OVERPROTECTED (11 page)

I did. If that was enough to open a door, I’d take it. The excursion wasn’t so much about the party as it was about being out on my own. I was navigating the entire evening myself. I would ditch the bookstore, and Colin, go to the party and return to the bookstore before it closed.

When Friday night finally came, I put my plan into action. After dinner, I dressed in sheer leggings, a skinny black turtleneck and a pair black boots and a ruffled plaid French skirt. I sprayed on some perfume and went in search of Colin.

Music overhead signaled that he was in his bedroom. I took the stairs up and knocked on his door.

“Hold on.” Seconds later, the door swung open and Colin, dressed in jeans and a well-worn baby blue sweatshirt with the remnants of California silk-screened on the chest, greeted me. “Hey.”

His gaze swept me from boots to head. “We going somewhere?”

“Yeah. Barnes & Noble. I need to pick up something.”

He seemed to ponder my words. “Sure. Give me a minute.”

“Meet downstairs?”

He nodded and shut the door. Thrill quickened my steps down to the main entry where I waited.

Step one—done.

The townhouse was its usual tomb-like quiet. Friday night meant Mother and Daddy were out together at a restaurant or dinner party.

Tonight was my night.

I did a double take when Colin came down the stairs. He wore sleek black pants that hugged his toned legs, a fitted periwinkle shirt.

He was slipping into a black leather jacket Mother had picked out for him as his feet hit the marble floor.

“You didn’t have to dress up,” I said around a thickening throat.

He shrugged and crossed to the front door. He tapped the security code into the panel and the dead bolts slid in their casters.

He opened the front door and held it for me.

“Charles and Fiona have Eddy for the night. You want to walk or catch a cab?”

I checked my cell phone for the time. Almost nine o’clock. I couldn’t show up at Ninety-Nine too early. A chilly January wind brushed my cheeks as we took the stoop stairs down to the sidewalk. I didn’t want to get windblown before the party but I only had cash for a two cab rides, not three.

“You have cash, right?” I asked.

He nodded. “Let’s catch a cab.”

I waited under the protection of our small vestibule while he stepped out into the street, his hand raised to his lips. He blew out a piercing whistle. Four cabs whizzed by before one pulled over.

Colin opened the back door and gestured for me to get in.

“Barnes and Noble on Sixty Sixth and Broadway,” he told the driver. We were whisked into traffic at a speedy pulse along Park Avenue.

Casually, he glanced over. My hands gripped each other in my lap.

Surely he couldn’t see that this was all a fake.

We didn’t speak on the short drive. At the bookstore he hopped out, rounded the car and opened my door. Guilt pinched me. He was so gentlemanly. Conscientious. My plan to leave and come back after being at Ninety-Nine for only a half hour was going to ensure that neither he nor Mother and Daddy know about my spree into freedom.

Colin paid the cabby and we entered the bookstore. He stopped.

“So,” he said.

“So.” My voice warbled.
Control, control
. “I’ll be in the young adult section,” I said, then turned and headed up the escalator to the next floor. I didn’t dare look to see if he was following me. There was no rush. I’d sneak out soon enough.

Giddy chills tingled through my arms and legs. After fifteen long minutes of wandering around the store, I went back down the escalator, my scan of the first floor not finding Colin’s tall form anywhere.

I left the building. The bitter wind seared my cheeks. I hailed a cab, told the driver where to take me and we took off. I checked over my shoulder, amazed, thrilled and shocked I was on my way.

And Colin was still back at the bookstore.

Ninety-Nine vibrated from a block away. The stainless steel looking building gleamed against the city lights. Lines of partiers waited out front on a purple and red carpet that stretched down the block. Strings of giant bulb lights swayed slightly in the icy breeze, lighting the gaudy red carpet leading to the entrance.

“To the front of the line, please,” I told the cab driver, my stomach a bouquet of popping bubbles.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Shapes moved in shadows colored by streaming lights from the dance floor. I’d never been to a club, only seen them in films or read about them in my romance novels. Raucous music shook the dark, purple and red mirrored walls. Sweaty, thick air forced itself into my lungs, nearly causing my gag reflex to start. The combination of perfumes, smoke and bodies overwhelmed me. I had to remind myself why I wanted to do this.

Carlos told me to follow him, but I walked into a fog bank of cologne and sweat. A wall of gyrating bodies suddenly seemed to converge on me. I felt suffocated. Couldn’t move. Heads turned.

Some stares lingered. One guy came up and started rubbing himself against me. Panicked, I stepped away, only to smack into some girl dressed in see-through netting. She smiled and swung her hips my direction in a dance that caused my blood to shiver.

Carlos must have figured he’d lost me, for suddenly he was there, scowling. He jerked his head as if for me to hurry and follow.

He led me to a raised area, curtained by red and lavender sheers blowing in a soft breeze made by gold fans hanging overhead.

Fat purple and red velveteen couches sat in a circle on the raised, curtained-off area. Sprawled on the couches were dozens of skeletal chicks—some from school, others I didn’t recognize—with Danicka in the center. Smoke wafted up from burning cigarettes cluttering ashtrays made to look like East Indian treasure chests.

Carlos left me at the billowing opening of the enclosure. Danicka was in the middle of sharing a smoke with one of her anorexic friends when another girl elbowed her and nodded at me. Danicka craned her dazed look around me as if looking for someone else.

Then she stood, wobbling for a second on her glittering platforms.

Her tight sapphire mini dress skimmed her panty line. Glitter adorned her bare shoulders, bird-like arms, and neck. She stepped over her dazed friends and headed my direction.

My heart tripped. Danicka parted the purple veil and entered. I took one step onto the raised red platform and felt heat at my back.

“Where’s Colin?” Her breath stunk of sour mint. “Thought he was coming with?”

I’d never seen her or her friends so listless. Dead-eyed. Shocked, I fumbled for words. “He’ll be here,” I lied.

“Cool. Have some.” She gestured to the table laden with treasure boxes where cigarettes smoldered like incense. Lines of white powder striped the black glass table top.

My elbow was locked in a vice grip.

“Ashlyn.” Colin’s voice cut through the club muck like a trumpet.

No trace of humor lie anywhere in his face. His bottomless black eyes cut me open, reached into my soul and grabbed hold. He jerked his head in the opposite direction of Danicka’s party tent.

“There you are.” Danicka’s sour breath blew the side of my face.

She leaned into Colin for balance but he barely glanced at her. “I was hoping you’d come.” Her long arms wound around his neck and she lifted up to kiss his cheek.

In a swift jerk, he was free of her and leading me away from her and her minions. I didn’t appreciate being dragged. I yanked, but he swung around, faced me. Somebody bumped into him, pushing his body against mine. Before we both fell into the dancing crowd, he took hold of my arms and steadied us. To my right a sweaty bald guy started rotating his hips against mine.

Colin shoved him away. Bald guy glared, but gyrated against the next available body. Frustration drew Colin’s features tight. “Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?” he yelled over the music.

“I wanted to come alone.”

His eyes swept the crowd, his posture ready to pounce. “You’re supposed to stay with me. Do your parents know about this?”

I averted my gaze for a second. Colin’s chest lifted in an exasperated breath I couldn’t hear over the music. “Let’s get out of here.”

Colin took me by the arm, his fingers a steely grip.

“I’m not leaving,” I yelled over the grating beat.

“Ash, if your parents don’t know about this, then we’re not going to be here.” This time he took my hand. I couldn’t stop the fire that raced up my arm. He pushed through the packed crowd again, his fingers tightening around mine. More eyes, more curious stares—this time from women—watching him. Jealousy unhinged inside my heart.

He’s with me
. A lie, but we looked like a couple—didn’t we?

I shot a glance over my shoulder at Danicka to see if she was watching. She and her friends stood beneath the parted veil, their now-alert interest fastened on us. She’d probably tell everyone at school about Colin dragging me out of the place. Tears of humiliation threatened to burn my eyes and I tugged on Colin’s hand, bringing his attention to me. Purple and gold lights flashed over his face.

“Colin—please—I can’t leave like this,” I said.

He dipped his head closer so he could hear me without me having to yell. His cologne mixed with the thick air in the place, the scent drifting into my head. He studied me a moment, then his gaze went over my shoulder—to Danicka? I wasn’t sure, but he gave me a nod.

He glanced at his watch, then his attention was on me. Again. A luscious feeling of ownership, though false, temporary, and brought on by fantasy, filled me.

“How did you know I was here?” I asked.

“Your friend, Danicka, told me about the party the other day at school.”

“She’s not my friend.” And she stood scowling at me from across the dance floor.

“I can see that.”

Was she that obvious? Or was it me? I cringed inwardly, wondering what he really thought of me.

“Can I get you two anything?” A wiggling blonde bartender dipped and shimmied next to us. The tray in her hand balanced perfectly with eight empty glasses even with her dancing.

Colin shook his head.

“I’ll take a scotch,” I said.

Colin’s eyes widened for a moment. “We’ll pass, thanks.” He took my elbow. I pulled free. He brought himself tight to my chest, his warm breath at my ear when he hissed, “No drinking.”

“Everyone does. They don’t check ID here.”

“Ash.” He thrust a hand through his hair. “What’s going on with you?”

“I just want to have fun.”

“Okay, I get it, but underage drinking shouldn’t be on your agenda. It’s against the law.”

“You never drank when you were underage?” I taunted. “Ever?”

He shifted. Looked at me then out—where? At the dancing couples? I didn’t know what he was thinking, but he was so beautiful in the carnival-colored lights. A buzz wound low inside of me.

“Yeah, I did,” he said finally. “I’m not proud of it. Look, this place is… it’s not the kind of place you should be in.”

“What does that mean? You think I belong at a playground or some pizza place with a jungle gym instead?”

“No, Ash, no. You’re too good for this place.” His hands appeared itchy hanging at his sides. Like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“Let’s go.”

“I told you, I like to dance.”

“With these idiots? No way in hell.”

“There are plenty of nice guys here.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Like baldy? Come on.” He reached for my elbow but I stepped back.

“I’m not leaving. I came to have fun and I’m going to dance.”

“These guys’ll eat you alive. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

“I’m talking about one dance, not sex,” I protested. How naive did he think I was?

His hand threaded nervously through his hair, leaving it mussed.

His brown eyes blackened with challenge, sending heat through my bloodstream. He snatched my hand. In a half a dozen long strides we were in the center of the dance floor.

White, purple, and red lights flashed up at us from the glowing floor. I couldn’t believe I was going to dance with him. Colin. A violent tune sliced and chopped the air with insatiable teeth, cutting away the veneer of clothing, stripping bare. The song grabbed hold of my body and didn’t let go.

He danced less than a foot away, his protective gaze jumping around the surrounding bodies scouring faces of both women and men with suspicion. For the first time since I could remember, I was pleased to have a bodyguard.

The leering from older men sent a scratchy creepiness across my skin. And the glaring women—I felt like Colin and I were dancing in a lioness’ den rather than one of New York’s most posh clubs.

Danicka scowled from the tent.

The song ended, but another layered over it, this one sensual.

Slow. Like a heartbeat readying for bed.

Colin stopped. An uncontrollable urge to touch him surged through me, and I stepped close. Black flecks in his eyes deepened.

My arms trembled as I slid them up and around his neck.

“Ditching me was not cool, Ash.” The corner of his jaw knotted.

He didn’t move. One second passed. Three. Then his arms caged my waist. I saw a million questions in his eyes. Or at least I thought I did.

What does this mean? This one. Slow. Dance.

His piercing gaze narrowed—unyieldingly aimed at me as though he was not pleased.

Shamed that I would manipulate him for my own enjoyment, I couldn’t look at him anymore. His arms tightened, so fleeting—yet undeniable.

I felt his gaze on my face, and my cheeks heated. The moment was dark. Stormy. Slowly, we swayed. His thighs brushed mine. The buckle on his belt grazed my stomach. Heat from his neck, and his soft hair brushed my wrists locked at the back of his head.

I looked up.

His arms drew me closer. Conflicting sensations both taunting and frightening weaved through my body.
Please don’t end, song.

Please.

I’d read about heroines in my romance novels letting their fingers play in the hair at the nape of the hero’s neck. I allowed my fingers to explore Colin’s thick hair. His eyes narrowed, and his tongue grazed his lips. At my waist, his fingers kneaded. He inched back.