Nobody's Fool (17 page)

“But she's wrong.”

“It doesn't matter.” Was she the only person on the planet who got this shit? “The truth isn't important in Portia's world right now. It's what she thinks and feels that matter. She will react on those and . . . and we can't.”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

She had to find the words, strong words that would end this thing. Forever. Last night she'd allowed herself to be swept away by lust or passion or whatever, but she couldn't afford to let her unruly hormones guide her.

Portia depended on her to do the right thing.

Holly always did the right thing. The pit of her stomach dropped like it was lead filled. And the right thing, right now, did not include the beautiful man looking at her intently.

She needed to end this thing between her and Josh. Holly didn't even know what to call it, and she resisted the idea of putting a name to it. Even in the privacy of her mind.

“You know . . . you understand . . . Portia? Me. You?” Holly swung around to break eye contact. She couldn't do this while he was looking at her. She was raw inside; she didn't want to put distance between them, but there was no choice. No fucking choices here but ugly ones. Holly massaged the dull ache settling above her breasts with her palm.

“I understand the situation is messy and difficult,” he said.

Holly closed her eyes to try to block the effect of his voice. There was a lot he didn't say, but she heard it anyway. Holly desperately wanted to believe in the small flicker of hope he held out to her. She couldn't afford to, though. “Then you know why we can't . . . carry on.”

“Look at me, Holly.”

She shook her head.

“This isn't what I expected after last night.” His quiet voice carried a steel undertone.

Holly winced under the impact, because throbbing under the anger was hurt. “Last night shouldn't have happened. This isn't about me.” Her throat closed convulsively. It had been so easy to forget in the beauty of what they'd shared. “It's about Portia.”

“And where does what you want fit into all this?” He said it softly enough, but it hit her like the sharp lash of a whip. “Portia is ill and I understand that, but there has to be a way for you to have a life outside of that.”

Her legs were moving before she had fully formulated the thought. Her body escaped before her mind could catch up. She didn't want to hear it. He didn't know. He didn't understand. He couldn't know what went on in her mind. Her needs didn't matter. They hadn't mattered when Melissa was alive, and now they would get lost in the aftermath of their mother's legacy.

“I'm not giving up on you, Holly. We'll find a way.”

 

 

She stalked away from him.

Josh had ended things with more women than he could recall. Some had cried, others had gotten mad, some even violent, and still others had quietly accepted what he said and slunk away with their dignity.

Laura, the sadness in her eyes impenetrable and soul deep. He'd failed Laura, too full of what worked for him to see her pain.

It sucked. It really, really sucked. And it was definitely worse being on the receiving end. His head reeled. The entire situation had spun out of control faster than he could blink.

Holly had been sitting at the kitchen table looking like a kicked mongrel. He'd caught enough of the conversation with Portia to know how much her last remark must have been like a kick in the balls. And, yes, his lady did have balls. She swaggered around like John Wayne wearing them, and her fierce independence, like some sort of badge of honor.

In his head, the scene had played something like:
he walks in, puts his arms around her. Holly sighs and leans her slight weight into his strong, manly chest and allows him to share her pain
. Josh laughed. The hollow sound echoed across the silent kitchen.

In the depths of the house, a door slammed shut.

Josh swallowed past the bile in his esophagus. Of course he could take his unloading with dignity and get on with his life. Except a woman like Holly deserved somebody by her side.

Holly Partridge thought she was done with him. One night of mind-blowing sex and
so long, sweetheart
. But there was this one factor she'd left out of her equation. Him. She needed his help and, dammit, she was going to get it. There had to be a way to manage Portia and for Holly to have a life of her own. And he had a growing certainty that he wanted to be part of whatever future Holly had planned.

Did she think he was going to calmly accept his dismissal like a good boy? Huh!

Of course the average stalker had much the same view.

His head hurt. His chest ached as well.

He could be coming down with something.

Chapter Twenty

Holly had been staring at the glow in the dark solar system on the ceiling for so long she'd made a pattern in the random collection of stars and planets. A younger version of Josh must have stuck it up there and his mother still hadn't gotten around to taking it down.

There was no reason for her to be awake, but it didn't seem to make any difference to her mind. Her brain kept on with its exhausting churning.

Portia had vacillated between utter despair and bleak despondency all day.

Holly had barely been able to leave her alone for a minute. It had taken some time to settle her down to sleep after a postdinner crying jag, and Holly had crawled into bed shortly afterward. She was as battered as if she'd done ten rounds with Mike Tyson.

Still, she couldn't sleep. She'd lain in the dark listening to the sounds of Josh moving around the house. Making a cup of coffee, the low rumble of his voice as he took a call on his cell, his footsteps past her door, and then the soft thud of a door shutting. Followed by the sound of running water as he took a shower. He'd been gone for most of the day and returned only after she and Portia had gone to bed.

But that had been hours ago, and the room next door had long since fallen silent. Yet she still lay here, looking at the Day-Glo universe. Had he put it there for himself or for the benefit of whoever he managed to get into this bed with him?

Holly stifled a giggle. It opened up a whole world of corny lines.

She groaned at herself and rolled over. A tired headache stirred, which was probably why it took her a while to realize the pounding came from outside her head.

She sat up and snapped on the light. It ricocheted off the back of her eyeballs, and she closed her eyes to accustom them to the glare.

The door next to hers opened, and the heavy tread of Josh's footsteps padded on the wooden floor.

The clock beside the bed told her it was well past the witching hour.

She silenced any incipient protests from her tired body as she rolled out of the bed. A light came on from the other side of her door, and Holly hauled a T-shirt over her panties. She might be developing a fondness for Hugo Boss tees. The fabric was soft and voluptuous on her skin.

Opening her door a crack, she pressed her ear to the gap.

Josh opened the front door. He spoke, the bass rumble of his voice, and then a lighter, higher note in reply.

A surge of outrage snapped her spine straight. A woman visiting Josh at this hour? Was the son of a bitch taking booty calls?

Holly opened her door wider. She hung her entire head out the door to hear better. There was something familiar about the cadence of the female voice.

The front door squeaked as Josh opened it, and Holly crept to the top of the stairs.

Around the bend in the staircase, a pair of leather Jesus sandals appeared, partially concealed by the sweep of a long skirt. The toenails were unpainted, but a collection of toe rings glimmered.

Holly moved down the stairs at a rapid trot. Ah, shit, shit, shit.

Josh was closing the front door when she got to the bottom of the stairs.

“Emma?” Holly took a step forward.
What the hell?

Josh staggered back as Emma barreled past him, through the vestibule, and deeper into the house.

“There you are.” Emma greeted Holly with a scathing look, which swept Holly from her wild, sleep-tousled hair to her bare legs and back up. “And you're naked?”

“Emma?” Holly tugged the bottom of her shirt and cursed herself for doing it. Emma had always been a prude. “What are you doing here?”

Josh's expression remained carefully blank.

It was the first time she'd seen him since the scene in the kitchen, and Holly's hungry eyes drank in the sight of him. He looked sleepy and rumpled, and regret twisted in her. “Yours?”

Holly nodded.

Josh turned to study the new arrival.

Emma and Portia were fraternal twins. Emma was the shorter of the two. Closer to Holly in height, they also shared the same curvy, compact body. Emma had lucked out and got their father's straight, tamable blond hair. It hung as a long, silken curtain all the way to her waist. She invariably wore it braided, like now. Emma's hair never went insane, even when its owner charged into houses at three in the morning. The rest of Emma was more like an escapee from Woodstock.

“You might remember my sister, Emma.” Holly tried to see her as Josh would. “Portia's twin.”

“Ah.” He turned to Emma with a charming smile. “Welcome.”

It completely took the wind out of Emma's sails and she deflated. She fiddled with the beads around her neck as she stared at Josh.

Holly understood the feeling. It was a whole lot of eye candy for a tired girl to get her brain around.

He'd misplaced his shirt again and pulled on his shorts to answer the door. The hallway light glazed over him and bronzed his skin like some sort of pagan god's.

“You didn't call.” Emma turned her head back to Holly. Her eyes followed reluctantly. “I was waiting for a call and it never came.”

“It was late when we got back from the hospital—”

“Hospital?” Emma leaped on the word and her eyes grew huge. “What were you doing at the hospital? It's Portia, isn't it? I had this terrible foreboding. I drew the Brothers and Sisters card out of the Magical Unicorns and I was sure.” She gave Josh a resigned look. “I knew.”

“Of course you did,” he said.

Holly shot a look at him over Emma's shoulder. She would bet her left arm he didn't have a clue what Emma was talking about. Yet here he stood, at something to three in the morning, looking like every girl's favorite birthday wish and being effortlessly charming.

“I got worried.” Emma's gaze flitted back to him.

“Portia is fine.” Josh gave Emma a warm smile. “She's upstairs sleeping.”

Emma twisted a string of deep blue crystals around her finger as she eyed Josh suspiciously.

“You found her?” An expression of painful relief crossed Emma's features.

“We found her.” Josh closed and locked the front door. “That's probably what the oracle cards were trying to tell you.”

Now it was Holly's turn to stare at him. He knew what oracle cards were? “I texted you,” Holly said. “I texted you on our way to the hospital.”

“I don't like texts. You should've called and told me.” Emma rounded on her with flashing eyes and a heaving chest. “You promised you would call.”

“I know, Em.” Holly cursed herself silently. “I'm sorry, but I was busy and it slipped my mind.”

Emma didn't look in the least mollified, and Holly rushed to fill the loaded silence. “We found Portia yesterday. It took a long time to get her released from hospital and today she was unsettled. I didn't get a chance to do anything.” She softened her tone a bit. “I was going to call you first thing in the morning.”

“I haven't been sleeping.” Emma's top lip wobbled. “She is my twin, you know, and we share this special connection.”

Holly nearly snorted. The special connection was nothing more than a pact to keep things from their older sister. Portia wasn't the only one who believed her own bullshit.

“I knew I had to come.” Emma tapped her breastbone with one beringed finger. “In here, I sensed Portia needed me.”

“What time did you set out?” Too tired to get into it, Holly got matters back to the pragmatic.

“Just after you texted,” Emma said. “I closed the shop and left.”

“That was over fifteen hours ago.” Holly gaped at her sister.

Emma stuck out her jaw. “I got lost.”

“From London to here?” You could find the way blindfolded. “It's nearly a straight road all the way through.”

“It's not well sign-posted,” Josh said.

Emma threw him a glance loaded with gratitude.

Emma didn't need any more encouragement and Holly glared at him. She was almost sure there was a twitch around the corner of his mouth.

“I don't like to speed.” Emma sniffed and smoothed a tendril of hair back over her scalp. “I'm an old soul.” She looked at Josh. “We are naturally biased toward order.”

“Yes, but you could have crawled faster,” Holly said.

“It's not my fault I get anxious when I have to drive alone.” Her mouth tightened as her expression grew alarmingly righteous. “I went to the address you gave me and you weren't there. I was worried. You know I don't like to be in strange places when I don't know where I am. You know that, Holly.”

Emma's hazel eyes, also a gift from their father, filled with tears that spilled over and slid down her rounded cheeks. Emma, with her bohemian blouses, long skirts, crystals, and no makeup, could pass for sixteen.

Josh, a newcomer to the emotional faucet that was Emma, caved and immediately went to her and patted her shoulder. “I'm sure it was frightening for you.”

“We left a message with the doorman,” Holly said.

“Yes, but I couldn't find a parking space for the longest time, and I wasn't sure the building was the right one. I had to go back to my car and check with the universe that I was on track.”

“Did you consult the cards?” Josh dipped his head to Emma.

Holly must have woken up and stumbled into another dimension. That was the only explanation that made sense.

“No.” Emma heaved a massive sigh. “Crystals. I checked the alignment.”

“Ah.” He gave a nod of understanding.

Holly gaped at him. Was he kidding her? He was listening to Emma, his handsome face grave and intent on what her sister was saying.

Emma gave him a mile-by-mile account of her journey—all four hundred–odd of them.

Josh listened, making the occasional encouraging noise.

Some of Holly's irritation melted away.

He treated Emma with the same courtesy he extended to everyone else. He didn't judge or reach superficial conclusions. He took everyone as they came. Was that because people always saw his perfect looks and made all sorts of assumptions? She didn't know, but she did know she liked this facet of Josh. It made him one of the good guys.

“I'm sorry; we should have known you would be desperate to know what was happening.” Josh dug out some Kleenex.

“I drove all day and night.” Emma wept softly. “I had to get here. I've brought the crystals with me in case I have to lay a grid for Portia's protection.” She blinked up at Josh. “Perhaps I should lay the grid anyway?”

“Why don't we talk in the morning?” Josh handed Emma another Kleenex. “You're exhausted, and it's probably not a good idea to try to do something that intense.”

Part of Holly wanted to smack him, but it wouldn't have done any good. He was just being Josh—gorgeous, kind, accepting Josh—and her heart did the leap thing. “Did you bring me some money?” she cut in to the love-fest before she did something stupid and jumped him.

“Oh, yes.” Emma patted her burlap sack bag. “I have it with me.”

“And some clothes?”

“You never asked for clothes.” Emma glared at her. “You said to sort out the credit card, and I did that. And to bring money. You never said you needed clothes.”

“No, I didn't.” She'd got exactly what she'd asked for, and Emma wouldn't tax her brain any further than strictly necessary.

“Let's get you a bed,” Josh said. “We can all get some sleep and talk in the morning.”

Emma batted her sodden lashes at him and sighed, as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders.

Holly empathized. He had that way about him. It could make a smart girl go stupid every time.

“You can have Richard's old room.” Josh gave Emma's shoulder a quick squeeze.

“You're kind.” Emma swallowed and gave him a tremulous smile. “Grace and Holly always said you were a shit, but I don't think so.”

“Thank you.” Josh grinned. “Do you need me to get your bags out of the car?”

“Yes, please.”

His eyes twinkled as he opened the door and let himself out.

Emma hissed at her as soon as Josh was out of earshot. “I thought you hated Josh Hunter.”

“So did I.” Holly led Emma up the stairs.

It didn't take them long to get Emma settled. Determination to get back to bed drove Holly to waste no time filling Emma in on the details. Finally, she slipped out of the room and closed the door behind her.

She was surprised to see Josh leaning against the wall outside Richard's former bedroom.

He oozed sexy with his tousled hair and shadow-darkened chin. He crossed his arms over his chest, bunching the muscles of his arms and shoulders. Brackets of muscles arched on either side of his lower belly and disappeared beneath the low rise of his shorts. “Does she have everything?”

“Yes.” Holly dragged her eyes away from all that lovely man. Her mouth was like parchment paper and she swallowed. “I didn't know she was coming or else I would have asked.”

He gave a careless shrug, as if it was no matter. His eyes strolled down her body to her toes. “Nice T-shirt.”

“It's Hugo Boss.” Holly's flush started on her cheeks and moved south. “They make a good T-shirt.”

“So I've heard.”

The silence hung in the hallway. He was close enough that Holly could reach out and run her finger over the horizontal lines of his six-pack. Or perhaps trace those hip brackets that girls didn't have. Did they have a name? There had to be a name. Something that mouthwatering must have a name.