Colin Brennen.
Dimples flashing, he grinned, shooting a sparkling of white into the room. His charisma bounced off the walls of the room like a captured star.
Mother moved to his side, threading her arm through his.
“Ashlyn, you remember Colin, don’t you?”
Daddy’s placed a palm at my shoulder, urging me to move closer.
“Of course she remembers him.”
Colin extended a hand and stepped my direction. “Hey, Ashlyn.
Good to see you again.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
“Let’s have none of this. Come now. Friends embrace when they see each other.” Mother’s hands waved, gesturing for Colin and me to move closer. Suddenly he was flush against me, his warmth heating me from head to toe. Citrus cologne drove a twinge through my body.
Colin’s arms enveloped me. I froze, my stomach a jumble of tightening knots. His body was solid as an oak against mine. My heart banged out of rhythm, my feet itched to back away.
Daddy’s gaze sharpened, but his practiced smile remained in place.
Colin released me and stepped back. He’d no doubt hugged zillions of girls—an encounter like this wouldn’t faze him at all. I swallowed, hoping the blockage in my throat would go away, but his eyes, endlessly black and locked on mine, paralyzed me.
“Isn’t this simply marvelous, you two reunited?” Mother gushed.
“Let’s catch up over dinner shall we? There’s so much to talk about.
We’ll start with you, Colin.” With that, Mother took Colin’s arm, squeezing in close. “I hope you’re hungry. Our chef Gavin is world-class.”
<> <> <>
My stomach, still knotted, didn’t allow me to digest dinner.
Mother suggested I sit directly across from Colin, a strategic move I didn’t appreciate. Every time I lifted my gaze—to pat my linen napkin at my lips or sip water—Colin’s intense eyes pinned me to my seat. Nerves tied my muscles into unresponsive bundles. I didn’t even know what was being said—only catching scattered sentences: that Colin was attending NYU; he was studying accounting and had had a hard time finding a job. Then, Colin set down his fork.
“Ashlyn, what have you been up to?” he asked.
I met his penetrating gaze. “Not much.”
“Oh, come now darling.” Mother’s face gleamed. “Colin, she’s too modest to say but she’s a very gifted composer. She’s going to graduate first in her class from Chatham and she’s already been awarded the Golden Trust award for excellence. She’s got Julliard knocking on her door.”
“Yes. Ashlyn is exceptional,” Daddy added. “She’ll play for you later, won’t you, Princess?”
A dense silence followed. I was sure my pounding heart could be heard over the thickening tension. Mother and Daddy routinely bragged about me to their friends, but with Colin—an old next door neighbor who used to bully and torment me—I felt like I was splayed on the table for vivisecting. I kept my gaze on my plate, spoon tearing into the delicate meringue clouds until they were nothing but mush.
“Of course she will,” Mother said. “What do you think of our Ashlyn, Colin? Isn’t she marvelous?”
My eyes flashed to Mother. Fiery heat burned my neck and cheeks. Why was she asking him such an outrageous question?
“Yes, she is, Fiona,” Colin said.
Mother pushed her barely eaten plate of dessert aside. “It’s so wonderful having you here. It brings back so many memories.
Remember all of those imaginative games you used to play as children?”
I hardly considered them games.
“I’d never heard such scenarios—from pirates to slaves in haunted castles. Remember those, darling?” Mother looked at me, waiting for a response.
“Yes.” My voice came out an embarrassingly weak whisper. “I remember.”
I’d been the slave.
Daddy lifted a gold box sitting next to his place setting, opened it and extended the array of cigars to Colin, who shook his head. Then, he plucked a cigar, put it in his mouth and lit it. “Do you still run?”
Daddy closed the box and set it on the table.
“When I can.” Colin’s curious gaze skipped from Daddy to Mother to me. “How did you know?”
“I seem to remember you ran track in high school. Sounds like you could use more personal time for yourself.”
I wasn’t surprised Daddy had checked Colin’s background. What I couldn’t believe was that he was considering hiring someone he knew I despised as my bodyguard. I’d grown to hate Stuart. Now Colin?
“How much time does Phil spend on the golf course, now that he’s retired from the Marines? ” Daddy asked.
Colin grinned. “As much time as he can.”
“We hope you’ll join our family, Colin,” Mother chattered.
“Ashlyn’s simply a doll to be around. Having a friend here will be just wonderful. You know us and we know you. There’ll be no awkward moments between us. Isn’t that a fabulous thing?”
“Princess.” Daddy sat forward, eyes pinned to mine. “Take Colin up and show him the view from the roof.”
Alone? With Colin? My nerves twisted. “Are you sure you don’t want to come along?”
Daddy inhaled his cigar, then held, allowing the moment to smoke. “You take him,” he said, white plumes hissing out with his words.
Colin’s dark eyes were waiting for mine. The idea of him watching me sent a foreign fluttering through my body.
“Yes, sir.” I stood, tossed my napkin down and silently turned to lead Colin out of the room.
Colin followed me up the winding stairway, our shoes echoing against frigid marble. What to say to someone you never liked? I remained silent, jittery, his presence pressing into my back.
“This place is huge,” he murmured. “Reminds me of the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland.”
We’d gone to Disneyland together once. Colin and I had shared most every ride, being the only children. The memory raced through my head like a rollercoaster. He’d dared me to ride the Matterhorn until I finally gave in, and sat with me in the front. “I’ll take care of her,” he’d said to our parents who waited for us at the ride’s exit.
Once we were strapped into the bobsled, he proceeded to tell me horror stories of kids falling to their deaths, giggling at my terrified reaction. He’d screamed along with me on the fast turns and head-whipping drops of the ride.
And when it was all over, he dared me to ride again, even as I fought to hold back gurgling nausea.
Finally, we reached the top floor of the townhouse. The long hall, lined with closed doors, spanned the width of the building. I stopped at the middle door and opened it. A small, narrow staircase awaited us.
“Wow,” he said.
Everyone was impressed with the early Gothic architectural detail adorning the townhouse. The building—nestled between modern apartment buildings—was on the New York Historical List.
I climbed the narrow stair first and he followed. The space seemed to squeeze us together.
At the top of the stairs I tapped in the security code and opened the door. We came out on the flat, brick rooftop fenced by scrolling black wrought iron that edged the roof line in a lacy pattern, each post topped with spikes. Potted trees and winter-hushed plants were scattered here and there, and a heavily scrolled patio set sat near the edge for viewing the city.
Colin went to the railing and looked out. In spite of my frazzled nerves, the cold air, the view of scuttling cars on Park Avenue was exhilarating.
He turned to face me, and I stepped back. “This is incredible. Do you come up here much?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?” His dark brows knit over concerned eyes.
I heard sincerity in his question, but didn’t trust it. “I’m fine.” I’d learned to say, in spite of what I really felt.
My cage closed tighter.
Leaning his back against the rail, Colin eyed me instead of the view. I remained fixed by the door. Moonlight showered him in extreme blacks and bluish white. I was reminded of the night he’d locked me in the Brennen pool house, swearing the cloistered building was haunted by the soul of the previous resident who’d supposedly hung himself inside the place. I shuddered away the memory.
His eyes sharpened. “I could have sworn I bumped into you downtown earlier this week.”
“I’m rarely downtown.” I looked away. A long, chilly moment passed.
“Tell me about you,” he said. “You’re what, a senior this year?”
I turned, pretending to examine the brick walls of the townhouse so he couldn’t see my flushed face. The rough, cold blocks scratched my fingertips. “Yes.”
“What are your plans after? Have you got your eye on any colleges?”
College? Julliard was Mother and Daddy’s first choice. I’d secretly wanted to go back to California—my birthplace—and far away from New York, but Daddy had only approved of me sending applications to colleges in the city. “Yes, I have.”
“Which ones?”
I shot him a glare. His bottomless brown eyes held mine without excuse for inquiring. Cold silence whipped the air between us. He started my direction, and my heart stuttered. I stepped back, feeling cold brick press into my spine.
He stopped so close the citrus scent of his cologne wafted through my head. Blood shivered in my veins. I couldn’t answer him or snap at him if I wanted to, too stunned he still had paralyzing power over me.
“Ashlyn?” His voice lanced through my paralysis.
I swallowed. Opened my mouth. I wanted to slap myself for not having more composure. The heroines in my books had composure.
Why couldn’t I say something sassy? I closed my eyes a moment, hoping that by not looking into his eyes I could come up with some quippy remark.
When I finally looked at him, his brows tightened across his forehead. “Aren’t you going to school? Fiona mentioned Julliard.”
“Yes. Of course,” I sputtered. “Everyone goes to college.” I just hadn’t decided because in my heart of hearts, I’d only focused on one next step—freedom.
“You going to major in music?”
His closeness was almost unbearable, causing my knees to go numb. “Yes, probably. Maybe.”
He laughed, tossing his head back. “You sound like the typical anxious senior with the world at her feet.” He shoved his hands in his front pockets and strolled to the edge of the patio to take in the view again. “You shouldn’t ignore any possibility.”
I gulped in a breath, stealing the moment to study him. Only scant resemblances remained of the boy I’d known. His eyes no longer seemed to dance with mischief; his wicked grin was just a smile. He was taller and lean under his suburbanesque clothes. How Mother had overlooked his mega-department store ensemble was laughable, except to say she was willing to ignore his poor taste in clothing—for the time being.
Trailing the black rail with my fingers, I inched in his direction, the cold metal making me shiver, my breath blowing plumes into the air.
With each step closer to him, I breathed deeper, wondering if his aura would sink into me. Testing my heart for its new reaction to him.
“Take your time figuring out where you want to go and what you want to do. That’s what this time of life is about.” He glanced my way, and his eyes remained fastened to mine. “You sure you weren’t downtown earlier this week?”
I shook my head. Pleasure trickled through me. He
had
noticed.
“It’s cold,” he said, moving toward me. “Let’s go inside.”
We ventured back down the tapered stair and once again were in the darkened hall of the top floor.
“This is where the help stays,” I said.
Where you would stay.
The thought of him relegated to the status of help sent a delicious trickle of power through me. I made it halfway down the flight of stairs before he paused in front of my life-sized portrait. Stuart had drooled over the painting, the look in his eye causing my stomach to roll. Colin’s head tilted and his gaze swept the painting but I didn’t see any lust in his eyes. More study. A warm sensation flooded me from head to toe, almost as though I stood under his inspection, rather than an oil paint likeness.
I cleared my throat.
“This is beautiful,” he said. “When was it done?”
Why did I tremble inside when he looked at me? I took a deep breath. “Two years ago.” I started down the stairs.
He didn’t move.
I continued on, clearing my throat again.
When he finally caught up to me, we were on the main floor, heading back to the dining room. His fingers grazed my elbow.
“How do you feel about me working for your father?”
My elbow singed as if burned. I tried to steady my frantic heart.
“Well, I… you… it’s you’re decision. It’s your life.” I turned. At that moment, I was relieved Mother and Daddy were only a few feet away.
CHAPTER FOUR
Up and down the piano keys my fingers pounded scales, a habitual exercise I engaged in for therapeutic reasons as well as for fine tuning my craft. I let out a slow breath. When I’d exhausted myself, my gaze lifted from the ivory and black keys. Daddy stood quietly by the door. I slammed out the rest of the exercise, too angry to acknowledge him.
He crossed to me, a cigar in one hand; the other he kept tucked in the front pocket of his slacks. “Was that display your way of telling me that you don’t want Colin here?” He remained standing, shooting his stare down at me. Sucking in some smoke, he held it. “He’s always been harmless.” He blew the gray plume out the side of his lips.
My fingers played with the keys, creating a soft, light melody. I said what he wanted to hear: “Of course Daddy.”
Listening to the strains in my head, feeling waves of emotion lightly stroking my heart, I let the melody take me to another place—a place of solace and privacy, of relief from the overbearing attention focused on me. The tune was romantic and sweet, though it was Colin’s face drifting through my mind.
“The fact is you should have outgrown this dislike of Colin a long time ago.”
“Of course.”
“Will you work on this?” Daddy stepped closer.
I nodded, my fingers continuing to glide along the keys, the melody deepening with haunting tones.
“I’ve hired him. He’s perfect for the job.”
Perfect? I detested him. And how was he perfect for the job? He was a student,
interested
in the FBI. If I argued with Daddy about his decision, he’d think I wasn’t mature enough to move on and handle the situation. To quell the storm inside of me, I continued playing the melody taunting my head. Daddy watched my hands move over ivory keys I used to speak a language he could never understand. I ignored him.