He’d been accommodating, charming and agreeable. I’d watched with speechless admiration.
My fingers tapped over the cool ivory keys. Music filled the room now: a slow, delicate melody that forced me to close my eyes and completely submit to wherever the tune took me. Images of Colin filled my thoughts, spun around my heart, and flowed to my fingertips, a melody so overpowering I dismissed any negative thoughts attempting to enter my mind. My heart lured me in a mysterious direction, and Colin was at its center. Tonight, I was willing to go there.
So taken by the sweetness of the creation, I was startled by a movement when at last I opened my eyes. My fingers stalled.
Colin.
He wore black sweats and a long sleeved tee shirt in black, the color electrifying. With the hushed stealth of a panther, he crossed to the piano.
“That was amazing,” he whispered.
Flustered, I quickly tapped
Fur Elise
on the keys.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were done.”
“I… I am.” I felt exposed—naked. He’d witnessed something so deeply personal, something he had been the inspiration for. Could he see that? The idea flushed me with embarrassment.
He came closer, as if wanting to see for himself the keys I used to create. “Keep playing. Please.”
I took a deep breath. I reached for some sheet music paper to make notes, wishing he’d leave but glad he was there at the same time.
“How do you do that—create like that?”
“I just hear it.”
“I could never hear it let alone create music in some organized way. I’m impressed.”
I accepted the compliment with a nod, and tight muscles began to relax. “Thank you.” I pressed my fingers to the keys again.
“I
felt
the music.” His eyes followed my fingers. “I guess I was exposed to another side of music.”
I tried to deal with the emotions flooding my system. To be spontaneously taking him in as the tune ebbed from my soul took my heart to a dangerously vulnerable place. “I like contemporary music, too. Mom’s favorite is disco.”
He laughed. “I can’t see your mom liking disco.”
The sound of his laugh relaxed the taut muscles of my back. I continued to let the tune out, even as I stole glances at his face. The musical chords changed. The gentle expression in his brown eyes comforted my exposed nerves, and caused my fingers to find minor chords in enticing harmony.
“Dad tolerates my music,” I said, fingers chasing each other up the shifting keyboard. “He’ll listen because he wants to support me, but I catch him checking email on his phone a lot of the time.” I replayed the tune still fresh in my head—Colin’s song.
He listened, and when I finished, our eyes met. Silence echoed after the music.
My heart pounded so hard, I thought it might be visible through my robe. My robe—I forgot what I was wearing. My hair. No makeup. I was getting ready for bed when I’d been compelled to create. Aghast, my cheeks burned. I stood. Had he purposefully come in to see me like this, to catch me with my guard down?
“You reminded me of when you were little, just then,” he said, joining me. “With your hair back like that.”
I gathered my notes and went around the other side of the piano to avoid him. He caught up with me, skimming my arm with gentle fingers. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s late. I’m going to bed.” Brushing past him, I was out the door before he could say anything else.
“Ashlyn,” he whispered in the darkened hall, staying right at my side. When I didn’t respond, he reached for my arm. I froze and he dropped his hand. “What? What did I do?”
I swallowed. The dim lighting of the hall cast half of his face in a soft light. Had he really forgotten how he’d treated me? Did he think I had forgotten?
I continued to my bedroom, ready to bolt inside, ready to slam the door in his face, but he stepped into the opening.
“I don’t understand. Did I say something wrong about your music? I’m sorry.” His expression twisted in confusion.
My pounding heart wouldn’t slow. His presence boomed with his every breath, each flash of his eyes. I’d read scenes like this in my romance novels. The heroine cornered by the hero, the two of them locked in a love hate heat.
Colin’s hands lifted, and held in the door jamb. “Whatever I did,”
he said softly, “I apologize. I really enjoyed your music. I—”
“This isn’t about my music,” I blurted.
He cringed, glancing around as if to signal to me that my voice was too loud and might carry. His expression shifted from confused to sober, and his brown eyes stared into mine. I couldn’t feel my heart beating. I wasn’t sure I was even breathing.
“What’s wrong?” His whisper slipped into my soul, just like it had countless times before, and wound around my tender heart.
“You really don’t know?” I forced sarcasm into my tone.
He shook his head.
I finally had the moment to hurt him, or try to, like he’d hurt me so many times before. But when I thought about bringing up the way he’d teased me, I realized how childish I would sound.
He waited, his hands tightening on the wood. He had no clue the damage he’d caused when we were children. None. I was baffled. How does someone trudge through life so narcissistic that they toss people and their feelings aside without care or thought or comeuppance? Or was I over sensitive, taking good-natured teasing too seriously?
“Forget it. You need to leave,” I said, frustration bubbling.
“But I don’t know what I… Ash, please talk about this.”
“You can’t be in here. It’s a rule. Daddy’s rule. He’ll fire you.”
Surprise flashed across Colin’s face. “Charles was serious?”
I nodded.
“Then let’s take this back to the music room.”
“I’m going to bed.” I crossed to the door and wrapped my hand around the knob.
Colin didn’t move. His eyes narrowed. I locked my knees, refusing to be the first to concede. Hot seconds popped by. The rise of his chest gradually grew more rapid beneath his black tee shirt.
He swallowed. “So, we’re good then?”
I nodded.
He reached for the knob, his warm fingers enfolding mine, eyes never leaving me, and he brought the door closed.
I stared at the door. A twinge of pleasure echoed inside of me.
<> <> <>
I dreamed of him that night. Instead of walking out my bedroom door, he pressed me against it, and kissed me. His body was strong, warm. His hands—those long fingers—touched my face, skimmed my neck then wound around me. So tight.
I woke with a longing that lingered in my body in an unattainable, delicious gnaw. When I got out of bed, I felt light. I stared at my silly smile in the mirror and covered my pink cheeks with my hands.
You’re seriously pathetic
.
Colin’s dream kiss played over and over in my head, like his melody. I showered quickly, threw on my uniform so fast I almost forgot to button the blue and green plaid knee skirt after I zipped it. I tore into the dry cleaning bag covering my white blouse and slipped on the crisp shirt.
I flat-ironed my blonde hair, brushed some tulip-pink blush on my cheeks and sprayed my favorite perfume at the nape of my neck and my wrists.
Above, I heard movement. Colin’s room was directly over mine, and the thought sent a tingle through me, stirring the insatiable hunger the dream had left behind. Was he getting dressed? After the shopping spree, my imagination easily conjured him slipping in—and especially out—of clothes.
I took the stairs down to the entry, glancing up to see if Colin would emerge. He didn’t.
Mother slept in, so I ate breakfast alone. Stuart had waited for me in the kitchen. Lately, he’d even gone so far as to toast a bagel for me and pour me a glass of chocolate soy milk. I’d grown to hate mornings and breakfast, feeling obligated to eat what he prepared whether I wanted the meal or not.
What would Colin eat for breakfast? Excitement drifted through me and I stepped into the walk-in pantry in search of a box of Kashi cereal.
“Health nut, huh?” Colin’s chipper voice came from behind me, causing me to jump.
“Uh, yeah.” How had he made it into the small space without me hearing him? He didn’t move, only grinned.
A few seconds later, his gaze swept the pantry shelves, but his body remained blocking the entrance. Delicious fantasies of his kiss against my bedroom door drizzled into my head, causing my cheeks to heat.
“Excuse me.” I squeezed past him, his shoulder pressing briefly into my chest as I turned and slid by.
Out in the opening of the kitchen, I let out a breath and gathered my thoughts. Bowl. Soy milk. Spoon. I collected all three and sat at the black granite counter top.
“Wow. This pantry looks like Dean and deLuca. Impressive.”
I smiled around a chew.
“Maybe I’ll have caviar on toast, or… hmm, Scottish oatmeal?
Or one of these bagels. I’ll bet there’s cream cheese in that massive fridge over there, right?” He turned, his dimpled smile lighting the white kitchen with even more brilliance.
He wore a pair of black slacks and a black sweater, the hint of a light blue shirt skimming the collar around his neck. “What? Is this too dressy?” He gestured to his clothing. “Your mom picked it out.”
He looked… hot in all black. “No. You do realize that you’re only escorting me to school. You’re not coming to my classes.”
“Repeat high school? I hated it the first go round. I’ll wait in an obscure corner somewhere.”
Through the years, Daddy had insisted my bodyguards stay at whichever school I was attending, and they all had—sitting in the lobby with the newspaper or a laptop until I was finished.
One other girl had had a father as paranoid as mine: Sophie Caruletta, whose father was supposedly linked to organized crime.
In seventh grade, our bodyguards had stood like sentinels outside the gray-stone exterior of Our Mother of Holies School for Girls until the two of us emerged at the end of each day, both of us whisked away in our black town cars.
Like me, Sophie was tagged as odd. Though everyone quietly respected or feared her father, no one dared tease or mock Sophie for his extraneous efforts at protecting her.
However, my father was simply a lawyer—albeit a successful one.
Lots of my classmates’ fathers were lawyers and none of them had bodyguards following their children’s every move like me, which left me in the center of the ‘bizarre’ target.
Stuart, being younger than previous ‘fatherly-aged’ bodyguards, had taken me from being odd to interesting because lots of the girls at Chatham thought he was hot. A few of the more aggressive girls had baited him on a daily basis, coming out of the building ripping off their coats, tucking their blouses in a tie at their midriff and unbuttoning until their colorful bras peeked out.
Would they be as brazen with Colin?
He’d settled on a box of Shredded Wheat—Daddy’s morning ritual food—and then he pointed to various cabinets, watching me for confirmation of which one held the bowls.
When he finally pointed to the right one, I hid a grin behind a mouthful of cereal. He pulled out a bowl, eyeing it. He whistled.
“Nice.”
Joining me at the island counter, he gingerly placed the bowl down. “You sure we can eat off this stuff?”
I nodded. “It’s our everyday china.”
“That’s right.” He shook Shredded Wheat squares into the bowl.
“I seem to remember gold plates in the dining room.” He grinned, poured milk.
“Mother likes everything just so.”
He spooned a bite of cereal into his mouth, nodded. “I can see that.”
The sound of rustling drew my attention to the door. Mother, fully made up and dressed in a lush, apricot velveteen workout suit fluttered in. Her emerald eyes latched on Colin. “Good morning.”
Mother never got up before eleven. Gavin didn’t come into the townhouse until nine, and the cleaning service didn’t come until after noon so as to allow Mother the time she needed to prepare privately.
Colin swallowed. “Morning.”
“You look marvelous.” Mother circled Colin. I couldn’t believe she was looking at him so critically, so unabashedly. She flicked at his shoulders, smoothed his sweater down his arms and back.
Colin’s eyes widened, but she didn’t see them. He looked like he was going to choke on the cereal in his mouth but he swallowed it down.
“Very nice.” Mother stood back, appraising him. “How did you sleep?”
“I slept fine, thank you.”
“Good.” Her gaze slid to me. “Darling, you have circles under your eyes.” She came to me and reached out to press her hands to my cheeks but I stood, grabbed my bowl and headed for the kitchen sink.
“Are you feeling all right?” Mother asked. “I don’t want you going to school if you’re at all under the weather, not with the flu going around. I’m sure they don’t sanitize the knobs and surfaces like they should at that place.” Mother shuddered.
I dumped my remaining cereal down the garbage disposal. “I’m fine.”
“Charles gave you your instructions about Ashlyn and school?”
Mother’s attention shifted back to Colin and a wave of relief coursed through me.
Caught in the middle of chewing, he nodded.
“Mrs. Harrington is the headmistress of Chatham. She’s very good about accommodating our wishes for Ashlyn’s safety.”
I cringed. “Mother.” A low burn of rage started at my feet and raced up my legs and through my body. “It’s ridiculous that you go to these lengths. It’s embarrassing.”
Mother froze, eyeing me through a cold stare. Colin’s chewing stopped. He glanced from Mother to me.
“Your safety is not open for discussion, young lady.”
Young lady?
I wanted to scream. My fists opened and closed at my sides. I glared at her. “I’ll be waiting by the front door,” I growled, then stormed from the room.
Humiliation flooded me. I wanted to break through the front door and never come back. I opened the coat closet and retrieved my book bag, yanking it over my head so the strap crossed my chest.
Then I flipped my hair over my shoulders and let out another growl of frustration.
“It’s so embarrassing,” I muttered, adjusting my skirt. I dug for my powder compact, opened it and dabbed my chin and forehead.