Tentatively she put a hand on the seat. It felt cool under her hand. “You said Betty was the second thing that was yours. What about the first?”
Ash’s gaze held hers, a smile curving his mouth. “I always thought you were the first.”
Lizzie swallowed. “I’m not a possession, Ash.”
“No. But I always thought of you as mine.”
Lizzie glanced away, back down to the bike, suddenly feeling breathless. When they made love he was possessive and dominant, taking her as if he was laying claim to her, and she got off on it in a major way, no denying it. She’d never had anyone claim her like Ash did and it touched some deep, fragile part of her she hadn’t realized was there.
She’d never belonged anywhere. Never belonged to anyone. Her mother had taken an interest only when it suited the cameras and the one contact she’d had with her father, he’d told her he didn’t want anything to do with her. But not Ash.
Don’t go thinking I’m a good boy.
No, perhaps he wasn’t a good boy. But that didn’t matter. He’d always made her feel wanted. Made her feel like she belonged.
“You okay?”
“Sure.” The word sounded hoarse so she cleared her throat. “So? I suppose you have a helmet you want me to wear?”
He stared at her a moment but, obviously deciding not to push it for some reason, he turned away and went over to a long workshop bench that ran along the side of the garage. Picked up the helmet that rested there, and came back over with it.
“One helmet,” he said, handing it to her.
It was sleek and black and felt heavy in her hands. Ready to protect her from all kinds of things.
But it won’t protect you from him.
She swallowed, trying to ignore the sudden burst of adrenaline that went through her at the thought. “Just for the record, I still think this is a stupid idea.”
“Noted. Get on the back, Lizzie.”
“Ash—”
He lifted a brow. “Chicken?”
“Oh God, we’re not going to get into dares again, are we?”
“Of course not. If you’re too scared to go for a motorcycle ride then by all means, let’s stay at home.”
Scared? Huh. With a decisive motion, Lizzie put the helmet on, then put her leg over the bike and gingerly got on, tucking her dress around her legs. This was stupid, she should have changed out of it, but he’d been insistent she wear it.
Ash had the decency not to say a word, merely putting his own helmet on and getting on too.
“Hold on to me,” he said.
She eased forward, wrapping her arms around his waist, her thighs pressed against his. The hard warmth of him was so reassuring. Like a wall between her and the world. And for some reason the unease began to fade. How could she feel scared when she was with him?
He paused for a moment, texting something on his phone. An instant later, a chime signaling an answer. “Okay,” he said. “We’re good to go.”
“Where?” she asked, projecting her voice through muffling helmet.
“Around.” Before she could ask, Ash opened the throttle and the roar of the bike’s engine filled the garage.
Then they were off and she was clutching on to him for dear life as they sped down the driveway.
The street outside was deserted—whatever diversion Ash had organized, it had worked. Her heart raced as they joined the stream of traffic, the wind pulling at her dress, and she pressed herself more securely against him, for warmth and for that feeling of safety. He was hard and hot between her thighs, his body powerful as he maneuvered the big bike through the traffic. The wind clawed at her as he sped up and her heart climbed up in her throat. Houses moved by fast, people a blur. The warmth of the sun on her back.
She took a deep breath as the blood pumped hard in her veins and she realized she was grinning madly behind her helmet visor, exhilaration coursing through her.
God, he was right. It was good to get out. Go somewhere. Feel free.
A laugh caught in her throat. Here she was, cool, calm, and practical Nurse Kent, riding on a motorbike in a dress with the crazy-hot movie star she was currently sleeping with.
Insanity. And she was loving every second of it.
Chapter Ten
He couldn’t have said what drew him back to Santa Monica. He hadn’t meant to stop, only to keep on riding until the wind and the noise of the traffic and the sun had cleared away the strange feelings that had suffocated him back in his house.
It was probably a dumb idea since the beach was crowded, but a crowd tended to be its own protection. The less people around, the more he stood out, yet in a crowd, if he stooped his posture and moved a bit more hesitantly, he could blend in better. Because when it came down to it, people just weren’t that observant.
He found a parking spot for the bike and got off, helping Lizzie off, too. Already he was missing the warmth of her at his back, the feel of her arms locked around his waist. It had made for an uncomfortable ride since his body had responded to her in its usual way, but hell, a hard-on was a small price to pay in return for having her pressed up against him.
“How was that?” he asked as she pulled her helmet up. “You didn’t even fall off, not once.”
Her face had gone pink, the clear gray of her eyes shining. She grinned. “I know. How does that work?”
“Betty must approve of you.”
Lizzie put a hand down on Betty’s shiny red paintwork and gave her a stroke. “That’s a relief.” She looked up at him, her mouth curving in a way that tugged at something inside him. “The beach? Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
No, he wasn’t. But the more he’d thought about it, the more he’d known he had to come here with her. The scene of their first date.
That day he’d secreted away a little bit of money from a fight he’d had the night before, blatantly lying to his father about it so the old man wouldn’t take every last dime. It had been important to be able to pay for the date himself because even though she had more money than he’d ever be able to dream of, he wanted it to be a proper date. Where he paid.
It had been a magical day. A special day. And part of him hoped that if he took her here, re-created that day, it wouldn’t be either as magical or special as it had been in his mind. Perhaps she wouldn’t be as magical or as special, and neither would his feelings.
“Come on.” He reached for her hand. “Let’s go explore.”
So they did, wandering through the crowds toward the pier hand in hand, stopping every now and then to watch street performers and the other people in the crowd. On the pier, they checked out the shops and the carnival rides. Lizzie tsked at how expensive they all were but when it came to the old carousel, her eyes shone and he knew she was remembering how he’d paid for her to ride it on that date.
“Go on,” he murmured as they watched a bunch of kids pick their horses. “Safer than Betty.”
She laughed but shook her head. “You know what? After Betty, it’s a bit tame. Come on, let’s keep exploring.” She took his hand, tugging him back into the crowds.
Tension ratcheted up inside him. It was too good feeling her fingers in his. Too good walking in the crowds with her, the sun turning her hair into a red glory, the smile on her face even brighter.
She was so beautiful it made his chest hurt.
They stopped for ice cream because she insisted, then made their way down onto the sand, wandering along the beach watching the people, families having fun, teenagers lounging, girls in their bikinis flirting with guys in surf shorts and carrying boards.
This was what they had done eleven years ago, walked down the beach hand in hand, eating ice cream. He’d thought that day couldn’t have gotten more perfect and…shit, it didn’t feel any less perfect now. Which was so not what he wanted to be feeling.
So he stopped walking, found a spot that wasn’t too crowded, pulled her down onto the warm sand, settling her between his thighs, her body relaxing back against his.
It wasn’t any better. It made him feel like he could sit here with her forever.
“Hmmm,” Lizzie said, wiggling a little. “Is that a book in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?”
“Stop that. Unless you want to give that family over there one hell of a surprise.”
She laughed. “No, seriously. There’s something hard in your pocket that’s digging into me.”
“Which particular hard thing? There are two.”
“Idiot.”
He shifted and patted the pocket of his leather jacket. There was something in it. Putting a hand inside, he drew out a book. Her book. He’d forgotten he put it back there.
“Ah,” she said. “I knew it was a book.” She reached for it, whipping it out of his hand before he had a chance to move.
Dammit. Now she’d know he’d basically stolen it from her bookshelf.
“Lizzie,” he began.
“This is mine,” she interrupted softly. “Wuthering Heights.” She twisted around to look at him. “What are you doing with my book?”
Feeling oddly exposed, Ash said, “Okay, I confess. I took it from your bookcase.”
“Why?”
“Open it up.”
She frowned but turned back to the book again, opening it up and riffling through the pages. Until she got to the photo in the middle of it. She went still, staring at it. At him eleven years ago. On this same stretch of beach. Smiling.
Goddammit. This was a mistake.
“Oh,” she murmured.
“You didn’t have any other pictures in your apartment,” he said. “Except that one of me. I don’t know why I took it. I think because I wanted to ask you why you kept that photo.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment, her head bent, looking at the picture. Then she said quietly, “I kept it because there were some things about that life I didn’t want to forget. You were one of them.”
He looked over her shoulder at the photo she held in her hands. Of a young man smiling into the camera. “What were the other things?”
She hesitated. “Actually there were no other things. Just you.”
His chest ached. “Why? I thought you wanted to put everything about that life behind you?”
“I did. But I couldn’t get rid of this picture. I just…couldn’t.”
So he had meant something to her. Ash tried to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. It didn’t mean anything, it really didn’t. He slid an arm around her waist, drawing her back more firmly against him. “I started reading that book, you know. Thought I’d educate myself.”
She relaxed into his arms. “Really? Why? I didn’t think you liked reading all that much.”
“A man can change, sugar. I wanted to see what you liked so much about it.”
“Ah. Did you get any insights then?”
“Well, I’m only halfway through and I think Heathcliff needs therapy. Also, Cathy’s crazy.” He said it mainly to make her laugh, and she did. “And for another…” He stopped, the tightness in his chest gathering even tighter. “Love is a pretty powerful force.”
“Yes, it is.” She put her hands on his knees on either side of her, an affectionate caress. “I think that’s why I related to the book so much. Mom never dealt with love, only sex. Love was almost a dirty word. But reading that book…” She hesitated. “Then when you came along it was like…I discovered love for the first time.”
The constricted feeling moved up from his chest, into his throat, choking him.
He should never have come here. He should never have left the stupid house.
They had to leave. Right now. Otherwise he didn’t know what he would do. He opened his mouth to tell her it was time to go but then she turned in his arms, her eyes looking up into his, a strange look on her delicate features. “Ash,” she said hesitantly, “I…I’m having a wonderful time. Thank you. Thank you for the whole week. And most especially thank you for bringing me here.” She hesitated again. “You know when I said that after I go back home, we’d end this? Well—”
“Hey, Mommy. That man looks like Zac Angel.” The child’s voice interrupted Lizzie with piercing clarity.
Zac Angel was the name of his most famous character, in Back for More.
Both of them looked and saw a little boy standing not far from them, the family he was with also staring.
Relief flooded through him, thick and hot, and Ash grabbed the moment while he could. “Come on, Lizzie-girl,” he said. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”
…
Lizzie found herself hauled up from the sand before she’d even had time to process what had just happened. Actually, come to think of it, what had just happened?
The sand was soft beneath her feet, Ash’s fingers holding her hand tightly as they began to make their way back to the pier. Behind her she could still hear that little boy talking. “It was him, Mom. You saw, right? You saw him.”
People were turning to look in their direction, interested.
Yes, she’d been about to tell Ash something. Tell him that she was beginning to think she wanted more than just two weeks. That maybe if he wanted her to stay a while longer, she wouldn’t be averse to the idea.
Because she wasn’t. Spending that precious hour with him, wandering around the pier, walking on the sand and eating ice cream, revisiting that date of long ago, had made her remember that it hadn’t been only about sex with Ash. She liked spending time with him, too, talking about everything or nothing as the mood took them, with no pressure to do more.
Until that kid had interrupted them.
Ash had pulled his cap down low, moving through the crowds still unhurried but with more purpose than they had before.
“Oh my God,” someone exclaimed. “That kid was right. I think it’s Ash Kincaid.”
“That woman’s familiar, too,” someone else said. “Where have I seen her before? Wasn’t she on some kind of reality show?”
Ash cursed, his hand tightening on hers as adrenaline burst through her, his mirrored shades turning toward her. “You okay?”
Oh, hell. People weren’t only recognizing him. They were recognizing her, too. And it would only be a matter of time before they figured it out. Misty Dawn’s daughter. The press would call her, wanting interviews, wanting to know what she was doing now, why she was with Ash, what their relationship was. And it would turn into a furor because of their history.
They’d never leave her alone. God, it would put the clinic under the microscope so soon after the leak, and that was the last thing Helen needed. Maybe it would even mean she’d have to leave. And if she left, where would she go? What hospital would want that kind of publicity trailing its staff?
Lizzie went cold. She didn’t want that one TV episode to be the defining moment of her entire existence. She wanted to be known for more than that. She wanted to help people. To be the best damn nurse LA had ever seen.
It was the only thing that made her feel worth anything at all.
That and Ash.
Yes, he did. But how could they have more time together? When going out and being recognized, having the press in your face every single day, would be a constant pressure?
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t.
Lizzie tried not to look as sick as she felt. “No one’s ever spotted you, huh?”
“I guess I need to amend that.”
“I guess you do.”
She tried to swallow back the panic. Surely no one would care about her. They only wanted to see him. It would be okay, it would be fine.
He said he’d protect you.
Yeah, he had said that. Now it was time to trust that he would.
More people were starting to turn and look in their direction. A girl lifted her phone and took a picture. A man pointed toward them and turned to say something to the woman he was with.
Lizzie was very aware of being trailed as they made their way back to where Betty was parked, more and more people beginning to turn and look in their direction.
“Ash,” she said thickly as they got to the bike, a small crowd starting to gather.
“Hey, it’ll be okay,” Ash murmured. “Don’t panic.” He picked up the helmet and slid it down over her head. She wanted to protest because it was hot but then realized that with the helmet on no one would see who she was.
“Get on the bike. I’ll deal with the people.”
There was a crowd behind him now. “Mr. Kincaid? Hey, Ash,” someone called. “Can I get an autograph, please?”
Ash turned, his broad, powerful back right in front of her. Shielding her from the crowd. “Sure you can,” he said easily. “But can you all take a step that way? You’re crowding my friend here.”
Much to her amazement, all the people did exactly what he said, responding to the innate command in his voice, shuffling a few steps.
“Great,” he went on, talking with absolute authority. “Now, an orderly line behind this guy here, please. And don’t push, you’ll all get one. Okay, so has anyone got a pen?”
A pen was produced from somewhere and soon he was signing random bits of paper, T-shirts, one woman’s arm, an excited kid’s baseball cap, the strap of some tourist’s camera. Lizzie watched from the bike, safely unnoticed with her helmet on, as he interacted with his fans, chatting and answering questions. There was no arrogance to him, his manner natural, as if he were talking to a bunch of old friends. And when people asked him something that he didn’t want to answer or was too personal, he deftly turned the conversation back on the people who’d asked him, getting them to talk about themselves instead.
Either he’d had some expert publicity training or he was a natural at dealing with people. She kind of thought it was natural.
Unfortunately, though, the small crowd around the bike soon began to draw more people curious to see what the fuss was about. Out of the corner of Lizzie’s eye, she saw a guy holding a camera looking toward them, talking rapidly into his mobile phone. Paparazzo.
“Ash?” She put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “I think there’s—”
“I see them,” he said quietly cutting her off. “Time we got out of here, huh?” He signed a last couple of autographs then said apologetically to the crowd, “Sorry guys, I gotta go. Promised to get my friend home. Can you give us some room?”
Once again the people all moved as Ash put on his helmet and got on Betty. Lizzie put her arms around him and held on as he started the engine and powered out of the parking lot. Relief made her dizzy. She pressed her helmeted head against his back, her heart still thundering in her chest.
No one would know who she was. No one had even asked. And they’d gotten away before the paparazzi could gather. It was okay.