The Red Diary

by Toni Blake

  He didn't know if it was the smartest move he could make, but it was the only way he could think of to let her know the truth. After all, he'd considered saying it before, but he couldn't find the words, couldn't force them out. So maybe, he'd decided, he could tell her with his own fantasy. If he added his fantasy to her journal, a fantasy from the first day they'd met, a fantasy she'd madeá come true, she'd find it here. And maybe it would somehow help her understand the allure the journal held for him, and at the same time show her she shouldn't be embarrassed, or ... too unforgiving.

  He knew he was taking a huge chance, but after the way she'd held him the other night, after the profound love she'd poured on him when he'd needed it most ... each touch., each caress, had pulled him further back from the edge, had kept him from falling apart. He simply felt he had no other choice but to spill the truth now, and this was how.

  When he finished writing, he was going to bookmark the page with the pressed rose and leave it on her desk where she'd see it, where she'd know someone had placed it. Then she'd discover his fantasy, and she'd realize that it was okay, that they both had fantasies and that he didn't want his knowledge of hers to stand between them anymore. Taking up a blue pen from her desk, he moved to the shelf and pulled out the red book. Laying the wax papered rose carefully aside, he sat down in the same chair as always and opened the journal to pages he'd seen once before, the empty ones in the back. He studied the first blank page for a minute, not quite knowing how to begin ... then he turned back a few ink-filled pages in search of inspiration. Even if inspiration also equaled one last sin.

  In this fantasy, she lay on a beach and a man came from the ocean to make love to her as the tide rose around them. Each sexy detail filled his senses and, as always, reading her words aroused the hell out of him. It also helped him figure out how to capture his own fantasy on paper.

  Finally, he turned back to the blank page and began to write, his stomach churning with each word.

  I step inside her house and we stand face-to-face as I push the robe from her shoulders. She undoes the tie at her waist and lets it fall to the ground. Underneath, she wears a green satin nightgown that stops at her thighs and hugs her breasts, breasts I instantly want to kiss.

  I reach for the thin straps on her shoulders, lowering them. The nightgown slides to her waist, then drops to her feet, leaving her naked, her body even more incredible than I imagined. I lift her breasts in my hands, then I kiss them, soft at first, then I suck them as she moans and begins to rub my hard-on through my pants.

  We lie in a bed then, both of us naked, and she hovers over me, teasing me with her hands, nipples, teeth. I want her more than I've ever wanted any other woman. I knew it from the first moment our eyes met.

  Her lips are like silk sliding down over me and I can't think straight, can't hardly breathe. She looks at me as- "Nick? What are you ... ?" The blood in his veins froze.

  He lifted his head in time to watch the horror fill Lauren's eyes when she saw what he held in his hands.

  Chapter Nineteen

  There were moments in life that moved in painfully slow motion. Usually when you suffered a great shock; sometimes when you endured an agonizing injury. For Lauren, this was both, and everything around her seemed blurred, each nanosecond stretching impossibly before her.

  Nick looked like what he was-a man who'd gotten caught doing something terrible-as he snapped her journal shut. "I ... didn't hear the garage door."

  He didn't hear the garage door? That's what he had to say for himself? Another torrent of shock flooded down through her, though, when she realized the even deeper horror-he'd done this before, read her journal before. and he'd counted on the sound of the garage door to signal him that she was home.

  She simply gaped, her lips trembling, everything inside her going weak. She didn't bother explaining that she'd parked outside, simply planning to run in and see if he wanted to go out to lunch; her happy, carefree mood belonged to the distant past.

  He rose to his feet. "Lauren, I ... " She took a step back, didn't want to be near him. Didn't even know who he was anymore. "Oh God." She heard the whispered words leave her as shock gave way to logic, and the pieces began to fall horrendously into place. The rose, the hair washing, the way he'd parted her thighs in the pool, all of it She'd thought it was magic, she'd thought it was a connection of souls, but it had only been this, a man who was lying to her, all this time, trespassing on her thoughts, stealing her private world.

  Then she gasped. I once did it on horseback. And she'd believed him! This went back that far, back before they'd ever even touched.

  "Lauren, baby ... " He came forward again, lifting a hand, reaching for her cheek, but she turned away. She left the room. unsteady, wandering aimlessly, walking fast or slow-she didn't know, and finally found herself in her bedroom. Don 'I follow me, don 'I follow me, she thought, but she felt him behind her, close enough to touch. or to slap, but she just wanted to get away from him.

  She threw herself across her bed, face down, clutching a pillow, and she willed tears not to come, but they did. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend he wasn't standing over her, saying he was sorry, asking her forgiveness, trying to explain-she just wanted him to go, wanted to be alone. wanted to cry and mourn. "Go away," she said through her tears. "Princess ... " the endearment cut straight through her now" ... please, baby, listen to me."

  After a long, weepy moment of trying to tune out his voice, she finally drew the conclusion that he wasn't going away, so she rolled in the bed to face him. He stood over her, his dark hair falling around his face-her ocean god; so much more than that now, and so much less.

  Nick gazed into her eyes, recognized the hate and betrayal there, and knew he was doomed. It was the way he looked at his father. Nothing he could ever say would be enough to make her forgive him, maybe because he shouldn't be forgiven. But she was giving him a chance now, so he had to try, had to be completely honest. had to find a way to connect his feelings to words. Still, his heart beat like a drum in his chest, because he knew the truth was devastating and awful. "When I came here, honey, I ... wanted to see your life, what it was like, what I thought I should have had. But all that changed when I got to know you. I couldn't feel that way anymore, and all that old stuff just drifted away.

  "When I found your journal, I knew it was wrong to read it" On impulse, he reached out to stroke her hair because the hurt in her eyes was ripping a hole in him "but the truth is, I couldn't stop reading it, because I loved knowing that side of you, loved being able to make your fantasies come true, loved how sexy you were and how good we were together." He prayed his words were getting through to her, making sense, even as he knew it was impossible. She glared up at him, then pushed his hand away. "So you came here jealous of me. You wanted to hurt me." Her voice trembled. No, I never wanted to hurt you. That was the answer she needed to hear, the one it made sense to give. But just tell the truth, damn it. The way he saw it, the truth was all he had to hang on to right now, weak though it was. "I didn't set out to hurt you ... until you made me feel like a servant, someone below you," he breathed, filled with shame. "And even then, I didn't plan to hurt you, and I couldn't keep on with it because I started caring about you. Haven't I proven that?" She sounded incredulous. "Proven it? By reading my secrets?"

  "By being there for you. By helping you figure out what Phil was doing, by going to your father with you, by holding you afterward." His voice went soft. "By making love to you."

  That almost got to Lauren; Nick was not a man to use words like making love. Yet the wound gaped so fresh and open, and to think how long this had gone on, and how every time they'd slept together, Nick had let her believe something so powerful and so ultimately false. To think how stupid he must have thought her, how foolish. To think how much pleasure he must have taken by watching her succumb to him, all because he knew exactly what she wanted-because she'd told him with ink and paper.

  "What you've proven, Nick, is tha
t everything I thought we had was a lie. Lie upon lie upon lie."

  Then, just when she thought her heart couldn't sink any lower, it dropped a little more. Hadn't he just given her the answer, the explanation? I wanted to see your life, what I thought I should have had. She sat up in the bed, meeting his dark eyes, eyes so good at hiding things, masking the truth. She spoke slowly. "You came here to take what you thought was yours, didn't you? You came here to steal Ash Builders. Did you think you'd marry me and make it all yours, Nick? Was that it? Was that the grand plan?"

  Nick's mouth dropped open, his eyebrows raising in disbelief. "Lauren, no. I never even thought about ... " He trailed off, shaking his head.

  Admittedly, she'd never seen him look so stunned, but Nick Armstrong had proven himself a good actor, and she wasn't buying. "Quit lying, Nick."

  "Honey, when we're in bed together, when I'm inside you-God, you know that's not a lie. You know that."

  "I don't know anything anymore." She gave her head a vehement shake. "Except that I've never been more humiliated in my life. Or more lied to. Or more used." Oh, damn it-tears hovered behind her eyes again as the brutal truth slammed into her once more. Every time they'd ever had sex it had been as meaningless ... as the first time. And even that. before today. had seemed special in its own way because of that damned pale pink rose. But now, each and every time they'd touched each other, moved together, looked into each other's eyes, meant less than nothing. "Get out of my house, Nick." He looked exasperated. "You're not hearing anything I'm trying to say. You're not even trying to understand." She shook her head, feeling perfectly stalwart, perfectly entitled. She couldn't believe he'd have the nerve to act as if she owed him anything, let alone understanding. "I want you to leave. Now. And I never want to see you again. Do you understand that?"

  "So this is it, then? This is how you wanna leave things?"

  "This is it."

  Nick's eyes narrowed on her as he slowly backed away, his voice coming out low, sad. "I knew I'd never really be good enough for you."

  "That isn't what this is about, and you know it."

  He shook his head. "I didn't really think so, either, but now I'm not sure. I was in there writing in your journal, trying to come clean and tell you the truth. And I guess somewhere deep inside, I really thought you'd forgive me, because I thought I knew you. I thought your kindness would be enough to bridge the gap to my mistakes. But you're as bad as me right now-looking to the past instead of the present. Judging me on that, on who I was when I came here instead of who I am today." Nick turned and walked out. and she plopped back on the bed. She couldn't make sense of his words, couldn't weigh them with any sort of logic. All she knew was a devastation that swallowed every other emotion. He'd actually thought she could forgive him? For that? Then again, she supposed she had proven herself to be quite a fool, so why wouldn't he expect more of the same?

  Lauren moved through the rest of Sunday in a strange haze. She napped more than once, ate junk food, and spent a lot of time sitting on the couch holding Izzy, who actually let her for a change. She could only presume the cat somehow sensed her despair and knew better than to desert her now.

  On Monday, she woke up with the immediate sense of being alone. No one lay beside her in bed, or used her shower while she lay listening to the sound of the spray; no one was outside painting her house. The job was over. Everything was over. The solitude. something she'd once cherished. seemed nearly unbearable.

  There was work to be done, so she did it, although her heart was hardly in her tasks. She didn't even bother changing out of her pajamas. Upon stepping into her office, she swiftly did away with the reminders of Nick's recent presence there. After picking up the book, she found the wax-papered rose lying on the floor and deposited them both in the wastebasket. Then she threw herself into the business of accounting until noon, when she felt caught up enough to take the rest of the day off. Because try though she might, her breakup with Nick was weighing on her, hard and heavy. Acting like it hadn't happened, like it was any other day, was impossible. She called Carolyn at the salon, who promised to bring a greasy lunch and something chocolate for dessert.

  When she arrived, she frowned at finding Lauren still in pajamas and marched her upstairs, demanding she change into a pair of shorts. Lauren just sighed and said, "I'm glad you're here."

  They sat on the sofa with Izzy and ate Big Macs and fries, and instead of telling Carolyn the whole ugly truth about Nick, which would also have entailed announcing she kept a sex journal, Lauren just told the tale of Double A Construction, concluding with, "He turned out not to be the person I thought. He just came here to snoop around my life, to use me because of what my dad did to his twenty years ago."

  Carolyn simply gaped. "What a jerk. Here, have the rest of my fries."

  Lauren accepted and stuffed a few in her mouth. "Listen," Carolyn said, offering a hopeful smile, "Mike and some other guys are hanging at Howard Park this afternoon. Volleyball, windsurfing, burgers on the grill Why don't we go? It'll cheer you up, get your mind off the jerky painter."

  Lauren knew Carolyn meant well, and she liked Mike better than most of Carolyn's friends, but ... "No more parties for me, thanks."

  Carolyn looked dumbfounded. "Does this mean you're going to hibernate for the rest of your life, just over a guy?"

  "No-this isn't even about Nick. It's that ... I've figured out I just don't really like parties-the scene isn't for me. So I'm not going to force myself to be that person anymore."

  "Oh."

  Carolyn frowned, so Lauren quickly added, "But you go ahead. You don't have to stay here with me, honest. Just having lunch and talking for a while has helped a lot. "

  Her friend sighed and pulled her into an uncharacteristic hug. "I'm not going anywhere, Laur."

  "Won't Mike miss you, and won't you miss Mike?"

  Lauren tilted her head.

  "Probably." Carolyn smiled. "Just so you know. he and I are kind of ... exclusive now. I ... really like him, and he likes me, too. I think he sees past the part of me the rest of the world sees, somehow-know what I mean?"

  Lauren returned the smile. 'That's wonderful, Carolyn truly. I'm so glad for you."

  "But"-Carolyn tilted her head with a consoling grin-"you need me more than he does right now, so let's do some girl stuff." Lauren raised her eyebrows in question.

  "Let's go buy some chick magazines," Carolyn said,

  "then lie by the pool and try out the perfume samples inside and give each other the latest fashion quiz. Then we can paint our nails, curl each other's hair, and rent movies."

  Lauren had to laugh. To her surprise, it sounded like a perfectly wonderful, immature, therapeutic day.

  After Carolyn called Mike, Lauren said, "You know, before I met Nick, my life felt a little empty, like I was always wishing for things beyond my grasp and letting life lead me by the nose, thinking somehow if I played along with the rest of the world, I'd find whatever was missing. But after falling in love with him, and learning about his family and his life, I realize how lucky I am, how much I take for granted. Knowing him just ... made my life fuller."

  "Because you were in love."

  Lauren nodded, wincing inwardly at the same time. "I was so foolish."

  "No, you were so lucky," Carolyn corrected. ''I'm still jealous, you know. Even now. I'd give anything to have something like that-even just for a while."

  "Maybe you will soon, with Mike."

  It was late that night before Carolyn finally left, and Lauren couldn't deny that being with her had truly helped. Their lives had drifted in different directions, but their friendship hadn't.

  After saying good-bye, shutting the door, then stooping to pet Isadora, Lauren glanced up the stairs toward her office door. She hadn't wanted to look after Nick's departure, or last night, or this morning-she'd been too numb and enraged and everything in between-but she remembered what he'd told her before he'd gone. He'd written something in her journal.

 
As she'd slowly started accepting what had happened, she'd grown curious about what it might say, what message he'd left for her.

  So, taking a deep breath, she climbed the stairs. Lifting the red book from the trash can, she sat down and braced herself, then opened it to the back where an unfamiliar scrawl filled the page, and began to read.

  Shoulders ... breasts ... mouth ... his own fantasy. She read it over and over, trying to understand why he'd written it there. In one sense, it seemed the biggest invasion of all, imposing his fantasy where only hers belonged. Certainly, for more reasons than she could name, she could never record another word in this book. Yet, clearly, writing in her sex journal had been his admission of guilt, had said, I've been here, inside your secrets.

  It brought fresh tears to her eyes trying to sort through it all, remembering how happy she'd been with him. how full of trust, how looking into his eyes and making love to him had been magical, with or without pale pink roses and ocean gods. He'd been far from perfect, but she'd looked beyond that, to the man hiding inside. Yet he'd betrayed her trust so deeply, and now being in love with him just hurt. She'd never asked much from him; she'd never asked him to love her. She'd thought she couldn't be hurt if she didn't ask for anything, didn't expect much. She'd been so wrong.

  She read the entry once more and felt like a dunce for taking so long to understand it came from the morning they met, when he'd first come to her door. He'd remembered what she'd worn, even down to the detail of the green nightie he hadn't fully seen. She sighed, looking back on how she'd felt that morning after gazing upon her hunky new painter; she'd silently renewed her vow not to get involved with any more sexy guys who only wanted one thing.