The Red Diary
Page 21
Yet it didn't add up, literally. Without reaching for Lauren's calculator, he guessed the charges submitted for each job were only a few percent higher than his actual fees, but still ... "What the hell?"
His first thought was to track Lauren down and ask her where the invoice had come from, explain that it wasn't his, that there was some sort of mistake. But the longer he sat there, the clearer things slowly became, partially from comments she'd made in passing.
The first time they'd met, she'd told him she knew he didn't work cheap because she'd seen his invoices. On the way to the marina last night, she'd mentioned the rising costs from the subcontractors that worked for Ash, but he'd just assumed she'd meant subs other than him. Suddenly he wondered how long the Horizon invoices had been coming in too high.
He traced the path his invoices took. He dropped them off to Sadie, and from there they went to Phil. He knew from Lauren that the invoices she paid came from Phil, that he or his secretary delivered them right to her door every few days. Phil was the common denominator, and a guy he already had reason not to trust.
Lowering his eyes to the phony invoice again, he thought about the trouble Phil must have gone to in order to make this work, but on the other hand, maybe it was simple. Nick didn't know computers, but he supposed once Phil had created the fake form with his logo and address, it was probably only a matter of changing a few numbers here and there. And maybe if he did it across the board-Lauren had said almost everyone's charges had increased, after all-the invoices didn't look so out of line that Lauren or anyone else would do more than maybe occasionally question one.
So Phil was stealing from Ash Builders. More specifically, from Henry Ash. "I'll be damned," he murmured in the quiet of Lauren's office. Again, his first impulse was to find her and explain what he'd found. It somehow made him feel victimized to see his name on a fake-and jacked-up--invoice. But as he let out the deep breath he'd been holding. he lowered the invoice back to the desk. Phil wasn't cheating him, after all-he got his check on time every week for the exact amount he'd invoiced. No, the more he thought about it, the more he understood that the only person this hurt was Lauren's father. And as he clicked the lamp off, then quietly walked back down the hall, Nick knew he'd finally stumbled upon an unexpected bit of justice for Henry Ash.
"Keep sanding, Davy," Nick said, watching his brother remove the peeling paint from the garage door beneath the hot noontime sun. "I'll go get the paint."
"Okay, Nick."
Nick headed in the front door and through the small house to the kitchen, where he'd left the can he'd brought in earlier to show Elaine the color. While he was there, he stopped to grab a couple of soft drinks from the fridge.
"Darn it, where's that paper?" Elaine muttered, coming up behind him.
"Huh?"
He heard her shuffling through the stack of newspapers they kept by the kitchen door. "Oh, nothing. Just can't find Thursday's paper-there was a coupon in it I wanted. How's the garage door coming?"
He turned from the refrigerator to see his sister wearing jeans and a red tank top that emphasized her shape more than usual, and he realized that until this moment. he wasn't even aware of his sister possessing a shape. "The scraping and sanding went slow, but we're about to start painting."
"Are you still taking Davy to the movies afterward?" He nodded. "We'll probably grab dinner, too." By the time the afternoon show let out. they'd both be ready to eat.
"Could you do me a favor then?" She leaned against the counter next to him. "Could you stop by and check on Dad?" His pointed look needed no words.
''I'm sorry, Nicky"-she shook her head-"but I've gone over there every day since the emergency room, plus taken him to the cardiology clinic and the doctor, and I'm just a little tired."
Nick let out a sigh of self-reproach. While he knew his dad now had a "condition" they needed to keep an eye on, he admittedly hadn't thought about the fact that Elaine had already started doing so, and he'd told her he'd help.
He supposed it wasn't much to ask, especially when she added, "You don't have to stay. Just make sure he's all right and remind him to take his medicine. It's on his kitchen table."
"Sure, Lainey," he said, popping the top on his drink, "I'll check on him."
She smiled. 'Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it."
The longer he looked at her, the more he noticed her hair seeming smoother, prettier than usual, and he could swear she wore a hint of lipstick, too. "You, uh, got a hot date. this afternoon or something?"
A blush the same color as her top climbed her cheeks, and she lowered her eyes. "No. Why?"
He regretted his assumption and tried to play it off easy. "Just thought you looked nice, that's all."
She lifted her gaze to his. ''Thanks. I ... guess I don't really take care of myself much anymore. You just happened to catch me on one of my better days."
Nick didn't know what to say. He doubted he and Elaine had discussed anything as trivial as their looks since they were teenagers. Part of him wanted to tell her she should take better care of herself, because she did look good today, but on the other hand, he feared maybe he'd said too much already, so decided he'd be smarter to shut up.
"Besides," she finally added, "I don't exactly meet a lot of men."
He'd never thought much about that, other than his fleeting notion the other day when Lauren had asked if Elaine was married. "I guess it's hard with Davy."
She bit her lip and gave a slight nod, but he could read the guilt in her eyes. She'd spent her whole adult life caring for their brother, and she wasn't sure it was right to want something more.
"Listen, Lainey, if you ever want to go out, even just with some girlfriends or something, Davy could stay with me. I mean, if you ... wanted some privacy."
Her blush returned. ''Thanks, Nick. But I doubt it." He gathered the paint and soda, balancing the cans atop one another, before heading toward the front door. As he maneuvered his way back out into the stifling heat, he remembered Elaine when she had brighter eyes and a quicker smile.
When she'd been a senior in high school, she'd pulled him into her room. shut the door, and showed him a letter from the University of Miami awarding her a partial scholarship. They should've been happy, but after he'd read it, they'd both just looked at each other. "I only applied because Mr. Hayes insisted," she'd explained, referring to the guidance counselor as if apologizing. "I never really thought they'd offer me money."
"No, Lainey, that's great," he'd said. "Really great."
But he guessed his worries had come through in his voice and now he wished he'd masked them better. He'd already left school in order to get a job after the money from the Double A deal had run out. So he wasn't sure how he would have managed-how he'd have painted enough to support them all while taking care of their dad and Davy at the same time-but he could've found a way.
In the end. though, Elaine had decided she couldn't leave Davy. Nick had never alluded to his concerns, but she'd said if he was working to keep them all fed, the least she could do was stay home and care for their brother.
"Maybe you could take some night classes somewhere close," he recalled telling her, "when I can be here with Davy." "Yeah, maybe," she'd said. But she'd never done it. As Nick watched Davy's fist move in circles with the sandpaper, he told himself again that Henry deserved what Phil was doing to him. Henry had cheated Nick's dad, and now Henry's new partner was cheating him. It seemed appropriate; what goes around comes around.
Henry's actions all those years ago had led to this-an alcoholic father with a heart condition, and a sister and brother whose lives would never be all they could have. In comparison, seeing Henry lose a little cash seemed minor, even if somehow satisfying.
And Nick wasn't the one doing something wrong. In fact, it wasn't any of his business.
"Looks good, Dave," he finally said, breaking free of his thoughts. "Now let's start painting so we can make the movie on time. I know you hate to miss the previews."
chocolate chip cookies she and Carolyn had picked up at the mall after lunch. Izzy lay stretched out asleep on her pink pillow at the other end of the couch. She knew most people would consider it a boring way to spend Saturday night, but she felt perfectly content.
Of course, much of her contentment was due to Nick and the new hope she felt surrounding their relationship. She didn't know how long it would last with him-in fact, she felt unsure enough that she'd not mentioned any of it to Carolyn-but she was just thankful for what they shared right now. And when she began to worry about the future. when she imagined him calling the whole thing off, she thought of the rose she'd pressed in her sex journal because it had simply been too special to discard. She thought of the inexplicable way it connected fantasy and reality, him and her. She still had no idea what it could mean, how Nick could have known, and certainly Nick Armstrong was a dangerous person to have started caring about. But when they were in bed together and when she felt his tenderness, or when he unthinkingly told her something about Davy; or a memory about his mother-she knew these were things he didn't give to just every woman.
A knock on the door jarred her, and she flinched, waking Izzy. The cat's head jerked up, eyes opening, as Lauren rose to answer. But-oh damn it, look at me. Why am I never dressed when someone knocks on my door lately?
She scurried across the smooth tile in bare feet and checked the peephole, utterly surprised to see Nick on the other side. Her heart surged as she opened the door, but she tried not to let the full measure of her enthusiasm show. "Nick." Nick arched one arm against her door frame, feeling unavoidably frank, honest. He didn't smile. "Is it okay that I'm here?" "Of course. Why?"
He peered into her blue eyes, trying to read them, even worrying a little; he didn't know why he'd come. "Because we didn't have plans."
''That's all right. I'm not busy."
"And because I wasn't gonna come back tonight-I have other things I should be doing, a business to run." ''Then ... why did you?"
Good question. He summoned more honesty. "Because I did some paperwork, painted Elaine's garage door, and took Davy to a movie, but the whole time ... I was thinking about you." Wanting you. He made no attempt to hide the look in his eyes. Seemed he couldn't get used to her; nothing made the desire fade to normal.
"Come in," she said, sounding a little breathless. This meant nothing, though. Because he'd thought about plenty else today, too-Elaine, Davy, their father.
All it meant was that after a lifetime of constant worries, it was all too easy to just let a sweet, sexy woman take over his thoughts for a change.
Of course, a little guilt over keeping Phil's secret from her had begun to eat at him, but he'd insisted to himself that it was all right in the long run, that it was a victimless crime--other than Henry, the one man he wanted to see victimized. And frankly, the fantasy he'd read in Lauren's journal this morning had somehow managed to overshadow his guilt. Through the day, her handwritten words had returned to him as images in his head, visions of her tied with purple scarves. The very idea that she wanted that filled him with such profound hunger he could barely process it. Because it went deeper now than mere pictures in his brain; with those visions came knowing her ... knowing she was intelligent, and compassionate, and inexorably understanding. So without quite planning it, after stopping by his dad's apartment, then dropping Davy at home, he'd come here. Not a smart move. Not if he didn't want something more with her, something like he knew she wanted. Yet here he was anyway.
As he slid his arms around her, he drank in her pretty, fresh scent and whispered in her ear, "I feel like a shit, kind of." She pulled back to meet his eyes. "Why?"
"I .. ." He didn't know how to say this, didn't even know if he wanted to voice the thoughts bubbling inside him. "I ... didn't
come here just to take you to bed, but .. ." His gaze dropped to her breasts, nipples jutting through silk. "Now that I'm here. I don't wanna wait."
"Nick-" She braced her hands on his chest to gaze up at him with those velvet eyes. "It's okay. Because I know." "You know what?"
Her words came softly. "I know what you can't quite say. I know it's not just sex anymore."
He opened his mouth to protest-a natural instinct-but Lauren lifted two fingers to his lips. "Shhh." Then she stepped back, reached down, and took her top off over her head so that she stood before him wearing only a small pair of satin shorts. He loved that she wasn't like Carolyn. He loved even more, though, that she was like Carolyn for him.
Minutes later, they lay rolling in Lauren's bed, their bodies intertwined, the fan overhead turning in slow circles to keep them cool as they moved together. Somehow, she wriggled away from him, turning over, putting her back to him. Shadows from the moonlight streaming in made a perfect silhouette of her curves, but he reached to roll her beneath him again. "No." She pulled away, then peeked over her shoulder. "Like this. From behind."
Yet he had other things in mind. "Soon, baby, not yet." He reached for her again, but she balked.
"My way," she said in the darkness.
His arousal increased with her commands, then grew hotter with his memory of her scarf fantasy. It escalated even higher when he made a decision-not to let her call the shots. Without giving her a choice, he rolled her body toward him and firmly covered it with his, his cock nestling in the soft hair between her thighs. "No," he said, hoping she could see the wicked glimmer in his eyes, "my way."
She struggled slightly in his grip, but her eyes brimmed with the same heat that burned in his veins, too. When he pinned her wrists above her head, she flashed a look that bordered between defiance and pleasure, then arched against him, even as she twisted and writhed a little more. "Oh, baby," he murmured, pushed to the edge by her teasing resistance. He was so tempted in that hot moment to confess what he'd read that morning, so tempted to ask her to let him tie her with scarves ...
But of course, he couldn't. He could never tell her. And yet he kept going back to that book for more of her deepest desires, more of what he knew only he could give her-if only he could tell her what he knew. His eyes fell shut as he groaned in frustration, and he loosened his grip.
"What is it?" came her small whisper. "What's wrong?"
Shit. He hadn't meant to react that way. "Nothing, honey." He let go of her wrists, grazing his fingertips slowly down the expanse of her arms until he gently seized her breasts. ''Nothing.''
Then he kissed her-slow, deep, tender-just to have her for a moment in a way that had nothing to do with her fantasies. Still, being able to bring those fantasies to life proved an irresistible temptation, so as he kissed and touched and tormented, he held her down, just enough to let her feel his control, enough to make her submit. Just like he knew she wanted. Then, finally, he rolled her to her side and gave her what she'd demanded earlier, entering her from behind.
Somehow, though, even as he pumped himself into her eager body with growing abandon, other things chipped away at his pleasure, no matter how he tried to forget about them.
The red book .. Phil's embezzlement.
Yet why did Phil's secret bother him? He pushed it aside.
At least the secret about the book allowed him to bring her pleasure-pleasure that stretched beyond the normal plane of sensuality, pleasure only he could give because only he knew how.
Concentrating on that, he reached around to press his fingers into the hot juncture of her thighs, listened to her moan, then made her come. It washed everything else away.
Lauren floated on an aqua blow-up raft in the pool the next day, in a flowered bikini that only a few days ago she'd thought she'd never wear in front of Nick. She lay peering at the cloudless blue ceiling of sky in total relaxation, knowing he floated somewhere nearby, too. They hadn't spoken in a while, but even when they weren't communicating, she sensed his presence.
When a splash shook he
r raft and drops of cold water rained down, she jerked her eyes open to find him at her feet, shimmering wet as he pushed his hair back over his head.
Their gazes met, and the world stood still.
He didn't have to say a word, didn't even have to touch her-she knew what her ocean god wanted. And she instinctively understood now that somehow, some way, Nick knew or felt her innermost thoughts, that he was somehow meant to bring her private fantasies to life, make them all come true.
Logic still told her it was impossible, but she knew it wasn't. Because it was happening.
Don't fight believing in it. Let go of yourself, let go of the logic, let yourself believe in this magic. The magic meant more than the past, more than Nick's reluctance, more than her own doubts. The magic meant everything.
Without ever letting her gaze leave her magnificent ocean god, she parted her legs and let the magic begin.
Chapter Fourteen
Hours later, as they lay among the tangled sheets on her bed, kissing, touching, even laughing, it dawned on them that they'd entirely missed lunch. "Wanna get a pizza?" he suggested.
"One problem. Somebody would have to get dressed and go to the door to get it." He winked. "Not a problem. You can do it."
She tilted her head against the pillow. "Why me?" "I made breakfast this morning." She let out a laugh beneath him. "You made the cereal and toast this morning, huh?" "I toasted, I buttered, I poured. Hard work."
Without warning, she rolled over, pushing him deep into the pillow as she rubbed her chest against his and purred in his ear. "I'll agree you've worked hard today, but most of it was long after breakfast." "So your sex slave pleased you?"