by Sabrina York
Maybe she just had really poor taste in men.
Which only validated her vow to give up on men.
Or relationships.
Or, at the very least, impulsive decisions.
Like leaping into bed with a man she barely knew and expecting him to respect her in the morning.
Her stomach churned and she tried to calm it with a palm. It didn’t help. Her stomach had been churning a lot lately.
“Ooh, look.” Jamie waylaid a waiter carrying a tray of champagne to the welcome area and grabbed three glasses. She handed one to Kaitlin and another to Emily. “A toast. To a successful fund-raiser.”
Emily raised her glass, but before she could take a sip, Kaitlin touched her wrist. “I don’t think you should drink,” she murmured.
Emily blinked. “What? Why?” But Kaitlin just fixed her with that crooked, unfocused stare and shook her head.
“No alcohol.”
It was damned annoying having a friend who was privy to the secrets of the universe and wouldn’t spill the beans. But Kaitlin was nearly always right, so Emily asked the waiter for a club soda instead. Besides, she had a lot of work to do before the night was over.
The true reason for Kaitlin’s insistence became clear before long. Halfway through the lively event, Jamie, at her side, bristled. “What’s he doing here?” she spat.
Emily followed her glare and her breath seized as her focus landed on an achingly familiar face.
Ash.
He was here.
She’d considered not sending an invitation to the Bristol Foundation, but they had always been generous benefactors in the past. In the end, she’d decided against letting her petty feelings stand between the Teen Waystation and a large cash infusion. Besides, Ash had never actually attended a fund-raiser. It had always been his father or one of the other Directors.
She was shocked to see him here.
A part of her wanted to run and hide. She told that part to shush.
This was her event. Her world. She’d be damned if she’d let him chase her back into her hidey-hole. She’d spent enough of her life in that cave, isolated from the world.
That was over now.
Her gaze flicked to the man Ash was talking to and her gut clenched. Her breath stalled. Her heart lodged in her throat.
Kaitlin laid a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”
“Mmm hmm.”
But she wasn’t. Because the two men in the world she least wanted to see, ever again, were chatting amiably by the bar. Ash said something and Roman threw back his head and laughed.
Roman.
He was tall, lean, handsome. The years showed on his features, but that silky charisma, the charm that had trapped her once, had not faded. He turned in her direction and he froze, drink halfway to his lips. He looked her up and down and they curled then, those lips. The mask slipped, just a tiny bit, and his true nature showed through the cracks.
Fairy tales might not be true, but ogres did exist, and Roman was one.
“He’s coming this way.”
Emily didn’t need Jamie’s warning. Her survival instinct snapped to attention as Roman headed toward her, a predatory glint in his eye. Ash didn’t follow. Thank God. He hadn’t even noticed her.
Regardless, the urge to run hit her again, and hit her hard.
Ash glanced up then and their gazes clashed. His muscles tightened. Some unfamiliar expression flickered over his features and he started making his way across the room as well.
“Oh God.” She swallowed.
“We’re here.” God bless Kaitlin. She always knew what to say.
It helped, a lot, having her friends at her back. Because her worst nightmare was heading toward her, and Ash Bristol wasn’t far behind. She wasn’t sure which encounter she dreaded more.
Society events like this had never been Ash’s thing. Pressing the flesh, talking to overblown socialites, forcing himself to smile and be charming to complete strangers—all of whom knew him—set his teeth on edge.
It had been a relief at first, seeing Roman Carstairs’ familiar face at the fund-raiser, the first one he’d agreed to take on in his father’s stead. But it hadn’t taken long for Ash to remember how much he disliked the man. But they were fraternity brothers, and this was a charity event, so Ash disciplined himself to be civil.
It rankled, laughing at his jokes and making small talk. Roman had a crude sense of humor, and didn’t shy away from making rude comments about the people around them. He seemed to know everyone, and all their dirty little secrets, so when he chuckled and said, “There’s someone I want to talk to,” Ash had nodded and turned away.
And then he’d seen her. His heart had thudded painfully. Breathing became difficult. Prickles of heat rose on his nape.
Emily.
He’d found her.
Some unfamiliar joy trilled through him.
And then annoyance raked him when he realized she was the one Roman was heading for.
She was impossibly beautiful in a light green gown that clung to her curves. Her hair was done up in some elaborate swirly confection; the touch of lipstick snagged his attention, making him imagine those lips engaged in more intimate pursuits.
She was dazzling in purple overalls and a floppy hat. All dolled up like this, she was irresistible.
As he and Roman approached, her muscles stiffened infinitesimally. A veil shrouded her eyes. She hummed with a tension that reached out and grabbed him by the balls, and not in a good way.
He knew he’d hurt her. He just hadn’t realized how badly.
Seeing it, feeling it, nearly destroyed him.
Because he realized, his lame idea of simply apologizing and handing over some sparkly bauble wasn’t going to be nearly enough. If he wanted to win her back, he was going to have to do much, much more.
Although what that might be, he didn’t know.
“Emily.” Roman greeted her with an effusive hug. She stared at Ash over his shoulder as he rocked her back and forth. The agony on her delicate features hurt. Like a knife to the gut. When Roman finally let her go, she seemed to shrink inside herself. She threw her shoulders back and plastered an enormous smile on her face.
It was, patently, the fakest smile he’d ever seen.
He didn’t like it at all. It wasn’t…her.
“It’s been a long time.” Roman turned to Emily’s companions and winced. They were both bristling, like soldiers readying for war, wary glowers flicking from him to Roman and back again. “Kaitlin.” Roman held out a hand. The redhead’s lip curled. So when Roman greeted the brunette with the short bangs, he didn’t bother trying. He merely nodded. “Jamie.”
“Roman.” This she spat. “What are you doing here?”
Roman laughed and waved to a waiter, grabbing another flute of champagne, though he’d already had three—that Ash had counted. “I had to come…when I heard our Emily was organizing the event.” His expression became overly sincere. “Oh and because I really really care about…” He glanced at Ash. “What’s this a fund-raiser for again?”
Ash cleared his throat. “Teen Waystation.”
“Yeah. Teen Waystation.” Roman threw back his drink and snagged another. “Obesity is a terrible problem in our society.”
Emily made a sound, something like a snort.
“Teen Waystation is a homeless shelter.” Ash knew. He’d read the prospectus before deciding the amount the foundation would give. Now, however, he wished he’d written the check for more. He shook his head and his gaze tangled with Emily’s. She appeared torn between outrage and bemusement. She opted for politeness.
“Thank you very much for coming, Roman. I hope you have a wonderful evening.”
It appeared then, that she intended to slip away. Denial howled. He couldn’t let her go. Not now that he’d found her again. He opened his mouth to forestall her, but Roman beat him to it.
“Do you know Ash Bristol?” he asked. “From the Bristol Foundation?”
&n
bsp; Emily nodded graciously in his direction. “I believe we’ve met.”
Ash thrust out a hand because he knew she would take it. She couldn’t not in a situation like this. Her manners would not allow her to give him the direct cut in a crowd of wealthy donors. It was a sleazy way to get to touch her, but Ash had few regrets, because when her palm slid across his, a dizzying sensation assailed him. And he remembered.
Oh, he’d always remembered. He’d remembered it all. But this was more. This was sensory memory. His body recognized her touch and delighted, exalted in it. The moment lasted forever, and not nearly long enough.
Also, her friends were glaring at him. So he released her. But he didn’t step back. He liked being near her too much. He wished he could whisk her away to some darkened, private room and—
His brain seized as images flickered through.
And talk to her. Talk to her. He brutally reminded himself that he needed to talk to her. Explain. Apologize. Grovel. He would find a way to get her alone. Tonight. And talk to her.
“So, I hear you have an item up in the auction?” Roman asked.
Emily blinked. “Y-yes.”
He leaned closer, way too close in Ash’s opinion, and whispered, “I’ll have to win that.”
She glanced at her friends, anxiety flickering in her eyes.
Ash shot a look at Roman. And then at Emily. He wasn’t a terribly observant guy in social situations, but there was something between these two. Roman made Emily ill at ease.
On the one hand, Ash was relieved the discomfort he’d sensed from her wasn’t totally directed at him. On the other hand, he knew Roman. That he and Emily had a history, bothered him.
“What item did you offer?” he asked. “One of your glass pieces?”
All of them, Emily, Roman, Kaitlin and Jamie, gaped.
“Glass pieces?” Kaitlin’s head whipped around. She narrowed her attention on Emily. “What glass pieces?”
She flushed. “No. No. Of course not. My art’s not nearly sophisticated enough to offer at an auction.”
“I didn’t know you did art,” Kaitlin said. “Why didn’t I know you did art?” She frowned at Ash, but it was softened by a contemplative light.
“It’s just a silly hobby.” Emily waved a hand, as though she could brush the topic away. “No, my item in the auction is a fundraising package.”
Jamie selected a rumaki from a passing tray. “She’ll coordinate an event for the winning bidder.”
Emily’s flush rose. Ash found himself fascinated by the tinge on her cheeks. “It’s nothing really.”
“I’ll have to win that.” Roman repeated. “Then you and I could spend hours and hours together on…you know. Some fundraising event.”
Ash disliked the tightness around her mouth at that. No. He wasn’t terribly observant, but he was intuitive enough to know Emily did not want to spend hours and hours with Roman. And if he knew Roman, he knew why.
At the same time, the thought of spending hours and hours—alone—with Emily excited him beyond reason. He decided then and there, no matter how much Roman bid for Emily’s package, Ash was going to win it.
Chapter Eleven
Emily nearly fainted with relief when Joann signaled it was time for her to give her speech. She nodded politely at Ash and Roman and, hooking arms with Kaitlin and Jamie said, “Excuse us, gentlemen.”
It seemed as though Roman was going to follow, but Ash asked him some question, distracting him long enough for her to slip away. She blew out a breath.
“You did great.” Kaitlin patted her hand. “That can’t have been easy.”
“I would have smacked one of them,” Jaime muttered. “Or both of them.”
“It’s over now,” Emily said. She gored Kaitlin with a dark look. “I need you to haunt that auction table. Top any bid Roman lays down. I’ll cover it. Will you do that for me?”
“You know I will.”
After her speech, Emily made the rounds from table to table, chatting with the guests and sharing why Teen Waystation was such an important cause. She saw Ash milling in the crowd, mingling with representatives from some of the other foundations. But every time he approached her, she quickly found someone else to talk to, even if it was a volunteer or a waiter or random stranger. The same strategy worked with Roman, but she had to be more vigilant, because he was far sneakier.
Kaitlin was manning the silent auction table and Jamie was covering the donations table, so neither of them could offer any help.
It stood to reason one of the men would catch up with her at some point. She should have expected it, judging from the way they were shadowing her around the room. She just never expected it to be in the cloak closet.
Mrs. Finnerty had misplaced the claim check for her fur and come to Emily in a tizzy. Emily had reassured her not to worry, but to set the woman’s mind at ease, she’d gone into the closet to find the fur and check the number on the tag.
The room was dark and muffled, but she knew, instantly, when someone else had entered. Her first thought came with a flare of excitement that perhaps it was Ash. Which was ridiculous, given everything that had happened between them. The last thing she should feel was this exhilarating lift of her spirits at the prospect he might have followed her.
The click of the door echoed through her bones. She whirled around and froze. Her heart sank. Her pulse pounded painfully in her temples. Because it wasn’t Ash.
It was Roman.
And he was drunk.
“Emily,” he burbled, stepping closer, caging her, blocking her in.
Horror howled. “Paula?” She called. Hopefully someone at the counter would hear. Hopefully someone saw him come in after her.
She scanned the small room, desperately hunting for a weapon. There was no guarantee Roman wouldn’t try that again. He’d caught her alone at a frat party once in college. She’d not been feeling well and had gone to the ladies room. When she emerged, he’d been waiting at the door. He’d snagged her around the waist and dragged her into a nearby bedroom. Forced her onto the bed. Thrown his heavy weight on top of her and…
She could taste her rising gorge at the memory.
It was not happening again.
It was not.
But it was. She could feel it humming on the air
With every step he took toward her, she took a step back until she hit the wall. He followed, pressed against her, his breath hot on her neck.
She hated feeling like this. Helpless.
“Paula? Jackson?” A panicked cry.
Nothing. No response.
“Don’t bother,” Roman rumbled, fumbling with her skirt. “There’s no one there.”
Something cold dribbled down her spine. It felt like panic. Her fingers curled around something—an umbrella? Hardly a weapon, but it wasn’t all she had. Fury rose inside her too. Fury at what he’d done. The way he’d made her feel. How that one incident had flavored the whole of her life with fear.
Rage surged within her. Rage at all of them.
At Roman for trying to rape her when she’d been only seventeen, and trying to intimidate her again now. And Ash for using her and tossing her aside. But the worst of it she reserved for herself. For letting them treat her like she wasn’t important. For allowing feelings for one of them to endure.
But Ash was the least of her worries now. Right now Roman, pressing against her, rubbing his erection against her, was the imminent threat.
Denial howled through her soul.
No. No. No.
Not again.
Not anymore.
She lifted the umbrella and brought in down on his foot. Hard.
He howled, lurched back. “What the fu—”
She brought up her weapon, jabbing the pointy end in his direction. Roman danced back to avoid it.
“You always were a bitch,” he sneered, which was hardly fair. Every day of her life, she’d bent over backwards to be polite. Every day until now.
Something inside
her snapped.
“Get out,” she snarled.
“What?” She wasn’t sure what surprised him the most, having a woman fight back or the fact that Emily Donahue was allowing herself to be rude. But she hardly cared. They were both things that needed to happen.
There was a time to be polite and there was a time to kick some ass.
“Get out or I’ll skewer you.”
Unbelievably, Roman laughed. “You’ll skewer me with an umbrella?”
She jabbed him.
He yelped, which she found very satisfying, but then an angry look descended on his face. He grabbed the umbrella, yanked it from her grasp and tossed it aside. He glared at her, his intent simmering in hot waves.
She had the sudden sense she’d just poked a feral bear.
He lumbered toward her, blocking out the light. Terror clawed at her. She still had her knee, she reminded herself. And her thumbs. And she knew how to use them. She and Kaitlin had both taken self-defense classes after that disastrous party and now it was time to find out if they had been worth the money.
Apparently not. Apparently predators knew all the moves too. As she raised her hands, he captured her wrists. At the same time, he shoved his knees between hers and pressed her hard against the wall.
She hated his laugh. It rumbled through her like a claxon.
Her vision clouded. Her muscles seized. Her mind went numb.
It was happening again. It was—
The door opened, flooding the room with sound and light.
And yelling.
“What the fuck?”
Emily nearly fainted as Ash’s outraged bellow rocked her. Thank God, she thought. Thank God.
He wrenched Roman around and stared at Emily. A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Are you okay?” he clipped. She understood what he was really asking. Do you want this?
“No.”
“Okay.” Before she could say anything more, before she could react or move or anything, his fist plowed into Roman’s cheek and the bulkier man went reeling. Emily stepped aside and let him fall, insensate, onto the floor.
When Ash yanked her into his arms and held her, she let him. The comfort, the relief, was dizzying. He stroked her hair and murmured into her ear and she realized, she was crying. “Let it out,” he said. “Just let it out.”
