"That's when the hair grows." Emily held up the box in her hands that showed a picture of two smooth legs. "I saw this on television. You put the wax on your legs, cover it with strips of paper, leave it on for a couple of minutes, then pull. Hair gone."
"Great, we'll have bags under our eyes but perfectly hairless legs. What we really should do is study." She was surprised when Emily picked up the phone next to the bed. "Who are you calling?"
"Maddie and Laura. They'll be mad if we wax without them."
Natalie was still considering that logic when Emily started talking. "We're going to wax our legs, watch TV, and eat popcorn. Natalie can't sleep."
"I could try," Natalie protested, but her words fell on deaf ears. "They're not going to come over here for me," she added.
She was wrong. A few minutes later Maddie and Laura plopped down on their beds. Maddie had on hot red silk shorts and a matching tank top. Laura wore a long flannel nightgown. She had curlers in her hair and some kind of acne cream in thick spots on her face. Emily made popcorn in the popper her parents had given her while Maddie flipped through an x-rated magazine with pictures of naked guys. With embarrassed giggles, they voted on the best penis, ate burned popcorn, and waxed their legs with shrieks of pain. A late-night Three Stooges marathon kept them laughing until they finally fell asleep an hour before their alarms went off.
Natalie's eyes flew open as her heart filled with a bittersweet regret that those beautiful days of simple responsibilities and incredible friendship were gone. She missed those moments, the long talks in the dark of the night with her very best friends. She missed those girls, too. And as Laura had said earlier, she missed herself, the girl she'd once been. But that girl was an adult now. The past was gone, and it wasn't coming back. Unless ...
Her gaze moved to the book by her bed. Maybe she'd just read a few more pages.
* * *
Natalie wanted to escape. It was the only thought driving her actions as she set down the book just after eight o'clock the next morning and pulled on sweats and running shoes. She'd spent the night reading every shocking word of a horror story in which she was the star. The plot resembled her own life yet seemed distorted and unreal. Some of the words were hers. Some were not. Some of the actions she'd committed, some she'd never dreamed of. Underneath it all was the sense that someone had been watching, listening, a secret voyeur who knew far more about her than she knew about him.
Adrenaline surged through her body at the thought—the instincts for fight or flight battling with each other. She knew how to fight, but not who, so she would go with her second option—run. Grabbing her keys, she headed out the door and down the stairs. The cold morning air blasted her face as she hit the sidewalk. This was reality, she told herself, this moment, this street, this city, not the past she'd spent the night revisiting. She had to remember that. Glancing up at the sky, she realized the morning fog was beginning to break up, patches of blue sky and sunlight shining through the tree branches. She felt better already.
That feeling faded with the screeching of tires coming around the corner. Cole's car. Damn. She turned and started running in the opposite direction, hoping he wouldn't see her. The fact that he was here could mean only one thing—he'd read the book, too. God! What he must think of her now. His already bad opinion had probably sunk even lower.
"Natalie!" Cole shouted, his car slowing as he caught up with her.
She refused to turn her head and started to run faster.
"Natalie, stop."
She threw him a quick glance. "Go away."
"Not a chance," he replied, his car keeping pace with her. "I want to talk to you."
Well, she didn't want to talk to him, not now, not while she was feeling so raw and vulnerable. She didn't want to hear his accusations again, see the anger in his eyes, hear the agony in his voice or in her own. She needed time to rebuild her defenses, gather her ammunition, find a way to fight the questions she knew were coming. Turning the corner, she dashed through the alley that ran behind the row of houses and apartment buildings and turned up the speed.
She thought she'd lost him until he yelled again, this time from behind her. He must have ditched the car. She could hear his footsteps drawing closer.
"Natalie, stop, dammit."
Her legs were beginning to burn from the sprint, but she pressed on. She was a good athlete and she was used to running. Cole was even better. She could feel him bearing down on her. As she reached the end of the alley, she paused for a split second, debating which way to turn—toward the marina or Union Street. It was a mistake. His hand came down heavy on her shoulder.
She bounced free for a moment; then he caught her arm. She stumbled forward. Cole stopped her from falling by yanking her up hard against him. She would have preferred to hit the pavement face-first, because looking into his angry, bitter, betrayed eyes was even more painful.
For a long moment they both drew in ragged, angry breaths of air.
"Don't say it," she burst out, finally finding her voice.
He shook his head. "Did you do it? Did you push Emily off the roof? Were you fighting with her? Were you both so drunk that you didn't know how close you were to the edge? Is that what happened?" He gave her shoulders a shake.
"No," she cried. "No!"
"Then why did you run just now? Why is there a guilty look in your eyes?"
"That's not guilt. That's anger. I can't believe you of all people could even ask me those questions."
"That's not an answer. Only the guilty run away."
"I ran because I knew deep down that you would choose to believe a stranger rather than to believe me." She yanked her arm away from his grasp. "How could you, Cole? How could you think that I would hurt Emily? I loved her. She was my best friend." A stabbing pain ripped through her, and she felt her eyes fill with tears, but she blinked them away. She wouldn't cry now, not in front of him. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
Cole stared at her through bloodshot eyes. He looked like hell; his hair was a mess, his face covered with stubble. He must have been up all night. She steeled herself not to care that he looked wiped out, that he was probably devastated by everything he'd read. That didn't give him the right to come after her.
"Dammit, Natalie," he said finally. "There was truth in that book. You know it as well as I do."
"And lies. I know that, too."
"Which is which?" He sent her a long, searching look. "I don't know what to believe."
It hurt that he couldn't believe her. She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling cold and utterly alone. She should be used to those feelings by now. But they were worse with Cole so near. She was reminded of that brief period in her life when love had filled her heart, when she'd begun to believe there might still be a happily ever after. That had ended with Emily's fall. Actually, it had ended before that.
"I wish you could remember where you were that night," Cole continued. "It doesn't help that you were passed out drunk in the upstairs bathroom when Emily fell and that you have no memory of anything that happened at the party."
"You think I don't know that? You think I don't wish a thousand times every day that I hadn't gotten stupidly drunk that night? You think I don't feel horrible that I wasn't there for Emily? My God, Cole. You could never blame me as much as I blame myself for putting my needs above Emily's, for not watching out for her as I'd promised, for not knowing who she was with or what she was doing. She was my best friend, and I let her down."
"You never said that before," he said slowly.
"You never gave me a chance." She held his gaze for a long moment. "I'm sorry, Cole. I'm sorry, and I'm sad. But I'm not guilty. I wouldn't have hurt Emily, not because of some pills that I never stole or some fight that I supposedly had with her over you. Can I prove it? No, I can't. But I know it in here." She put her hand on her heart. "And you should know it, too, because you knew me once. You knew me better than anyone."
Cole ran a hand through his
hair. "I thought I knew what happened. I believed Emily drank too much, went on the roof to stargaze, and just slipped. But this damn book is turning that night into a murder mystery. Emily is portrayed as someone I don't know. Her thoughts about school and friends and men ..." He shook his head in bewilderment. "Some sounded like her. Some didn't."
"Because some of the words were hers and some weren't. I felt the same way when I was reading it, like I was there but it wasn't quite the same party I remembered, and the people weren't exactly right, but some of their traits were familiar."
"You would be able to tell the truth from the fiction better than I would, because you were there all the time. I just came down on the occasional weekend. I didn't know what was going on the rest of the time." He drew in a long breath. "The worst part is knowing that I was close by that night. That I could have stopped it. I was with Josh at Dylan's apartment, less than a mile away. Emily wanted me to come to the party. She called me and begged me to come. I didn't feel like it, and I told her maybe later." There was agony in his eyes when he looked at her, and Natalie could feel his pain down to her soul. "I didn't go, Natalie. I didn't go to that party until it was too late. Em wanted me there with her, and I didn't go."
"Because of me," she murmured. "You didn't want to see me. I was getting too serious." She'd told him she loved him. It was the first and last time she'd ever said those words to a man. And he'd run for the hills.
Cole looked down at the ground. "I should have been there for my sister. I failed her."
His guilt was as tangible as her own, and the anger inside her began to dissipate. "We both could have acted differently, but we didn't, and we can't change it now. It's over. It has been for a long time."
"It's not over, not with this book making the rounds. I went back to work yesterday and ran through everything I could find on Garrett Malone. It turns out there's very little information on the guy. It's like he came out of nowhere. I've put in calls to his publicist, his agent, and his publisher, but it's the weekend. I won't hear back from any of them until tomorrow. And his Web site hasn't been updated with any appearances after the book signing yesterday."
"Where does he live?"
"His press materials say California, nothing more specific than that. I will find him, Natalie. And he will talk to me."
"And me," she said decisively. "I have a few questions of my own to ask him."
"I'll bet you do." Cole hesitated, then said, "I'm glad we cleared the air."
"Me, too." Natalie wasn't sure how she felt about Cole now or how he felt about her, but at least they'd broken the icy distance of the past ten years.
Cole cleared his throat, then said, "So where are we running?"
She didn't like the word we. "I'm running down to the marina and out to the Golden Gate Bridge."
"Sounds good. I was going to work out at the gym, but I could use some fresh air."
He was wearing running shoes and sweat pants, she realized belatedly. "I'm not going to run with you."
"Afraid you can't keep up?"
"I remember that I always beat you," she reminded him. Running in the early hours of the morning was a joy they had shared during their time together.
"I remember that I always let you."
The challenging gleam in his eyes built a fire under her already overcharged emotions. "Fine. Let's go." She took off before he could say okay. It was a small and cheap trick, but she knew how strong Cole was, and how easily his long strides would keep pace with her shorter ones. Within a minute he was right next to her.
"Going kind of slow, aren't you?" he needled.
"I'm warming up."
"You never used to take so long to warm up."
She quickened her pace to get away from his sarcasm and from the memories his words had stirred up. They'd made this run before from Cole's parents' house in Presidio Heights, an elegant neighborhood of fancy homes that lined the Presidio. The last time she'd visited there had been the Christmas before Emily's death, which had occurred in the middle of February, just six weeks later. How much everything had changed in those weeks—especially her relationship with Cole, which had taken a serious turn that Christmas. In fact, that turn had started with a run just like this one.
Natalie crept quietly down the stairs. The Parishes were still asleep. It was just after seven a.m. on Christmas Eve. Tonight they would go to the Fairmont Hotel for an elegant dinner. Tomorrow morning they would gather around the stately ten-foot Christmas tree in the living room, open presents, and have brunch. Christmas dinner would follow a few hours later. There would be plenty of food, friends, and holiday cheer, and Natalie was lucky to be a part of it. It was the first Christmas she'd spent with a real family in a very long time, and she wanted to cherish every second. At the same time, she was feeling overwhelmed and stressed out.
The Parishes were so different from her family. They were classy, sophisticated. Their table settings would come with at least three forks and two spoons and several plates, and she'd have to remember which went with which. There would be business moguls and politicians at tonight's party, which meant witty, intelligent conversation would be flowing like wine, and she would have to make sure she didn't make a fool of herself. Maybe she should just run out the door and keep running.
Shaking her head, she told herself to stop worrying so much and just enjoy, as Emily always told her to do. Emily, who was fast asleep in a beautiful bed filled with the most expensive allergy-free pillows and comforters and surrounded by luxuries suitable for a princess. Sometimes Natalie wondered why they were friends. They were different personalities and they came from different worlds, but college had been the great equalizer.
Natalie opened the front door and shut it quietly behind her. She took a moment to stretch on the front steps, then headed toward the sidewalk. She was just about to take off down the block when she heard Cole's voice.
"Wait up," he said, as he jogged toward her. "You weren't going to leave without me, were you?"
"I didn't know you were coming," she said, already flustered by the gorgeous smile on his equally gorgeous face. Every time she saw him he took her breath away.
"I told you I was doing whatever you were doing this weekend."
"I thought you meant the parties."
"I meant everything," he said.
The intensity in his voice made her lick her lips. His glance darted to her mouth, and she knew he was remembering, too. They had come so close to making love just two weeks ago when Cole had visited Santa Cruz. They'd been interrupted by Emily. Natalie had been both relieved and disappointed. She wanted to make love with Cole. She wanted to give herself to him. It would be her first time, but she knew she was finally ready.
"Are we running or ..."
"We're running," she said quickly. She was ready for him—but not at this very moment.
Heading down the street, they ran faster and faster until their jog turned into a race. By the time they reached the Marina Greens, they were in full sprint mode. As they approached the end of the grass, Cole changed directions.
"You're going the wrong way," Natalie gasped, but she followed him all the same down a path that led to the St. Francis Yacht Club. "Where are you going?"
"Here," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her around the corner of the building.
"Why are we stopping?" she asked in confusion.
"Because I can't wait a second longer to kiss you."
"What—"
He cut off her question with a hot, passionate kiss that went on and on. They both refused to give in or give up. Finally, Natalie surrendered to a need for air. She pulled away from him, shocked by her passionate response and her complete disregard for her surroundings. Granted there were only a few other early-morning joggers around, but she'd never felt so swept away by a man, never wanted to throw all her caution and good sense to the wind. But she wanted to do just that with Cole and a lot more. She was in love with him. God, she'd just realized how much she was i
n love with him.
"Natalie! Come on."
Natalie blinked, realizing she'd once again been lost in the past and was lagging behind Cole. Shaking her head, she picked up the pace as they neared the object of her memories, the St. Francis Yacht Club. She saw Cole glance toward the building. For a split second, she wondered if he, too, remembered that day. No, she couldn't let herself go there. Cole didn't like her, love her, or want her anymore. He hadn't in a long time.
She didn't give the building another glance as she sprinted past Cole, leading the way to the end of the path that stopped under the Golden Gate Bridge. The bridge was actually red, not gold, but it was awesome and inspiring in its construction. The Pacific Ocean flowed under the bridge and into the bay, the gateway to the west.
The wind whipped her hair out of its ponytail as she bent over to catch her breath and stretch out her legs. Cole stopped just a few feet away from her, his own breath steaming up the morning air. She hadn't beat him, and she hadn't lost him. What was she supposed to do with him now?
She straightened up, and said, "Why are we together?" the words bursting out of her mouth before she could stop them.
His gaze was steady. "Because of the book. I need to know what happened."
"I can't tell you what happened."
"You can help me find out."
"Believe me, I want to know as much as you do, but I don't think we're ever going to find out. No one was with Emily when she fell. No one saw her fall. The police asked everyone who was there those very questions."
His gaze didn't waver. "But there was someone there. There had to be. Malone mentions a number of people talking to Emily that night, people who claimed the opposite."
Natalie had noticed that, too, but since so much of what she was accused of was false, she didn't know what to believe. "He could have made it up like the other things he made up."
"Or someone didn't tell the truth. Did Laura say anything after I left yesterday?"
"No. She seems as confused as I am."
"What about Drew?"
"Laura said she hadn't had a chance to tell him about the book yet."
All She Ever Wanted Page 6
