Love Isn't Blind 1

by Sweet

  The only negative thing she'd experienced since her arrival nearly a month before was that Anthony never seemed to leave the house. Not a single visitor had come by in all this time, and not once had she seen him venture beyond the garage for a workout. She worried a great deal about what events from his past might be pressing down on him so strongly that they keep him from wanting to go out in public. She was quite sure it was more than just avoidance of the celebrity annoyances someone of his fame might have to endure if they tried to do something normal like go to a cafe or buy groceries. He was as famous as a writer could be, but he was nowhere near the level of popular musicians or movie stars who were followed everywhere by the press.

  Deep in these thoughts, she was caught completely off guard when interrupted by a knock on the door as she was getting ready for one of their afternoon meetings.

  "Hi," said Anthony when she opened her door. "I need to go into town for some things. Helene usually goes for me, but she's getting older and I know it's an extra burden on her. I don't suppose you'd mind coming with me to run a few errands?"

  "Yes, I mean, no. I don't mind at all. I'd love to go into town with you." Ashley was flustered, and she tried her best not to act too surprised that he was actually going to leave the house and that he wanted her to be the one to take him.

  "I hope you can drive stick," he said. "I don't exactly drive anymore, and all I've got is my old truck."

  "My dad taught me how to handle a manual transmission right after he taught me how to manage a proper handshake," she said.

  Anthony opened the passenger door and slipped into the seat. "Your dad is really starting to sound like my kind of guy. I'd love to meet him some day."

  The engine roared to life as Ashley keyed the ignition. She used the excuse of remembering how to get the truck in gear and out of the driveway to avoid answering him while she still felt a giddy giggle bubbling up. She was also glad he was blind so he couldn't see the big dumb smile on her face. She should have known better, but it wasn't every day a man like Anthony Lang talked about wanting to meet someone’s parents.

  "He'd love that," she finally said when they were out on the road. "He's a huge fan of your books. He served in the military for most of my childhood, and he says you're one of the few authors who really gets it right when it comes to describing what it's like to fight for our country."

  "Remind me to autograph a few books for your father when we get back. I hope I can meet him soon to thank him for raising such a great girl. It's been a pleasure to work with you these past weeks." Anthony rolled down the window a little and leaned into the cool air whipping at the vehicle.

  Ashley's smile widened, and she felt at that moment as though her heart might burst. It was impossible for her not to read interest in his words. He was a proper gentleman through and through, and she was sure he wouldn't do anything as inappropriate as flirt with his assistant; but if these words weren't designed to show her that he was interested, then she didn't know what to think.

  He told that they needed to stop by Gerry's Electronics first so he could drop off his recorder for repair. It had stopped working during the previous night's session, and although he had a backup, he far preferred the way this one felt in his hand while he paced around narrating the story. Ashley parked the truck and went around to the sidewalk where Anthony stood waiting with cane extended.

  "Do you mind guiding me?" he asked. "Just let me take your arm and I'll follow along. You can walk normally, just don't make any sudden movements without warning me first, okay?"

  His fingers slipped lightly around her upper arm; she thrilled at his touch when she relaxed and felt the back of his hand press against her side. The act of guiding felt incredibly intimate. She knew he could manage his way perfectly fine with his cane and his other senses, but the fact that he'd asked for assistance only added to her impression that he might be as interested in her as she was in him.

  They were in and out of the electronics shop in short order. After picking up some paper for his braille printer and spending more than a little time chatting with an apparent friend who ran the town's only book store, he suggested they slip into the local diner for an early supper. He surprised her yet again by ordering the house special barbecue bacon burger with fries and a vanilla milkshake, and she thought she detected a hint of a grin on his face when she ordered the same. They talked about his work and writing, but mostly they discussed her family and her time at college. She explained how he had been a great influence on her wanting to be a writer, and they discussed what it was like to learn the craft of creative writing at school as opposed to just sitting down and figuring it out alone as he had done.

  By the time their food arrived, Ashley felt more like she was on a date than simply having lunch with a co-worker or boss. Anthony was an incredibly attentive listener, and she felt like she had his entire attention when with him. Even though he couldn't see her, or perhaps because of it, she felt he was taking in every element of her personality and character without being hung up on how pretty she might be. She knew she was a good looking girl, she'd had plenty of guys tell her that in college, but Anthony Lang was the first one to actually make her feel beautiful without ever saying it.

  Chapter Seven

  IT WAS LATE BY the time they left the diner. They'd followed up their meal and shakes with coffee, and after what started to feel like an unreasonable amount of time for a writer and his assistant to be chatting over long-empty plates, Anthony paid the bill and they stepped out of the warmth of the diner into the chilly evening air.

  "Do you mind if we make a stop before going back the house?" asked Anthony as they stood in front of the truck.

  "Of course. Let me just grab my jacket." She retrieved the cozy layer and slipped into it, glad for its warmth but not relishing the extra distance it would put between the heat of Anthony's hand and the skin of her arm beneath the light sweater she'd been wearing. "Where to?"

  "Just ahead a few blocks. It's not far." He slipped his hand back and fell into place beside her as they walked.

  A cemetery loomed in the darkness beside them, and Ashley was surprised when Anthony indicated they should turn into the first opening in the fence. He told her to walk straight ahead until they came to the second crossroad, where they would turn left.

  "Four crosses down, three rows back," he said after they'd made their turn.

  They were standing in front of a large war memorial. Perfect rows of white crosses stood before them, markers for those who died in service to their country. Ashley led him to the indicated marker and saw that the name inscribed on the cross was William Lang.

  "My father," explained Anthony. "He died in Vietnam when I was less than a year old. He shipped out before I was born and never got to see his only son."

  They stood in silence and Ashley couldn't be sure, but she thought she felt the grip on her arm tighten a bit. This seemed out of character for Anthony, and she wondered why he was showing her this place. He'd been very quiet about his past after joking about it that first time, and she'd assumed it was a closed door that could take years for anyone to pry open.

  "He's the main reason I joined the Marine Corps," he said so quietly that at first she didn't realize he was speaking. "My mom loved him more than anything, and she raised me on stories of what a hero he was. It was after I was scouted for the CIA that I learned he'd died because of bad Intel on a mission they should never have been sent on. His death was completely meaningless in the scope of the war, as were the deaths of his entire patrol that night."

  "And that's why you dedicated your life to the CIA?" she asked.

  "There are so many of our men out there at any given time," he said. "When I worked for the CIA, the intelligence I gathered helped save lives and make a difference. I have to remind myself of that every now and then. It helps me deal with what was taken from me...”

  "Your sight," she supplied.

  He indicated that they should start walking back to the
truck, and she turned to lead him between the crosses and toward the road that ran the length of the cemetery.

  "It happened in Nigeria," he said. "We were there on a classified mission to gather Intel on the NDV, the Niger Delta Vigilante. There were rumors that they were planning an offensive against a foreign-controlled oil operation, and we were supposed to stay quiet and only observe. One of my guys was spotted while we were on recon and was shot in the stomach. I went in to get him and got caught in the blast of an explosive device that took out my best friend. The last thing I ever saw was my buddy getting blown to pieces. After that, it was just darkness and hospital noises."

  "That's horrible," said Ashley, feeling completely helpless against the heavy mood settling over the man on her arm. "I...I don't know what to say."

  "It's okay," he said, stopping to face her. "There's nothing anyone can say that will change what happened. I just thought, well, I don't know why, but it was important for you to know the story of how I came to be this way. The details are classified, and only my closest friends and family know the truth of it."

  They were standing so close that Ashley could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke. He still had his hand on her arm, as though he never wanted to let go, and to Ashley it felt like an anchor holding her there on earth. Without thinking about it, she leaned into him and kissed him on the lips, letting her body fold into his.

  He kissed her back, his arms closing around her, a hand holding the back of her head. She slipped her tongue into his mouth and let out a soft whimper of pleasure as he pulled her more tightly against him. She hadn't intended for this to happen, but now that it was, she felt that everything in her life had led to this very moment.

  She was shocked when he pulled sharply away, his hands holding her at arm's length.

  "Ashley," he said. "I'm sorry, I can't do this. It's not appropriate for me to be taking advantage of your position as my assistant."

  "It's okay, Anthony." She placed a hand on his chest. "I want this."

  He broke away and flicked his collapsible cane outwards, letting the pieces click into place. "I think it would be best if we went back to the house now. This was an emotional moment, and I see no reason why it should affect our working relationship if you'd like to continue in my service."

  "If that's what you really want," she replied, blinking back tears and trying not to let her feelings of rejection show in her voice.

  "It's what's best," he said. His tone was clear and firm. He'd made his decision and was going to stick with it. She could see the trained marine and CIA operative in him now, his face a cool impersonal mask showing no emotion.

  They walked back to the truck in silence, Anthony finding his own way with the aid of his cane. The drive home took less than fifteen minutes, yet it felt like hours sitting in that big rattling truck. She didn't know what to say that would make the situation any less awkward, and he seemed perfectly content to ride in silence. When they arrived at the house, he bid her a polite good evening and left to work on his manuscript. He made a point of saying that he'd see her the following afternoon for their regularly scheduled meeting. She could see he was working hard to pretend they'd never kissed in the cemetery.

  They had kissed, however, and for a moment he'd kissed her with more passion than she'd ever dared hope for. He was suppressing his own desire to be with her, and as much as she wanted to make him believe that it was okay to take that leap with her, she'd be damned if she was going to force him to love her.

  Chapter Eight

  THEY MET IN HIS office at their usual time. Several days had passed since the kiss, and the spark of energy that fueled their previous editorial review sessions had fizzled out to where they needed only thirty to forty-five minutes to review the previous night's work and her suggested modifications. Their relationship was now strictly business, and his schedule had reverted back to taking meals in his room and crossing paths with her as little as possible. She sensed that he was on the verge of discontinuing their afternoon meetings, as nothing much of consequence was being achieved, and she felt he'd rather be using the time to write or exercise away his frustrations.

  She tried to throw herself into her writing, but every word suddenly felt clunky on the page, and she couldn't seem to get her characters to be as exciting as they had been. The strained relationship between her and the man who'd become her mentor was bleeding into her ability to formulate a suspenseful and engaging plot. She found herself avoiding her usual blocks of writing time, choosing instead to read or go for a long walk just to get away from the house.

  The house became a stuffy prison, and she took advantage of her free time to leave it as often as she could. Helene was still the same kind, sweet woman as always, and if she knew something was amiss between Ashley and Anthony, she didn't address it. The woman was always busy with cooking or cleaning, leaving Ashley feeling quite alone in the old building with its creaky floorboards and drafty windows. But rather than sitting around feeling sorry for herself, she walked into town most days to enjoy a coffee and some reading at the cafe next to the bookstore.

  After eventually getting over the sting of rejection from what happened in the cemetery, Ashley realized that something would have to be done to resolve the situation. Anthony needed an assistant he could trust to bounce ideas off of, and she needed to keep this job where she was learning more about the craft of writing than school had ever taught. She longed for him to admit that he was being a fool before scooping her up in his arms and whisking her off to bed, but this was a silly fantasy and she needed to keep her expectations firmly rooted in reality. The only thing to be done about it was to talk to him. She needed to explain that she understood his position and that she no longer wanted it to affect their working relationship.

  She would confront the awkwardness between them and do everything in her power to get rid of it. She would assure him that she'd been caught up in the moment, and that it really wasn't anything that should prevent them from regaining the easy-going working relationship they'd experienced before the incident. She carried the idea around for the better part of a day before finally steeling up enough nerve to speak to him prior to turning in for the night.

  Ashley knocked on the door of his office, knowing full well that she was interrupting his prime writing hours. She held her breath and listened, hoping he wouldn't ignore her and try to send her away. He didn't strike her as that sort of a man, but after everything that had happened over the last week, she wasn't sure what to think anymore. The sound of footsteps let her know he was coming toward the door, and she stepped back into the hallway just as he opened it.

  "Yes, Ashley?" he asked. His tone was curt, although polite enough for someone who'd been interrupted in the middle of working.

  "I was hoping I could have a few minutes to talk with you?" she asked. "Can I come in?"

  He looked for a moment as if he were considering telling her he'd rather not see her just then, but in the end he stepped aside and waved her into the study. "What is it you'd like to talk about?"

  "Things are off between us, aren’t they?" she asked.

  "Our conversations seem to have lost some of their earlier vigor," he replied. "I'd rather hoped we would find our way back to the productive conversations we'd been enjoying, but I confess that it's difficult for me to stay focused with you in the room."

  "Are you angry because of what I did?" she asked, feeling like she'd underestimated just how bad the situation was.

  "No, not angry," he said. His face softened and he smiled uncomfortably like a boy who'd just eaten a bitter candy and was trying to pretend he liked it. "I can't seem to stop thinking about that kiss."

  "Really?" she asked.

  "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you, Ashley." He sat on the edge of his desk and folded his hands in front of him. "It happened during your phone interview. I've learned to tell a lot about a person from how they answer certain questions during my time in the CIA, and my blindness onl
y helps me focus. You're an amazingly talented and beautiful woman, and I've had strong feelings for you right from the beginning."

  "Is that why you hired me?" she asked.

  "No. I hired you because you were the best candidate for the job. I almost didn't hire you because I was worried you'd become too much of a painful distraction." He lowered his head and turned away from her. Even sightless, it was as though he was too embarrassed to face her.

  "Anthony," she said, "I don't know what this is between you and me, but I feel the same way about you. I kissed you because I've wanted to do it since you walked into our first meeting without your shirt on. You have to believe that this isn't you taking advantage of me."

  She stepped towards him, grabbing his wrists and placing his hands on her waist. She then took his face in her hands and kissed him passionately. His grip on her tightened, and she felt him pull her close, only this time it was his tongue that searched hungrily between her lips.

  "You're sure?" he asked, breaking their kiss but still holding her tight.

  "Completely sure," she replied. Ashley reached for his shirt buttons and undid them one by one from the top down. "And I'm not leaving this room until you make love with me."

  ~ ~ ~ ~

  Read the next book by Sandra Ross:

  If you like this book, you will also like Love Isn't Blind 2...

  HOW DOES THE BLIND FIND LOVE?

  A SWEET ROMANTIC STORY ABOUT FINDING LOVE WITH THE EYES OF THE HEART

  Ashley hadn't expected to fall in love with her boss when she'd accepted the position of assistant for internationally best-selling author, Anthony Lang; but after her first weeks of working for him, she quickly becomes enamored with the talent, charm, and stunning good looks of the former CIA operative turned suspense novelist.