either you want me or you don’t.”

  “It’s not that fucking simple.”

  “It is that simple,” she says, eyes full of challenge.

  When I don’t respond, she shakes her head, swollen lips clamped tight, then storms up the stairs without another word.

  Chapter 3

  Ella

  The restaurant Jared chose is a small little bistro that my Grandmother used to take me to whenever I visited. It’s my favorite place to eat in this city, and I wonder if Jared knew that. If that’s why he chose it. And if he does, what else does he know about me?

  “You look beautiful,” Jared says, standing and taking my hand, then pulling out my chair for me to sit when I approach.

  He’s dressed in a black pin-striped suit that accentuates his lean, muscular physique, and narrow hips.

  I fidget with the black clutch that matches the dress I chose for tonight. “Thank you.”

  “Wine?”

  I nod, letting him pour me a glass from the bottle that’s already open on the tab
le. McManis Cabernet Sauvignon. Another of my favorites. Unease settles in my stomach.

  Throughout dinner, I can’t help but squirm under his cool gaze.

  “You’re been studying art history,” he says, tilting his wine glass against his lips, then taking a small sip while watching me.

  “Yes.”

  “Your grandmother told me you have a talent for oils.”

  “She did?” I frown, because my grandmother had rarely complimented me, and never about my art. She called it frivolous child’s play.

  “She showed me some of your pieces.”

  “I didn’t realize that she kept them.” Or that she was close enough to this man to share them with him.

  My grandmother was a quiet woman, preferring her own company to that of other people.

  “She gave me one,” he says, long fingers tapping on the table, eyes never leaving mine.

  “One of my paintings?”

  “A watercolor you did of the estate.”

  I chuckle, mostly from nerves. “She was probably happy to get rid of it.”

  “Actually, I asked to buy it.”

  I frown at him. “Why?”

  “I wanted something, a piece of the incredible young woman Annabelle was always talking about.”

  Confusion rolls through me. “I’m surprised she spoke to you about me.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “She just…” I laugh. “She never acted like she liked me very much. After my parents died, she sent me to boarding school. I lived there most of the year, and when I came…” Home isn’t the right word, because the estate always seemed more like a prison then a home. “…back for summer and winter break, she appeared glad to see me. In fact, she was never particularly happy to see anyone. I’m surprised she took to you the way she did.”

  “Annabelle was a hard woman to get to know, but we had two things in common.”

  “What was that?”

  “Keeping the Redmond Estate from falling into the wrong hands.”

  That was my grandmother’s greatest concern. She loved that house more than she loved anything.

  “Why do you care what happens to the property? You get paid either way.”