Unbelievable (11 page)

Cole was in his element. In charge and in command, making decisions with confidence and authority. This was exactly why a guy so young had been promoted to assistant ER head. Cole’d been born to do this. My impression of him grew leaps and bounds as I watched him. I could feel myself falling for him, too.

No, Lilah. Not going to happen. Think about what you’re going to do to his friends.

Saddened, I walked back to the office and sat on a pile of tarps, angry with myself for making such a selfish deal with my father.

“Cole deserves someone much better than you, Delilah.” I laid my head down, wishing I’d made better choices in my life.

Chapter 9

“Stop it, Alan, or I’m telling Daddy.” I grabbed what remained of my dress and held it against me, shaking violently. Alan twisted his meaty fingers around the fabric and jerked, shredding the dress completely. He laughed, tossing it aside. I folded my hands over my chest and backed up as he pulled his pearl-handled knife out.

“You tell Dad or your mom, princess, and I’ll do to you what I did to that stupid bird of yours.”

My mind jumped to my beautiful scarlet macaw, lying dead in the grass, a long jagged gash up the middle, its feathers scattered across the lawn. Daddy said a cat had gotten to it. He was wrong.

Alan stomped over to me. “Yeah, you remember what I did to that stupid bird. I can promise you, princess, your mommy will look even worse.” He took his knife and flipped some bangs off my forehead, the icy steel blade skimming across my brow.

“Please, don’t hurt my mommy,” I pleaded, my eyes pinched shut. “Please don’t, Alan. Please!”

“Lilah, wake up. It’s just a dream.”

A gentle hand caressed my head and softly shook my shoulder. “Lilah. Wake up.” I took me a second to register who spoke. I pried my eyes open and stared at the kind blue eyes looking down at me.

“You were having a nightmare,” Cole said, sitting down next to me. “Are you all right?” I nodded soberly, leaning my head up against the wall behind me.

“Sorry. I la
id down for just a second.” I pulled my knees up to my chest.

“You’re trembling.” Cole wrapped his arm around my shoulders, rubbing my arm as he did. “Would it help to talk about it? I’m a good listener.”

My heart pulled at the tenderness that filled his caring eyes, his gentle smile. I leaned over and kissed his mouth. A soft, undemanding kiss. To my surprise, he kissed me back, albeit gently.

“I’ll be al
l right. This too shall pass, as they say, right?” I glanced down at the tarp, fingering the fold. “I seldom have the nightmares anymore. It’s my dad. He’s the only one that can trigger them.” Besides Alan, but he was dead, thankfully. I chastised myself for the thought.

“Your dad gives you nightmares?” Cole pressed.

“Sort of. When I’m stressed out over him,”
or, more likely, by him,
“I have them. They’ll pass, promise.”

“My offer stands
. If you ever want to talk, let me know,” Cole said, reaching for my face. “You have some paint flakes on your cheeks.”

I again searched his face, wishing for a second kiss. When his eyes met mine, he stopped brushing my cheek and slipped his hand around my face. As he dipped his head to kiss me again, the door to his office flew open, easily for once, and in walked Maggie with a drop-dead gorgeous guy.
Seth Prescott
.

His light brown hair and stunning green eyes
were unmistakable. His smile alone could stop a girl’s heart. Though not quite as hot as Cole, on a scale of one to ten, he sat firmly at twelve. Like Booker, the guy was even better looking in person.

Maggie’s hand flew to her mouth. “Sorry!”

With a swift fluid movement, Cole jumped to his feet, backing away from me and stumbling in the process.

“Hi, guys. Lilah had some paint flakes on her cheek. I was brushing them off
,” Cole insisted.

The hot Prescott grinned, wrapping his arm around Maggie’s waist. She beamed up at him with eyes oozing love. Envy twisted my heart.

“Seth, this is Lilah. She’s the person Booker hired to decorate my office.” Cole pried opened a paint can and dipped his brush into the green pool.

“Hello, Lilah. Cole and Book have both told me how talented you are, especially for someone so
young
,” Seth said with a nod.

“Thank you. That’s nice to hear. Cole’s been giving me grief about my choice in paint colors.” I looked over at Cole and winked.

“I like the color. I just think beige might be a better choice for this space, is all,” he said, red eared.

“Beige?” Maggie and Seth said simultaneously.

“Boring, Cole. Very boring,” Maggie grimaced.

“What she said,” Seth added, turning to me. “I wanted to thank you for helping Mags pick out her wedding dress. She said you’re going to do some hair stuff with her
next Saturday, too.”

“You are?” blurted Cole.

“I are,” I nodded. “And I’m looking forward to it. I haven’t done hair since I dropped out of cosmetology school.” Maggie’s eyes widened at my words. “Don’t worry. We’re only trying a few updo’s for the wedding,” I assured her. “I didn’t drop out until we got halfway through colors. If you want pink hair, you’re out of luck.”

“How long ago was that?” Cole asked
, still trying to figure out my age.

I laughed. “Let’s see. I enrolled when I was eighteen, and dropped out about halfway through. So a few months ago at least.” I had the pleasure of watching his face turn the color of the paint brush.

Seth laughed heartily. “I hate to drag Cole away, but we have a tux fitting in half an hour.” Seth pointed to his watch.

“I forgot.” Cole handed me the paint brush. “We’ll get an early start tomorrow.” He all but ran out the door, tripping only once.

Maggie grinned and said, “See ya Saturday,” as she and Seth followed Cole.

“Sweet little Opie,” I
chuckled to myself.

**

“Ouch! Shoot!” I shook my singed fingers and dropped the Alfredo pan in the sink before snapping the burner on the stove off. The Alfredo sauce bubbled over the top and down the sides. I propped open a window and tried fanning the smoky, burnt air outside while arguing with my father on the phone. Not an easy task. Angry that Cole was coming over for dinner, Daddy went into a rant.

“Spend your time on Gatto and Prescott, Delilah, not some stupid doctor,” he demanded. “Do whatever it takes. Climb into bed with them if you have to, just get the information I need.”

I almost dropped my phone in the pot of burnt dinner. “I will not prostitute myself, father. What would mom or Birdie say if they heard you?”

“Your mother’s dead, and Birdie’s flown the coup, literally. Have you
even heard from her since you got back from Mexico?” he asked, his temper still in full swing.

“No.” Admitting that hurt deeply.
I thought of Birdie as a second mom and a buffer between me and Daddy. They hated each other and exchanged heated words on a regular basis as I grew up. She thought Daddy was scum, and he considered her a meddlesome old fool who’d ruined me.

“Well, when you do, let me know. I need to talk to her. Now, bag this doctor and get me the information.”
I angrily shoved my phone into the dish drainer after Daddy hung up.

It wasn’t until my senior year in high school that I learned what exactly Daddy did for a living. Oh, I’d heard rumors that he trafficked in contraband, but I brushed them off as envy. We had lots of money and kids can be quite cruel when jealous.

One afternoon shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I came home to find a small gathering of drug smugglers in our home. They stood in a circle eating the cookies I’d baked that morning, discussing how to get around the tightened up borders. I confronted him about it after they’d left and we had a huge fight. “The silk gloves are now off, Delilah. You’ll help with the family business. Do I make myself clear?” Not waiting for an answer, he wheeled around and stormed out the door. I went straight to Birdie, begging for help.

When he returned
that evening, they had a huge blow-up. “You’ve ruined the girl! She’s good for nothing except for maybe being a rich man’s mistress, thanks to your overprotective ways.” That one stung for a long time.

“You are an evil man,” Birdie glared. “Truly evil. She
’ll not work for you, do I make myself clear?” Daddy stomped out the door, angrier than I had ever seen him.

I buried myself in school, enrolling in cosmetology
classes, which drove him nuts since I already had an associate’s degree in interior design. Late one afternoon, he stormed into my room. “You’ll pull your weight at HD Enterprises, like your brothers. Tomorrow you’ll quit school and report to my office by noon. I don’t care if you sic Birdie on me. My decision’s final.” Spittle flew from his mouth as he yelled.

As soon as he left, I packed a bag, went to the bank, drained my bank account
, and hit the road. I ended up in Florida, living in a commune.

I gave them everything I had, down to my last dollar. They gave me a roof over my head, and two years later, David.
Another disaster.

After everything with David blew up in my face, I took off for Mexico and successfully remained hidden from Daddy for three years. When he did find me, he dragged my butt back to the states,
trying to get me to go into business with him again. I flatly refused, only he wouldn’t let up. Every day, all day, he let me know how I failed the family. Finally he proposed a compromise, well, in his eyes anyway. I saw the deal as the lesser of two evils.

“Here’s my final offer, Delilah. You help me get back the money Gatto and Prescott stole from me, and you can live your life where and how you want. Before you say no, remember, it’s not really stealing. We
’re only taking back what they stole from us in the first place.”

I
caved, the promise of living my life on my terms too enticing.

So here I stood, in upstate New York, with tears tumbling down my cheeks, fanning burnt
Alfredo smoke out the kitchen window, and questioning whether Daddy lied to me about everything. And if he did, then why? Why did he want me here?

The doorbell rang and I wiped my face dry as I hurried to answer it. I could hardly wait to see Cole again, even though it had only been an hour
and a half since I’d left him.

“Hello,” I said, smiling into his deep blue eyes.

The smile dropped from his face. “What’s wrong? Have you been crying?” He stepped into my tiny apartment and shut the door.

With Dreser-like skill, I lied. “I burned dinner. The smoke’s irritating my eyes.” I waved my hand through the cloud of smoke still in my apartment. “I’m afraid dinner’s ruined.”

“I guess we’re going out, then,” he said with a grin.

I looked down at my t-shirt, splattered with Alfredo sauce, and his scrubs. “Since neither of us is dressed for going out, why not order something in and we’ll eat on the deck
?”

“Great idea. How about Dibella’s subs?”
He pointed out the window to a sub shop down the street from me. I nodded. “Okay. I’ll run and grab them. What would you like?” He rattled off the menu.

“How do you know all that?”

“I eat there a lot. I’m a lousy cook,” he admitted unabashedly. I gave him my preference and he left as my cell phone rang. It was Daddy again. I muted the thing. I’d had enough for one day.

I used the time to change into my cute
, lacey, tiered orange t-shirt and a short denim skirt. I added a pair of tan gladiator sandals. With no chance of running into Gatto and Prescott, I dug out my brown and turquoise bottle of frizz control and spritzed my hair, taming the frizzy mess into soft sexy curls. “Man, I love this stuff.” I pressed the bottle to my lips and kissed it. I also removed my glasses. Cole returned as I finished brushing my teeth.

“That was fast,” I said
, locking the door behind him.

“They weren’t very busy, and you look . . . nice. Older.” He smiled.