"Something wrong?" Cole asked. "You're awfully quiet."
"Just thinking," she said desperately. "What— what are your future plans?"
He raised an eyebrow. "How far in the future are we talking about?"
"A year or two, maybe three. Do you foresee any changes in your career? Do you think you might still want to try being a foreign correspondent?"
"It's too late for me to make changes."
"It's not too late. You're thirty-two years old, not eighty. However, you're not getting any younger, so I'd do something soon."
"Thanks for reminding me."
"Seriously, Cole, if you want that old dream of yours, why don't you go for it?"
"I told you before. I have too many ties, responsibilities, commitments," he said, waving a frustrated hand in the air. "I'm trapped."
"In your head. Nowhere else."
"That's not true."
"It is true, Cole. You have choices. You just don't want to choose."
"You don't know what you're talking about. There are a lot of people who depend on me to put the paper out every day."
"Yet you've managed to take time off yesterday and today without the paper falling apart."
"The last few days are the only time off I've taken in the past ten years. My father and uncle spend more time on the golf course than they do at the office. I'm not complaining about them, because they deserve a break. They all worked hard for a long time, but I carry the burden now. I'm the oldest of the cousins that are involved. No one else is ready to take over and there has always been a Parish at the helm. Right now that's me." He paused. "Marty is coming along though. He's not bad. But he's only twenty-six."
She laughed. "And you were how old when you took over?"
"That was different. We were in a crisis. It's really only been in the last five years ..." His voice drifted away. "Okay, you've made your point. I guess I was about Marty's age when I took over."
"Here's what I think, Cole. You're never going to be satisfied with your life until you get on a plane and go somewhere far away and send back a news story about something. Otherwise, you'll always wonder what if. You used to be a man of action. Take some action."
"You want me to take some action?"
"Yes, I do," she said, meeting his gaze head-on.
"You're sure about that?"
She saw too late the wicked gleam in his eye. Before she could answer, she found herself flat on her back with Cole sprawled on top of her. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest at the intent look in his eyes. She wanted to tell him to stop, but there was no way she could get the word out. Instead she licked her lips and watched the fire light in his eyes as he concentrated on her mouth. A long, tense second passed, then another, but he didn't move. Her nerves screamed with anticipation.
"Just do it already," she told him.
And he did—a long, slow, thorough kiss that completely swept her away. His mouth tasted, explored, teased, caressed, and she kept up with him every step of the way, until they lost themselves in each other. Nothing else seemed to matter. The roar of the ocean blended with the pounding of her heart. His legs pushed between hers. His hard body pressed against her soft curves. His fingers ran through her hair, his hands holding her head firmly in place so he could take what he wanted. And she let him. She didn't want to fight him. She wanted to make love to him, right here on this strip of sand where the sun and the sea met, where the past and the present and the future were colliding. She wanted everything to be right with her world again, a world that had never been complete since he'd walked out of her life. Now he was back. For how long, she didn't know. But she could have him now. She could have it all.
But what was all? What was she doing?
He'd hurt her once. He'd hurt her again.
Natalie pushed Cole away. It took every bit of willpower, but she did it.
He rolled onto his side, breathing heavily as their eyes met. "I guess that's a no."
"I guess it is," she murmured. "For now." She could have kicked herself for adding those last two words. She saw his eyes flare at the promise, the challenge, the possibility.
"For now," he agreed.
"I shouldn't have said that."
"Too late. It's already said."
She shook her head. "I don't know what you want from me now."
"I don't, either, Natalie. But I know I want something. And I think you want something, too. Do you want to tell me what that is?"
She thought about his question for a long moment. She knew the answer, but if she said it, he'd run. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she wanted him to put an end to this now, because she didn't think she could do it herself. "I think I want you to love me again," she said, staring straight out at the sea, because she couldn't bear to look at him. "What do you want?"
Silence followed her words. A silence that stretched her nerves to the snapping point. Natalie couldn't stand it, so she got up and did what she'd expected him to do. She ran.
* * *
Madison felt a momentary twinge of guilt as she ran up the stairs to Dylan's apartment, located conveniently above Club V. She felt a bigger twinge of guilt knowing that she'd taken the extra keys to his apartment out of his office after telling the receptionist she'd left her sweater there a few days earlier. She was bad. But Dylan might be even worse. He might be Garrett Malone. Her conversation with Josh the night before had refused to leave her head. Pictures of Dylan climbing up to Emily's second-story bedroom like a Romeo seducing Juliet made her want to throw up, but it also told her that the relationship between Dylan and Emily had been much closer than probably anyone knew. She suspected that Dylan's crush had turned into something a lot more personal once the two had found themselves alone in Santa Cruz.
She slipped the key into the lock and the door opened easily. Madison felt a little like Alice in Wonderland as she entered the loft, which was obviously the upper floor of what had once been a warehouse. As she moved farther into the apartment, she saw a corner area where three computers, a large television monitor, stereo system, and some kind of video camera were set up. Another area held microphones, black boxes of assorted shapes and sizes, and other types of magic paraphernalia. The king-size bed in the middle of the room was unmade, the pillows and covers tossed in abandon. She couldn't help wondering if Dylan had spent the last night he'd been here alone or with a woman.
Well, she wasn't here to figure out his love life. She was here to see if she could find any evidence that Dylan was Garrett Malone. If he'd written a book, it would probably be on one of the computers, she decided, heading over to turn them on. While they were booting up, she took a look through Dylan's clothes, which hung on two movable clothing racks. He certainly had a love affair going with the color black. And leather was obviously his favorite material. Her palms grew a little sweaty at the thought of slipping her hands down his black leather pants.
Clearing her throat, she turned a corner of the loft and saw a closed door. It was the only door in the room, and it was locked. That might have stopped someone else, but Madison had never met a locked door she didn't want to open. There was no way she wouldn't try to get in. There were five keys on Dylan's key chain, and the last one slipped in easily. The door opened. It was dark inside the small room, and it took Madison a moment to find a chain that pulled on a single lightbulb hanging in the closet. She jumped back as Emily's face appeared to her. Blinking rapidly, it took her a moment to realize that photographs of Emily covered every inch of the closet. They started from childhood and went up to college. In fact, the one right next to her was a photo of all four of them at Emily's nineteenth birthday party. They'd gone to a local restaurant to celebrate. And Dylan had taken a picture of them. She remembered that now, remembered all the times he'd been around with one of his cameras.
"Did you find what you were looking for?"
His voice made her jump. Whirling around, she looked into Dylan's furious eyes. A reason for being inside his locked apartmen
t and inside his locked closet escaped her. She was busted. There was no way to defend her actions, so she decided to attack. "You're obsessed with Emily, aren't you? Even after all these years. Does Cole know about this?"
Dylan crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face as stony as a statue. A really pissed-off statue.
"I could have you arrested," he said.
"But you won't," she said with as much bravado as she could muster. "You don't want anyone to know about this."
Dylan suddenly grabbed her by the hand and yanked her out of the closet, slamming the door behind her. She rubbed her arm. "That hurt."
"You think I give a shit? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk to you."
"So you broke into my apartment? Have you heard of a phone?"
"Are you Garrett Malone?"
"No," he said shortly. "Are you?"
"Last time I looked, I was still a woman." Her words sent his gaze up and down her body, and she shivered at the look in his eyes.
"You are that," he muttered. "Get out."
"That's it? You're just going to throw me out?"
"Yes."
She stared at him, not sure how to react. She supposed she should be grateful he wanted to just let her go. But now that she had that option, she didn't feel like taking it. "I think we should talk," she said instead.
"You didn't come here to talk, did you, Maddie?"
Dylan took a step closer, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone in his apartment, and there was a very good possibility he was insane. She glanced toward the front door. It was a long way away.
"Nervous?" he asked, a small smile now playing around his lips. "You like to be in charge, don't you?"
"I better go."
"Lost your chance."
Suddenly his hands were on her waist and he was walking her backwards, so fast she stumbled and fell flat on her back in the middle of his bed. He pulled her hands over her head as he straddled her body, his black leather pants rubbing against her bare legs.
She felt both terrified and aroused by the intense look in his eyes.
"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Dylan asked.
Madison licked her lips, trying not to show any fear. She could handle Dylan. He was just paying her back for breaking into his apartment. He was trying to scare her. Wasn't he? "Is this how you treated Emily?" she asked.
Fury flared in his eyes. Oh, God! She'd just thrown a stick of dynamite into the fire. When was she going to learn to think before she spoke?
"Don't talk to me about Emily," he said harshly. "You could never be as good as her."
"I never wanted to be," she replied. "But you didn't treat Emily like this. She wasn't a real woman to you. She was a saint. That's why you've set up a shrine to her in your closet. You never had her beneath you like this."
"Shut up."
"Did she love you?" Madison asked, unable to stop herself from talking, even though her brain was telling her to be quiet.
Dylan didn't say anything for a long moment; then he got up and ran a hand through his hair. "Get the hell out of here, Madison."
She sat up slowly. "You loved her, but she didn't love you, did she?"
"Do you have a death wish or something?"
"That's not an answer."
Dylan strode from the apartment. It took Madison a moment to realize he'd actually left in the middle of their conversation, if that's what you could call it. She got up and ran to the door and down the stairs to the street. Dylan was getting on a motorcycle.
"Wait," she shouted. "You have to talk to me about her."
He shook his head and put on his helmet.
"Dylan, you need to talk to someone, and who else are you going to talk to? You can't go to Cole. You probably can't even go to your own brother."
He hesitated, then reached over and pulled out a second helmet from a storage compartment. "Get on."
"On this? I was thinking we could go into your club and get a drink." She paused, realizing she had only one choice. "Okay, I'm getting on. Give me the helmet."
She put it on and swung her leg over the bike. She'd done a lot of reckless things in her life, but this was probably the worst. Wrapping her arms around Dylan's waist, she held on for dear life as the engine roared, and they sped down the street.
* * *
Cole caught up to Natalie at the farthest end of the beach where a rocky cliff had cut off any hope of escape. The sky was a deep, dark purple now, the sun having passed over the horizon, the moon coming up slowly behind them. The waves crashed on the rocks beside her with a foamy white fury that matched her churning emotions. It was the only sound on earth. There were no homes nearby, no city noise, just the ocean and her pounding heart.
Natalie glanced back the way she had come, realizing they were now the only two people left on the beach. There was no one to save her from Cole or from herself, and at the moment she was in the most danger from her own damned heart. Why couldn't she let go of him?
"Natalie." He came up behind her, his deep, husky voice sending another shiver down her spine.
She wanted to hear him say her name again—in passion, while he slid into her body, while he made her feel whole again. She bit down on her lip to stop herself from inviting him to do just that.
"Why did you run?" he asked.
"I wanted to be the one to leave first this time. You weren't supposed to come after me."
"Yes, I was." His hands moved to her waist, as he turned her to face him. She could barely see him in the dark shadows. Maybe it was better that way. "You never gave me a chance to answer your question," he said.
"I gave you a chance. your silence told me the truth."
"The truth is I don't know what I want from you. I just know that I can't let you go."
"Not yet maybe, but you will." She felt that conviction deep in her aching heart. "I'd be a fool to think otherwise. And I do not want to be a fool around you again."
"Don't put words in my mouth, Natalie. I can speak for myself."
"This is pointless. We're going around in circles. Let me go."
"I told you—I can't." And he hauled her up against his chest, crushing her mouth beneath his.
She wanted to fight him, to fight herself, but she was overwhelmed by the pleasure of his tongue sweeping through her mouth, his hands sliding up her sides to cup her breasts. This was what she wanted, what she needed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the kiss. They didn't have a past or a future anymore, just this moment, this one perfect moment.
"Natalie," he groaned against her mouth. "I want to make love to you. Let me take you home."
She shook her head. "Here," she whispered, pulling him down to the sand, until they were on their knees facing each other. "Make love to me here before I can change my mind or you can change yours, before reality makes us see how crazy and wrong this is."
"Not wrong, maybe crazy," he muttered, as he pulled her toward him for another kiss. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," she said, feeling reckless. The dark corner of the beach made her feel as if they were the only two people on the face of the earth. Why shouldn't they have each other? It was what they both wanted.
"Damn. I don't have anything with me. We can't—"
She put her finger against his mouth. "I've got it covered. I'm on the pill. Health reasons," she added at his inquiring look.
"And I've been tested," he muttered. "But—"
"It's okay. Trust me, Cole."
"I do. I do trust you," he replied, pushing her back against the sand. "I want you so much."
"Then have me," she said simply.
She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair as they kissed and caressed and explored each other with a passion that far surpassed the reckless fumbling of their youth. Natalie hadn't really known what she wanted back then, but she knew now. Her fingers moved with a purpose as she undid the buttons on Cole's shirt, as she pulled it aside
to run her hands up and down his bare chest. And when Cole stumbled, trying to rid her of her sweatshirt, her blouse, and her bra, she sat up and helped, feeling more free than she ever had in her life. Stripped naked, they lay together on the cool sand, the heat from their bodies making the spray from the ocean rise like steam around them.
With no barriers between them, the last semblance of rational thought completely faded. Natalie pulled Cole into the cradle of her body, wrapping her legs around his.
"We've got to slow down," he muttered, but he was as hard as a rock, and the last thing she wanted was to go slow. "I don't want to hurt you."
"I'm ready. I have been for a long time." She caught his face with her hand and looked him straight in the eye. "Don't make me wait."
Her words were all he needed to let go, plunging into her body with a force that took her breath away. She gave a glad cry, reveling in the wild, unrestrained passion between them, urging him on. She didn't care that it was hard and rough, that the sand was scraping her back, her buttocks, her legs. All she cared about was that Cole was inside her, surrounding her, enveloping her in everything that was him. She'd wanted to lose herself, and she did. When Cole collapsed against her, she wrapped her arms around him, wanting to keep him there for the rest of eternity.
Eternity lasted about five minutes.
"I'm crushing you," Cole said.
He was, but she was reveling in it and was disappointed when he pulled out of her body and lay next to her. He took her into the curve of his arms and kissed her on the cheek. "That was ..."
"Yeah, it was," she murmured with a smile. Then she shivered as she became aware of the cold breeze coming off the ocean. They were in San Francisco after all, not the Caribbean, which brought to mind a long-ago conversation when Cole had told her that one day they'd travel, sleep on the beach under the moonlight, the warm breezes caressing their skin.
All She Ever Wanted Page 20
