Gilded Lily (8 page)

He coughed, trying to divert her gaze. “It looks fine to me.”

“You haven’t seen many cobblers, have you?”

Her sarcasm made him laugh. “No, I guess I haven’t.” He kept his waist against the counter in an attempt to hide the stiff rod in his shorts. “Lily, I was wondering if you’d want to have dinner with me tonight.”

“Me?” She picked at the golden crust on the cobbler.

“Yes, you. I’m not a bad cook. I went to the grocery and got a few things. I’d like to have you over and show you some of the projects Nick had been working on.”

“Well, I…I don’t think that would do any harm. I guess I could come.” She slid her hands behind her back. “Can I bring this?” She gave the steaming dish a weary nod.

He eyed the oozing dessert. “That would be great.”

* * * *

Adam hadn’t lied to Lily. He could cook and did on occasion when he was home, which wasn’t often these days. The demand for his photos was off the charts. The money was good—he stretched his fingers, letting the tension in the scars release—but the price had been high.

Adam grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the cap. After taking a drink, he sat the bottle on the counter and picked up the knife to slice through a cucumber. He tossed the pieces into the salad. It was no wonder Nick had hired a manager for his gallery in New York. Adam knew if he’d met someone as special as Lily, he’d have left everything behind too. He couldn’t believe Nick hadn’t had sex with her. He’d written it over and over again in his letters, but Adam couldn’t believe it. Especially not after meeting her. Nick had sworn they were just friends, but the look on their faces said the caring went beyond friendship. They
knew
each other in a way people in love know their partners.

Adam questioned whether it was a good idea to get involved with the woman his brother may have been dating. Then a flash of Lily’s smile when she’d picked him up at the airport filtered through his mind.
He did say they were
just
friends.

The salad was almost done when he started cutting the loaf of fresh bread. The hearty aroma made his stomach growl. Ellen had always done the cooking when they were together. She said he undercooked the pasta and put too many tomatoes in the marinara. Adam finally gave up and tasted the bland cuisine his fiancée insisted they eat. Choices were limited back then. The choice to get on the plane for Bosnia—that was a duty, Adam thought. The choice to expose the war in real time—that was a duty to the soldiers. The choice to marry Ellen—that was a godforsaken duty to his father. And the choice to walk away from the Catholic-wedding plans—well, that was his choice for a life without judgment.

Adam forced the image of Ellen out of his mind and replaced it with the picture of Lily sitting on the porch swing, mug of coffee resting in her hand, and him walking up to give her a good-morning kiss. Now that was a choice he’d savor every time.

LILY CARRIED HER grandmother’s heavy glass dish toward the stable house. The quick, stolen moments she was taking to gather her nerves weren’t working. The sunset cast a thousand shadows through the trees as she walked down the path, absorbing the coolness of the cobblestones through the bottoms of her bare feet.

“Let the sensation calm you,” she continued to repeat. She’d draped a thin sweater over her forearm before leaving the house. The spring nights seemed to cool as fast as the afternoons heated up, and she didn’t know how late he’d want her to stay.

As she approached the path leading to the pond, she looked over, remembering how the night air would creep in from the water, creating a comfortable breeze, sometimes chilly but pleasant all the same. Nicholas would sit on the porch for hours, playing cards with her, trying to help her fall asleep. Two friends sharing stories and tears. God, she missed him.

Lily sighed with the thought of her restless nights. They started once Keith decided she needed to leave. The thought of being alone the rest of her life, of never being good enough for anyone because of her depraved sexual needs, brought terrible nightmares. Tony had to come more often to help her get to sleep. He’d taken on more than he’d bargained for. Surely, he’d grown tired of her. A pang of sadness crept into her belly.
Not now. Don’t cry now!

When she reached the stable house, Adam was sitting in the green Adirondack chair on the porch. His smile greeted her before his voice had the chance. “You came,” he said as he stood to take the heavy dish from her arms.

“Yes.” She scrunched her brow. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You sounded unsure earlier.” He opened the screen door for her to step through. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lily heard him gasp when she passed by. Quickly, she turned to face him. His green eyes were wide with surprise. Lily had forgotten about the pale pink welts still lacing her back and shoulder. Her pale yellow chemise only covered half of her upper back. Lily hastily donned her sweater and raised her chin. She could tell he wasn’t sure whether to speak or keep the hell quiet.
Think, Lily, think!

“Something smells wonderful.” She swallowed through the dryness in her throat. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Adam snapped his mouth shut and maneuvered around her to get to the kitchen. “Um, no,” he said as he kept his back to her and set the dish on the counter. “Would you like some wine?”

“That’d be lovely.” She walked around the room, studying the piles Adam had organized. She clutched the edges of her sweater in an attempt to stop trembling.

Nicholas’s clothes had always seemed to find a place on the back of chairs, on the floor, beside the couch. Needless to say, she’d trip over the shoes by the door and toss the old pizza boxes in the trash in order to have a place to sit down.

Now the room was spotless. Neat stacks of art magazines were sitting on the coffee table, and crates of Nicholas’s record collection were sitting against the wall.

Lily startled when she turned to find Adam standing behind her. He looked rugged, masculine in a snug dark blue T-shirt that stretched across the vast planes of his broad chest. Nicholas hadn’t been near Adam’s size, but he’d carried a familiar shape like his big brother—muscular arms, tight waist, long legs. Lily blushed. Would his cock be as thick as Nicholas’s? She took the glass from his hand, taking a sizable drink of the sweet red liquid.

“Nick said you liked sangria.” His grin was wicked. “I can see he wasn’t kidding.”

“Um, yes.” Did he have to stand so close? One sniff of his woodsy cologne made her pussy contract. Underneath the spicy aroma she could smell the crisp scent of soap. She took a step back. “I like the sweet taste more than a wine.”

“I hope you’re hungry.”

Lily pulled at the edges of her sweater. “I am. It smells so good.”

He pressed his hand to his chest, pretending to be offended. “I told you I could cook.”

“Well,” she said as she walked by the counter to snoop at what he’d made, “I’m impressed.”

They sat down at the table. Hiding a smile, Lily tipped the glass to her lips. He’d picked a bundle of wildflowers she recognized from near the pond. The pretty blues and yellows were a stark contrast in the white vase sitting in the center of the small, round table.

God, she hoped Tony would like him. As nervous as Adam made her, the intriguing mystery of the man made her want to know more, and she was going to need Tony’s support to make that happen.

Then she remembered the sound of his gasp when he’d seen her welts. Adam could never be interested in a woman like her.
You’re crazy,
she remembered Keith saying after she told him about the belts she kept hidden on her side of the closet.
What kind of man would play this game of yours? A sick, sadistic son of a bitch.
He’d often reminded her that no man would want her once he found out how depraved she was.

She took a sip of wine, trying to squelch the nauseated sensation. No, Adam wasn’t a sick, sadistic son of a bitch. He had kind eyes and a beautifully scarred hand that held a story of his tormented past. No, he wouldn’t be the kind of man who would play her game.

The meal was perfect. Adam was right. He was a great cook. He was even kind enough to eat a slice of the cherry cobbler she’d brought and comment how great it tasted. Lily sat up a bit straighter. She loved to cook for someone, but somehow the compliment coming from him felt like a warm hug to her heart. They shared stories about Nicholas. She told Adam about the time they went skinny-dipping in the pond and the two students she’d hired to take care of the lawn had found them. Adam shared the experience of when he taught Nicholas how to drive a manual shift. Their laughter carried throughout the stable house.

She looked around the room. Nicholas was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. He should’ve been lounging on the worn couch, feet propped up on the arm, with a cigarette dangling from his lips. But he wasn’t there. He was buried in a huge cemetery in New York City. The booming sound of his laughter had faded with the beautiful presence that once lived in this very room.

“So, do you want to see the paintings Nick was working on?” Adam’s voice brought Lily’s thoughts out of their dark haze.

Lily dabbed at her mouth with the napkin. “I’d love to see them.” The thought of seeing Nicholas’s artwork brought a glow to her heart. She missed her friend and ached to be near him again. In some way maybe this could bring her closer to him.

“Come on.” Adam stood up and reached out his hand.

She stared at it. The pale white scars were such a contrast to the tanned skin around them.
Scars like my welts.

“Um, sorry,” he said and took back his hand to hold out his other one.

Lily examined it. No pale streaks of tortured flesh. She stood. The curious look he gave her made her legs tremble.

“Come on,” he said. “I won’t bite.”

Lily shrugged off his smooth hand. She liked the other one much better. Reaching out, she slipped her palm against the rough skin. The feel of his fingers entwined with hers made her feel safe.
Cherished and delicate.
When she looked up, Adam was staring down at her. No, he was staring at their hands.

“People don’t usually like to touch my hand.”

“I do,” she said and gave him a gentle squeeze. He was willing to touch her after seeing her marks. She was more than willing to touch him after seeing his.

Nicholas and Tony were the only two men who had ever seen the full extent of her marks. Tony relished them while Nicholas had tolerated them.

Lily followed Adam hand in hand up the stairs to the loft. The movement of his tight backside beneath the faded jeans threw a ball of cotton into her throat, instantly making her drool. The stealth of his movements was like a slinky cat. Albeit a very tall and muscular slinky cat.

Shaking her head, she recalled the last time she’d been up in the loft. Nicholas had invited a friend from New York to stay for a couple of days. David had been a business associate of Nicholas’s who came down once a month.

Lily always enjoyed watching them fuck until the early-morning hours. On her last trip up these stairs, Lily remembered falling asleep on her pile of blankets in the corner. The sound of David’s lustful moans and pleas for more had lulled her to sleep.

Adam didn’t let her hand go as they crossed the cozy space, but Lily tugged away from him when she looked across the king-size bed. The five paintings propped against the wall were indeed portraits of Lily. All in varying shades of blue, from the brightest cerulean to the deepest cobalt.

Lily clasped her chest, trying to take in a breath. They walked in silence as she followed him around the end of the bed.

“See?” He pointed to the one on the far left. “That’s you.”

The painting depicted Lily relaxing in her outdoor bathtub. The renditions were lifelike and stunning. Lily sighed. The one with her bound to the large oak in the backyard made her stomach flutter. Did she really look like that? The rational part of her brain told her to run. The irrational part of her heart told her to cry.

“You can’t deny it,” he said. “These are you.”

She walked past Adam to kneel before the paintings. The sound of Adam sitting down on the bed behind her made her startle. “I never knew. Where were they?”

“I found them in the back. They were packed up in a storage crate.”

She turned around. “Why are they out here?”

Adam bowed his head, then quickly looked back up. “I want to see them,” he said. “They’re beautiful. I think he had crated them to send to his gallery in New York. Yeah, well…that’s how they usually arrive.”

Lily pressed her fingertips against her lips. She was going to laugh or cry; either way the nervousness was going to take over her body. “Oh, God, not these. Not me. No, no, not like this.” She walked over to the one where she was sitting on her heels with her hands tied behind her back. “Adam, please put them back in the crate. You don’t need to see these. Please, don’t ever let anyone see these.”

Lily stared down at her hands. Suddenly Adam was there, standing in front of her. He wrapped his big hands around her wrists. A gentle pull, and she was resting against his chest, wrapped in his arms. “Why do you want them hidden?”

She tried to pull away but instead gripped his T-shirt in her fists. The harder she tugged, the tighter he held her. She pushed on his hard body, really wanting to pull him tight against her. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, lips tenderly pressing against the edge of her temple.

He let her go only to wrap his hands around her waist. “Lily, they’re stunning. Don’t be ashamed. Nick obviously thought you were worth painting. He had a different way of seeing you, that’s all.”

Lily twisted away, and he reluctantly let her go. “You don’t understand. I really should leave.” She started for the steps. “Please, Adam, burn those paintings and never let anyone see them.”

“Lily, wait!” By the time he was halfway down the stairs, the screen door slammed shut.

LILY LAY AWAKE in her bed, thinking about Nicholas’s paintings. She couldn’t recall Tony ever letting him watch their play sessions. Nicholas knew Tony whipped her, but Tony never let anyone watch. Not even Renee. Tony always said it was their private time.