It was all done in the name of charity.
I skirted the room, knowing I shouldn’t be here—but I couldn’t stay away. It was a new feeling for me—missing someone. Ally had been on mind constantly the entire time I was gone—another first. Usually I was so involved with my work nothing else filtered in. But images, thoughts, and memories of her laughter, how she felt in my arms, would seep into my mind, breaking my concentration. I longed for her.
It felt like forever since I had seen her, and I was aching for a glimpse of her sweet face. When I received the call telling me about a massive landslide in Indonesia, I flew out that night. I detoured past the hospital, running inside with the hopes of five minutes in an empty room with her, but the emergency room was slammed. I watched for a moment, admiring her competency, then left, not interrupting, and sent a text saying I had been called away. I couldn’t leave town without letting her know.
I spent several days capturing the devastation of the small villages hardest hit by the disaster. Most of the areas were still inaccessible, but the ones Tommy and I had been to had been heartbreaking to witness. I hoped to stay longer, but they wanted the images immediately, so we traveled hard and fast, documenting what I could.
I flew back today, arriving in town only a few hours ago. My only contact with her had been the occasional text when I was somewhere I could get access to Internet, which was rare. There was always a short message waiting for me when I was successful. Simple ones: take care—I miss you—thinking of you, yet the words meant so much.
I went home, got cleaned up, and came to this event, hoping to see her, even if it was a mere glimpse. The ticket had been hard to come by, but I had told my business manager, John Reynolds, to do whatever it took to get it for me, and he had come through. I wasn’t usually this irrational or demanding when it came to my emotions, but with Ally, control seemed to fly out the window.
Seeing the money spent on the decor alone made me shake my head. The money could’ve been used so desperately for real needs. Thinking of what I had just seen—the suffering and devastation I had witnessed, knowing how little relief those people would receive—made me angry.
Grabbing a double scotch, and dodging the overdone women and the men all looking as if they’d rather be anywhere else but here, I found her.
I stood in the shadows and drank her in. Small and delicate, she looked so out of place; it made me adore her more than I already did. Standing among the black and beige palette around her, she was like a burst of sunshine amid a dark storm. A dress that seemed to float around her, in the colors of a sunset, left her shoulders bare and swirled as she moved. Her hair hung down her back, gleaming and bright under the lights. I wanted to bury my hands in it while I kissed her perfect mouth. Beside her was a woman who was no doubt her mother. She was an older, taller version of Ally, without her warmth. More than once I saw her reprimand her daughter, and not once did she smile at her with any fondness. I had the feeling Ally’s choice of dress didn’t please her, since often she glanced down at her dress, and the more her mother spoke, the more uncomfortable she appeared to become.
Her husband, Ronald, was equally as dour. Even the fake pleasant expressions when they would greet other people seemed strained.
I had used the Internet and did a little research on Ally’s family. There were lots of information on Ronald and his business, and Sarah spent a lot of time on charity work, and a few articles on the incident that killed Oliver. I found it interesting how Ronald had used the exposure to further his own agenda, using Oliver’s memory, building it to the point he made him sound like a saint. He never mentioned Ally—ever.
All the pictures of them I could find online were stiff and posed. I wondered what would happen if either of them truly smiled.
I assumed their faces would crack.
Mrs. Givens said something else to Ally, and her shoulders fell in defeat. I was about done with this bullshit. I knew she didn’t know I was here, and striding over there and pulling her away from the cold people she referred to as her parents was going to cause her more grief, but I couldn’t stand the way she was folding in on herself. I wanted to yank her into my arms and kiss her until she smiled the way she did in my loft.
I set down my glass and started to move forward, coming to a halt when a tall blond man appeared in front of Ally. Her relief was obvious when she accepted his embrace with ease, and smiled when he spoke to her.
My hand gripped the back of the chair as I saw the familiar way he cupped her cheek, kissing it.
I could only assume the infamous great-guy-who-is-just-a-friend Dr. Bradley had just shown up.
He shook Ronald’s hand, air-kissed her mother’s cheek, then wrapped his arm around Ally’s waist, holding court in their small circle.
My eyes narrowed as I watched. His arm held her possessively, his claim on her obvious to anyone looking.
Just a friend.
My ass.
I glowered through the entire dinner. The people at my table gave up trying to include me in any conversation and left me alone. I could see Ally’s table and watched the interactions the entire time. She was virtually ignored, even by her so-called boyfriend. Rarely was she included in the conversations, and if she was, her answers were short, mostly due to the fact someone—usually Ronald or another man—would interrupt and talk over her.
I wanted to go over and tell them all to shut the hell up and let her speak. She seemed so small and vulnerable among the stiff bodies surrounding her. More than once I saw her hand press to her collarbone in what I thought must be a defensive gesture. She hardly ate; her gaze often focused on her plate, and throughout the entire meal she wore a distant smile.
My hands clenched watching her. She was a ghost to all of them. Did they not see what a special, wonderful woman was sitting in their midst? She wasn’t a cookie-cutter, younger version of all other women around her. She was unique and special.
I hated seeing her like that. I had witnessed her confidence at the hospital. When she was with me, she was warm and open. She smiled and laughed easily and I found her clever. Here among the people she had known most of her life, she folded into herself; trying so hard to be accepted, she lost what made her so special. She lost herself.
I had done some research on survivor guilt. Ally fit into the syndrome well. I wasn’t a doctor, but it seemed to me if she had received counseling, and support she would have been able to move past the horror of what happened. Instead, she was forced to relive it, the events a constant loop in her mind. She was made to feel so guilty it became part of who she was, and she hadn’t been able to break free from it. Even her training as a nurse hadn’t made her see how wrong they were. She could help other people, but she couldn’t help herself. I wanted to help her, and I hoped she would let me.
Bradley leaned back, his arm draped casually around the back of her chair as he focused his attention on the man beside him instead of her. He was deep in discussion, but his fingers played with the skin of Ally’s bare shoulder. I saw her shift away more than once, obviously not wanting his touch. I smirked to myself. When I caressed her skin, she leaned into my touch, not away.
I couldn’t take it another second. I pulled out my phone and texted her, hoping she had her phone with her.
Hello, my Nightingale.
I watched her head bow and she fumbled with her purse, pulling out her cellphone. She tapped away fast.
Hello, my daredevil. Are you somewhere safe?
Her first instinct was to make sure I was all right. I wanted to kiss her.
Yes. Perfectly safe. Back to the land of communication. No more daredeviling right now.
No suckers needed this time?
I grinned.
Nope. How’s your evening?
Boring.
I smirked as I typed a reply.
Can I do anything?
You’re too far away. I miss you. When are you coming back?
My breath caught in my throat. I needed t
o get her alone.
You don’t have to miss me anymore. You look beautiful.
Her head flew up, her gaze scanning the room, and for the first time in days, our eyes met. Her hand flew to her collarbone again, and as the light glinted off the chain, I realized she wasn’t just doing it as a reflex.
She was wearing my necklace.
I had found it the first day I was in Indonesia, waiting for transport to take us out to the affected area. I had spotted it as I wandered through the market, the significance of the nightingale bird hanging from the silver links too perfect to pass up. The tiny sapphire in its chest was the best part—the clear blue reminded me of her eyes. I sent it to her via courier, paying an exorbitant fee to get it to her fast, wanting her to have a reminder of me while I was gone.
She kept clutching it because I had sent it to her and she was seeking our connection, even when we were apart. I blew out a deep lungful of air. She needed me, as well.
One word came back to me.
Please.
I stood, typing as I left, heading for the terrace at the back of the room. I knew she was watching me.
Tell them you have a headache. Go get some fresh air. Come to me.
—
I was anxious waiting on the terrace for her to join me. Time seemed to drag on, but when I checked my watch I saw it had only been five minutes.
I heard the door open behind me and turned, relief flooding through me at seeing her. She looked around, hesitating. I stepped away from the shadows and seconds later she was in my arms. Holding her, I moved behind the decorative shrubs.
“You’re safe.” She pressed her lips to my neck. “Thank God, you’re safe.”
I kissed her head. “I’m fine. I’m right here.”
“Your head?”
“Fully recovered.” I didn’t tell her I removed the stiches myself. I didn’t need a doctor to do that.
“Good. By why are you here tonight?”
“I missed you. I couldn’t wait.”
“I missed you, too. So much, Adam.”
I held her close, overwhelmed by the feelings coursing through me.
“How did you settle into my heart so fast, Ally?” I murmured into her hair.
She tilted her head back, her eyes bright. “You did the same.”
Light caught the heavy silver of the chain around her neck. “You got my gift.”
Her finger caressed the metal. “I love it.”
I ghosted my fingers along hers on the metal. “I saw you touching it tonight.”
“Yes, because I knew your hand was on it. It made me feel closer to you.”
I inhaled sharply. “I need to kiss you.”
“Yes, please.”
My mouth covered hers, and I slipped my tongue inside her sweetness. She tasted of the red wine I watched her sip, and cinnamon. She always tasted like cinnamon. I groaned as our tongues slid together, exploring and reacquainting themselves. Her hands clutched my waist, and when she shivered, I opened my jacket, wrapping her inside, never breaking away from her lips. I was like a dying man in the desert and her mouth was the sweet nectar of lifesaving water. Deeper and deeper we drowned, lost to the world around us. It was only the click of the door opening that startled us out of our haze. I stepped farther back into shadows, taking her with me, cradling her face into my chest.
“Shh,” I whispered into her ear.
“Alexandra?” a male’s voice called out.
She stiffened in my arms, pressing herself closer to my chest, her hands tightening on my waist.
A few seconds passed and I heard the door close again. I waited until there was only silence, then I peered around, ensuring we were once again alone. I looked down at her, the moment passing, our bubble broken.
“Your date is looking for you,” I griped, stating the obvious.
“He thinks I’m unwell. He’d want to check on me.”
I didn’t care what he thought or what he wanted. I knew what I wanted.
“I want you to come home with me.”
“Adam—”
Bitterness tinged my voice. “I know. He’s your friend.”
She pulled back, frowning. “Yes, he is. I told Bradley I had a headache. I’m sure he’ll take me home early.”
I scoffed. “I’m sure he’d be happy to.”
“What?”
“Your friend wants you, Ally.”
“It’s not like that with Bradley. I told you.”
“Maybe not for you, but he’s not telling you how he really feels. It’s so obvious, even you should see it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The way he looks at you—touches you. He thinks you’re his.”
“He’s only doing it—”
I interrupted her. “He’s doing it because that’s what he wants. He wants more than friendship with you.” I blew out a breath and gritted my teeth. “I know. I saw it with my own eyes.”
She shook her head. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not,” I growled, unable to help myself.
She rubbed her temples, her eyes narrowed in frustration. “Stop this.”
“What? Stop telling you the truth? You’re in denial over his true intentions.”
A chime ran out from her purse and we stared at each other in the dimness.
“Your boyfriend, I presume.”
“He’s not…” She sighed. “I have to go.”
I clenched my fists, feeling angry and frustrated. This wasn’t how I planned on our reunion going. “Of course you do.”
“Adam, please. Don’t do this.”
I yanked her back into my arms, brushing my lips over her head. “I’m sorry. I’m tired, jealous, and I shouldn’t have come here. I wanted to see you so much I couldn’t wait.” I inhaled her sweet scent. “I didn’t think how seeing you with him would affect me.” I dropped another kiss to her skin. “Go inside before you get cold. I’ll go in a few minutes.”
“You’re leaving?”
“It’s for the best. I’m sorry.”
She huffed a sigh. “You’re wrong about how he feels. We’re only friends helping each other.”
I leaned my forehead to hers. I knew I was being a possessive dick when it came to her, but I couldn’t help myself. “I hate seeing him touch you.”
“It means nothing to me.”
“I still don’t like it.”
She clutched my arm. “Do you still want me to come to your place?”
I cradled her face, claiming her mouth, hard and demanding.
“Yes, of course I do,” I insisted. “I’m an ass, but I still want you to come to me.”
“I will. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”
“Will you stay the night? Just let me hold you.”
“Yes.”
“Okay. I’ll be waiting.”
Chapter 7
I paced the floor, unable to relax or sit. It had been two hours since I left Ally at the benefit and I hadn’t heard a word from her.
I ran my hands through my hair in vexation. I had sent her back inside, then slipped in through another set of doors, in case anyone was watching. I saw her easily in the crowd, the dress she was wearing catching my eye. She was talking to Bradley, gesturing toward the door, and I had assumed she was asking him to take her home.
Then she could come here—to me.
But I was still waiting.
Had he convinced her to stay? Had she thought about it and decided I was out of line with my jealous behavior and wasn’t coming? Never one to overreact, I seemed to lose control when it came to her. I couldn’t think straight.
I glanced at my silent phone. Would she at least let me know?
My gaze fell to the new bed that had been assembled in the corner—my thick, comfortable mattress now set into the rich leather form. I had been meeting with the designer when I’d gotten the call to leave town, and he’d not only set up the massive bed, he left the sketches of the chair I asked him to create.
I wanted to see her in my bed, her hair spread across the pillows as she slept. I wanted to be able to smell her on those sheets.
A quiet knock had me racing to the door and flinging it open, startling Ally with the quickness. She stepped back, her hand flying to her throat. I lunged forward, dragged her inside, and slammed the door behind her. I lifted her into my arms, burying my face in her neck, holding her close. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she ran her fingers through my hair.
“I was afraid you weren’t coming.”
“I was delayed. My cellphone died after your texts,” she said. “I forgot to plug it in and I didn’t think I should use Bradley’s to send you a text,” she added lightly.
I walked over to the kitchen, still holding her in my arms, and set her on the counter. I leaned back a bit, but didn’t release her from my embrace. “Afraid of what I’d do if I got his number?”
She shook her head, all teasing gone. “No, I didn’t want him to have yours. I—I don’t want any of them to bother you.”
Her words eased some of my tension. She was trying to take care of me.
“I’m a big boy—I can look after myself.”
“I know.”
I fingered the silk of her dress. “Have you not been home?”
“No. I went to Bradley’s to talk, then I came here.”
My Image of You Page 8
