A Collateral Attraction: A Romantic Suspense Novel (Fire and Ice Book 1)

by Liz Durano

  We walk towards one of the couches and sit down. At the reception counter, the general manager is speaking with Ethan and Heath, though I barely notice them. My temples are pounding as my mind processes Blythe’s words, and the words that emerge next do so in a hoarse whisper.

  “He raped you.” The words leave my mouth before I realize it, the truth hitting me hard. In my mind, I see her stumbling to the bathroom, retching. The trembling afterward when I confronted her over what I’d seen. And Andrew, smirking as he lay on her bed. Goldi-fucking-locks in the wrong bed.

  Blythe takes a deep breath, and after a pause, she nods. “Listen to me first, Bee, alright? Just listen.”

  I take a deep breath, unable to speak.

  “The day you were released from the hospital and were waiting for me to pick you up, Andrew stopped by the house. He said his truck had broken down, and he needed a ride to the hospital. I’d just come from the party store so I could decorate the place with a Welcome Home sign and he offered to help me. He gave me one of the soda bottles we refill, you know, the one from the vintage soda machine-“

  “We still sell them.”

  "I should have said no, but he'd opened the bottle for me and it was just soda, right? I mean, what could go wrong? It's just Andrew, right? And then, I was out, like a light. When woke up, I was in bed with him, and he was-"

  “Blythe, you don’t have to continue—”

  “I should have gone to the police station and reported him—but you came home then and I panicked. He just stayed in my bed the whole time, laughing, and that’s what you saw. And then with you so weak, so upset, it wasn’t right for you to be in that state but there was nothing I could do to make you believe me. And why would you believe me? I couldn’t even pick you up at the hospital.”

  My mind swirls with the memories of that day, the way I became hysterical after seeing Andrew on her bed, and then remembering how I believed him so easily, and without question.

  “Oh, God, Blythe, I’m sorry.”

  “I couldn’t stay, not then.”

  “How could you stay? I kicked you out,” I whisper. “I can’t believe how stupid I was to believe him.”

  “And there you go blaming yourself,” she says, her hand on mine. “I will press charges against him, Billie. I promise. I don’t know how I’ll go about it, but I will.”

  “Does Ethan know?”

  “One day he will, but not right now, not when we’ve got bigger problems.” She takes a deep breath and forces a smile. “Speaking of problems, what’s this I hear about you going back home while Heath flies by himself to New York?”

  “Don’t change the subject, Blythe.”

  “I’m not. I just don’t want to talk about Andrew anymore, not right now when we should be talking about Heath and how he’s crazy about you. You two couldn’t keep your eyes off each other in that room and I don’t think he heard half of Ethan’s speech to be honest. So what’s the deal about you not going with him to New York?

  “I distract him.”

  “Tell me about it,” she says, chuckling. “But go with him, Bee. Enjoy yourself. Get to know each other more. Live a little!”

  “What? And then get hurt when he decides I’m not the right one for him?”

  “So?” Blythe exclaims. “Newsflash! Everyone gets hurt, Bee! Rich, poor, young, old…whoever we are, it doesn't matter. You think that bodyguard over there doesn't get hurt? Or that concierge over there? What about Ethan? Or me? We all get hurt, but it's like falling off that bike—we just get back right on and keep riding. Because if we don't get back on it, life will just pass us by. And just like that, in a blink of an eye, it’s over.”

  “I wish I could fall in love as easily as you do, Blythe.”

  She smiles ruefully. “I actually don’t fall in love that easily, Bee. But what I do easily, is live my life, and enjoy every moment. After Mom and Dad died, it made me realize just how short and precious life was to keep hiding from the world. And that’s what you’re doing. Hiding.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  Behind her, the brothers are saying good-bye, their exchanges less strained now. Heath's car is idling in the carport.

  "It's okay to get hurt, Billie Bee,” she says as she takes my hands in hers, clasping them between us. “What's not okay is you walling yourself up from all that hurt because when you do, you wall yourself up from all the good, too.”

  By the time Heath's plane takes off from Santa Barbara airport, it's past nine at night, and we're scheduled to arrive at Auburn Airport in less than two hours. We’ve been warned that there’s thick cloud cover, owing to an oncoming storm from the east, but unlike commercial flights, Heath assures me that we’re going to be alright.

  From there, it’s a quick goodbye before he heads to New York without me. But as much as I wish I could fly with Heath to New York, he’s right about one thing. He’s got a major corporate fire to put out and the last thing he needs is a distraction. Ethan and Blythe have been set up in an embezzlement scheme and he fell right into the trap of protecting them by delaying that important development to the Board. If that isn’t reason enough to demand his resignation, I don’t know what is.

  Though I insist that I don’t need the divan converted into a bed, the flight attendants do it anyway, completing my little retreat by dimming the lights and leaving me with a glass of champagne and some Swiss chocolate on the side table. It proves to be one of the best things about the flight, because the moment they shut the door separating the rear cabin from the rest of the plane, I realize what a godsend it is to have some privacy.

  This time, we’re not traveling alone, not by a long shot. Two lawyers and two accountants are flying to New York with him, along with five members of his security team. Apparently, two bodyguards will stay with me in Nevada City until further notice, and while I’m not happy with Heath’s decision, with Jackson and Charlene still missing, he’s got a point.

  Half an hour into the flight, Heath enters the rear cabin and shuts the door behind him.

  “I hope you don’t mind me joining you back here. I need to balance out the plane since we seem to be a bit front-heavy,” he says, kicking off his shoes.

  “I hope you’re kidding,” I say as I suppress a giggle, the bed shifting as he sits next to me. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a deep burgundy shirt that plays his eyes and dark hair, the stubble that line his jaw giving him an air of recklessness. I don’t think he’s shaved since I met him and so I think what he’s got is basically a beard now, and it looks good on him. But there are dark circles under his eyes and I can’t help but feel bad for all the fires he has to put out to save Ethan and Blythe, and the company his mother helped build.

  “How are you?” he asks as he drapes his arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.

  “Not much for me to say, not when you’re all busy working out there. I figured you guys didn’t need me, not when you all look like it’s Def Con 4 or something.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be, Mr. Chairman. You’re one hell of a busy man.”

  He chuckles dryly, his dimples making their rare appearance. “All work and no play have certainly made me a dull boy.”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  For the next few minutes, we don’t say anything else. I rest my hand on his thigh, absently drawing circles with my fingers as I lay my head on his chest. I can hear the beating of his heart and it calms me. Yet how he can be calm under such pressure is something I can’t even begin to fathom. All I know is that I want this moment with him to last forever, just like I want more memories with him, no matter how brief they may be.

  “Would you like me to change that perception of you being a dull boy?” I ask playfully, biting my lower lip as he watches me.

  “I'm open to suggestions, yes.”

  I squeeze his muscled thigh, loving the way he draws a quick intake of breath and the way he looks at me with narrowed eyes.

  “You. Me. Right here. R
ight now,” I whisper, pressing against him and catching his lower lip between my teeth.

  Heath doesn’t need any more hints. He knows what I want and he wants it, too. He brings his other arm around me and pulls me to him, kissing me hungrily. The feel of his lips against my own is an escape from the world of trouble we’re in, and it threatens to unravel me. I can’t believe I’ve fallen for him, yet here I am about to leave him, going back to my normal life after a few days of what seems like a lifetime with him.

  Outside, rain pelts against the portholes but I don't care. California needs the rain, but right now, I just need Heath to keep kissing me like he does, like he’s taking whatever essence he can take from me, his tongue tasting me and sending shivers up and down my spine. When his hand slips under my shirt, I don’t stop him. Neither do I stop him when he slips my lace top over my shoulders and unhooks my bra, palming my breasts as his mouth moves lower to tease and torment each nipple. I muffle my moans against the pillows, allowing him to pull down my jeans and my lace panties in silence. It’s as if we’re on a mission, and nothing’s going to stop us from what we both want.

  Suddenly I look up and glance at the door. Did he lock it? “What if they need you for something?”

  “They won’t,” he murmurs, and this time, it’s his turn to undress, tossing each piece of clothing to the floor till I take over, pushing him down onto the bed and straddling him. There’s a playful urgency to our movements, as if we’re doing something we shouldn’t be doing. But we’re doing it anyway even though we don’t have to.

  Heath lets me do whatever I want to him, teasing him with my mouth, my tongue, my hands till he can’t take it anymore and he reaches for his wallet and slips on a condom.

  I know it’s a Mile-High Club quickie but I don’t care. I want to live life outside the walls I’ve long built up all because of one man who I vow will pay the price one day. But I can’t think of him, not now, for all I want to do now is live for the present. I want to stop worrying about the future, or what everyone would think of me if I let go of my inhibitions and did this, this almost primal coupling that has me straddling him, loving the feel of his hands squeezing my breasts before gripping my hips as he buries himself deeper inside me.

  When my release comes, I feel myself shatter before him, the vibration of the plane and the soft hum of its engine accompanied by the imagined sound of rain outside the portholes heightening everything I’m feeling. When Heath comes, it’s hard and fast. His fingers dig into my skin and later when the waves of our orgasm slowly dissipate, he wraps both his arms around me and pulls me down, so I’m lying over him, his breath warming the curve of my neck.

  It’s then when the tears come, unbidden. Maybe it’s the shock of everything I’ve been through in the past few days. Maybe it’s jet lag.

  But there’s one thing that it isn’t—shame.

  25

  Bit Players

  We don’t have much to say when we land, not when I can barely look Heath in the eye. I can’t believe I fell apart like that, even if it was due to jet lag or not. It was only sex, I tell myself, even though deep inside I know it’s not true. Nothing is only sex to me, not when I’ve only been with one man, and for the last three years, I’ve allowed him to dictate my worth long after he’d left me.

  I tell myself that Heath and I would never have worked out, that we’re from two separate worlds, and we’re just two people who have to work together to get people we love out of the trouble they’re in. But it’s just talk, and I know it. Still, I’ll forget him, and I’ll keep myself busy until I do. I’m just grateful that the whole charade didn’t go for too long, that in less than a week, I’m here I am about to return to my boring life of managing a small souvenir shop in the morning.

  Life will go on. It always does.

  “Talk to me,” Heath says, taking my arm and pulling me to one side as we wait for the Escalade that’s to take me back home. I’ve already refused to have him ride back with me as if we’re on a date, and he’s walking me to my door. It’s too much. It’s not as if his whole team doesn’t know what happened in the rear cabin. I can only imagine their knowing looks, and I just want to disappear.

  “We really don’t have much to talk about, Heath. But I want to thank you for everything, for doing everything you could to help me get to my sister even when you didn’t have to.”

  I don’t even look at his face as I say those words because I can’t. I stare straight ahead of me, at the buttons of his shirt, and remember how I’d traced the landmark of his sternum with my tongue.

  “Look at me, Billie.”

  He tips my head upwards, his thumb gently caressing my chin. I can’t stand to look at his eyes, but I force myself. I can’t remain a coward forever.

  “I’ll come back for you when all this is over. It could be tomorrow or next week, but I will be back.”

  “I think you’ve forgotten that what we have here is a charade, nothing more. And it’s still a charade. Everything else that happened between us is just a bonus.”

  “That’s not true, and you know it, Billie. You need to stop with all this self-talk about things that aren't true.”

  "It's the only way I can't get hurt," I say as I steel myself from my emotions. "Thank you for everything, Heath.”

  I don’t wait for him to reply because the Escalade finally arrives, and stops in front of us. As Wally opens the door for me, I slip past Heath to step into the back seat as quickly as I can and stare straight ahead. Heath turns to shake Wally’s hand, telling him to keep him abreast with every development until he returns.

  “I hear reception’s spotty up here, sir, but I’ll keep you updated with all events,” Wally says.

  “Please do. And thank you,” he says before turning to look at me though I don’t look at him.

  Please don’t make this hard for me, Heath, I pray, and he doesn’t. After a few more words with Wally as Brad gets in behind the wheel, Heath says goodbye.

  I text Blythe as soon as we make our way to Nevada City. In good weather, it’s less than a ten-minute drive to get to the house from a day of shopping in Auburn, but that’s only depending on who’s behind the wheel, for if it were me, it’s usually much longer.

  It’s along this two-lane highway where the teenager swerved in front of our car three years ago, sending us rolling down a ravine where we would stay till someone finally took notice of the skid marks on the road a few hours later.

  The memories of that horrible night have mercifully left me, and no amount of therapy has been able to unearth them. But I can’t drive along Highway 49 without being reminded of the moment my life changed, and I’ve used that road as an excuse not to live my life.

  Blythe’s text arrives just in time, yanking me back to the present.

  Blythe: Are you on your way to New York?

  Billie: I’m on my way home.

  Blythe: ARE YOU CRAZY?

  Billie: That’s the problem. I’m not. I’m too sane for this shit.

  Blythe: Do you like him?

  When I don’t answer her right away, she repeats her question.

  Blythe: DO YOU LIKE HIM?

  Billie: I do. I like him too much. Big problem because it’s too much too soon. It’s just a fling.

  Blythe: SO??? You’re crazy. I need to talk to you. I’m calling you in a few minutes.

  Billie: Not unless you want the bodyguards to hear me talk about how their boss is in bed.

  Blythe: They sign NDA so we can still talk about how he is in bed if you want. There’s a reason why the girls can’t get enough of him.

  The flash of headlights reflected from the rear-view mirror blind me, and I bring my hand up instinctively. I curse under my breath as the lights appear again, swerving behind us this time.

  Shit. Just pass us, I mutter as I turn my head to look behind me. A pair of headlights inches closer behind us. Too close.

  “Let him pass,” Wally says as the car speeds up alongside us.

  �
�There’s a turn up ahead,” I say, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. This is it, the place where the accident happened three years ago when my whole life changed in a blink of an eye. What are the odds for lightning to strike twice in the same spot? Probably unlikely, but my heart doesn’t know that as it thunders inside my chest, my panic rising with each second.

  As Brad slows down, the car behind us passes us, but as I look outside my window, I see nothing but darkness. The car is gone. Did I imagine it?

  But I know there was a car, and Wally knows it, too, for he glances at me, his expression hard.

  “Keep your head down, Miss Delphine,” he says as he looks around us, searching for the mysterious car.

  “Where’s the car?” I ask.

  Something squawks softly inside the car, and I see Brad touch his earpiece. “We’ve got trouble, boss,” he says to no one in particular as Wally strains his torso one more time to look behind us.

  But with Wally’s distraction comes opportunity. Or that’s what I tell myself as Brad reaches for a gun from inside his jacket and the only thing I can do is scream for Wally to watch out before the world around me explodes.

  The smell of gasoline wakes me first, along with the creaking of twisted metal and someone tugging on my seatbelt, trying to click it loose. The car is upside down, and I can see the headlights illuminating the woods beyond. Just trees and nothing else.

  “Wake up, damn it!” someone is saying, a rough hand, nudging me fully awake. “Billie! Run for the road!”

  With one final tug and a pained groan, the seatbelt comes loose, and I slide down against the roof of the car that’s now filling with mud and rain through the broken windows. The cold rainwater is what finally wakes me up, jarring me to the present as my body feels numb and I don’t know where I am.

  It takes me a second to recognize the man talking to me, blood pouring from a dark glistening hold right along his left shoulder.