Goddamn him. Goddamn him and the horse he rode in on. Lizzie’s jaw was so tight it ached. “You can stop talking now.”
He didn’t move but she had the oddest impression that she was surrounded by him. By his warmth, his scent, his sheer personal magnetism.
A couple of moments passed.
“I want you to come out on a date with me, Lizzie.”
She paused, not sure if she’d heard correctly. “What?”
“A date. You know, where a man and a woman who like each other get to know each other better.”
For a second she didn’t have any idea what to say. “What kind of date?”
“Dinner. A movie. You and me spending time together. No pressure.”
“Says the man who blackmailed me into coming here.”
His mouth curved. “You keep mentioning that.”
“Mostly because it keeps making me angry.”
“I told you I’m not apologizing for it.” He paused. “But I want to make it up to you. In fact, I want to make up for the past eleven years if you’ll let me.”
She blinked. “What do you mean make it up to me? Make up what?”
“Make up for what your mother did. For what happened between us and for what was ruined by that stupid show. I want to give you what we should have had. Those special times.” The wicked glint had faded from his gaze; nothing but intensity blazed there now. “Those special nights.”
Why did that make her feel so short of breath? So full of yearning?
Disturbed, Lizzie stepped away from him and went to get the special ointment that Laz had specified was to go with the washing solution. Her heart was racing, her mouth dry.
She’d put all of that behind her, hadn’t she? She couldn’t want it back again, she couldn’t.
“We can’t go out on a date,” she said after a moment. “Wasn’t the whole idea that we stay here to avoid the press?”
“I didn’t say we’d go out. I have a movie theater downstairs and I can organize dinner here for us. And speaking of which, what’s your favorite?”
“Sushi. But don’t take that as a yes.” She picked up the tube of ointment, trying to keep herself in work mode. But God, he made that so difficult.
As she came back with the tube, Ash tilted his head, studying her face. “What part don’t you like the idea of? And don’t say all of the above.”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t date patients.”
“That’s the best excuse you could come up with? Come on, I know I’m your patient while you’re treating me. But you’re not treating me all the time.”
“I’m still responsible for you.”
“For my treatment,” he amended gently. “And once you’re done with that, your responsibility ceases.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?” He stared at her. “If you’re truly worried about it, we were technically together before you became a nurse. It’s not like I’m a complete stranger to you.”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
Would spending the evening with a hot guy be so very bad? A guy who knows you. Who makes you feel good. He’s right. When was the last time you had that?
She couldn’t remember. A long time.
“It’s crazy,” she said, not quite able to say yes but finding no also somewhat difficult.
“What’s so crazy about having a good time?”
“Who says we’d have a good time?”
He laughed, the sound low and sexy. “You know we’d have a good time. I know how to treat a lady.”
“Lots of orgasms, right?” She’d meant it to sound sarcastic, a commentary on his playboy ways. But it came out sounding breathless, much to her embarrassment.
“It depends on the lady,” Ash said, that grin of his promising things that made her knees weak.
“In that case count me out.” She began to dab on the ointment.
He shifted again, his legs brushing hers, making her hand tremble. Boy, she had to get a handle on that.
“Is it the sex part you don’t want? Because that won’t happen if you don’t want it to.”
Her throat felt strangely tight, a note in his voice pulling at something deep inside of her. They had been good together once. So good. And it hurt like hell when you had to give it up, when Misty tainted everything that had been special about the relationship.
She swallowed. “We were kids back then, Ash. And it was a long time ago. What’s the point in going back?”
He stared at her a long moment. “Are you really going to let your mother and that stupid show taint your whole life? Or do you want to do something about it?”
“I’m already doing something about it,” she said staunchly. “I’m on track to being the best damn nurse in LA.”
“And the loneliest.”
Lizzie’s heart almost came to a painful stop inside her chest, a large lump sitting at the back of her throat. “I’m not lonely.”
“Yes, you are. All that hiding. All that running. Not being able to trust. Hell, I know what it feels like and you want to know why? Because I feel the same. I’m lonely, too.” He moved, leaning forward. Still not touching but close, so achingly close. “Eleven years I never stopped thinking about you. Wondering where you were. What you were doing. Whether you were happy. And when I saw you the night before last the only thing I could think of was that finally you’d come back to me.” He searched her face. “I want to take this chance. I want to take this time with you to have what we should have had. And maybe if we do…we can put the past behind us once and for all.”
So do you… No, she didn’t. Did she? Lonely. He was lonely, too…
“I can’t, Ash. I…”
“What’s stopping you? No one knows you’re here except Helen. No one else will ever know what we decide to do. It’ll just be us. Together. The way it should have been.” His mouth quirked. “Hell, think of me as your holiday fling if it helps. A secret holiday fling just for you.”
A holiday fling. No one will know. Which means your job is safe. You’re safe.
God it was so tempting. He was so tempting…
Lizzie looked down into his dark eyes. He wouldn’t give up, she knew that. He never did. Persistence was one of his strengths and no doubt it had gotten him where he was today.
I want to give you what you should have had…
And God help her, she wanted to take it.
As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, he smiled, making the breath lock in her throat. “Resistance is futile, Lizzie-girl. Say yes.”
It’s only dinner and a movie. No big deal…
“Okay,” she heard herself say in slightly hoarse voice. “Yes.”
…
Ash fought to keep the satisfaction from his face and failed miserably. “Good choice.”
“Choice? You mean like when you blackmailed me into coming here? That kind of choice?” Lizzie kept up dabbing that wretched ointment on his face. It stung like a bastard.
“Hey, you could have told me no. I would have respected that.” It was torture having her stand there between his thighs while she dealt with his wound. With the warm curves of her body so close he was hard for her already—and she wasn’t even touching him in a sexual way.
“I did tell you no, and you showed me exactly how much you respected that by threatening me. A dick move, not to mention a selfish one.” Her attention was firmly on the wound, her voice cool. In fact she was so cool all around. Except the touches on his skin were so gentle. Reminding him of what had always fascinated him about her in the first place—her concern for people. In particular her concern for him. His family had never given a shit about him. They’d thought about him only terms of the money he brought in. If he’d gotten injured in one of his fights, their only concern was whether he’d be good to go the next time.
But Lizzie had genuinely cared. She’d made him feel like he was important, and not only because he could knock a man out and win som
e prize money. She made him feel as if he was important to her, which for a guy who’d never felt all that important to anyone, had been intoxicating.
“Selfish? Yeah, granted, it was a selfish move. But I guess I’m a selfish kind of guy.” He clenched his fingers on his thighs to stop them from settling on her hips and bringing her closer.
“You guess you are? No guessing about it. Everything is about you and what you want.”
A core of defensiveness twisted inside him. “So? I had to put what I wanted aside for my stinking family for years, without even a word of thanks. Why is it so wrong to have what I want now?”
Her brow creased, gray gaze flicking to meet his. “At the expense of other people’s feelings, Ash?”
“Yours, you mean?”
“Yes, mine. Do you care at all about what I want?”
He found that his fingers were digging into his thighs even harder. “You know I do. This date is going to be all for you.”
“But what if I don’t want to sleep with you at the end of it?”
Well, he could only answer honestly to that. “Then I’ll try and talk you into another night.”
She blew out an irritated breath. “You can’t get your own way all the time.”
“I don’t get my own way all the time.”
“Oh sure. Name one time you didn’t. And I’m talking recently here.”
He tried to think, he did, and pretty much came up with nothing. Yeah, okay, so he got his own way a lot. But that was one of the benefits of his position now. And really, who would choose to go back? Back to being poor? To being told what to do? To being ordered around in some crummy job that paid you shit? He wouldn’t. He liked being rich. He liked being a movie star. He didn’t ever want to go back to the kind of life he’d escaped from. Not ever.
“Nothing, huh?” Lizzie’s shook her head. “Movie stars. You’re all the same.”
He didn’t like that. Didn’t like that one bit. He wasn’t the same and he didn’t want to be, not to her. His hands came up to settle on her hips, but he managed to stop himself just in time. “I’m not like that,” he said. “I’m not.”
She glanced at where his hands hovered awkwardly in the air, then back at him. “You wanted me to prove that I’m not scared? Well how about this for a challenge? You could try proving to me that you’re not a selfish douche bag.”
“I’m not touching you like you told me not to. How about that?”
She frowned. “Seriously?”
“Baby steps?”
“You’ll have to do better than that, Ashford.” Much to his disappointment she moved away back to the vanity, stripping the gloves off and discarding them in a nearby wastebasket.
He had to make himself lower his hands, which was difficult considering every part of him wanted to go over to her and push her against the marble vanity and do exceedingly bad things to her.
“Why does it matter to you so much?” he asked, annoyed all of a sudden.
“You really need to ask that question?” She turned and leaned back against the marble, giving him that level stare that he found extremely irritating. Mostly because it felt like she was seeing parts of him he didn’t even know were there. Parts she didn’t like much.
“I’m not a mind reader, Lizzie,” he growled. “So yeah, I need to ask it.”
She shrugged. “I’m around selfish people all day long at the clinic. Movie stars and socialites and rich people. All out for themselves. People like Mom. At their beck and call 24-7. And to be honest, it gets boring having to deal with such self-obsession every day.”
“Why the hell are you working there, then?”
“Because Helen paid for my nursing education, and I owe her at least five years of my time.”
A weird surge of protective anger went through him, surprising him with its force. “If she’s holding that over your head, I’ll—”
“No,” Lizzie cut him off quietly. “It’s not like that. I love the nursing I do there because of the pro bono work Helen offers. The burn victims. The kids scarred in car accidents. Birth defects like cleft palate. People who wouldn’t be able to afford plastic surgery in the normal scheme of things and yet whose lives are made better by something simple as good scar treatment. They do good work at the clinic, and that’s why I stay.”
His anger began to seep away, to be replaced by a slow, dawning respect. She’d always been a good person, but now it was clear to him that it wasn’t just lip service. She’d actually done something with that good heart of hers. Put it into action by trying to make the world a better place. Trying to make people’s lives better.
What have you done? Made a shitload of money by pretending to shoot people. Awesome.
Ash pushed himself to his feet, suddenly restless. “Thanks for the treatment,” he said curtly. “I’ve got some selfish movie stuff to do so I’ll be incommunicado for the rest of the day.”
Her forehead creased. “I didn’t say that to make you feel bad, Ash.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because I know you’re not like that. Not really.”
“Actually, you don’t know me. Not anymore.”
A strange expression crossed her face. “You’re not that different.”
From what? From the boy who’d slaved his guts out to keep his father in booze and his temper sweet so he didn’t start beating his mother up? To the guy who put up with being pushed around so the rest of the family didn’t have to suffer that lazy, drunken prick? No, she was wrong. He was different. And he was glad of it.
“Yeah, I am.” What was the point of trying to prove himself to her? Trying to do things for her? When he’d started out by blackmailing her here in the first place? There was a reason he was Hollywood’s bad boy after all, right?
He changed direction, coming straight at her, putting his hands on the vanity on either side of her. Caging her in. Her eyes widened, her whole body pressing away from him. He looked down at her. Her scent and her warmth were so close and he wanted them so bad. Why shouldn’t he have them? He could make her want him so easily. “See?” he murmured, and very slowly eased closer, so their bodies were only inches apart. “Not so different after all. I get what I want, Lizzie. Don’t ever forget that.”
…
She should really have been shocked, not to mention appalled. Maybe even a bit scared, too. He was so much larger than she was, herding her against the cold marble of the vanity, looming over her, quite clearly angry.
But she wasn’t shocked or appalled or even particularly scared. Because behind the anger in Ash’s eyes, she could see he was hurt. Anger always followed pain. That was something she’d learned through experience on the job, and it must have been something she’d said that had caused him pain. She hated that. Hated hurting people. Especially him.
Without even thinking about it, she reached up and cupped his cheek in her hand, his skin warm beneath her palm. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
He blinked, a fleeting look of shock crossing his face. “You didn’t.”
“Of course I did. That’s why you’re being all growly now. Like you were in the clinic. Damn. I should have known back then that’s why you were being such an asshat.” In fact now that she remembered, he’d been a terrible patient even when she’d used to tend to his bruises after a fight. Like a bear with a sore paw.
“Lizzie, I don’t know what—”
“What did I say?” Gently she pushed his hair off his forehead, her fingers brushing lightly over his forehead. Soothing. “Was it the selfish thing?”
“It wasn’t—”
“To do with your family? Because I remember the way they were. They were awful to you.” They had been. They’d used him as a cash cow, taking all the money he’d earned from his fights. So many times she’d told him he had to stop but he kept refusing. Without money his father got angry and beat up on his mom and his younger brothers and sister. Ash had felt responsible—he always had.
No wonder he was enjoying this life he led now. With no one to answer to.
“It’s got nothing to do with my family.”
“Of course it has.” Funny how that now she was touching him she couldn’t seem to stop. Her fingers trailed over his cheekbone, following the elegant line of it. His skin was so warm. Smooth. Familiar. “You said you put what you wanted aside for your family. And you did, I remember.”
“Lizzie…” His voice had thickened, becoming rough around the edges.
She realized she was touching his mouth, brushing the tips of her fingers along the curve of his lower lip. Tracing it. It felt soft. Warm.
“Lizzie, stop,” he murmured, his breath against her fingertips.
But she didn’t want to. She’d hurt him and now she wanted to make it better. She traced the line of his jaw, prickly with stubble, then down the strong column of his throat. Feeling the movement of his muscles as he swallowed. “I want to help.”
“Touching me like that is not helping.”
No, it probably wasn’t. But damn, it was making her feel good, that was for sure. And now she couldn’t seem to stop. Her fingers paused in the hollow of his throat and she watched the beat of his pulse, strong and fast beneath her hand. His large, muscular body caging her against the vanity was tight with tension and yet he didn’t move. Either toward her or away. As if he was waiting for her to do something.
Her mouth had gone dry, her heartbeat loud in her ears. He was so warm and familiar. It felt like a part of her had been aching for this moment for years. Aching for him. A part she’d pushed away, kept locked up tight inside. Now he was here, so close, and all she wanted to do was keep touching him.
She let her gaze drop down over the dips and hollows of his bare chest and abdomen. God, he was perfect. Her fingers followed, trailing down smooth silk over rock-hard muscle. Down over his chest to his abs. Here and there were the faint marks of scars, the fights he’d had when he was younger.
“Christ, Lizzie…” Her name sounded hoarse, his body almost vibrating with tension. “If you keep doing that I’m not going to be able to stop touching you.”
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