by Mary Campisi
“You look good behind that desk.”
Ash glanced up and wished he hadn’t. Megan hadn’t exaggerated the debacle of Pete’s foray into hair coloring. Highlights was too liberal a term, especially when three-quarters of his brother’s head was covered in…yellow. Or was that a bleach? He must have stared a second too long because Pete ran a hand through his hair and said, “Is it that bad?”
“Worse.”
He sank into a chair and sighed. “I just wanted to try it but the second the stylist started painting my head, I knew it was a mistake.”
Ash nodded. He was right there.
“The woman in the salon told me it looked great, that I looked thirty-five.” He rubbed his eyes and blew out a breath. “I don’t, though. I look every bit of my forty-four years, but I feel like a foolish sixteen-year-old.”
“What did Caroline say?”
“She hasn’t seen it yet. The boys are off school today and she took them to her sister’s last night.”
“Good. No, great. That will give us time to put you back together before she seriously starts to wonder about you.”
“I guess I should return the leather jacket, huh?”
Ash shook his head. “I know you didn’t want me to get involved, but let me talk to Caroline.”
“Well, actually…” Pete toyed with the tassel on his loafer. “She wants to see you, too.” He dragged his gaze to Ash’s. “And she wants to meet Arianna.”
***
Peter Lancaster was an older version of Ash, but stockier, paler, and much more serious. Of course, he’d have to be if he’d taken over the business and the care of his younger brother after his parents’ tragic death. Events like that shaped a person’s life, erased bits and pieces of their personality that would have remained intact had the tragedy not occurred. There was a sad rigidity to the man, evident in the careful selection and cadence of his words, the straightness of his shoulders that could not be comfortable except in their familiarity, and the piercing directness of his brown eyes. Those eyes unsettled Arianna, made her look away as he studied her, even when his tone had been modulated and his words directed at someone else.
She’d known about Peter Lancaster and his success in business long before she learned he was Ash’s older brother. The Philadelphia Inquirer counted him among the top five businessmen in the city year after year. Business sections called him a shrewd negotiator who knew how to turn a profit. There must have been pictures of him in local papers and undoubtedly she’d seen them, but his face hadn’t mattered because she had no connection to him. Now she did. He was the man who threatened to shut down Ash’s inheritance if he married Arianna. Shrewd? Absolutely. There was something disconcerting to know a man with such power had his sights trained on her.
When Ash told her his brother wanted to meet her, she’d almost declined. Wealthy, privileged people who pegged others by their bank accounts and discriminated accordingly were not individuals she chose to spend time around. But there’d been something in Ash’s eyes that told her how much this meant to him, and crazy as it was, she didn’t want to disappoint him. And now, here they were, sitting across from Peter, or Pete, as Ash called him, and his wife, Caroline, in their gazillion-dollar home in the suburbs. Marble. Original artwork. Even a small fountain.
“Arianna, I’d love to see your work.” Caroline Lancaster smiled and added, “I’ll stop in next week and maybe you can make a few suggestions.”
Arianna forced a smile across her lips and managed an answer. “Of course. That would be wonderful.” Caroline seemed nice enough and gracious but that wasn’t the point. Arianna didn’t want another Lancaster prying around her business, asking questions out of curiosity or an attempt to foster friendship. If she discussed her reticence with Quinn, he’d demand Ash shut down his family’s speculations. Ash knew she valued her privacy; he just didn’t know why.
“I’m sure Arianna would be happy to show you the studio,” Ash glanced at her, “but she’s in the middle of a huge project right now, so the tour will have to wait a few weeks. It will be worth it, I guarantee it.” He lifted his beer glass, took a drink. “You’re going to love the jade, Caroline. Set in sterling silver. Pretty impressive.”
“I’ll look forward to it.”
There was a touch of wistfulness laced in her voice and a sadness in her blue eyes that almost made Arianna interrupt and tell her to come tomorrow. But she didn’t. She’d stopped worrying about making everyone happy and not disappointing others years ago…after her repeated attempt to reconcile with her father ended in hurt and disillusionment. She might not want the woman snooping around, but she could be polite. “Are you interested in art?”
Caroline traced the base of her wine glass and didn’t answer at first. “I’m interested in work that has passion, no matter the form. Writing, dance, pottery.” Her laughter flitted over them, desperate and empty. “Even pulling weeds, if it’s done with enthusiasm and dedication.”
“I don’t think the gardeners would agree, dear.” A rush of pink tinged Peter Lancaster’s neck, swirled to his cheeks in a flush that had nothing to do with the wine in his glass. “People find purpose in all different avenues, paid and non-paid endeavors.”
His wife sipped her wine with deliberateness. “Of course they do, but some let money define their purpose.” She studied her glass and did not look at him. “Others let money control them, or those they love.”
Ash coughed. Arianna sipped in air and stared at her plate. Caroline cleared her throat and said, “I’m sorry. I’ve ruined the evening and we haven’t even eaten our salads yet.” She clutched her husband’s hand and squeezed. “Pete wanted to wait until after dinner, but I can’t sit here and pretend we don’t all know why you’re here, Arianna.”
“Caroline, what’s going on?” Ash stared at his sister-in-law, confused and clearly not pleased.
“Let me speak, Ash. It’s important. Pete’s committed the unforgiveable: He’s come between two people who love each other and threatened that love.” She shook her head and sniffed. “I don’t know how he can live with himself, and there are times when I don’t know how I can continue to live with him.”
“Caroline. Please.” There was torment and real pain in Peter Lancaster’s voice.
“Oh, Pete, I know you regret your actions.” She swiped at a tear. “And I’m certain we’re making Ash and Arianna miserable with embarrassment, but I can’t pretend. Say what needs saying, and do it now.” She paused, then added, “All of it.”
“No.” The word spun around the room, landed back on Ash. He gentled his tone, but there was an unusual forcefulness behind his words. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ve explained things to Arianna; can’t we just let it go? I told her what a great cook you are and I’ve been looking forward to that chateaubriand of yours.”
“Ash. It’s got to be said.” Caroline nodded toward her husband. “And Pete’s got to say it.”
If she could disappear, Arianna would choose this exact moment to vaporize. She blinked hard but when she opened her eyes, Peter Lancaster was staring straight at her, tears in his eyes, a pained look on his face. He did not appear powerful, or shrewd, or in command.
“When our parents died, it was my job to take care of Ash. He was only nine. Kids shouldn’t lose a parent at such a young age, but to lose two the way he did? I couldn’t stand thinking about the fallout from it. I was nineteen and could barely deal with it, but I was determined to see my little brother was loved and protected from everything.” Ash reached under the table and clasped Arianna’s hand. “I tried to control everything—his friends, his successes, his life. I refused to let him fail and did my damnedest to limit any unpleasantness.” He sighed. “I created a monster.”
Ash’s lips twitched. “But a nice one.”
Peter shrugged and squeezed his wife’s hand. “I have a hard time giving up control. Keeping things in order and managing problems have been what I’ve done since the minute I got the phone ca
ll about our parents. It’s hard to retrain your brain when you’re zeroed in on taking over and making things work. I guess I figured if I could control something, I could manage the outcome. But Ash was so”—he paused—“reckless.” His gaze skittered from Ash to Arianna. “He loaned huge sums of money to people who were clearly using him and had no intention of paying him back. Many didn’t even know him. Not really. That didn’t stop Ash from doling out thousands, taking spur of the moment trips to Pamplona to see the running of the bulls, or heading to Australia to watch the perfect sunset.”
“I forgot about Pamplona.” Ash leaned toward Arianna and said, “You would not have enjoyed it. Too many non-functioning bathrooms.”
“But that didn’t stop Ash from hiring a tour guide and taking a side trip to Morocco where I didn’t hear from him for ten days. I thought he’d been killed or held for ransom by the group of nomads he was traveling with. So, when I found out he had a fiancée I’d never heard of, and he planned to marry her without telling me, I thought it was another reckless scheme.”
Arianna sat very still. “How did you find out?” She had to know what else he may have uncovered.
“I have a private investigator I’ve used for years.”
“Since middle school,” Ash said.
Peter reddened. “I know it sounds terrible, but Ash was an easy target. Money meant nothing to him because he had too much of it and no respect for it. He was angry about our parents, which made him erratic and reckless, and I’m sure the reason I have—” he coughed and touched the side of his head “—gray hair.”
Ash jumped in. “At least I didn’t give you those god-awful blond highlights men are getting these days. Gray is cool, don’t you think, Caroline?”
“Yes.” She brushed her fingers through her husband’s hair. “I do.”
The flush spread to Peter’s ears and he flashed a warning look at Ash. Something had happened that had to do with hair and highlights and apparently neither man planned to divulge what that something was.
Peter cleared his throat and said, “Arianna, Ash didn’t break up with you because I threatened to cut him off.” He cleared his throat. “He did it to protect you.”
“Protect me? How? Why?” She glanced at Ash who had gone pale, gaze fixed on his brother. “I don’t understand.”
“Pete. Don’t.”
“I have to, Ash. She needs to know.” He sucked in a breath. “I threatened to blackball you unless he broke it off.”
She couldn’t breathe. His words suffocated the air in her brain, made the room spin, her heart pound with such force it ached. All this time, the hurt, the anger, the feelings of betrayal and it hadn’t been that at all. Ash had been trying to protect her. She squeezed her eyes shut. He had not betrayed her. A single tear slipped down her cheek. He had left to protect her. Another tear fell, then another. She opened her eyes as the truth whispered to her heart, spread to her soul. Ash watched her, guarded, intense. Uncertain. Arianna brought his hand to her lips, kissed his fingers, and murmured, “You didn’t betray me.”
***
Later, Ash would recall the moment Arianna pushed back her chair, pulled him to his feet, and buried herself against him, hard and tight, tears flowing, body trembling, words spilling over him, capturing them in a cocoon. You left to protect me. And all this time…I thought…
Caroline had cried. Pete had coughed and sputtered and swiped at his eyes. Ash had almost come undone. He’d made hasty good-byes, forgetting the chateaubriand and most of his manners with a promise to get together another time. Then he’d helped a numb and still crying Arianna to the car and sped to her house, heart and brain close to exploding with sparks of hope. Maybe his brother’s confession would help Pete and Caroline get past this rough spot in their relationship. Ash guessed when you were with somebody that long, you hit a patch of gravel now and again like he did on his bike. The trick was being aware of it and making the necessary adjustments so you didn’t crash. If you traveled enough roads, sooner or later you were going to face a challenge: road kill, fallen branches, something darting into your path. If you had your eyes open and scanned further ahead than a foot in front of you, you’d see the problem coming. He guessed marriage and relationships were like that. You had to stay alert, focused, and ready to handle the next obstacle coming around the bend.
He’d face a whole damn arsenal of challenges for Arianna because she was worth it; they were worth it. Actually, he had an obstacle blocking his path right now—a boulder—and Arianna was the only one who could move it. That boulder was her past and if she didn’t open up to him, it would crush them. Pete hadn’t mentioned the investigator or what the man had uncovered because he knew Ash wanted to hear it from Arianna—that’s when the boulder would crumble and they’d have a shot at a future. But it had better happen soon. For now, he’d take whatever she gave him, scraps of truth, bits of emotion. Anything. He’d been without her too long.
She kept her hand clutched to his knee, alternately sniffing and wiping her nose with a tissue, and didn’t speak until they were inside her condo. Then, it was to repeat what she’d said after Pete’s confession. “You left to protect me.”
Ash framed her face with his hands and said in the gentlest of tones, “I’d do anything for you.”
Another tear slid down her cheek and she swiped at it. “I don’t cry.”
“Oh, since when? That barrel you filled at Pete’s or after you got out of the car?”
She smiled and swiped again. “Actually, not since I was—” she paused, swallowed “—twelve.”
He traced her lips with his finger, kept his voice soft and encouraging. “What happened then?”
“I…” She stiffened and shut down—eyes narrowed, face pinched, shoulders straight—pulling away, toward a past she did not want to reveal. Her next words proved just that. “I wasn’t a child anymore.”
He could not let it go. “Really? At twelve? What happened?” Was that when you knew you were leaving your past and creating a new one? She looked away and he knew her next words would be a lie. The eyes always told the truth and she didn’t want him to see it or the lack of it.
“My parents died.”
His chest squeezed until it hurt. “Oh.” Your parents are alive, your dad has a bad heart, your mom arthritis in her neck that keeps her awake at night. And your sister, don’t forget about her. She looks like a washed-out version of you, minus the class and the clothes. “I’m sorry.” Sorry you don’t trust me enough to tell me the real story.
She placed her hands on his shoulders, leaned on tiptoe, and kissed him. Soft. Sensuous. Alluring. Even with the lies between them, he still wanted her. What did that say about him? That he was a fool? Probably. That she might hurt him again? Possibly. Was he willing to risk it? Absolutely.
Ash deepened the kiss, his tongue probing the sweetness of her mouth. Oh, how he had missed her. He cupped her bottom, settled himself between her legs and groaned. He wanted her now. Fully, completely, desperately.
She broke the kiss and reached for his belt buckle, worked it open, and managed to release the first button on his jeans. “Ash.” She kept her eyes on him as she unfastened the rest of the buttons—a tricky job with his erection in the way. “I’ve missed you.” She eased his jeans from his hips, slid her fingers inside his underwear. Touched him. Stroked him. Made him forget to breathe.
“Arianna,” he croaked, pulling her to him as he thrust his tongue deep in her mouth. He began the dizzying task of undressing her—unbuttoning her blouse, working her skirt over her slim hips, unfastening her bra, inching the lacy panties down her legs until she stood before him, pale and nakedly beautiful in nothing but black high heels. She kicked off first one shoe, then the other and reached for his shirt. Ash grew impatient and pulled the shirt over his head, tossed it aside. “Do you know how many times I’ve dreamed this exact moment?”
“Tell me.” Her smile grew languid and sultry as she worked her gaze along his body, past his sto
mach, to his hips, and settled on an area of great interest. “Tell me every detail.”
Ash kicked off his jeans and shoes and lifted her in his arms. “I have a much better idea. Why don’t I show you?”
“Yes. Show me.” She sucked on his lower lip, murmured, “Every single detail.”
There wouldn’t be much detail if they didn’t get started in the next five seconds. A man could only wait so long after he’d been given the “go-ahead” following a two-year-plus separation. Ash carried her to the bedroom, tossed back the covers, and eased her onto the bed. They’d spent hours in this room, learning each other’s bodies, sharing dreams, making love until they were spent, sleeping nestled together. He wanted that again—all of it—beginning and ending with making love. “You are so beautiful.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “More than beautiful.” His heart swelled, burst with the longing he’d carried since the day he wrote the note that tore them apart.
“Ash.” She stroked his jaw, his chin, traced is lips. “Make love to me.”
Those simple words were the headiest aphrodisiac he’d ever encountered—because they were spoken by the woman he loved. Ash covered her body with his, kissed her, stroked her, made her moan. When the moans turned frantic and breathless, he filled her, brought her to the edge and over in a free-fall of pleasure and passion. He followed, his moans louder, desperate, needy. When he neared his climax, time froze as he teetered on the brink, then split apart and tumbled into oblivion.
After, they lay side by side, her head on his chest, his hand on her thigh. He’d once thought the word contentment a mundane excuse for couples who relied on routine as a mainstay. These past few years away from Arianna had taught him that contentment was hard to achieve, harder still, to maintain. At this moment, he was truly content. They’d made love three times, each more intense than the last. She’d given herself to him, freely, openly, completely.
“Ash?”
