Fury flared in his eyes. Oh, God! She'd just thrown a stick of dynamite into the fire. When was she going to learn to think before she spoke?
"Don't talk to me about Emily," he said harshly. "You could never be as good as her."
"I never wanted to be," she replied. "But you didn't treat Emily like this. She wasn't a real woman to you. She was a saint. That's why you've set up a shrine to her in your closet. You never had her beneath you like this."
"Shut up."
"Did she love you?" Madison asked, unable to stop herself from talking, even though her brain was telling her to be quiet.
Dylan didn't say anything for a long moment; then he got up and ran a hand through his hair. "Get the hell out of here, Madison."
She sat up slowly. "You loved her, but she didn't love you, did she?"
"Do you have a death wish or something?"
"That's not an answer."
Dylan strode from the apartment. It took Madison a moment to realize he'd actually left in the middle of their conversation, if that's what you could call it. She got up and ran to the door and down the stairs to the street. Dylan was getting on a motorcycle.
"Wait," she shouted. "You have to talk to me about her."
He shook his head and put on his helmet.
"Dylan, you need to talk to someone, and who else are you going to talk to? You can't go to Cole. You probably can't even go to your own brother."
He hesitated, then reached over and pulled out a second helmet from a storage compartment. "Get on."
"On this? I was thinking we could go into your club and get a drink." She paused, realizing she had only one choice. "Okay, I'm getting on. Give me the helmet."
She put it on and swung her leg over the bike. She'd done a lot of reckless things in her life, but this was probably the worst. Wrapping her arms around Dylan's waist, she held on for dear life as the engine roared, and they sped down the street.
Cole caught up to Natalie at the farthest end of the beach where a rocky cliff had cut off any hope of escape. The sky was a deep, dark purple now, the sun having passed over the horizon, the moon coming up slowly behind them. The waves crashed on the rocks beside her with a foamy white fury that matched her churning emotions. It was the only sound on earth. There were no homes nearby, no city noise, just the ocean and her pounding heart.
Natalie glanced back the way she had come, realizing they were now the only two people left on the beach. There was no one to save her from Cole or from herself, and at the moment she was in the most danger from her own damned heart. Why couldn't she let go of him?
"Natalie." He came up behind her, his deep, husky voice sending another shiver down her spine.
She wanted to hear him say her name again—in passion, while he slid into her body, while he made her feel whole again. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from inviting him to do just that.
"Why did you run?" he asked.
"I wanted to be the one to leave first this time. You weren't supposed to come after me."
"Yes, I was." His hands moved to her waist, as he turned her to face him. She could barely see him in the dark shadows. Maybe it was better that way. "You never gave me a chance to answer your question," he said.
"I gave you a chance. your silence told me the truth."
"The truth is I don't know what I want from you. I just know that I can't let you go."
"Not yet maybe, but you will." She felt that conviction deep in her aching heart. "I'd be a fool to think otherwise. And I do not want to be a fool around you again."
"Don't put words in my mouth, Natalie. I can speak for myself."
"This is pointless. We're going around in circles. Let me go."
"I told you—I can't." And he hauled her up against his chest, crushing her mouth beneath his.
She wanted to fight him, to fight herself, but she was overwhelmed by the pleasure of his tongue sweeping through her mouth, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the kiss. They didn't have a past or a future anymore, just this moment, this one perfect moment.
"Natalie," he groaned against her mouth. "I want to make love to you. Let me take you home."
She shook her head. "Here," she whispered, pulling him down to the sand, until they were on their knees facing each other. "Make love to me here before I can change my mind or you can change yours, before reality makes us see how crazy and wrong this is."
"Not wrong, maybe crazy," he muttered, as he pulled her toward him for another kiss. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she said, feeling reckless. The dark corner of the beach made her feel as if they were the only two people on the face of the earth. Why shouldn't they have each other? It was what they both wanted.
"Damn. I don't have anything with me. We can't—"
She put her finger against his mouth. "I've got it covered. I'm on the pill. Health reasons," she added at his inquiring look.
"And I've been tested," he muttered. "But—"
"It's okay. Trust me, Cole."
"I do. I do trust you," he replied, pushing her back against the sand. "I want you so much."
"Then have me," she said simply.
She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair as they kissed and caressed and explored each other with a passion that far surpassed the reckless fumbling of their youth. Natalie hadn't really known what she wanted back then, but she knew now. Her fingers moved with a purpose as she undid the buttons on Cole's shirt, as she pulled it aside to run her hands up and down his bare chest. And when Cole stumbled, trying to rid her of her sweatshirt, her blouse, and her bra, she sat up and helped, feeling more free than she ever had in her life. Stripped naked, they lay together on the cool sand, the heat from their bodies making the spray from the ocean rise like steam around them.
With no barriers between them, the last semblance of rational thought completely faded. Natalie pulled Cole into the cradle of her body, wrapping her legs around his.
"We've got to slow down," he muttered, but he was as hard as a rock, and the last thing she wanted was to go slow. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm ready. I have been for a long time." She caught his face with her hand and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't make me wait."
Her words were all he needed to let go, plunging into her body with a force that took her breath away. She gave a glad cry, reveling in the wild, unrestrained passion between them, urging him on. She didn't care that it was hard and rough, that the sand was scraping her back, her buttocks, her legs. All she cared about was that Cole was inside her, surrounding her, enveloping her in everything that was him. She'd wanted to lose herself, and she did. When Cole collapsed against her, she wrapped her arms around him, wanting to keep him there for the rest of eternity.
Eternity lasted about five minutes.
"I'm crushing you," Cole said.
He was, but she was reveling in it and was disappointed when he pulled out of her body and lay next to her. He took her into the curve of his arms and kissed her on the cheek. "That was ..."
"Yeah, it was," she murmured with a smile. Then she shivered as she became aware of the cold breeze coming off the ocean. They were in San Francisco after all, not the Caribbean, which brought to mind a long-ago conversation when Cole had told her that one day they'd travel, sleep on the beach under the moonlight, the warm breezes caressing their skin.
"You must be cold," Cole said as she shivered again.
"I guess."
He sat up and started handing her pieces of clothing. They dressed quickly. Natalie felt self- conscious now, embarrassed at the way she'd demanded that he make love to her. What must he think of her? She'd always prided herself on acting responsibly, but the last few hours—make that the last week—she'd been anything but responsible.
"Don't think so much," Cole said with a knowing smile. "We didn't break any laws."
"Are you sure about that? God, I hope no one saw us." She glanced around, but the beach was so dark she couldn't see more than ten feet away. At least there was no one nearby. "I lose my mind when I'm around you."
"So do I." Cole caught her arm as she turned to leave. "I don't regret that, Natalie. Do you?"
"No, I don't regret it," she said with absolute certainty. "I wanted to make love to you. And it was perfect."
He nodded. "I want to do it again in a bed this time, really, really slowly. I want to taste every inch of you, Natalie. I want to see you in the light. I want to look into your beautiful blue eyes when we come together. I want to watch your face, feel your skin." He ran his finger down her cheek, and she trembled. "You're beautiful, Natalie, inside and out."
A rush of emotion blurred her eyes with tears. "I thought you hated me."
"I tried,"
"This—us—it can't work. You know that. I know—"
He cut her off with a kiss. "I told you to stop thinking—at least for tonight. Can you do that? Can you give us one night?"
The plea in his eyes matched the need in her heart. "I can do that. Let's go home."
"Oh, my God! That was better than sex," Madison declared when Dylan finally brought the motorcycle to a stop. They'd flown through the streets of San Francisco, up one hill and down the next, with absolutely no regard for the speed limit. She'd been terrified more than once, and she was sure Dylan had intended her to feel that way, but she'd hung on, and she was still alive. Where she was still alive, she wasn't quite sure. They'd crossed over the Golden Gate Bridge to the north and they were now on some remote hillside in Sausalito with an incredible view of San Francisco at night.
Dylan got off the bike and walked to the edge of the hillside. She decided to follow him, hoping he hadn't brought her here to push her off. The flippant thought suddenly took on new meaning as she drew closer to Dylan and to the edge of the cliff. Maybe he had brought her here for that reason. Maybe he was the one up on the roof that night with Emily.
He loved Emily. He wouldn't have hurt her.
But he would punish the person he thought had hurt Emily. Did he think she was the one?
Madison stopped a few feet away from him and ran her fingers through her wind-tangled hair. "What are we doing here?"
Dylan didn't answer right away, his gaze focused on the city before them. "This was one of Emily's favorite places."
She could see why. The lights of San Francisco were stunning, the tall buildings outlined against the dark sky, the bridges on both sides of the city adding the perfect frame. "It's beautiful," she said. "Emily always loved the view from high places." Her voice faltered as she realized how dangerously close they were coming to discussing Emily's last journey up to the sorority house roof. She decided to change the subject. "Did you bring her here on your motorcycle? Maybe with a blanket and a bottle of wine?"
He laughed at that, a sound that warmed his cold, dark personality. "Do you think the Parishes would have allowed that? I brought her here in my parents' car when they thought we were going to the movies."
"It's hard to think of you with parents. Although your brother is nice. We had an interesting conversation about you and your many trips up the tree next to Emily's bedroom window."
"Josh talks too much."
"Why did you bring me here?"
Dylan shrugged.
"Okay, let's move on, then." She paused, took a deep breath, and asked, "Do you still love Emily?"
"Do you?" He shot the question right back at her, along with a razor-sharp look of inquiry. "Did you ever? Or was it all just convenient back then? You lived in the dorms. You pledged a sorority together. Did her friendship mean anything to you? Or are you as cold and shallow as I always thought you were?"
Hearing the anger in his voice, Madison instinctively took a step back. She had always believed she had a thick skin, but Dylan's words had struck home. It took her a minute to catch her breath; then she said, "You thought I was cold and shallow? Did you get that from Emily?" She hoped that wasn't the case. She could handle his dislike, but not Emily's.
"I made my own judgment. You were a party girl, a flirt. You even tried to make out with me one night."
"Most men would have considered that an honor, and you didn't exactly say no all that fast." She watched as he picked up a rock and flung it over the hillside. "That bothered you, didn't it? That you didn't say no. Because you were supposed to want only Emily. And yet for a moment, you wanted me."
"That was different, and you always did have a high opinion of yourself."
"I know my strengths. Sex is one of them. I'm very good at it," she said candidly. "You don't know what you're missing. Although it might not be too late, if you play your cards right. I always did like a man who works with his hands, and I bet you can do amazing things with those magician hands of yours."
Dylan stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head. "You're a piece of work, Madison. You must have shocked the hell out of Emily—the way you talk."
"She liked that I was honest, that I didn't tell her what she was supposed to hear. I treated her like a friend, not a child."
"I never treated her like a child, but she was innocent. She needed to be protected."
Madison shook her head, truly confused by how many people had believed Emily needed to be protected. "What was it about her that made everyone want to take care of her?" she asked aloud. She thought about how few men in her life had ever even considered such a thing, and she came up with zero. "I can't imagine a guy doing that for me," she murmured. "I've been looking out for myself my whole life."
Dylan dug his hands into his pockets as he said, "What about your father? He must have protected you."
"Actually, he didn't bother to stick around past my conception. He was a big movie star and apparently a kid would have cramped his style. The rest of the men in my mother's life were more interested in getting her into bed and out of her clothes than they were in protecting her daughter. My latest stepfather isn't too bad though. He bailed me out of my almost wedding last year. But that was probably because my mother swore she wouldn't sleep with him again if he didn't."
"So the Covington women know how to get their way with sex."
"I learned at my mother's knee." Madison sat down on the ground and patted the patch of earth beside her. "Sit down. Tell me about Emily, how you became friends."
"Why would I want to tell you anything?"
"Because you're dying to talk to someone about Emily, and I'm the only one you've got. Come on, you know you want to."
He hesitated, then sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him. He didn't say anything for several long minutes. Finally, he said, "Emily was my inspiration. She believed in me even when we were kids. My tricks would fall apart, and Cole and Josh would laugh themselves sick, but Emily just told me to try again. When I did, she'd look at me with those big brown eyes of hers and clap as if I'd pulled off the biggest miracle in the world. I would have done anything for her."
Madison heard the love in his voice, and it was so strong, so powerful, it took her breath away. She'd never had anyone love her like that. It was something out of this world. Maybe that was appropriate since Dylan and Emily had dreamed of other worlds since they were young. Silence fell between them again. Madison didn't know what to say. Not one flippant response came to her mind. His last words stuck in her head, repeating themselves over and over again. I would have done anything for her.
"She probably would have done anything for you, too," Madison offered a moment later. "She said you were one of her best friends in the world. I couldn't quite figure it out, because you seemed so different. You'd come riding up to the dorm on your motorcycle, revving your engine, wearing your black leather, smoking a cigarette, acting all cocky, and you were there to pick up Emily, probably the most naive girl I had ever met in my life. Even Laura was more worldly than Em. I couldn't understand what you and Em would talk about."
"Anything and everything. No matter what the subject, she was always interested in discussing it." He laughed at some memory that he didn't bother to share with Madison.
"Did she love you, Dylan? As more than a friend? Were you two sleeping together?"
"That's none of your damn business," he said sharply.
"What would it hurt to tell me?" She paused waiting for his answer. When it didn't come, she said, "I think Emily loved you as a friend, a very dear, close friend—a brother. She never knew you wanted more, did she? Am I right?"
Dylan didn't reply for a long moment, then said, "She never knew. I didn't want to ruin anything between us. I didn't want her to feel like she had to say something or do something."
"So you weren't the one we bought the condoms for," she muttered to herself. For some reason it made her feel better to know that Emily had never felt a passionate love for Dylan. It meant she didn't have to feel so guilty about her own insane attraction to the man.
"What are you talking about?" Dylan asked abruptly, turning to look at her. "What condoms?"
"Did I say that out loud?"
"Yes, you did. Explain."
"I don't know if she was going to use them. She just said she wanted to be prepared, in case."
"So you helped her buy condoms instead of trying to talk her out of having sex?" he asked furiously.
"Of course I did. I wanted her to be able to protect herself in case the guy was an ass. I know you and Cole and Josh think Emily was some Virgin Mary, but she was a normal girl with desires and curiosities."
"Who were they for? Who were the condoms for?" he demanded.
"I don't know." Madison thought back to the conversations she'd had with Emily in the weeks before her death. "I remember her saying he was someone she wasn't supposed to have. I think she used the word unattainable. But who couldn't she have? He must have been someone who was going out with someone else. That's all I can think of." There was only one man who came to mind, and his name made her sit up straight. Drew McKinney. Why hadn't that occurred to her before? Was it possible that both Emily and Laura had been in love with Drew?
"What are you thinking?" Dylan asked, his sharp gaze on her face.
"Nothing," she lied. "I don't know what I'm thinking."
"Yes, you do. You thought of someone. I want to know who it was."
"Why? Are you going to beat him up? It's been ten years, you know."
"I might want to ask him a few questions—like where he was the night she died."
"Why would that matter? It's not like he would have pushed her off the roof." Her heart stopped at the look in Dylan's eyes. "Oh, my God. You think someone pushed Emily off the roof that night, don't you? Why? Why do you think that? Were you there?"
Dylan stared back at her, not answering.
"You were there," she said. "Natalie thought she saw you in the house."
"And I saw Natalie arguing with Emily. That's why I didn't go into Em's room. They were in the middle of something, so I went downstairs. I should have stayed. If I had, maybe Emily would still be alive."
"So now you're saying it was Natalie who did it?" She didn't like the way he turned away from her. "You think Emily and Natalie went out onto the roof, argued, and Natalie pushed her off—just like it was described in the book." Had Dylan lied to her before about not being Garrett Malone? They certainly seemed to share the same opinions.
"It's a possibility," Dylan replied.
"I don't believe that, and Natalie wasn't the only one who spoke to Emily that night. There were other people who went into her room."
"Like who?"
"Like Drew."
"McKinney?" he asked sharply.
"That's right. Someone who was going out with one of Emily's best friends," she added pointedly.
She knew he was smart enough to add it up quickly, and he did. His frown said it all. "She wouldn't have liked McKinney."
"He could be very charming when he wanted to be."
Dylan shook his head and got to his feet. "We're done."
"Wait a second, we're not done." She scrambled after him as he headed toward the bike. "Are you ever going to let her go, Dylan? Are you going to be able to move on from Emily?" She wanted to ask him if he'd ever give her a chance, but even her nerve wouldn't take her that far. "She wouldn't want you to waste your life pining after her," she added.
Dylan stopped and stared at her. "Don't tell me what she'd want."
"Why? Because you know I'm right? Emily would have wanted you to be happy."
"And you think I'd be happy with you? Like I said, you always did think highly of yourself."
"I think you'd be happier than you are right now."
"You don't know anything about my life, Madison. Now, either get on the bike or stay here. I don't much care either way."
"Why are you in such a hurry to leave?"
"I have something to do."
She saw something flash through his eyes and her instincts told her what it was. "You know, don't you? You figured it out while we were talking. You know who Emily was in love with. Tell me, Dylan."
"I don't know anything," he denied.
"You're lying."
He shrugged. "Are you coming or not?"
Madison watched Dylan put on his helmet and knew that he wouldn't think twice about leaving her on this remote hillside. "Fine," she said, strapping on her own helmet. She'd make him tell her what he'd remembered, or she'd figure it out herself. In the meantime, she had a lot to think about. She couldn't wait to tell Natalie what she'd learned.
"You're torturing me," Natalie said, as Cole's fingers played with the front clasp of her bra. They'd made it to his bedroom in record time, but after stripping off her shirt, Cole had slowed things down considerably.
He smiled wickedly as he pressed a teasing kiss against the corner of her mouth. "You really need to learn some patience, Natalie."
She didn't care about patience. She wanted his fingers on her bare skin. Then she wanted his mouth to follow suit. But Cole seemed more interested in tracing a line along the edge of her bra, one fingertip grazing her skin like a branding iron. She knew there was only one way to get him to hurry. Her hand dropped to the snap on his jeans. Unlike him, she got it open right away, along with the zipper. She heard him suck in a breath of air as her fingers dipped lower, teasing him as he was teasing her.
"You're not playing fair," he muttered.
"Who cares about fair? I want what I want. So do it already."
"I love it when you talk sexy." He unhooked her bra and pulled the edges apart, freeing her breasts to his gaze, his touch. His thumb circled one nipple, then the other. She closed her eyes as his mouth moved down the side of her neck, the valley of her breasts, finally closing over her nipple. Her breast swelled as he sucked and licked, igniting the sparks that had barely died down from their last encounter. He reached for the button of her slacks and pulled it open, his hands pushing her pants down until she was left standing in only her skimpy bikinis. Breathing hard, she pushed him away and said, "Your turn."