Satisfied on a level he hadn’t felt for years, he opened the window and leaned back in his seat, the salty ocean breeze coming in, the view of the sea sparkling out to his right.
“Well,” he said, putting his hands behind his head. “That worked.”
“So far. We still have to get to your place. What if there’s still press waiting around there?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it.” He tried stretching his legs out and failed. “This is a ridiculously sized car.”
She didn’t even glance at him, her gaze fixed on the road ahead of her. “It’s economical.”
“It’s way too small.”
“Funnily enough, I didn’t buy it with you in mind.”
“Gets you from A to B, huh?”
“Exactly. By the way, you’d better close that window if you want to remain anonymous. Also, it’s blowing my hair.”
Ash sighed. And did the window up.
The sun coming through the front had caught the strands of red in Lizzie’s dyed brown hair, making it look like she had a headful of smoldering flame beneath a scattering of earth.
Interesting thought. Eleven years ago she’d been a brightly burning fire, but not so much now. Now she kept those flames hidden beneath brown dye and a blue uniform. Beneath a cool front and a calm manner. But he was willing to bet those flames were still there.
“So where are we headed?”
“Santa Monica.”
“Nice.”
“Expensive.”
“That, too. You have your own place?”
“Yes. It’s small but it’s mine.”
“You seem to do small a lot.”
“We can’t all be movie stars with millions of dollars.”
“No, but if you’d stayed, you might have been married to one.” Possibly not the best thing to say but he couldn’t help himself. She had an answer to everything and it was starting to get on his nerves.
Tension settled into her posture, a crease appearing between her brows. “I’m assuming you’re not expecting an answer to that.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, not the slightest bit apologetic. “That was a rule, wasn’t it?”
“You’re not sorry about at all,” she said levelly. “But if you must know I’m happy with my job. I’m happy with my life.”
He studied her. “You don’t regret leaving?”
“Nice try.”
“So the direct approach won’t work, huh?”
“Nope.”
“You look beautiful today.”
“And neither will flattery.” She glanced at him. “If you want to talk about something we could go with the weather.”
“Do I look like I want to talk about the weather?”
“Then how about you be quiet and let me drive.”
There weren’t many people these days who told him to be quiet, let alone a little woman with freckles on her nose. But then she’d always been strong, even at seventeen. Strong enough to tell him she didn’t need his protection from the bullies at school, that she could handle them herself. At least she had until the attention she’d started to receive after the episode of her mother’s show had aired got to be too much.
“Nobody tells me what to do, sugar,” he said lazily, more to mess with her than anything else.
“Well, maybe they should. You could use a little less hot air in that ego of yours.”
No one ever talked back to him like that either. He was A-list. They all kissed his butt. Then again, he had to admit, it was sort of thrilling to be around someone who didn’t give a shit about the fact that he was a star.
He grinned at her. “My ego is just fine, thank you very much.”
Lizzie just shook her head and turned her attention back to the road.
…
Perhaps Ash was right. Perhaps she should have gotten a bigger car. Because having him sitting sprawled all hulking and massive next to her, one muscular thigh nearly brushing against hers, made the vehicle seem even more minuscule than it actually was.
What on earth had made her put him in that security guard jacket? As if she needed another reminder of the past. Of how irresistible he’d been when her mother had told her he was going to be her own personal security guard. She hadn’t wanted to fall for him back then—she’d already had a grandstand view of how guys treated women by that stage—yet he’d been nothing but respectful. The perfect gentleman. And because she’d only been seventeen and he was the first man who’d ever shown an actual interest in her as a person, she’d fallen for him like a ton of bricks.
But not now. Definitely not now.
No. Absolutely not. The past was over with, especially that particular past.
She drove home as though driving was the most important task she’d ever done. All her concentration on the road and on other drivers. Pedestrians. Ladies taking their wiener dogs for a walk. Rollerbladers. Cyclists. Hell, anyone who didn’t happen to be Ash Kincaid.
It felt like forever before she finally pulled up outside her apartment building. “Why don’t you stay here,” she said, reaching for her backpack. “I won’t be long.” She so didn’t want him in her apartment. It was her refuge, her safe place. And to have him in it just felt too…too…exposing somehow.
“I don’t think so,” Ash said aggravatingly.
“You don’t have to come up. I can—”
“No, Lizzie. Less chance of anyone spotting me if I’m inside.”
Dammit. “Okay, fine.”
Annoyed and struggling not to show it, she slung her backpack over her shoulder and got out of the car, conscious of him behind her as she went up the stairs to her apartment.
“Nice place,” he murmured.
She put the key in the lock, trying to ignore the fact that he was standing really close behind her. And the heat from his body was doing weird things to her insides. “Don’t tell me, it’s a little small, right?”
“Hey, I didn’t say a word.”
Lizzie shoved the door open. “Good plan. Stick with that, please.”
Her apartment still felt the same—the sun streaming through the windows, turning the place into her oasis of calm. When she’d first bought the apartment—the first big thing she’d actually owned—she’d spent a whole week repainting the interior and sanding the wooden floors. Turning what had been dark and poky into a clean, white expansive space. The wage she got from Helen was pretty good and she’d been able to buy herself a few nice pieces of furniture: A long, low plain oatmeal-colored couch that she’d scattered bright cushions over. A few Turkish rugs in reds and blues. An Indian coffee table in dark wood. A matching bookcase that was almost overflowing with books.
And yet now the place she’d always felt at home in felt different. As if having Ash here changed the atmosphere. Turned it into something tense and uncomfortable.
He went past her, stepping into the room and doing the thing he’d done back in the cottage, taking off his sunglasses and prowling around the room like a panther, checking things out. “I like it,” he said, pausing by the coffee table. “It’s very…”
“I don’t really care whether you like it or not. Can you not touch anything, please?”
He’d picked up a magazine from the coffee table and was flicking idly through it. “I’m just looking through a magazine, sugar. Chill out.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
But he ignored her, turning and sprawling down on the couch, his long legs extended in front of him. “Why don’t you go and get your stuff together? I’ll just sit here with…” He flicked to the front of the magazine. “Nursing Today. Fascinating stuff.”
Arguing wasn’t going to get her anywhere, she could see that right now. Well, okay, she’d just get on with it. The quicker she got everything together, the quicker he’d be out of here.
The quicker you’ll be trapped in his house with him.
Lizzie ignored the thought as she stalked into the bedroom to get some clothes together. S
he was his nurse, nothing more. Though really, now that she came to think about it, what the hell was she going to do when she wasn’t nursing? The treatment he’d need wasn’t going to take all day, which would leave her sitting around twiddling her thumbs.
This was insane. This whole idea of his crazy. Perhaps she could call Helen? Talk to her. Surely Helen wasn’t happy with her going off for a couple of weeks to act as personal nurse to an egotistical Hollywood bad boy? She’d explain how Ash had blackmailed her. Helen would be sympathetic, right?
She’d almost reached for her cell when she remembered that perhaps now wasn’t the best time to be talking to Helen about it. No, she couldn’t. Helen had other things to worry about. Business was going to suffer because of this patient file breach, and the last thing her boss needed was a problem with yet another disgruntled film star.
Lizzie drifted over to her dresser, pulled out a drawer, and began to go through it, not really paying any attention to the clothes she got out. Perhaps she could reason with him. She hadn’t tried that, had she? Flat-out refusal hadn’t worked, but maybe a calm chat might. Of course in order to do that, she had to be calm herself.
Haven’t you decided you’re going to do this? That it will be just another job?
Well, yes. She had. But she could make one last-ditch effort to get him to change his mind, couldn’t she? Before they actually got to his house.
Slowly Lizzie pushed the drawer shut. If she treated him like a difficult patient, that might work. She’d always been good with difficult patients.
She turned from the dresser and came back out into the lounge area. Ash was still sitting on the couch, leafing through that wretched nursing magazine. Black hair had fallen over his forehead and he had a bit of stubble going on. Despite the expensive clothes and the bandage on his face, he looked dark and dangerous and thoroughly disreputable.
And sexy. So sexy…
Lizzie pushed that thought out of her head and crushed it for good measure. She clasped her hands in front of her and opened her mouth to speak.
“Hang on,” Ash said, holding up a finger, keeping his gaze firmly on the magazine. “I haven’t finished this article.”
He could not be serious. It was a nursing magazine. About nursing. Not whatever magazine big Hollywood stars liked to read. “Oh come on, you’re not actually reading that, are you?”
“Of course I’m actually reading it. Now wait just a damn minute until I’ve finished this article.”
Lizzie battled the urge to pick up a cushion and hit him with it. The arrogant bastard. “Look, just because you’re a star—”
“Shush.”
“You can’t—”
“If you don’t let me sit here and finish this article I’m going to come over there and kiss the life out of you.”
Lizzie realized her mouth was open. Shut it. Would anyone notice if she killed him? Beat him to death slowly with a cushion? Surely they wouldn’t.
Calm. Breathe deep. Do not think of kissing.
What she needed was to find a new yoga studio, get back into it again. But some idiot had told her she looked familiar in some way and she’d had to quit the studio she’d been going to, and hadn’t had time to find another.
She flexed her fingers. Resisted the urge to look at her watch. Tried not to think about what would happen if she kept talking and whether he’d actually make good on the threat.
You want him to.
Ha. No. Not in the slightest.
Eventually Ash lowered the magazine and folded his arms, looked at her expectantly. “Okay, so what did you want to talk to me about?”
“You’re really that interested in a nursing magazine?”
“Why shouldn’t I be? I’m interested in a lot of things.”
“Yes, but nursing?”
There was a glint in his eyes. “I find I’m becoming more and more interested by the second.”
Perhaps now would be a good time to change the subject. “So, I’ve been thinking about this staying at your house idea and I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s probably not in our best interests.”
The glint did not go away. “I thought we discussed this.”
“No, we did not discuss this. You told me what you wanted, then went ahead and made it happen regardless of my feelings on the subject.”
He did not seem in the least bit sorry about this. “Too late to change your mind now, Lizzie girl. Remember what I said about contacting your boss? I can do that any time I want. In fact…” He began to dig into his pockets for his phone.
Oh damn him to damning hell.
“Fine, I’ll come. But what exactly am I supposed to do at your place?” She tried to make it sound like a perfectly reasonable question. “The treatment for your scar won’t take that long, which is going to leave me sitting around.”
The glitter in his eyes became something hotter. “I could think of a few things.”
“I’m being serious, Ash.”
“So am I.” Abruptly he pushed himself off the couch, massive and muscular, and she had to fight the urge to take a few steps back from him just to give herself room to breathe.
But he didn’t come any closer. Only stood there looking at her. “This is happening, Lizzie. Whether you like it or not. Or shall I call Helen?”
She let out a breath. “No.”
“Okay then. Now, I have a big house and there’s plenty of things in it to keep you occupied. I have a pool, a gym, a private cinema, a—”
“Now you’re starting to sound like a condo salesman.”
One corner of his mouth turned up. “Would it help to think of it like that?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Yeah, it would. Think of it as a vacation. Some time out. You’ve only got one patient, no other responsibilities. And you don’t have to worry about whether anyone’s going to find out who you are because I know already. In fact, you won’t have to worry about anything at all while you’re with me.”
He’s right, you won’t.
The thought was insidious, sending a small dart of longing straight through her defenses. She couldn’t even remember the last time the nagging fear that lurked in the back of her mind hadn’t been there. The fear that sometime, somewhere, someone would find out who she was, would recognize her. And her bubble of normality would shatter. She’d lived with that fear for so long that she’d forgotten what it was like to live without it.
What would it be like not to have it there? To be able to relax and not worry? The sheer relief of it…
The longing inside her grew sharper.
“You like that idea, don’t you?” Ash’s voice was soft, the expression on his face not quite as hard as it had been.
Oh, Lord, every single thought must have shown on her face. With an effort she composed herself, squashing the relief flat. She couldn’t afford to think things like that. She couldn’t afford to let herself relax. She’d gotten complacent. That wouldn’t happen again.
“Not really,” she said coolly. “My idea of a proper vacation is a beach with some sand and a good book, not a tasteless mansion in Beverly Hills.”
Frustration crossed his face and his muscles tensed. But he didn’t move. “You’re a stubborn woman, Lizzie. You always have been.”
He’d been going to touch her, she knew it. And yet he hadn’t. He’d kept his word. And for some inexplicable reason, she found that disappointing. Almost as though some part of her was longing for him to do so, to overwhelm her as he had back when she’d been seventeen. How completely ridiculous.
“I prefer to think of myself as not a pushover,” she said crisply. “But you see my problem, don’t you? I’m going to be sitting around twiddling my thumbs.”
Ash turned around and went back over to the couch, flung himself back down on it, and picked up the magazine. “If you want to sit around and twiddle your thumbs, that’s up to you. But like it or not, you’re mine for the next two weeks so you’d better get used to the idea. Now,
if you don’t mind, I’m going to finish reading about the new difficulties nurses face in a changing hospital environment, while you go and get your stuff.” He glanced at his watch. “You have ten minutes.”
…
There was silence for a long moment, but Ash didn’t look up. Then he heard her let out an annoyed breath and stalk off toward her bedroom once more.
Okay, so she was going to be more of a challenge than he first thought. But he wasn’t unhappy with the idea, oh no. She was like a hedgehog all rolled up into a ball, prickles facing outward to defend herself. Or no, she was more like Iceland. Yeah, Iceland. He’d been there once to film a movie and had found it fascinating. A country full of contrasts, lots of snow and ice but with volcanos and geysers too. Icy on top, burning flames beneath.
Just like Lizzie. And she was Lizzie because Coco had never been like that. No, Coco had been all flames.
He flicked over the page, reading but not fully taking in the words. He was actually interested in the article, but not because he was interested in nursing. It was because he was interested in her and thought he might gain a few insights. So far none had jumped out at him other than the fact that nursing appeared to be a difficult and complicated job. What was it like to be at people’s beck and call all day long? Horrible, probably. God, he’d hated it back when he’d been younger, when he’d worked as a security guard. When he’d been fighting. Having to answer to his boss and worse, his lousy, lazy beer-drinking father. Having to hand his wages over every week just so the family could get by. Because he was the only one who’d ever been able to hold down a job. The fights had provided him with some outlet but not a hell of a lot since they’d all been managed by his dad.
Coco. She was your escape.
Yeah, she had been. The one bright point in his whole miserable existence until it had all come crashing down.
Ash grimaced and tossed aside the magazine, suddenly impatient with the direction his thoughts were heading in. Man, he hadn’t thought about the bad stuff in a long time, and he didn’t really want to start now.
Pushing himself to his feet, he began another restless circuit around her lounge area. The whole place was white and airy, with spots of color here and there in the pillow-type things and blankets she had scattered around. He liked it. It was very restful.
Hollywood Blackmail Page 6