The Promise of Paradise (16 page)

“Well, so what if it
does?” She couldn’t pretend anymore. She was tired of living a
secret. It was too damn hard. Ash tightened her fingers around the
steering wheel. She had to make things right.

“I’m going to tell
him everything.” And they would take it from there.

She bit her bottom lip
and hoped he would still look at her the same way afterwards. She
hoped he would still wrap those strong arms around her, still press
his lips against hers, and still pull her into his embrace like there
was nowhere else he wanted to be.

* * *

It was after one by the
time she killed the engine in front of the house. Ash dragged herself
up the sidewalk.
Do I see if he’s still up? Or do I wait until
tomorrow? I want—
She didn’t know what she wanted. That was
the problem.

She pushed open the
front door, which he’d left unlocked. The porch light still burned,
too. All good signs. Ash stood in the foyer and studied the stairs,
working up the nerve to knock on Eddie’s door. She took one step
forward, raised her hand, then glanced down at herself and realized
she probably smelled like the kitchen of Blues and Booze. Wrinkling
her nose, she stepped back again.

Tomorrow, when I’ve
had a shower and some sleep and we can talk about this rationally.

But when was the last
time she’d done anything rationally when it came to Eddie West?
That was what worked, what made him – and her, when she was around
him – different. Better. Her hand reached up and knocked before she
could stop it. “Eddie?”

She heard nothing for a
minute. Her stomach clenched. What if he was in there with someone?
What if he'd completely changed his mind? She guessed there were half
a dozen women in Paradise who’d be more than happy to warm his bed
and soothe his wounded ego.

Ash traced a crack on
the floor with one toe. She knocked once more and waited a long
thirty seconds. Well, if he was home, he wasn’t answering. It would
have to wait until tomorrow after all. She turned to go.

“Ash?”

She’d almost made it
to the stairs by the time his door swung open. She turned around,
heart in her throat. Eddie stood on the threshold, bare-chested and
dozy-eyed. He wore a pair of cut-off sweats and nothing else.

She forgot how to
breathe.

“What time is it?”

“Late. I’m sorry.”
The words came out in a rush. “I shouldn’t have—were you
sleeping?”

He shook his head and
ran a hand through his hair, standing it up on end. “Watching TV.”
He paused for a moment, then pushed the door open all the way. “Want
to come in?”

“Okay.”

The living room smelled
of him, of that complicated scent she associated with baseball games
and late nights on the porch and winks in the bar as he sat and
watched her count tips. Ash stopped near the recliner and looked
around. The kitten, now a few pounds rounder in the belly, slept on a
towel Eddie had tucked into a cardboard box.

“You ever give it a
name?”

He closed the door and
stepped beside her, breathing the words into her ear. “Call ‘im
Tiny. Seems to like it.”

She smiled. “It fits
him.”

He sat on the edge of
the couch. “So?”

“I’m sorry.”
Second time in less than five minutes. Why didn’t she just
apologize her way into tomorrow? But there didn’t seem to be any
other words to fit the enormity of what she needed to say.

“Sit.” Eddie cocked
his head at her. “Stop being so goddamned nervous and tell me
what’s going on.”

“It’s complicated.”
She worked her way toward him.

“So start with
something small.” He leaned back as she edged onto the couch.
“Start with—I don’t know. Why you decided to leave Boston.”

Ash laughed. “I
wouldn’t call that something small.” That was the biggest part of
what she need to say. And the hardest.

He didn’t say
anything, didn’t press, didn’t keep questioning. He just studied
her with his intent gaze, until she felt sure he’d stripped off
every last stitch of clothing she wore and saw through to the heart
that beat erratically under her skin.

One hand worked its way
across the cushion until it rested on his bare leg. “What happened
the other night…” she began.

“Was nice. Was good.
Should happen a lot more.”

She let out a long
breath. “Yeah.”

Eddie’s hand reached
for hers. Ash let her gaze move across his chest, over the pale fuzz
that spread there. Up to the tattoo on his triceps. Over to his
square chin, that bobbed when he spoke too fast or got too excited.
Down, just for an instant, to the waistband of the cut-offs that
dipped below his navel. Then up, where blue eyes met hers and a mouth
looked as though it waited for her to make up her mind.

“There’s so much I
need to tell you.”

“Can it wait?”
Eddie pulled her toward him, working his hand from hers. He slipped
his arm around her waist and drew her across the cushions, so that
her curves melted into his. "Because I am so damn crazy about
you that all I want to do is this." He caught her mouth with
his, tongue opening her lips and seeking, teasing, making her ache.
"And this." His hand moved inside her shirt, burning her
skin everywhere he touched it.

“Eddie…” But
there was nothing she wanted to say. Nothing she wanted to explain.
All that could wait. A dizzying rush of desire came over her, so
strong and so sudden that she felt as though all the air had been
sucked out of the room.

His mouth moved to her
neck. Her earlobe. Then down. Inch by inch he tasted her, achingly
slow, taking his time. One hand moved to the small of her back. She
heard a quick breath, a gasp of pleasure, and realized seconds later
that she’d made the sounds.

In agonizing layers
Eddie peeled it all away: her T-shirt, her bra, her shorts, the lacy
pink panties she’d chosen carefully that morning, hoping and not
hoping that this moment might unfold. Then he moved over her, and she
reached for him, easing down the cut-off sweats that remained between
them until there was nothing at all but skin upon skin and desire
filling the room from ceiling to floor.

* * *

It was nothing like
being with Colin. It wasn’t like anything Ash had experienced with
anyone, ever before, this movement that carried her far from the
house on Lycian Street, out over the treetops and to some distant
island where all she could feel were the waves beneath her and the
amazing sun above her.

Behind her eyelids
fifty different colors blended together, sparklers of light that took
her breath away. Eddie settled her on the couch, and she was glad
they didn't move to the bedroom. She wouldn't have made it that far.
She wanted him
now
, needed his hands and mouth on her
now
,
bringing her to the edge until she whimpered with pleasure. She dug
her fingers into his arms as he moved above her, felt the skin of his
back, tasted the salt of his neck, etched the burn of his beard into
her memory.

He murmured into her
temple and stroked the edge of her collarbone. And when she pulled
back to look at him, she saw such tenderness in his gaze that she
thought she might weep. Her mouth fell onto his shoulder, teeth
burying themselves in the soft skin there because it was all she
could do to keep from crying out.

"God, I want you,
Ash. So much."

She closed her eyes as
he rose toward her, into her, faster and faster, bringing her with
him until she came, tightening around him. She bit her lip so hard
she tasted blood, and waves of pleasure raised gooseflesh along every
inch of her skin. He pulled back the tiniest bit to look at her,
focus his gaze squarely on hers. But he didn't stop moving, and after
a moment he gathered her closer, let her feel him inside her, the
perfect dance that took her orgasm and teased it into another, and
then a third. In muted tones, Ash cried out, begging Eddie to stop,
to go on, to lose himself inside her. Until he did.

Eddie slept better than
he had in months—in years, really. At one point he woke, as early
morning sunlight slipped through his bedroom window. Outside, the
garbage truck dumped buckets of recyclables, shattering glass and
clanking tin cans against cement. A car horn beeped. The church
downtown struck the hour. He ran a hand across his chest, savoring
the heaviness of morning-after satisfaction, though it had never
before been so solid, so comforting.

He moved one foot and
touched Ash’s warm, sleek skin next to his.
She’s here. I
didn’t dream it.
He turned over with that lazy pleasure of
knowing there was nowhere else he needed to be, no work commitments
to fulfill, no bad dreams to outrun. Wrapping one arm around her, he
pulled her into him, still naked. He curved around her. Her spine
melted into him, her breathing deepened, and even in half sleep he
felt himself rise against her. Something moved at the bottom of the
bed, and after a moment, he felt the brush of kitten fur against his
bare shoulder. Tiny settled into the sheets, one paw patting at him,
until the cat fell asleep too. Its purr rumbled to a quiet snore.

Eddie closed his eyes.
The perfect morning. He wished all of them could be like this.

* * *

“Eddie?”

He swam up from dreams
at the sound of her voice.

“Eddie.” This time
she nudged him, pressed a warm knee against his side and murmured the
word into his ear.

He rolled over and
opened one eye. “Morning.”

Ash smiled. Her hair,
loose and messy, fell over her forehead. “Good morning yourself.”
She glanced toward the living room. “You hear that?”

He shook his head and
propped himself up on one elbow. One hand smoothed its way over her
hips, rising to soft curves under the sheets.

“It sounded like a
knock.”

Eddie shrugged and bent
to kiss the tip of her nose. “Didn’t hear anything.” The sheets
fell away from them, and he moved his hands across the ridges of her
collarbone. Then down. He was ready for round two, no doubt about it.
Usually for him, the morning after meant quick trips to the bathroom,
fumbling for clothes, awkward joking about breakfast. Not this time.
He felt no rush, no wondering, no moment of second thought. With Ash,
it felt as though they’d done this a hundred times.

She shifted under his
touch, and her eyes closed. Her breath hitched. He leaned in to taste
the curve of her breast and stopped. There it was, a polite knocking
from about a hundred feet away. Maybe closer. Definitely outside
number two Lycian Street.

“Probably a
salesman,” he murmured. “Or some kid selling candy.”

Ash laughed beneath
him. “You’re not in the mood for Girl Scout cookies this
morning?”

“Mmm…no. But I can
tell you what I am in the mood for.”

“Hello?” This time
a voice accompanied the knocking. A male voice Eddie didn’t
recognize.

Ash sat up, and the
covers fell from her shoulders. All color drained from her face.

“What’s wrong?”

She didn’t speak. She
only raised both hands to her chest and clutched at her skin as if to
shut him out. In slow motion she turned in the direction of the
voice, and when she looked back at Eddie, something in her eyes had
changed.

A pause. Some
footsteps. Then the knocking came again, closer this time. Eddie
realized that someone— Helen?—had let the stranger inside their
foyer, and now he stood directly outside Eddie’s apartment door.

“You know who it is?”
He stared at Ash, who was edging her way out of bed.

“Um…” She didn’t
answer, just grabbed a T-shirt from the fresh stack in his laundry
basket and pulled it over her head. The logo of Frank’s Imports,
faded and peeling, landed above her ribs. The fraying edge came down
below the swell of her ass. Barely.

The knocking continued.
“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Eddie swung his feet
over the bed. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t answer it.”
Ash hovered by the bedroom door, chewing at a fingernail.

“Why not?” He
yanked on a pair of boxer shorts and headed for the living room. “The
guy already woke me up.” Irritated, he ran a rough hand across his
chin. Damn. He’d been meaning to trim the goatee for a while now.
Today, maybe. His hair, too long as well, fell across his eyes.

“Eddie.”

He turned to see Ash
still frozen in his doorway. Pain etched a line from her brows to her
down-turned mouth. “I’m sorry.” It was all she said, a quiet
apology. Yet days later, it would be the only thing Eddie could hear
echoing in his skull, the only thing he could remember of the moment
before everything changed, the moment before he opened the door and
saw Senator Randolph Kirk standing outside.

* * *

“I’m sorry to
bother you.”

From the bedroom, Ash
heard the voice again. Smooth, kind, polished through years of public
service. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the pain seizing up
inside her. How had he found her? Why had he come?

“You…you’re
Senator Kirk, right?”

“Randolph. Please.”

Ash leaned against the
wall and entertained the idea of going out Eddie’s back window. She
could climb outside, sneak down the block, maybe stall for a couple
of hours in the coffee shop. She looked down at herself.
Oh, yeah?
In what? Eddie’s shirt?
The rest of her clothes lay somewhere
out in the living room, still tossed on the floor. In plain sight.
Oh, God.

“I’m looking for my
daughter. Ashton.” Pause. “I understand she may be staying in the
neighborhood for the summer, and…”

“Sir, I don’t think
I can help you.” Politeness coated Eddie’s words. Ash could have
cried. “I don’t know her.”

Go out there. You
can’t hide in Eddie’s bedroom forever. You can’t pretend this
isn’t happening.
But maybe she could. Maybe Eddie would steer
her father in a different direction.