by Susan Ward
I wanted to take a step toward him and resisted it. “I stayed because you asked if I were polyamorous. That was rude. I thought it best to correct your misperception of me.”
His features stiffened like he’d been zapped. “I apologize if I overstepped, but you like to use shock and awe to push people away. I thought it best to make it clear it’s not going to work with me.”
“Qualified apology not accepted.”
His fingers sank into his hair. “Can we just start over? I want to get to know you, Khloe, or in the least understand why you don’t want to know me.”
He was wonderfully in disarray and it made my heart ache for him. “There’s nothing to understand, Damon. I’m not a puzzle needing to be figured out. My grandfather likes to say the answers are always simple if you let them be. He’s right. I’m not interested in you. It’s as simple as that.”
“If that’s the way you want it, Khloe.” His mouth was a thin line and his eyes were washed clean of emotion. He looked resolved. I was glad for that, but I hurt in my center in a way I never had before over what couldn’t be.
“It is.”
I opened the door and went from Damon to my bedroom.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I WAS IN MY BEDROOM when my phone trilled. When I checked the screen, there was no caller ID and not even a complete phone number, but a short four-digit code.
1234: I’m sorry about the polyamorous comment.
I sank on my bed and debated whether it was wise to answer.
Me: A bit slow but thank you.
The bouncing ball felt like it would hop without end. I went to my patio doors and peeked out. Damon was sitting on the edge of the pool, back toward me, huddled over his phone. At last there was a ding.
1234: It was rubbish. I knew it when I said it. You have the damnedest way of spinning me when we’re together. My instinct was to spin you back. I didn’t want you leaving the patio.
A pleasant warmth moved through me. I settled in the chair before the wall of glass with a view of him instead.
Me: Why does the caller ID give me a code instead of a number? When you text will it always be the same code?
1234: I think so. I’m not sure. I’m not permitted to set up my own technology. Why does it matter?
Me: Changing the code to a contact personalized so my security doesn’t think I have a stalker. Hmm, how about Arrogant Prince? Or maybe Arrogant Stalker. It fits. California. Then the cliffs. Tonight the patio. Now texting. A bit OCD, Damon?
Arrogant Prince: No, a bit bonkers after you. I changed your contact info after the cliffs from Lovely KK to Cheeky Girl. That fits better, I think.
Cheeky Girl: Perhaps you should avoid me.
Arrogant Prince: You are probably right.
Cheeky Girl: Then why are you texting me, Damon?
Arrogant Prince: Because your mouth says go away but your eyes say stay. Texting you confirmed I was right. Why are you answering if you want me to stay away, Khloe?
Heat ran my flesh followed by prickles. I knew why—I liked him—but that wouldn’t do either of us any good. I tossed my phone aside and dropped my head into my palms. Encouraging him wasn’t smart, and letting myself be drawn deeper into my attraction for him wouldn’t be kind to either of us.
A sharp rap on my patio door made me jump. I lifted my face to find Damon standing on the other side of the glass. He couldn’t see me—it was a one-way window for privacy and shielding from the sun—and I could ignore him if I wanted to. There was no way for him to know for certain that this was my bedroom and I was sitting a few feet from him. Only I couldn’t do it, not with how he looked staring into my room not even able to see me.
I flipped the latch and he slipped the door open.
“How did you know this was my room?” I snapped as a defense mechanism against him.
“Your father likes to have coffee in the great room at 6:00 a.m. and chat while watching your mum exercise. I saw you leaving to be with her on the cliffs.”
I could tell by his amused gaze he’d watched me this morning and wondered what tai chi was about.
“How boring for you.”
He gestured at a space of carpet near my feet. “Do you mind if I sit?”
I minded a great many things, starting with having him close to me, but I nodded.
He settled in a graceful arrangement of long limbs, with his back against the glass and a body length between us.
“We can get on better than we are, Khloe.” The husky baritone of his voice matched the plea in his eyes.
“I don’t think we can,” I replied simply.
“We are right now. Is it so hopeless for us to try to be friends? We can at least do that, can’t we? I’d like that.”
It was what I wanted to hear, but I couldn’t deny the disappointment welling up inside me. “Okay. Friends.”
“Good.” His smile ripped my heart because he didn’t press further. He glanced around my room as though content. “I can’t sleep. How about you?”
“Me either. I’m still on Paris time, I think.”
His gaze settled on my flat-screen. “We could talk until we’re tired or watch a movie.”
“Movie, I think.”
His expression told me that was his second choice, but I scurried from my chair to grab the controller from my couch. I sank down on the cushions and switched on the flat-screen.
“Something serious or something stupid?” I asked, flipping through the guide. “Which helps you sleep better?”
“Comedy. Definitely.” He pushed up from the floor and sat one cushion away from me, setting his long legs on the footrest in front of him. “You have a beautiful apartment in your parents’ house. I would stay living at home if I could live here.”
That made me laugh. “You don’t make palace life sound good, but somehow I don’t think my bedroom can compare with yours.”
“Your room wins hands down, Khloe.” I felt his buried sadness and looked toward him. “You can feel the love of your family in here.”
Although he didn’t move closer to me, there was no way to be immune to him. I could feel him filling my room. My skin tingled from his closeness, and my heart raced.
I was relieved when the speakers blasted from the movie starting and there was sound in the room other than his breathing.
“Ah. You read my mind. I’ve been meaning to see this film.” When he smiled, it wasn’t fair in any way. The cells in my body ached to answer and heat poured through me.
I crossed my legs and set a pillow on my lap. We watched the movie for an hour or so—I’m not sure how long—without talking. Then he caught my arm and eased me up against his side. “You look tired, Khloe. Rest against me. I’ll shut off things and slip out if you fall asleep.”
I was tired, but not for the reasons he thought. The pull between us was so hard to fight, exhausting. I thought about asking him to leave, but his arm went around me. And for a little while I lay against Damon’s chest and allowed myself to dream happy things.
“DAMON, WAKE UP.” I shoved him hard and his eyes flew open.
He looked around, startled. “What’s wrong?”
Bright light filled my bedroom. What wasn’t wrong? I was pinned between his body and the couch, pressed against him full length, and I’d missed tai chi on the cliffs.
“You fell asleep in here,” I informed him, alarmed.
He stared at me, befuddled and looking on the alert for more Khloe nonsense. “We fell asleep.”
“Go out through the patio before my mother finds you here. Trust me, Damon, it wouldn’t be good if she did.”
“Your mum? That’s the panic this morning?” He collapsed back against the pillow, howling with laughter. “Do you know that you’re a bit over the top at times? All we did was watch a movie together. That wouldn’t even make news in the tabloids.”
“Keep your voice down.” I pushed him until he went over the side and landed on the floor. “If you knew my mother you wouldn’t
say that or think this is funny. Get up. Get out. It’s after eight. I can’t believe my mom hasn’t come in here yet. Damn it, Damon, you promised to leave if I fell asleep.”
“How is this my fault?”
“It’s not mine.”
His eyes began to sparkle. “You know, Khloe, your mum might be waiting outside the door. Maybe I shouldn’t leave.”
I made a sour face at him. “You’re obnoxious in the morning.”
He set his elbow on the cushion with his chin in his hand and gazed at me. “And you’re lovely. Grouchy and a little bonkers, but lovely nonetheless.”
I rolled my eyes and climbed over him.
“Will I see you at breakfast?” he asked in his unshakeable good mood.
I swung around to face him. “Yes. Now will you go?”
“And squander this rare moment of having the upper hand with you, Khloe?” He slouched against the slider, biting his lower lip. It made him look sexy as hell.
“If you’re not out that door in one second, I’m never talking to you again.”
I couldn’t imagine why that made him happy, but his eyes shone brighter. “You’re the one keeping our discussion going, preventing me from leaving. Again.” Again was said smugly.
I shot out my arm to point at the door.
He slowly eased it open, peeked out, glanced at me, and checked the patio again. He looked back, grinning, and said, “Good morning, Khloe.”
“ARE YOU SURE YOU’RE OK and nothing happened last night?” Chrissie anxiously inquired as we sat at the center island in the kitchen having breakfast. “You missed tai chi and didn’t answer when I texted you.”
Crap. That easily I’d plunged her into frantic worry about me. I shot Damon a glance—get it now?—and reached for my coffee. “I’m fine, Mom. My schedule’s all fouled up from traveling. Ask Dad. I had dinner with him at midnight.”
Alan nodded and squeezed Chrissie’s hand. “Got to spend a little time with my girl, finally. We had a lovely talk before bed.”
She searched my dad’s face then slowly relaxed. Across the counter Damon alertly watched them and the space between his brows furrowed.
My cell in my lap vibrated. I leaned to read the text without moving the phone.
Arrogant Prince: Sorry for being difficult this morning. I did not realize it would be this.
This. A loaded comment in every way and, more disturbingly, it warned there was little doubt he’d figured out what was going on with me.
My insides curled from the thought of Damon knowing the full extent of my illness. Sharing the truth changed all my relationships except those in my traveling circus. And I didn’t want Damon treating me differently. Illness changed who you were to people and there was no escaping that.
Slyly I tapped out a response.
Cheeky Girl: While you’re here, some things you have to do if I tell you to, even if you don’t understand them.
His gaze met mine across the marble, and he nodded. More vibration.
Arrogant Prince: My stay with your family would go easier if I understood.
Cheeky Girl: There’s no understanding my mom.
Arrogant Prince: Your mum was sincerely worried this morning over you. Why?
I switched off my phone and reached for the egg and jalapeño quiche Lourdes had made. There was sensation against my thigh again.
Arrogant Prince: Can we walk together after dinner?
His phrasing—walk together—made me smile. I leaned to put my forehead in my fingers to hide it. Another text.
Arrogant Prince: It’s a harmless invitation, Khloe. Nothing implied beyond friendship.
Cheeky Girl: Well, nothing inferred...now that that’s clear...
I peeked through my fingers to watch him read my message and his amber tiger eyes fixed on me in a does that mean yes or no type of glance.
I straightened up, shrugging.
Arrogant Prince: I thought walking together would be permissible considering...
Considering? I waited. Nothing. I tilted my head and glared at him.
Arrogant Prince: ...considering you’re polyamorous and I don’t have a friend here to invite on our walk.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing aloud. My first impression of him in Paris had been spot on. Damon was outrageously fun. Inescapably likeable and wonderfully alluring.
I made a prim show of dabbing my mouth with my napkin before balling it up and cloddishly tossing it onto my plate. “I’ve had enough. I think I’m going to go back to bed.”
I pressed a kiss against my mom’s cheek and then my dad’s. I was in the hallway before my phone trilled again.
Arrogant Prince: I’ll wait on the patio after brandy with Alan. That should be sufficiently harmless for friendship and you to join me. See you then.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I DON’T REMEMBER MUCH of what my day was like after my first breakfast with Damon. Though calling eating egg and jalapeño quiche in our kitchen at the breakfast bar with my parents between us breakfast with Damon was fanciful handling of reality, but that was what it was for us. Our own little private story shooting back and forth in texts amid my parents’ own little private story that was always felt when they were together.
After a fast sleep in my bedroom, I went through the usual tasks I filled up my day with while home in a rote way and scarcely paying them mind. Getting dressed for the day. Texting/talking on the phone with family and friends. Making plans here and there for outings with some such person, though I most probably wouldn’t go.
My life that ran at breakneck speed in Europe slowed to a snail’s pace in Pacific Palisades. That was nothing new, but what was new was I was drawn into myself by the way Damon made me feel and desperately worried that he’d turn the small opening into me I’d allowed through friendship into a bigger opening and sneak right in.
When I came from my room at noon, I’d discovered he’d left the house shortly after breakfast and my hiding in my bedroom to put space between us had been a pointless activity. There’d been no risk of running into him and I’d already committed in my mind to walking with him after dinner.
I sat on the front porch, for no other reason than it was private, shady, and had a lovely view of the front grounds, but my gaze strayed frequently to where the Bentley and the security vehicle had been parked.
More than once my thoughts wandered into wondering where Damon had gone. Zane had traveled to California with him. Was Zane still in LA? Did he know Damon was at my house? And if Zane were and did, why hadn’t he reached out to me yet? This circumstance was precisely the type that should’ve made him spring back up in my life even though he’d ended us. It seemed odd to me that he hadn’t, without any reason to beyond knowing Zane well.
That’s how my sister Kaley found me, trapped in my thoughts and looking off into space at empty pavement. She’d parked near the walkway to the front door and I hadn’t noticed her.
“Khloe! Are you in there?” She laughed, more in annoyance than greeting, and I turned my face to find her standing in front of me.
“What are you doing here?”
She plopped down in the chair beside me. “I tried calling you earlier. Left a couple of messages. Check your phone occasionally, will ya? I thought you might want to go out. Have a glass of wine at the beach or something. I’ve got a free afternoon and we haven’t gotten a chance to catch up yet. You got some time to slip away from the folks?”
“I’ve got time.” I glanced around the empty yard and couldn’t decipher why I’d been just sitting there.
“You look really good, like you’re feeling really good,” she murmured, giving me a sharp perusal. “Why do you seem so...so...not here? Are you missing Zane and your wild party life? Or is it from the treatment you had yesterday?”
“No, neither. Zane and I broke up, and, all things considered, I’m feeling good. It’s just always hard shifting gears the first days being home. From doing what I want to doing only what Mom thinks I should. Y
ou know that, Kaley.”
“Still balancing your energy every morning at dawn?” She’d cruised past my relationship info dump and it told me that Krystal had already babbled that to her.
“Yep.”
She made an upside-down smile. “Mom can be rough, but Mom means well. Let her hover a bit. That’s what I do.”
Our situations were hardly the same. “Let’s get out of here. Please, don’t tell Mom we’re going for wine. She’ll insist on coming and probably wrestling me for my glass.”
Kaley laughed. “I’ll stay here. You sneak into the house and grab your stuff, and I’ll whisk you away without them knowing like I used to.”
I wasn’t in the mood to go out, but it was as good a plan as any to fill time instead of counting the minutes until dinner.
As we made the short drive to the beach, Kaley rattled on in a fast stream of updates about what’d been going on in her world the last six months. As the oldest, she was the alpha of us three girls. Black-haired like we all were. Taller than Krystal and me at five feet eleven. More professionally successful and confident than I could ever be and Krystal had never been. Deliciously happy in her marriage and kids, though very little before her life with her husband, Bobby, suggested she’d end that way. And as firstborn, she was third in command in our family after our parents and could do pretty much anything she wanted without criticism. Like whisking me away for wine and girl talk.
Her talking solely about herself didn’t irritate me. I was used to it and glad I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. It made it easier to pass the minutes with her and it took the pressure off me to share things I didn’t want to. Better, I could let my thoughts drift frequently to the brand-new development in my life—Damon—that I wasn’t in a place to talk about, not yet.
