OVERPROTECTED (22 page)

“Where do you want to go?” he asked. His cell phone vibrated again.

“Europe. Paris. California. Let’s get on a plane and go to the beach.” Impossible as the idea was, thrill raced along my blood for the opportunity to up and leave. “We could visit the old neighborhood. I’d love to see our house.”

Colin smiled. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out. This time, he kept the screen angled in such a way that I couldn’t see it. “Where do you want to go that won’t get me thrown in jail?”

I crossed my arms over my chest and scrunched down into the worn seat. “That’s exactly what Dad would do,” I grumbled. “Some stupid kidnapping charge even though it’s my idea. Ugh.”

He stuffed his cell phone back in the pocket of his coat and reached out, and his fingers skimmed my shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort. Thrill rolled through my body like a dozen runaway balls downhill. His hand slowly went still. He swallowed, and withdrew.

“Central Park,” I said.

The driver stopped at the corner of 59th and 5th Avenue. I reached to open the door and Colin’s hand cuffed my wrist.

“Don’t forget to pay the driver.” I grinned, thrust open the door and jumped out. Colin, still in the back seat, scrambled for cash, tossed some bills over the partition and jumped out after me.

He remained next to me, his gaze jumpy. Snow fluttered from billowing gray clouds overhead. I started toward an opening in the low rock wall skirting this section of the park. I took three steps into the park before Colin took my arm in a firm grip that stopped me.

“You’re not going in.”

“Yes, I am.” I pulled free and started into the park. He kept pace with me, his head in constant motion, eyes darting, arms anxious at this sides.

“Ash, the park is dangerous after dark, everyone knows that.”

“I don’t care.”

He grabbed my upper arms and swung me around. His dark eyes flashed. “I do.”

“You’re with me,” I said, wiggling to free myself. Clearly uncomfortable holding me prisoner, he released me, but jittered like his blood itched.

He rammed a hand through his hair. “You
want
to put yourself in danger?”

I started to run. “I won’t be in danger with you,” I called to him.

Without effort, he stayed at my side, matching my pace. I’d read scenes like this: the hero chasing the heroine, the two of them ending up in a tumble followed by a hot kiss. But love-chases usually happened in daylight, without snow, and in warm, tropic environments.

I laughed and picked up my speed.

Walkways were slippery, iced over in spots. What few lamps lit the near-black area were covered in a veil of white, and the pale illumination through glass didn’t do much to melt the ice. Paths were empty. Darkness appeared from the collection of shrubs, giant rocks, trees, and the occasional bridge that popped up.

My lungs started to ache with each breath. Frosty plumes blew out in front of my face, leaving a trail behind me. An umbrella of trees kept wet flakes from soaking us. Colin stayed a foot behind, his alert gaze like a searchlight.

“Ash,” he said. “We’ve got to go back.”

The innards of the park grew more dense, twisted, and black. No one smart ventured this deep into the park at night. The lights came fewer and far between. Colin’s aura was tense, aware, and feral.

I slowed, catching my breath then reached skyward, my eyes closed, savoring freedom. Dad didn’t know where we were. No one knew, except Colin and me. We were alone.
Alone.
I whirled, laughed, and stuck my tongue out, tasting the slushy falling flakes.

We may not have been on a beach in the tropics, and we may not have ended up in a rolling kiss, but we were alone.

I looked at him. Chest rising. Eyes latched on mine, so endlessly dark, impossible to read. I stepped toward him, heart pounding in my throat, and brought myself close enough that my chest brushed the rise and fall of his. I slid my arms up around his neck and his tight lips parted—shock? Wonder?

I would taste him and find out for myself.

Hands locked behind his neck, I held his gaze until my lips pressed against his. I closed my eyes. A dreamy rush streamed from my mouth to the tips of my fingers and toes. My lips moved of their own desire exploring the mouth I’d been fascinated by, tormented by, seduced by since I remembered the first heartbeat that told me, this heartbeat—this feeling he evoked, was different.

I waited for his lips to respond, the open bud of my mouth yearning. He remained still. Was he breathing? His chest had stopped moving. The dreamy rush flooding me evaporated. I opened my eyes.

His were closed, dark lashes fluttering tight against his cheeks as if he was using every last ounce of strength he had to resist.

My arms slipped back to my sides.

I flushed with embarrassment. His eyes flashed open with a predatory look that forced me back a step. Ashamed that he’d rejected me, I couldn’t bear the silence. The aloneness. I darted around him and ran back the way we’d come.

Colin snatched my arm. I wrenched free, stumbled. He reached out to steady me and we fell to the slick, snow-crisped grass and mud, and slid to a stop.

“Leave me alone,” I said.

“Ashlyn.”

I tried to writhe free, horrified that I’d kissed him. He didn’t want me, and that realization stung as much as Dad’s slap. Trying to keep my face from his view, I scrambled away, but he was longer, stronger, and his body covered mine, pinning me to the wet, frosty ground.

He snatched my flailing hands in his, holding me in place beneath him.

“I’m sorry. Please let me go.” I turned my head as far right as I could, the humiliation unbearable.

Colin levered himself up, his hands still linked to mine, and he gently pulled me to my feet. My legs, back, and sides were chilled from being rammed in slushy grass. Hands on my shoulders, he held me firmly in front of him but I kept my gaze downward, refusing to meet his.

“Look at me.”

I shook my head. My downcast gaze caught the mud smeared all over the front of him as if he’d just emerged from a mud fight. “We should get back,” I muttered.

“Not till you look at me.” His finger touched my chin, urged my face up.

My heart trembled. Too many shadows crossed his face for me to read what he was thinking.

“I’ve never done anything like that,” I said. “I don’t know what—

I’m so embarrassed.”

His hands slid up along my shoulder blades, to my neck, finally cupping my cheeks. The air around us seemed unseasonably hot, but that was impossible. Our breaths plumed in unison. His brows drew tight over determined, fierce eyes.

He shook his head. Eyes closed, he turned his face. His hands pressed my cheeks like he might crush my bones. Fear fought with curiosity, weaving my blood into a spin of desire.

What struggle took place inside of him? “Colin?”

A slow, controlled breath eased from his chest. He swallowed.

“Say my name again.”

“Colin.”

He lowered his head. The crown of his dark hair reflected a remnant of moonlight, reminding me of that first day I’d seen him on the street. I’d known, with just a glance, that it was him.

He lifted his confused gaze to mine. He stepped back. “You know I can’t…”

I reached out. He shook his head. The snap of a branch crackled somewhere behind him and he whirled around, blocking me with his body. His back faced me and beneath his peacoat his muscles locked in place. His head jerked right, then left.

I listened to his pounding breath. My heart rate notched up.

Who or what had made that sound? Bushes and trees rustled, and a dark shape emerged. Colin stepped back, his arms out at his sides to shield me. Panic froze my blood.

“You got a dollar?” a craggy voice asked.

I peered around Colin’s shoulder. A homeless man dressed in layers of shredded black and gray clothing emerged. He started toward us, a stuffed backpack flung over his shoulder. “I’ll take anything,” he begged.

“Sorry.” Colin took me by the arm and we started at a brisk jog toward the entrance.

The stranger followed us. “I need money!” He stumbled to a stop.

Colin ignored the man, and his alert gaze swept the dark areas we passed. Guilt punched my conscience. If I hadn’t brought us into the park, this wouldn’t have happened.

Once the light from the street seeped into the park, and we were near the entrance, nervousness began to leave me. We didn’t speak, and the rush of cars passing, the occasional pack of tourists chatting as they strolled helped fill the uncomfortable awkwardness my behavior had thrust between us.

His cell phone vibrated over and over, the repetitive buzz audible over the city noise. No doubt Dad.

I couldn’t keep up with his furious, long stride and he took a two-foot lead, dropping hold of my arm. Part of me was relieved to have him not dragging me along like a parent drags a slow child.

Another part of me enjoyed any physical contact we had—invited or forced.

He crossed the sidewalk and stood on the edge, his gaze on traffic. He waved at each cab that passed.
What are you doing, Ashlyn?

You’ve really turned him off with tonight’s drama.

Finally, a cab pulled over. Colin opened the back door and we both got in. His cell phone continued to vibrate, the sound a soft buzz in the stuffy back of the cab.

Dad. Impatient, furious, demanding Dad.

How would we explain our filthy clothing? Shivers ravaged my skin, the wet cold sinking to my bones. Worse, I imagined Dad taking one look at me and firing Colin without listening to an explanation.

Colin retrieved his cell phone. From where I sat, I could see the screen: Charles.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The townhouse was silent when Colin and I walked in a few minutes later. I took the stairs up hoping to change my clothes before Dad saw me and avoid any questions. Colin followed. Was he thinking what I was thinking?

My foot hit the second floor landing and I felt Colin’s presence draw closer, like I’d just moved into the protective shade of a tree.

“Ashlyn.”

I faced him.

Dad cleared his throat. Colin turned. Dad stood a dozen feet away, just outside of Mother’s bedroom door. I stepped around Colin so Dad was in my line of vision. Dad’s wide-eyed gaze scraped us both from head to toe.

He crossed to us. “What happened?”

Colin and I looked like cats that’d been playing in the sewer.

Dad’s carefully controlled face contorted in concern, sharp eyes examining my clothing. “Are you all right?”

“Dad, yes. Nothing happened. We got caught in the storm, that’s all.”

“You didn’t have the smarts to keep her dry?” Dad’s question pierced the air when he jerked his head at Colin.

“It was my fault.” I stepped in front of Colin, forcing Dad to look at me. “I wanted to take a walk.”

“And see where that got you.” Dad’s brow arched.

“We’re wet, so what?” I said.

Dad’s jaw twitched. “Ashlyn, excuse us.”

Panic grabbed my heart. I’d heard that tone before, when Dad had fired Stuart. “This isn’t his fault. This was my idea.”

“And your clothes? Explain that,” Dad demanded.

“I fell. Colin tried to help me when a lame cab sped by, splashing snow and mud all over us.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed, then shifted to Colin whose face was stretched taut as a body on a torture rack. On a deep breath, the muscles in Dad’s jaw slackened. “Get cleaned up, Princess. You must be cold.”

“You’re not firing him because of me, this isn’t his fault.”

More silence ticked by. Dad’s gaze slid to Colin.

“Go get dry, Ashlyn,” Dad directed.

I was afraid to leave Colin, not because he couldn’t handle Dad on his own—he could—but because my legs turned to noodles beneath me even thinking about Colin not being here. But I’d said what I could to patch up the mess I’d made—and I had made a mess.

I bit my lower lip, not sure what else I could do to convince Dad that nothing illicit had happened between Colin and me.

“Colin,” Dad slid a hand into one of the pockets of his slacks.

“Take the rest of the night off.”

What is Dad planning?

Shock was plain on Colin’s face. “Yes sir.”

With a quick glance at me, Colin excused himself. Where would he go? What would he do? My gaze followed him up the stairs until he disappeared. I found Dad watching me, his eyes narrowed.

Turning, I went into my bedroom and shut the door.

Usually, I took a long, hot soak in a bath full of cherry blossom scented bubbles. Not tonight. I took a quick, tepid shower, dressed in pjs, stuck my hair in a pony tail and headed for the music room. On my way, my gaze shifted to the third floor.

The soft hiss of liquid through pipes answered my question. I shook off the image of his flesh under an onslaught of water.
You’ve
done nothing but cause trouble for him. You’re only a job. He’s probably
going to go to some club and…
But he’d told me he didn’t like clubbing. Where would he go?

A door shut upstairs. The soft pad of feet passed overhead. I inched to the stairwell, covertly leaned over the banister and snuck a peek at the third floor just in time to catch the firm muscles of his back. A white towel was slung low around his hips. His hair was a muss of dark, wet tips and spikes. He vanished into his bedroom and shut the door.

I swallowed, trying to moisten my dry throat.
Music. Music.

Music
. Between the image of Colin’s beautiful, carved back, and the movement of his body beneath the towel and his long legs, his song sprung into my head with a pulsing need for release.

I didn’t close the doors to the music room, too anxious for my fingers to liberate the tune inside of me. I sat, and the instant my fingertips made contact with the piano keys every sensation burst and raced through my arms.

The music room filled with Colin’s aura, as if his soul was in the room with me. Pounding his melody into the piano only served to create more building frustration, filling me with a want I’d never known. The one thing I did know was that I wanted him all to myself.