Coming Home (11 page)

It didn’t matter that they were making a display. Everyone had drawn their conclusions the moment she stepped foot into the room wearing a dress too showy for their elitist tastes.

Nick turned her and laughed as he dropped low on his haunches, bobbing with the beat. She did the same and when she tried to bounce up, she lost her balance and tipped back. Her hand reached for him and he quickly pulled her back up to her full height.

She lurched to the left when something yanked on her arm. Dizzy with exertion and too much champagne and tequila, she stumbled and came face to face with Lucian. He glowered at her and growled,
“Enough!”

“Hey,” Nick called, coming to her aid.

Lucian turned like a panther ready to attack. “Back off, kid. She’s drunk and you’re not helping.”

Scout snatched her arm from his grip. “I am
not
drunk, Lucian.” That was a lie.

He leaned close. “No? You almost fell on your ass. You’re making a scene.”

She drew back. “I’m not the one making a scene. You are! You and that waspy bitch you came here with. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going back to what I was doing. Nick—”

Lucian spun her so quickly she nearly
did
fall on her ass. “I said enough.”

She shot up on her toes and got in his face. “You don’t call those shots anymore. I’m a grown woman and can take care of myself.”

His chest expanded as he drew in a long breath. Through gritted teeth he said, “I’m giving you one minute to pack it up and leave. Either that, or I’ll have you escorted out of here.”

Mortification and hurt had her lips trembling. How dare he? She stood there indignantly, daring him to embarrass her like that. If he followed through on his threat, she’d never forgive him.

She glanced around. People crowded them, gyrating and dancing in a world of their own. Past the dance floor, she spotted Nottingham speaking animatedly with a woman holding a clipboard. She pointed at them and the woman spoke into a microphone at her ear.

They had every right to be there, but knowing Lucian, he likely paid a great deal to whatever the hell a Rose Bowl was and was a prominent sponsor. They’d lick his ass if he asked them to. He had the power to get them kicked out, which she didn’t believe he’d truly do. But there was no way she’d give that red-lipped slut of his the satisfaction of seeing them escorted off the premises.

Her vision shimmered with unshed tears. She pressed her lips tight and glared at him. “I hate you,” she whispered, and marched off the dance floor.

“Ev, wait up.” Nick hustled after her.

When she passed the coat check, she halted and stomped her foot. “I forgot my bag.”

“Hey, don’t let that asshole make you cry. We were just having fun and he’s pissed because he wants you.”

“Oh, he doesn’t want me, Nick. He just wants me to leave so he can have his little actress.”

Nick sighed. “I’ll go get your bag and meet you out front.”

He quickly turned and went back into the ballroom. She turned and rushed through the door, her heel catching on the runner and causing her to go down with a thump that would’ve likely hurt had she not been so drunk. Strong arms lifted her off the ground and she shoved them away, brushing the hem of her dress down her thighs.

“Ms. Keats, are you all right?”

She looked up at the familiar voice and when she saw it was Dugan helping her up, his eyes creased in concern, she lost it. A wall of tears shimmered and collapsed over her lashes. “No,” she sobbed. “I’m definitely not all right, Dugan.”

His lips parted beneath his thick, handlebar mustache. “Here, let me help you.”

He gathered her in his arms and escorted her away from the door. She sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I’m drunk,” she admitted pathetically. “I’m really drunk and I embarrassed him.”

His lips pursed as he opened the passenger door of the limo and helped her sit so her feet hung over the pavement. He squatted down and withdrew his handkerchief. She winced as he blotted the scrape on her knee.

“Pardon my French, Ms. Keats, but any man who lets you walk away is a fucking idiot and deserves to be embarrassed.”

Her sob cut off and she looked at him, shocked. Was she that drunk or did he really just say that? She suddenly cracked up, giggles pouring from her lips as she draped her hand on his shoulder and held her stomach. “You’re right, Big D. He
is
a fucking idiot.”

“Am I interrupting?”

She and the chauffeur drew up short. Lucian towered over them, an unimpressed and quite put-out expression marring his beautiful face. His eyes traveled over them and stilled when he noticed her knee.

Dugan stood and Lucian took his place. He peeled back the handkerchief and made a sound of exasperation. “Goddamn it, Evelyn.”

“I swear it was the shoes,” she said. Dugan handed him a bottle of water from the limo and Lucian wet the handkerchief and dabbed it over her abraded skin. She winced and hissed at the sting.

“Stay still,” he snapped.

Fucking idiot.
She giggled and hiccupped. Crap, she was definitely plastered. As he doctored up her knee, Dugan producing a small bandage and some ointment, she watched how the streetlights turned Lucian’s dark hair almost blue. Without thinking, she ran her fingers through it, and he stilled.

His gaze slowly traveled to her face and the air became charged. Dark eyes stared at her, not seeming to trust the energy between them. “Why did you come tonight?” he whispered in a voice so low, she could barely hear it.

“I needed—”

“Lucian!”

Jerked out of the quiet moment they each turned. Nottingham stood glaring at them, a gold wrap draped over her long arm. Lucian stood and Scout spotted Nick waiting with his keys and her clutch. The truck was idling behind the limo.

Dear God, when would this nightmare end?

She slowly climbed out of the limo and touched Dugan’s arm. “Thank you, Big D, for coming to my rescue yet again.”

Nottingham scoffed and rolled her eyes. She stepped close to Lucian and handed him her wrap, turning her back expectantly. She might as well have peed on his ankle.

Lucian held the gold wrap dumbly for a moment and then as though pulled on puppet strings, placed it on her narrow shoulders. His fingers never touched her. He nodded to Dugan, who gestured to the back door of the limo. Nottingham turned her picturesque face, and a slow, wicked smile curled her lips.

“It’s nice to see that they know when to take the trash out around here,” she muttered snootily.

Scout unsteadily stepped forward and Lucian held up a hand halting her. Nicole gracefully slid into the limo and Lucian stepped to the door. “Darling . . .” the shadow of her arm extended over the seat and Scout could imagine her self-satisfied grin.

“Dugan, take Ms. Nottingham home.” He slammed the door.

“Gladly,” Dugan said, rounding the front of the car.

Scout stood paralyzed. He’d sent her away. For some reason the triumph at seeing the car drive off was bittersweet. Nothing would erase the scene she caused tonight, but Scout knew she’d won in some fashion.

Lucian turned and faced her, his hands in his pockets. His anger seemed replaced with something else. She caught the slight way the side of his mouth kicked up as he stared down at her. She didn’t know what to say.

He turned to Nick. “I’ll be seeing Ms. Keats home this evening. Thank you for bringing her.”

“Uh . . .” Nick looked at her for conformation. “Ev?”

She glanced nervously at her co-worker, betting he never imagined their evening playing out like this. “It’s fine. Lucian can take me home. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Lucian frowned.

She ignored him. “Thank you for being my date.”

Nick nodded slowly and handed over her purse. She took it and they watched as he climbed into his truck and drove away, the roar of the engine fading away in the distance. Lucian turned and glanced at her. He didn’t say a word, just watched her.

She shifted on her ridiculous shoes. “Is Dugan coming back for us?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“How are we getting out of here?”

“I’ll hail a cab.” His hands remained in his pockets as if he were forcing himself to keep them there. “Why did you come here tonight, Evelyn?”

She looked down. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

“I wanted to see . . .”

“Me?”

“Her,” she admitted. “I wanted to see who she was.”

“She’s nothing.”

She laughed without humor. “Don’t tell
her
that.”

“I’m sorry she spoke to you that way.”

Scout met his gaze. “She wants you.”

He smirked. “She can’t have me.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

“No.”

“Kiss her?”

“No.”

“Are you attracted to her?”

“I’m attracted to you.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

He drew in a slow breath. “Nicole’s an attractive woman, but she isn’t my type.”

“She looks nothing like me.”

“Exactly,” he said. A few beats passed. “How do you know Nick Ramsey? Who is he to you?”

“He works with me.”

“Are you attracted to him?”

She smirked. “He’s not my type.”

Lucian smirked and stepped closer. His hand slipped from his pocked and he ran his fingers down the filmy sheath of her dress. “This dress is something else. Did you buy it for me?”

She shut her eyes and breathed him in. “No.”

“Liar.”

“Lucian—”

“Will you come home with me?”

Her eyes shot open. She was frustrated her intoxicated brain was not as sharp as it should be. “I can’t.”

“You can. You just have to say yes. I’ll take care of you. Get you something for your hangover in the morning.”

His hand traveled up her neck to her ear, tugging on her lobe softly and sending shivers chasing over her shoulders and down her spine. Her lashes lowered as she tipped her head back. She could fall asleep. “We shouldn’t.”

“I won’t touch you. It’ll kill me, but I’ll behave. I know you’re drunk. Come home with me, Evelyn. I miss you in my bed.”

She breathed through her nose, swaying just enough to remain upright. “Now who’s lying?”

“Say yes,” he rasped.

She barely made a sound. “Yes,” she breathed.

That one word snapped him into motion. A cab was hailed and she was tugged inside. The broken-in leather was sunken in and soft. She shut her eyes and moaned as the car lurched forward. Her stomach was not happy.

“You okay, baby? Want some water? I still have the bottle Dugan gave me.”

She held out her hand blindly and heard him unscrew the top. Drawing the bottle to her lips, she drank greedily, causing the plastic to crackle in her grip. Lucian sat quietly in the dark. His fingers delicately traced up and down her thigh. The motions of the car made her insides swirl nauseatingly but his touch kept her grounded, a tight smile pulling on her lips.

Visions of the evening danced in her head, distorted and not lining up with what she recalled. Red dresses and sharp tongues, tuxedoes and sunrises. Bodies writhing and pounding music thrumming in her ears. Slowly, the visions faded away and all that was left was the gentle sway of the car and Lucian’s touch caressing her knee.

“We’re here,” he whispered.

“Mmphh.” She was too tired to form words, afraid if she opened her eyes the dizziness would intensify and make her ill. Her body was lifted and slid into warm fresh air and then familiar scents, rich with nostalgic meaning, greeted her nose. His shoes clicked on the refined tile underfoot as he carried her to wherever they were going. Something pinged and the scent changed to faded perfume and floor polish.

The world grew still and her mind slipped away. She gasped at the sound of another bell. “Shh. I have you.”

She smiled and snuggled deeper into his hold. “Lucian . . .” If she was dreaming, she never wanted to wake up.

Chapter 8

Take Two Doses of Reality and Call Me in the Morning . . .

Scout’s mind eased into consciousness and she winced, her entire body protesting as she stretched. Her hands swept away a mass of knotted hair and she gripped her head. Who the hell was hammering an ice pick in her temples? She moaned.

As her leg extended, something didn’t feel right. Her bed was way too soft and . . . big? She shot bolt upright and winced, moaning again and the movement sent pain knifing up her spinal cord into her brain. Her hands swatted at the rat’s nest that was her hair, and she opened her eyes. “Ohmygod.”

Her head snapped around as she recognized Lucian’s room, but she didn’t see Lucian. Glancing down, she noticed she was stark naked. “Son of a bitch!”

She quickly crawled off the high bed made up like something from Arabian nights, and scrambled to the edge. Her feet tangled in the ridiculous amount of heavy down blankets, and she reached too soon for the table to catch her balance, missing completely and falling in a loud clatter to the floor. Her bones radiated with pain and something was squeezing the life out of her head.

Rolling to her knees, she hissed, reminded of her scraped knee. Her arms batted at the offensive blankets and cursed. She was a hot, tangled, mess.

“Evelyn?”

She stilled. Using her arm to lift the curtain of hair off her face, she slowly pushed into a seated position and peeked over the tall bed. Lucian stood by the door, and when he spotted her he cursed and charged in, likely to help her.

She threw out her hand. “Don’t come any closer.” He jerked to a stop. “I’m naked.”

He laughed. “I know. I undressed you.”

“What?”

“Evelyn . . . be reasonable.” He stepped into the room and she quickly gathered the myriad of blankets around her, covering her woman parts. “Love, you were tanked last night. You barely moved once we got to the hotel. You were helpless.”

“So you decided to take off my clothes?” she asked, outraged.

“I’ve seen it before.”

“Well, I didn’t invite you to see it again.”

He sat on the edge of the bed and smiled down at her. His perfectly put-together appearance made her feel insufficient. “I have a peace offering.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”

Reaching into his pocket he produced two small white pills. “Something for your head.”

He handed her the tablets and retrieved a glass of water from the nightstand. She swallowed them down and guzzled the refreshing water until there was nothing left. Handing him back the glass, she eyed him suspiciously. “Did we . . .”

He chuckled. “No. You were comatose.”

“What if I wasn’t?”

“As tempting as that is, the answer would still be no. You were drunk and I gave you my word.”

“Oh.” She sat back on her heels and considered how this made her feel. He hadn’t touched her. Good. Right?

“You’re sober now, however,” he said teasingly.

She shoved off his legs and stood. “Forget it. Where’s my dress.”

“On the chair. I ordered breakfast.”

She hobbled to the chair and found her dress. Frowning at the minimal swatch of black fabric, she hesitated. Her eyes glanced at the puffy down comforter wrapped around her. She looked like a Sumo wrestler in a toga. Turning back to him, she asked, “Do you mind?”

He sighed and shook his head, but didn’t leave. Rather, he walked into the closet and she heard the opening and shutting of drawers. He returned a moment later with a pair of her jeans, a T-shirt, panties, and a bra. He handed them to her.

“These are mine.”

“Who else’s would they be?”

She blinked at the clothing. “But . . . I haven’t lived here for over two months.”

He drew in a slow breath and released it. “Evelyn, I did a lot of things wrong. I’ve apologized and will continue to apologize, but I need you to believe that I never anticipated you’d be gone for good. I still don’t accept that as reality. You belong here. I’ll wait as long as I have to.”

“But you’re dating.”

He frowned and drew back his head. “No, I’m not. I attended a few events that required I bring a guest. That’s all that was.”

She scoffed. “That’s not what the she-bitch on your arm last night said.”

“What did she say?”

Scout thought for a moment. Her memories were sketchy at best. “Well, she cornered me in the bathroom and told me I looked like a hooker.”

His brows shot up. “
She what?”

“Yeah. Nice company you keep.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry she spoke to you that way. You looked beautiful last night. You always do.”

“Then she called me trash.”

He rolled his eyes. “I was there when she said that and you saw my reaction. She has no room to talk. She’ll blow anything with a zipper, and her behavior last night was the farthest thing from classy.”

“I don’t like her.”

“Yeah, well, neither do I.”

She smiled. “Really?”

“Really. There’s no way I’ll put up with someone talking to you like that or making you feel like you aren’t good enough.”

His words made her feel vindicated. A smile split her face, then faltered. “Shit.”

“What?”

“She said something last night, but I can’t remember what. Lucian, she knows about Pearl.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, but she also knows I go by Scout.”

He shook his head. “She won’t tell anyone.”

“Wanna bet? She basically threatened to do exactly that.”

“She threatened you?”

Scout flinched at the lash of his voice. “Yes.”

“Motherfucker,” he hissed. He turned away and paced. “Fucking people! I swear everyone is out for blood. Evelyn, I promise you’ll never have to deal with that woman again. Son of a bitch.” Clearly preoccupied with his own take on the previous evening, he ran his hand through his hair and walked out of the bedroom mumbling. He came back in and said, “Take a shower and get dressed. We’ll talk more about this after I make a phone call.”

He left her there, wrapped up like Stay-puft, holding her clothes. “Jeez, bossy much?”

After showering and dressing, Scout felt a world better. Her head still throbbed with a dull ache, but the painkillers were kicking in and the shower helped clear her mind.

It was strange being back in the penthouse. She knew where everything was and there were remnants of her there. Lucian still had her toothbrush sitting right next to his. Maybe he was being honest when he said he always expected her to come home.

Padding into the common area, Scout found him sitting on the couch watching some boring broker thing on CNN. He smiled and held his arm out to her. She went to him and froze. What was she doing?

He frowned. “Come sit with me.”

Her fingers rubbed slowly over her thumbs. It was weird being there and not being there as his lover. She could so easily fall back into the old swing of things. “I better not.”

“Evelyn—”

“Lucian, I can’t. Please understand that. I just . . . can’t.”

He shut off the television and stood. At the table in the corner he plucked the metal lid off the plate and tossed it aside carelessly, letting it clatter against the other dishes on the table. “Eat your breakfast.”

He was angry. Well, what did he expect? Last night she hadn’t been thinking clearly. It didn’t change anything.

She walked to the table and took a seat. He sat across from her, but didn’t touch his food. The French toast at Patras was her favorite. Raphael, the chef, made homemade cream like nothing she’d ever tasted. Then there were the strawberries, floating in their own juicy sugar . . .

“I want to know what made you go there last night. You said you wanted to see Nicole. Why?”

She chewed slowly and put down her fork. “Are we really going to talk about this?”

“Why the hell wouldn’t we? You tell me to move on. I can’t, but I do my best to look like I am and you suddenly show up with some date and crash a party you’d never normally attend.”

“Who says? I could be a huge Rose Bowl fan.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What’s a Rose Bowl, Evelyn?”

She grimaced. “A tournament in gardening?”

“No. It’s a football game played at the beginning of the year. This year’s players were honored last night for Folsom U.”

“Oh. Well, I felt like being philanthropic.”

“Can we please stop playing games and try for some honesty?”

She pursed her lips. She didn’t want to do honesty. Honesty meant being honest with herself, and she was doing much better lying to herself lately. Her head still ached and she was tired despite just waking up, tired of everything.

“Talk to me, Evelyn.”

Several long moments of silence passed and she finally whispered. “I never had anything, but I thought I had you, and losing you was just too much to bear.”

The confession should have made him grateful. It was headway, but his expression crumbled. “I’m sorry,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Time passed where neither of them seemed to know what to say next. Finally, Lucian asked. “If we could go back, would you?”

Impossible.
“You can’t take away the past.”

“But I can give you all of my future. I wanted to, but you said no.”

She recalled the night he proposed, how desperate he seemed. It all made sense now. She’d started the process of moving on. She had a plan. Lucian was a liability to her sanity. She never had someone get so deep inside of her that she couldn’t think. He did. He touched places she never knew existed.

She stood. “The answer’s still no.”

His jaw locked. He’d shown restraint in the past few days that had boggled her mind. Lucian had never in his life been told no or that he couldn’t have something, yet she’d told him nothing but no over the past two weeks.

“Friends. Can we be friends?”

She sighed. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea either.”

Lucian looked up at her, his hands folded over his lap, white-knuckled as if he were forcing himself not to reach for her. “How much longer do you expect me to go on like this, Evelyn? I’m not used to this sort of opposition.”

Her anger surfaced. “I told you to move on.”

He shot to his feet. “And I heard you, but I refuse to believe that’s what you want. Not when you spent over a thousand dollars to run into me at a benefit you know nothing about.”

“Last night was a mistake.”

“No. It wasn’t.”

She stepped back. “Lucian, I . . . You’re asking too much.”

He crowded her and she eased back, but didn’t take a step. His hand hovered at her jaw, yet he never laid a finger on her. “What will it take?” he whispered. “What do I have to do in order to touch you again? To have you back in my life and believe you’re mine? I hate this void between us.”

“You broke my trust,” she choked. “I don’t know if there’s any coming back from that.”

“It was a mistake. I realized it in a matter of hours. I broke my word and came for you, but I was already too late.”

Her jaw locked. Everything she wanted was right in front of her for the taking, but there were valid reasons to deny herself. Yet, she couldn’t help wondering if this torture of abstaining from him was some twisted form of self-inflicted penance.

Her eyes closed and she breathed. He was so close, but not touching her at all. In barely a whisper, she confessed, “He touched me, Lucian. I wanted to erase your mark and I let him kiss and hold me. I didn’t know he saw me as a possession. He was my friend and I blame you for letting me go under such a misconception.”

“I told you he was trouble. I told you he loved you.”

“And I thought you were jealous.”

“I
am
jealous! Think of how you felt when you thought Nicole and I were an item. How do you think your situation with Hughes made me feel? She’s nothing to me, but he . . . he has pieces of you I never will. I know you, Evelyn, but he knows Scout. He knows what it was like to be there, on the streets, to go hungry. He knows what you were like as a young girl. He has all these puzzle pieces and I hate that he used that to his advantage.”

“I want to hate you both. I can hate him, but I can’t seem to hate
you
.” She was weakening. That hard shell of ice she tried to encrust her heart in was thawing, and he was working his way through the fragile cracks. “I trusted you more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. You took care of my mom, Lucian. Do you know what that did to me? What it does? She’s the only thing I’ve ever had in this life and I was going to lose her. You saved her.”

Confessions spewed from her lips before she could draw them back. “That day that you found me, I thought, ‘Oh my God, he’s my hero.’ And you were. But then I come to find out . . .”

Lucian gripped her shoulders. “It changes nothing. I still found you. Don’t you see? I would have done anything to find you. Imagine what it did to me to have to agree to his terms, to let you go. I made sure there was a loophole, but you weren’t ready for that. I’d do it all over again, Evelyn. It’d kill me, but I would. I’d save you again and again, no matter the cost, because that’s how badly I need to know you’re safe.”

She opened her eyes and waited for the tears to clear. Blinking, she focused on him and recognized the staunch determination in his face. He was telling the truth.

His thumbs swept along her jaw as he gently clasped her neck, scrutinizing her. His pleading gaze was desperate. Her chest hurt. “Lucian . . .”

His head slowly lowered and he brushed his lips over hers. “I need you, Evelyn.” He stepped closer, tilting her head back. “I need you more than the air I breathe.” His mouth kissed the corner of hers. “Nothing is right when you’re absent. I own the whole damn city, but when you aren’t here, I can’t find home.”

A tear slipped past her lashes and he caught it on his lips, kissing it away. Her hands gripped his shirt. “You’re my home,” he breathed, turning her face to meet his kiss.

His lips slanted over hers and her lips parted. The press of his hand cupped the back of her head. “I love you,” he rasped, lifting her into his arms.

Her legs wrapped around him as her face pressed into his throat. He carried her to the bedroom, the unmade bed beckoning with rumpled sheets and imprinted pillows.