Wait, this feels good.
My head tilted back. “Okay.” My reply rasped from my throat.
His warm laugh tickled my neck. “You’re supposed to resist.”
Resist?
I brought my head upright. “Oh, yeah. Okay.”
“Slam your foot against his instep,” he said.
I tapped my heel on his foot. He laughed. “Come on, harder.”
My blood was so warm swarming uncontrollably through my veins. I started to sweat. I lifted my foot and jammed it down.
“Good,” he said. “Use all of the force you can. Again.”
I stomped on his instep until he approved. His arms remained in a vice grip around me. “Another way is to head butt.”
I savored how tight he held me, how close he was. The way his lips moved next to my cheek. “Throw your head back as hard as you can.”
“But I—”
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, positioning his body so that my shoulder blades pressed into his chest, my buttocks was flush with his pelvis. “Do it.”
I sent my head back once. Twice. Three more head thrusts and his arms released me. “Don’t hold back.” He stepped away, scrubbing his jaw.
Standing alone, I was cold.
“We’re not done, are we?” I asked.
“Go for the eyes, Ash.” In a snap he was wrapped around me again, squeezing the air out of my lungs, our faces inches apart.
“Gouge.”
“I—I can’t.” His eyes flashed with determination. My gaze dropped to his mouth.
Kiss me.
“If he gets you like this, go for his eyes.” He commanded. I nodded, muscles melting in his embrace.
I could never hurt you.
For a moment he studied me, and his brows creased. I felt the slightest stiffening in his body, the minutest tightening of his arms around me. He released me, and stepped back. A shudder wracked my bones.
“Those are some basics,” he said.
“Okay.”
“I don’t know about you,” his gaze slipped to my lips, “but I’m hungry.”
Yeah.
“I’m starved.”
Hot bread and spices scented the air from delis and restaurants along 57th Street. Even though it was chilly outside, I kept the window in the back of the car down so I could breathe in the aromas of the city.
Looking at him stole the grumble from my stomach, replacing it with a deep gnaw that had nothing to do with food. “Do you like Indian?”
“Yes, I do.”
“The Bombay House on Forty-Ninth is pretty good,” Eddy piped, his eyes flicking to us in his rear view mirror. “I’ve taken the wife there. They got good stuff.”
“Oh yeah?” Colin’s gaze shifted to Eddy.
Eddy drove us to the tiny hole-in-the wall restaurant, pulled the car over and opened my door. I waited for Colin on the curb. He leaned close to Eddy, whispered something to him, patted his arm and Eddy nodded before he got back in the car and drove off.
Colin chuckled. “Why are you laughing?” I asked.
The sparkle in his eyes wasn’t malicious, it was mesmerizing. “It’s just that you don’t have to be Park Avenue when we’re together.”
“I’m not.” But Park Avenue was the only way I knew how to be.
He slung an arm around my shoulder and kept it there for a moment as we walked to the restaurant door. My body stiffened, but my knees melted into butter.
“You can relax around me, okay?” When his arm slipped away, emptiness sunk to my core. I hid the vacancy behind a nod.
The Bombay House was tucked at the top of a narrow, dark flight of stairs just off 49th Street. A whisper of red and gold paper lanterns lit the dark room, painted with murals of elephants carrying beautiful women and children on their backs. From hidden speakers, a woman’s voice chanted to sitar music. A mix of cinnamon and curry perfumed the musky air.
We sat at a window table overlooking the street and its hub.
How ordinary we looked together—if only people knew. But I was glad no one did—including him. This was my first date. It really wasn’t a date, and guilt pinched my conscience categorizing it as one. Daddy had allowed me to go to a dance with one of his law associate’s sons, once. My then-bodyguard had chaperoned, a detail the boy hadn’t planned on and found strange enough that he ended the date early.
This qualified as a date for two reasons: my parents weren’t along and Colin had planned it—at least the dinner part. I’d picked out my favorite berry blue silk sweater, pewter slacks and Jimmy Choo heels for the occasion; though Colin hadn’t done anything more than skim a glance over me when I’d met him in the entry at home.
He wasn’t glancing now. His eyes watched me intently. “There’s that smile of yours again.”
I’d never seen such light in anyone’s eyes—like stars blinking in a midnight sky. Set against his black sweater, his dark hair and white teeth were even more brilliant. “What do you mean?”
“You looked the same way the other night when you were playing the piano. What do you think about when you play?”
“Lots of things.”
“What inspires you?”
“Stuff.” I cringed at my simple answers. I may look normal but that’s where the similarity ended.
A woman with honeyed skin approached the table. Pressed in the center of her forehead was a red bindi dot. A colorful sari wrapped around her body. After a welcome, she gave us menus and excused herself.
“I’ve been here before, I think.” Long ago, when we’d just moved to New York, before life became so protected even meals out were meted.
“I like the Chicken Tikka Masala,” Colin said. “Ever tried it?”
It had been too many years for me to remember, but I didn’t admit that, too afraid of what he would think when he finally realized the extremes Daddy went through to keep me safe.
“I’ll try it.” I closed the menu and set it aside.
“You sure? You can pick anything you want, you don’t have to take my word for it.”
I appreciated his efforts to encourage me to expand my horizons, but he had no idea that I had floated on an iceberg in the Antarctic for so long, I was numb to certain things—like choices. He seemed befuddled by my lack of response, and after we ordered, he sat forward, hands clasped on the table, nearly knuckle-to-knuckle with mine.
“Ashlyn.” His tone told me something heavy was coming. “I have to confess, when Charles first told me about the job, I was… well, I knew he was… serious about your safety. But, how do you deal with his… overprotection?”
I reached for my water glass, keeping the icy glass between my fingers. My reflection in the window caught my eye.
Normal.
“I love Daddy,” I said. “But, I’ll be honest, his emphasis on my safety is hard to live with.”
He studied me, his gaze almost intolerably intense. “But he lets you date and stuff, right?”
I swallowed. If he knew the depths of Daddy’s fixation, he’d split.
Where I didn’t want a bodyguard, Felicity was right: if I was going to have to have one, I might as well like him. And I did like Colin.
“Ash?”
“Well, I don’t have a boyfriend.” My hands shook, so I picked up my napkin and set it on my lap, securing my fists together. I glanced at his face for a reaction. Why was he watching my every move?
“How has it worked in the past? Your bodyguards go on dates with you?”
I bit my lip, nodded. His gaze slid to my mouth for a second. He shifted, reached for his water glass, drank, set it back down. “That’ll be interesting,” he murmured.
“Like I said, there isn’t anybody in my life like that. I can’t wait to be out… to go to college. How did you get done so fast?”
“I took AP classes. Like you, I was ready to move on to the next phase of my life.”
“Do you regret doing it all… fast?”
“Nope. I was ready.”
“Did you always plan on the FBI?”
He grinned. “Yeah.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “It intrigues me. But, I needed to work some, first. Which brought me here.”
I bit my lower lip, smiled.
Again, Colin’s gaze slipped briefly to my mouth. He swallowed hard, shook his head.
“What?” I asked.
“Can’t believe you don’t have a boyfriend.”
Warmth rushed to my cheeks. I averted my eyes behind fluttering lashes, shocked at what he was saying to me.
Something in his eyes changed then, I wasn’t sure what I saw. A myriad of thoughts ran through my head: he was glad I didn’t have a boyfriend, happy to be working for Daddy, but at the same time not sure what to do from here.
Fantasies, Ashlyn. You’ve read too many
romance novels.
“Guys are idiots,” he said beneath his breath.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When I came downstairs Monday morning for breakfast, Colin was already in the kitchen, sitting at the island counter top. He wore dark gray slacks and a black V-neck sweater with a blue shirt beneath it. Hot.
His crisp gaze lifted to mine. “Hey.” I loved the rough cadence of his morning voice, the sound sent a buzz through me.
“Hey.”
I quickly poured myself some Kashi, soy milk and stared at the empty chair next to him. He caught my appraisal of where to sit, so I couldn’t go to the table at the window—I’d appear rude.
I sat next to him.
His jaw rotated with each chew, and the crackle of him eating his—Cap’n Crunch—made me giggle.
“What?” His eyes lit with teasing. “And could you chew the Cap’n and not make noise?”
I nodded.
“Oh yeah?” He held out his spoon, a pile of yellowy squares dripping with milk, poised at my lips.
His spoon. In my mouth. My cheeks warmed. Gently, he guided the spoon in and watched as I closed my lips around the cold sterling silver. “Chew.”
I motioned for him to remove the spoon, trying not to spill the contents all over us both in a laugh. He tugged on the spoon, removed it and I chewed. Slowly.
“Slow is cheating.”
“Is not.” I swallowed.
“The Cap’n is crunchy. That’s all I’m gonna say,” he said.
“How’d you rate getting Cap’n Crunch in our pantry? Mother would never allow me to buy that stuff.”
“She likes me better than you.” He wagged his brows.
“No doubt,” I snickered, and started eating.
Our chewing—his noisy, mine petite—broke the awkward yet truthful silence left behind after his comment. When we both finished, he took our bowls to the sink, rinsed them and handed them to me. I loaded them into the dishwasher.
The drive to Chatham was quiet except for the chat I’d come to expect between Colin and Eddy about the local news and Eddy’s continual bad luck at lotto. With Stuart, I’d plug my earbuds in and be done with it. That was impossible with Colin. He demanded my attention simply by being. I loved the lilt of his voice, the way he moved, his confidence, strength, his surety stole into the hollowness of my life. I didn’t feel as empty anymore.
We pulled up to the curb at school and Eddy opened the door.
Colin slipped on his dark glasses, waited while I hoisted on my book bag, then escorted me up the stairs through the hive of uniformed girls streaming into the building.
After the weekend, I was at ease with his protective gestures. In fact, I relished the stares and glances from my schoolmates, lifting my chin, hoping to send a message—
he’s mine
.
Danicka and her model friends stood just inside the doors. Had they been waiting for us? I looked at Colin, who spared the designer bunch a quick glance before his gaze returned to me.
“See ya,” he said.
“See ya.” I didn’t want to go. I wanted to hang with him all day.
Do anything. Everything. Just be with him.
I started toward the main hall, passing Danicka who stepped out from the circle of her friends and eyed me. “What happened Saturday?”
“I wasn’t able to stay,” I said. Then added, “Colin had other plans for us.” With a smile of satisfaction on my lips, I swiveled and headed to my locker leaving Danicka with her eyes bulging.
What do you think of that, Danicka?
I swung open my locker door and stuffed what books I didn’t need for my first class inside. My reflection in the mirror hanging on the locker door was too pale for my liking. I quickly brushed on some MAC blush then jumped.
Felicity’s face popped up behind me.
“What? What? I’ve been in suspense mode all weekend. Tortured.
You’ve GOT to tell me! Did you go to Danicka’s party?”
“It was amazing. Not her. Ninety-Nine was super crowded and, kind of pathetic with all these older men. But what
happened
was amazing. You’ll never believe it, Fel, never.”
Felicity hopped up and down, squeeing. “What? And why did your Dad answer your phone?”
“He took it. But forget that. Saturday was like a scene out of a romance novel. Seriously.”
“O.M.G.” Felicity fanned her hands at her face. “I knew it. I knew it.”
“We danced.”
Felicity flattened herself against my locker in a dramatic gesture of a half-faint.
“But that wasn’t all. I can’t tell you every… thing…. not now. I’ll tell you at lunch.”
The bell shrilled.
“Cruel.” Felicity backed away from me, heading down the hall in the direction of her first class. “You’re cruel, you know that.”
I laughed, nodded.
Cruelty, like snobbery, was in my genes.
Was it wrong of me to want to eat lunch with Colin? After all, it was because of me he was at Chatham. I toyed with this idea from first period until the lunch bell rang. Classes blurred. Teachers once again inquired if I was ill.
Felicity met me at our usual corner at the top of the main stairs, fifth floor then we took the steps down. We passed the main foyer, and I didn’t see Colin. I borrowed Felicity’s cell phone.
“You just spent a dream weekend with him.” Felicity said, craning her neck searching for him. “That whole self defense thing was so hot and sexy, I started to sweat just hearing about it. He’s going to dig you texting him.”
“A dream for me. Work for him.” As fun as the weekend escape had been, even with the chastisement from my parents, he probably didn’t see Ninety-Nine—or our dance—like I did. But we
had
had a blast at the Spectacular. Hadn’t we?
“Invite him to eat with us. Maybe he’s one of those odd people who loves cafeteria food. My mom does. That and Chinese. Ugh.”