Caught Up In You 3: Designer Love and Empty Things (Edgeplay) (3 page)

 
Of course he will,
Snarkarella hisses.
Do you really think he’ll let you keep on here when you reject him?

 I sink onto the bed and close my eyes. I’d grown up here, in this cottage, on this property. At times it was confining, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t resent living in the shadow of the various wealthy people who’ve owned the Rosemont over the years. Where would I go though?

 Even if he did let me stay here, could I really stay here, see him bring other women here after being so intimate with him? The thought causes my throat to close up.

 “How are you feeling?” Connor’s leaning in the doorway holding a steaming mug of coffee.

 I force a smile. “Okay. I think I’ll be a little derelict in my duties today though. I have some personal stuff to take care of.” Visiting Pops is number one on the list. I don’t know if he’ll realize I missed a day, but
I
know it and the need to see him compels me. Then there’s the headache of replacing my driver’s license and my ATM card and getting a new cell phone.

 He moves into the room, telegraphing wariness with every step. “Baily, you can’t. Someone tried to kill you yesterday.”

 “What?” He can’t be serious. “I thought it was an accident.”

 He shakes his head. “No. The incident report states that it was a car bomb, although not a very effective one, since the electrical system caught fire before it detonated. I have the email if you’d like to see it.”

 I feel slightly ill. Somehow I’d convinced myself it was an accident. But knowing someone had made that happen….

 “You’re shaking.” Connor sets the mug down and wraps his arms around me. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you but you have to know it isn’t safe for you to just run around unprotected, at least not until we find whoever is behind this.”

 “It doesn’t make any sense,” I whisper, clinging to his already rumpled shirt. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

 He rubs my back. “I don’t even know that you’re the target.”

 I push back and meet his gaze as hope dawns over the cold landscape of my terror. “Then…?”

 “We don’t know that you’re not, either. At this point we don’t know anything, but I refuse to take chances with your life.”

 That steely determination is back in his voice and I know I have to stand my ground now. “Connor, you can’t keep me locked up in some safehouse forever. I have a life, things to do.”

 His jaw clenches and his eyes close. I see the struggle in him and sympathize. His intentions are noble—he wants to protect me. What I so easily dismissed as paranoia yesterday, now I see is actually caution.

 His lids lift and his gaze is so tormented it actually steals my breath. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, Baily, but I don’t know what to say to you to convince you of that. I’m not trying to keep you locked up, I’m trying to keep you safe. You have no idea how much you mean to me, how much it kills me to deny you anything. Knowing that you’re in danger because of me, that you almost fucking died because of me, it’s eating me alive.”

 It’s not an act. I gape at him as he stands and begins pacing the narrow confines of my messy room, muttering as though to himself. “I’m not used to this, to not knowing what to do, what’s right. Your life might be in danger. My instinct is to protect you at all costs. I can keep you here, guarded by force if necessary, but you’ll end up hating me for it. But letting you go on with a giant target on your back…either way I risk losing you.”

 I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to cut off my nose to spite my face. “Connor, it’s okay. My job is here. Most of the other stuff can wait. Maybe they’ll catch whoever planted the bomb soon and it won’t be an issue.”

 He stops and shoots me a plaintive look. “I don’t want to lose you.”

 I get up, following my heart to him, and wrap my arms around him. “I’m right here. I’m safe.” Beyond that I wouldn’t make any promises.

 He holds me for several minutes, his cheek resting on the top of my head. I’m completely enveloped in his warm embrace and I’ve never felt so cherished.

A knock sounds on the front door. “I’ll get it. It’s probably your medicine being delivered,” Connor says, and shuts the bedroom door.

 I pull on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top and twist my still-wet hair up into a ponytail before emerging from the bedroom. Connor has poured me a glass of orange juice and is whipping something up at the stove.

 “I thought you might like some French toast and sausage for breakfast.”

 “Sounds great, but where did the food come from?”

 “I had it delivered,” he answers, cracking eggs into a bowl.

 I watch in awe as my kitchen gets a real workout for the first time in years. Connor even finds an electric frying pan I’ve forgotten all about. Thick slices of cinnamon raisin bread that must have come from a bakery are dipped in the rich batter and then cooked on the hot griddle beside aromatic sausage patties. My mouth is actually watering.

 Connor sets a huge plateful of what must be 1500 calories in front of me before going back to fix his own breakfast.

 I cut up a slice of toast and can’t suppress a groan of pleasure. “You really are a gourmet. No wonder you’re so popular with the ladies.”

 He casts me a veiled look over his shoulder. “I’ve never cooked for anyone before.”

 Seriously? “Why not?”

 He shrugs but I can tell there’s more to it than he’ll admit. He brings his plate to the small table and sits down across from me. I’ve already eaten two slices of French toast and two sausage patties. I bite my lip trying to resist going for a third.

 “Have more.” Connor gestures to my plate.  

 “I shouldn’t.”

 “Why not?” he challenges, meeting my gaze.

 “I’m not going to be able to burn all that off. It’ll just stick to my hips, where it’ll be in good company.”

 Connor, who already ate twice my portion size, scowls. “So?”

 This from the man who dated at least three supermodels in the last six months. “I already need to lose about forty pounds.”

 “No,” he says simply and begins clearing the table.

 “I’m sorry?” I must have misheard. He couldn’t have just shut me down.

 But he repeats himself. “No, you don’t need to lose forty pounds. You’d be severely underweight for your height, and it would put too much strain on your organs. There is nothing attractive about starvation. Your body is perfect exactly as it is. If you weren’t still recovering I’d throw you over my shoulder and demonstrate exactly how perfect you are.” The heat in his eyes tells me that is no bluff.

 Something warm spreads through my chest and I can’t seem to wipe a silly grin off my face. Knowing that Connor Edge desires me so intensely is heady stuff. Is it any wonder I’ve become completely addicted to him?

 ~*~

 We spend the rest of the day snuggled together on the couch watching old movies on cable. I rest my head in his lap and he strokes my hair. “Don’t you have work to do?” I ask him at one point.

 “It can wait,” he replies.

 I smile softly, flattered that he’d rather hang out with me even if we’re not having screaming sex. Unfortunately, I can’t think of any safe topic to share with him.

 “You were going to be a nurse?” Connor asks, sifting his hands through my hair.

 I freeze as the contentment I just experienced slips away. Of course he heard me talking with the ER doctor yesterday. “Yeah, I was going to be, but I had to drop out of the program.”

 The next logical question falls from his lips. “Why?”

 “It’s complicated,” I say, then roll my eyes at how ridiculous that sounds. It’s the same old tired excuse everyone uses when they don’t want to discuss a topic.

 Connor doesn’t respond, just keeps combing my hair with his fingers, massaging my scalp lightly. He’s waiting me out, I realize, waiting for me to open up and share bits of myself with him. He’s looking after me so tenderly and I want to be honest with him.

 I struggle to sit up and he steadies me with one hand, always so attentive to my needs, so watchful. I both love and resent his scrutiny. “Who’s asking, my boss or my boyfriend?”

 His lips twitch. “Am I your boyfriend?”

 Heat scalds my cheeks and I look away, mortified, just like that time in sixth grade when I told Johnny Wilson I liked him. He’d laughed in my face. I hope this conversation yields more positive results. “Only if you want to be.”

  “I’ve never had a real girlfriend before. I’ve had phony ones of course, and women I slept with. But not an actual girlfriend.”

 I try to wave it off, along with the ache in my chest. “It’s not important, not really, just a stupid label.”

 He slides closer on the couch, invading my personal space in the way only he can do, not crowding me, simply sharing my space, reassuring me with his solid presence. His index finger hooks around my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “It would be my honor to be your boyfriend.”

 My insides melt and I move closer to seal my lips over his. He allows me to take the lead, but the heat that is always there between us sparks to life. When we finally part, both of us are breathing hard and I see tightly contained desire on his face.

 “You need to rest,” Connor murmurs. I can’t tell if he’s reminding me or himself of this fact.

 “Right.” My libido is fully recovered and while I may not be up to full speed, I could use another couple of his therapeutic orgasms. Strictly for medicinal purposes, of course. “So, what were we talking about?”

 “How you wanted to be a nurse and why you dropped out of the program.”

 “Technically, it’s two different stories. Are you sure you want to hear all my baggage?”

 “That’s a boyfriend’s right.” I see a glint of pride in his eyes. My heart pounds as I think,
I’m Connor Edge’s first real girlfriend.
I want to crow it from the rooftops. Then I think about the baggage I’m about to unload and sober up.

 
“My mother was a wild woman in her youth. She hated being poor, hated that her parents worked here at the Rosemont. She liked to go out and stir up trouble. Trolling every bar in the county, stuff like that.”

 Connor nods. I find I can’t look him in the eye while saying this. The shame burns me to the quick.

 “One night she had a little too much to drink. She was at the wrong bar at the wrong time. A couple of guys talked her into taking a drive with them. They were also drunk. They drove her out to the middle of nowhere and took turns raping her. She doesn’t remember the details, all we have is the police report that states she was found naked and bleeding along the side of the road.”

 I hear him suck in a quick breath, but need to finish, get this information out there.

 “I was born nine months later. She left me in the hospital, just disappeared.”

 “Baily—” Connor stops and I chance a look at him through my eyelashes. His lips are parted, eyebrows drawn down as if in pain.

 “I was underweight, sickly. A few of the nurses took turns holding me, even beyond their shifts. There have been studies done on babies born with low birth weight that show those who are held more often are more likely to thrive. My grandfather had just lost his wife and daughter. He came to see me but if not for the nurses, I probably would have died.”

 Connor pulls me into his arms and holds me. My heart races and I’m not sure what else I can say. The silence stretches out between us, agonizing, painful and fraught with landmines.

 My abandonment issues are not pretty. I’m a loner by choice because it’s so much less painful to keep people at a distance than to wait, poised on a razor’s edge, wondering when they too will grow sick of me and leave.