The Red Diary Read online

  On impulse, he reached down to touch the black beaded bracelet around her ankle. He'd noticed it when she'd gotten on the bike with him, and again when he'd taken off her shoes. "What's this made of?" He turned one of the thick, clumpy beads between his fingers.

  "Hematite. It's supposed to ground you." "Ground you?"

  She bit her lip, keeping her eyes on the black water.

  His fingertips rested on the anklet, on her smooth skin. "It's supposed to help you stay true to yourself, stay connected to what's important to you, that sort of thing."

  "Does it work?" Even if you're not like Carolyn, can I persuade you to open yourself up, let yourself go? Just for me? He gently traced an invisible line halfway up her calf with one fingertip, having the feeling she'd heard the silent questions as well as the spoken one.

  "I'm not sure." She shifted her legs away from him.

  They sat in silence a moment longer, until she said, without warning, "Where else have you done it besides on a horse?" He looked at her, could see her blushing even more now.

  She shook her head. "I don't know why I asked you that. It just came out. Forget it, okay?"

  He didn't take his eyes off her, couldn't take them off her. "In the ocean," he said. And he really had done it in the ocean, but the answer came to mind because of what he'd read earlier in her book. He remembered her look of shock, followed by one of captivation, when he'd told her the lie about the horse, and he wanted to wrench all that emotion from her again. Her jaw dropped only slightly in response, her eyes the deep color of midnight beneath the moon. So the reaction held less stunned fascination this time ... yet enough to make it all too easy for Nick to slowly lean over and kiss her. His lips brushed across hers, short and feather-soft.

  When she pulled in her breath afterward, a mountain of longing erupted in his chest.

  He curled one hand around her neck to bring her nearer, then pressed his mouth more fully over her delicate lips. He kissed her warm and deep, relishing this first full taste of her-until she turned her head abruptly, leaving his lips on her cheek as she went wooden beneath his touch.

  She didn't move away, though, and they stayed like that for a long, still moment. He grew aware of the sea breeze on his face, of her long hair blowing around them both.

  He eased his mouth toward her ear, listening to the heated sound of his own breath. He whispered lowly, "You don't like my kisses?"

  "It's not that. It's ... "

  "What, Princess?"

  She drew back, yet their faces remained only inches apart. "Why did you call me that?"

  It'd slipped out. "That's just what you make me think of. A princess in her castle. Beautiful and untouchable." "Untouchable?" she whispered at the irony of the situation.

  "That's what I saw, what I thought. But I've been wanting to touch, wanting to ... know you." Their eyes stayed locked by heat, and need rumbled inside him. "Let me kiss you, Princess."

  As he slowly angled his mouth back over hers, he felt things changing, her body loosening; he sensed her giving in to what she wanted, what they both wanted. Fire spread slowly through his veins as he kissed her gentle and deep, and when she slid her arms around his neck, he let his hands find her waist, hips-he caressed and kneaded her sweet curves with the same slow, hot rhythm of their kisses. When he instinctually opened his mouth, she took the initiative and eased her tongue inside. He circled it warmly with his.

  When things grew so intense that they stopped kissing for a moment, their faces stayed close, and Nick saw her bite her lip, witnessed the passion brimming in her eyes, felt the liquid heat flowing from every pore of her body. He couldn't remember a time when he'd gotten this hot from just kissing, holding. "Damn," he whispered.

  "Wh-what?" she breathed shakily.

  God, he wanted her. Wanted to make her tremble harder, wanted to make her writhe against him in an abandon she'd never even imagined before. He didn't answer, just resumed the sweet, heated kisses that had flames licking up his spine, down his thighs, through his arms all the way to his fingertips as his hands slowly roamed her body, finally easing her back in the soft sand.

  He'd never heard anything prettier than the sounds of her breath; her hot, needy sighs wrapped around him like velvet. Even Monet couldn't have improved on this. Nick let one palm glide over her breast, then wondered if he was imagining it when she tightened her grip on his neck and kissed him harder. No, he wasn't imagining it-she wanted him to touch her. Thick desire pulsed between them like a living thing.

  He dragged his kisses from her lips over her cheek. .. down onto her slender neck, which she arched in invitation. Firmly sweeping both hands down over her incredible breasts, he lowered gentle kisses to her chest, through the V in her sweater, and when his hands found the bottom edge of the fabric, he slowly eased it up far enough to kiss her soft, smooth stomach. Risking a glance upward, he found his princess's eyes shut in ecstasy, her lips parted and still issuing the sexy sighs that fueled him. Her hands twined in his hair.

  With painstakingly slow movements, he pushed the clingy fabric of her sweater up over her rounded breasts, then let his hands close over the pale-colored lace barely concealing her nipples. He raked his thumbs over them. and they beaded harder against his touch.

  Sliding his hands to the sides of her breasts, he lowered gentle kisses over the soft lace that hugged them and the bared, curving flesh above. Beneath him, Lauren gasped at each caress of his lips. So on fire for her that he could barely breathe, he wondered if she could feel his erection beneath his jeans, pressing against her leg.

  He continued kissing her through the bra as he ran one hand down her skirt to the back of her bent knee, then slowly let his fingers glide up her silky inner thigh. Her breathing grew shallow as he sucked her nipple through the lace. and when his fingers reached her panties. he found them soaking wet. He released a low moan as he hooked his teeth over the top edge of her bra and used them to pull the lace down.

  Their eyes met over her exposed breast. She looked wild, and he wanted her with a gut-clenching intensity. With their gazes still locked, he slowly dragged his tongue across her pearl-hard nipple, leaving it wet beneath the caress of the ocean breeze. She shuddered and let her eyes fall shut, her head drop back. and he drew the pink crest into his mouth. suckling with the same slow rhythm he used to stroke between her legs.

  She moved against his hand, arched against his mouth. moaned and whimpered and made him crazy with holding back, until finally he slipped his fingers beneath her panties into her wetness. Raw pleasure exploded inside him at the intimate touch-And then she pushed him away-yanked his arm from beneath her skirt, gave his shoulder a hard shove. He rose off her, breathing hard, his heartbeat pulsing through every inch of his body. Despite their discussion just a few minutes earlier, he found himself shocked that she'd put a stop to the powerful heat they'd been sharing. But then he remembered all the guys at the party and the mixture of annoyanceá and disgust he'd repeatedly witnessed in her eyes. And that she'd explained herself as "complicated."

  Pretending to look at the ocean again, he watched from his peripheral vision as Lauren sat up, adjusted the pastel lace back into place, then pulled her top back down.

  "I'm sorry if I did something you didn't want me to. But you seemed He knew the explanation was falling short even before her glare sliced into him. "Like Carolyn?"

  "I was going to say you seemed like you wanted the same thing I did."

  "Well, I'm not like her. Didn't I just tell you that?" Nick sighed, wondering what had gone wrong. One minute they'd been totally into each other; the next she was acting like he'd attacked her. "Yeah, but I ... " "Didn't buy it? Wondered why else I would let you bring me here?"

  He turned to look at her. "Believe it or not, I didn't bring you here for this." And only in that moment did he realize that was the truth; oddly enough, he really hadn't. Even as badly as he'd wanted her. he'd wanted something more, too. He'd meant what he said to her a few minutes ago--he didn't know w
hen it had begun, or why, but he really wanted to know her. She glanced at him sideways. '''Then why?"

  He pulled in his breath, and kept himself from looking away. "I wanted to rescue you." Although things had changed since leaving the party, when he'd approached her it'd been with no other thought than getting her away from the roomful of guys who'd been bothering her.

  Lauren laughed without mirth. "What do they say? Out of the frying pan and into the fire?"

  "I'm sorry. I didn't plan on things working out like this." But he could tell she didn't believe him.

  "You want to know the truth about me" She wrapped her arms around drawn up knees.

  "Yeah," he said. "I do."

  She looked out over the ocean, appearing to weigh her words carefully. "The fact is, sex is special to me. When I have sex with someone, it means something. It's like a ... special connection, a gift I can only give someone I really care about. I've never done it with a guy I wasn't in a serious relationship with. Maybe that makes me old fashioned, but it's how I am." He cast her a tentative look, dropping his gaze briefly to her clothing, then risked pointing out the obvious. "Don't take this the wrong way, but ... you don't seem like an old-fashioned girl."

  "A girl can't look sexy without wanting to give it to every guy under the sun?"

  "I didn't say that, I just ... "

  ''Think I look easy because I choose to wear a miniskirt and heels?"

  ''No. I'm just ... surprised, I guess. There aren't many girls like you around. Not that I've met, anyway."

  "Well, sorry you happened on to one. Hope it didn't ruin your whole evening."

  Nick didn't know what else to say. Mainly because he really hadn't brought her out here for this, despite his plans for seduction when he'd accepted the party invitation. And he hadn't intended to make her mad, either, but clearly, he had. Every time he opened his mouth to try to explain, he said the wrong thing.

  "Maybe you should take me back to the party now." His stomach sank a little. "Sure that's where you want to go?" "I'll just get my car, then go home."

  He walked behind her as she trudged through the soft sand toward the parking lot, knowing he'd blown something with her, but not quite knowing why he cared so much. When the hell had his emotions gotten involved here?

  When they got back to her shoes, she sat down and put them on while he stood with his hands in his pockets, peering through the trees toward the causeway. Reaching the motorcycle, he passed her the helmet, watched her struggle again with the strip, then said, "Move your hands. I'll get it." After he fastened it, he wordlessly climbed on the bike and waited for her to join him.

  Feeling her slide her arms around his waist, press herself against him, was nothing short of torture. He wanted to be back on the beach with her, moving inside her, listening to her moan. But then he told himself to quit thinking about that and get the hell out of here like she wanted, so he shoved back the kickstand and took off over the causeway, the night wind whipping through his hair.

  He kept his eyes on the road, his only focus for the next few minutes getting her back to Phil's house, bringing this ill-fated night to an end. When they returned, more cars lined the street than when they'd left, so he didn't bother looking for a place to park; he simply stopped the bike alongside the silver BMW convertible and waited as she climbed off behind him. As before, she stood fighting with the helmet strap and he said, "Come here." She sighed, then allowed him to loosen it, lifting the helmet from her head onto his.

  When he looked back up, she was already walking away. those sexy heels clicking with each step as she headed to her car. He didn't want to let her go, didn't want things to end this way.

  "Lauren," he said over the hum of his bike's engine.

  She stopped and looked back. "I didn't mean to piss you off."

  "You didn't." She sounded way too matter-of-fact. "I think I did."

  "Listen," she said with a sigh, "let's just forget about this,okay?"

  Forget about it? Was she serious? He'd probably spoken the same words to women before, women he wanted no more than a night with, but he couldn't believe Lauren thought the heat they'd generated would be that easy to forget. "Starting tomorrow morning," she went on, "you'll just be my house painter again, nothing else. All right?" He simply stared at her in the dark as an invisible fist began to slowly squeeze his chest. He wished he could see her better, wished she could see him. Wished she could see the hurt and anger beginning to boil inside him as he let it burn away anything more tender he might've begun to feel. Her words echoed through his head, then even expanded. You 'll just be my house painter. My servant. The man who s so far below me that your mouth on my breast, your hand between my legs, is something to forget.

  "Lauren, my dear, is that you?" Henry Ash's voice echoed from the walkway that dipped off the road on the other side of Lauren's car and led to Phil's front door. Lauren turned to look, and Nick could just make out Henry's imposing form as he stood talking with another man, the slim brunette still glued to his side.

  "Yeah, Dad, it's me." She rounded the Z4 and started down the path toward her father.

  "Who's that you're with out there?" "Nobody, Dad," she replied. "Nobody."

  Nick took a deep breath and slowly clenched and unclenched his fists, trying not to let her words get the best of him. But some things never changed, it seemed. To the Ashes, the Armstrong's were nobody. He closed his eyes, trying to crush back the sensation of those old scars gaping even wider now.

  Maybe I'll be somebody to you yet, Princess.

  He'd come here tonight simply wanting to seduce her, but upon reaching the water's edge, he'd gradually let his desires grow into something deeper than just attraction, heat, shared passion. And he suddenly thought he understood why he'd cared when she'd tromped away from him across the beach, her delicate feet kicking up sand with each step. He'd cared because he'd wanted to show her he was good enough for her, worthy of her and despite himself, he wanted it even more now, after what had just happened on the beach, the things she'd just said.

  Letting his fists close tightly around the hand grips, Nick gave the bike some gas and sped away in the night, knowing everything had just changed. Tonight she'd given him an overwhelming desire to show her he could matter to her. And after tonight, he also knew exactly how to accomplish that.

  Chapter Seven

  Lauren lay in bed the next morning, watching the sunlight stream across the room through the small half moon window arcing above her bed. For the first time, it occurred to her that Nick could look in through it when he reached that part of the house. The idea made her even more uneasy than she already was.

  If she hadn't just glanced over to see her clothes strewn across the floor like they'd been ripped off in passion, she might not have believed last night had really happened. As it was, they reminded her of how strung out she'd felt upon finally returning home-she'd undressed hurriedly, yanked a silk night-slip from a hanger, and crawled beneath the covers without even a thought toward removing her makeup or brushing her hair. She'd just wanted to sleep and forget and put it behind her. Just then, Isadora leapt up onto the wide bed and padded toward her. "Hey, Izzy," she said, finding a small smile for the cat. Isadora wasn't the most affectionate pet in the world, so it surprised Lauren when the cat curled up beside her, snuggling into the curve of her waist. She scratched behind Izzy's ear, wondering insanely if somehow the cat had known she could use a little comfort.

  She had almost betrayed herself last night with Nick Armstrong. She closed her eyes to crush back the searing memories, but they hovered in her mind as vividly as if they'd just taken place five minutes ago.

  It had been mostly her fault-she knew that. Where else have you done it besides on a horse? She winced, remembering. Looking back, she could only conclude that it had been a lame, desperate attempt to see if some bizarre cosmic tie existed between them, if her fantasies were connected to him in some way. She didn't know exactly when that idea had become implanted in her head
--somewhere between his story about the horse and the words trust me-but it had been the only semblance of an explanation she could muster. And if she'd actually believed in such things, he'd given her the right answer last night: the ocean.

  The first time he'd kissed her, it had been like a tiny bolt of lightning injected into her veins, traveling the length of her body before she could blink. Even still, she'd remained somewhat in control, aware that a meaningless fling with a sexually intimidating guy wasn't what she wanted. Until, that is, his voice had come dark and seductive in her ear. Let me kiss you, Princess. After that, she could remember nothing but sensation, growing hotter and heavier, her body yearning for more with each kiss. each touch. She closed her hand tight around Izzy's side as she recalled the escalating heat, his tongue raking across her nipple while their eyes met, his fingers stroking her where she'd ached the most.

  Stopping had been agony. But something inside her had suddenly clicked on, reminding her of everything she'd told him afterward: She couldn't have sex with a guy she didn't care about; sex was important, special. She just wasn't Carolyn, no matter how madly she'd pulsed with wanting him. Oh God ... "How am I gonna face him now, Izzy?" she whispered. "How?" The telltale sound of a ladder being leaned against the house answered, jarring her. She flinched, and Izzy fled the bed. "Deserter," Lauren called lightly.

  Nick was out there again. Making her feel like a prisoner in her own home.

  But it was Friday, and if she could just avoid him today, the weekend would be here, and maybe by Monday, some of the shame and horror of last night would have faded.

  The thought propelled her out of bed and into the shower-where she absolutely refused to let herself think about Nick Armstrong, or his hands, or his mouth .

  Dressing quickly, she headed for her office, where she gathered some files and her laptop. She was getting out of the house for the day. She had plenty of work to do, but it could just as easily be done at the Ash offices in a spare cubicle or conference room. If anyone asked, she'd claim a worker at her house was making too much noise for her to concentrate.