by Nalini Singh
Noah knew he should buy Kit an undamaged, pristine bear, but he bought the bear with the missing ear. "I couldn't leave the little guy."
Kit's face threatened to crumple. "Noah."
Wrapping her in his arms to hide her from the world, he couldn't stop his stupid grin. "Shit, did I just do cute?"
A jerky nod. "He's adorable. I love him." Then, to his surprise, she hid the bear back in the gift bag rather than holding it so the photographers would see it as they walked out.
It meant too much, he realized in staggered shock. Meant enough to protect. A bear with a missing ear and slightly dirty fur, imperfect and ragged... just like the man who'd bought him.
Kit got the phone call as they were driving home from the theme park. Redemption was hers. "Harper's negotiating the final deal, but she says the terms look okay at first glance," she said after hanging up, still not sure she hadn't hallucinated the entire conversation. "I'm going to be one of the leads in an Esra Dali movie."
"The role was always yours."
She just wanted to kiss him. He was always so firmly on her side.
Trying to think of a way to distract herself, she said, "Did you get those mugs for the guys?" He'd laughed and said he was buying glittery pink princess mugs for Fox, Abe, and David as gifts. Kit had gone gift hunting herself, buying things for Becca, Molly, and Thea, as well as her cousin's young children. She'd also added something happy and sweet for Sarah, figuring the other woman needed a smile.
"Yeah," he said, then groaned. "Shit, I forgot to grab a gift for Emily. The little brat will pout for days if she finds out I got the mugs for the guys and didn't get her anything."
Aware he loved the "little brat," Kit smiled. "I have you covered. I got her a teacup for her collection."
"You really like her, huh?"
"Of course I do. She's a sweetheart." Kit petted the adorable bear sitting in her lap. Trust Noah to get her something so perfect, something he'd chosen specifically for her. "I got you something too."
"What?" A curious look. "Spill, Devigny."
Grinning, she reached into the backseat and found the small package. "Shall I open it for you, or do you want to wait till we're home?"
"I never knew you were such a tease."
She laughed and opened the package to reveal a glittery pink princess mug stamped with the letter N. "I couldn't have you feeling left out."
"Gimme that." He swiped for it.
"Nuh-uh." She wrapped it safely back up. "I'm not having you throw it out the window. I want a picture of all four of you drinking from these mugs."
He grumbled, but she caught that heartbreaking, lopsided smile that made it clear he loved that she'd bought him a gift, and her heart, it went all liquid inside her chest. First what he'd said about children, and now this...
Noah was devastating her defenses one by one.
They celebrated her casting with champagne and a homemade dinner where Kit talked off Noah's ear about the script, and he just grinned and listened and told her again that the part had always been meant to be hers.
His belief in her was one of the things that had first made her fall so hard for him. She'd grown up being told by the world that she was inferior to her parents--there had been the "fugly" comments of the tabloids while the gossip magazines and bloggers had been more sly, calling her "awkward" and pointing out her ordinary teenage acne as a "brave fight" she was undertaking.
Other people hadn't been as subtle. As a child, then a teen, she'd overheard more than one guest at her parents' home say uncomplimentary things.
"You'd never believe the ungainly child was Adreina and Parker's daughter."
"I don't know, maybe she'll grow into those limbs. If she doesn't... poor child."
"Fugly is right."
The adult Kit understood that those people had been vicious, sharpening their claws on a vulnerable target, but being constantly negatively compared to her parents wore away at a person. She'd never said that aloud to anyone but Noah, wary of appearing the "poor little rich girl." But he got it. He knew it wasn't about ego but about identity.
Kit didn't want to be labeled as Adreina and Parker's daughter. She wanted to be Kathleen Devigny, who was her own person quite apart from the two larger-than-life people who had created her.
"You are," Noah had said to her the first time she admitted her frustration. "The world won't know what hit it when Kathleen Devigny takes it by storm."
She loved him for that and for his talent and his heart that was bigger than most people knew. He'd never told her, never mentioned it in even a single interview, but she knew he donated a large percentage of his income to charity. The only reason she knew was that she'd been in his hotel room one day when she'd picked up a piece of paper that had fallen to the floor. As she was putting it back on the table by the phone, she'd inadvertently read a few lines--enough to tell her the letter was from his accountant, itemizing donations made on Noah's behalf. All the ones she'd seen had related to children.
Complex, beautiful, talented man, she thought, her heart hurting. She loved him, but she knew he was broken. Perhaps permanently.
"Let's go sprawl on the couch and finish off this champagne," he said after dinner.
Kit nodded because, broken or not, he was hers and she wouldn't give up on him.
They'd just taken a seat on the sofa, Noah's arm around Kit's shoulders, when she got a text from Harper. Her mouth fell open. "Give me the remote." Grabbing it, she switched channels.
"Blue Force?" Noah groaned as the iconic theme music came on. "I watched Dancing with the Stars. I should get to choose today."
"I'm on it." She snuggled close to his side. "It was taped three years ago, just before the series was put into temporary deep freeze--Harper just found out a few minutes ago that this is my episode."
"Why the fuck would Harper put you on this piece of--" Clearly catching her warning glance, he smiled. "I must've been thinking of another show. This is pure genius."
She made a disbelieving noise but stayed against him. "This was before Last Flight. I was still on Primrose Avenue and trying to break out into serious drama. These guys gave me a shot, so don't you ever mock the show."
"Yes, ma'am." He ran his fingers over her shoulder. "What're you playing?"
"A murdering junkie." She grinned at the open disbelief on his face. "Wait till you see me--you won't recognize me."
Ten minutes into the show and there she was, lying in a dirty bed in a crack den, her face scarred by the pockmarks junkies created by digging into their skin, her hair matted and greasy. Her teeth, too, were yellow and cracked.
"Why would they spend all that time making a gorgeous woman look like a hard-core addict?" Noah muttered. "Why not just hire an actual junkie?"
"Watch, it's a good episode." It charted the descent of an Ivy League educated heiress into drug addiction and murder. "I get to be glamorous in some of the other shots, but I think I did my best work in the crack-den scenes."
Noah watched quietly with her, and she could tell that despite his disdain for the show, he'd become hooked on the plot. Content and happy, she wasn't prepared for him to suddenly jerk to his feet. Unbalanced, she braced one hand against the sofa cushion. "Noah?"
"I can't watch this crap anymore," he said and strode out.
Kit stared after him. She knew she should be hurt, but she was just confused. Sure, Blue Force was a spinoff of a spinoff, but it wasn't trying to be anything but what it was--a quick police procedural that acted as brain candy after dinner. The writing was smart, plus the anchor cast had great chemistry. And it wasn't as if Noah was a snob with this kind of stuff--she'd seen DVDs of action movies at his house, many of them far more cheesy than Blue Force.
Shrugging and deciding he was just in a mood for some reason, she returned her attention to the show but couldn't focus, becoming more and more frustrated as the minutes passed. What was wrong with Noah, and why wouldn't he talk to her?
Unable to let it go, she
switched off the TV, then went looking for him. He was in the garden, beer in hand as he sat on the weathered wooden bench by the outdoor table. From the two other bottles lined up on the table, he'd started as soon as he left her. "Planning on getting blind drunk tonight?"
Looking up at her furious question, he laughed, but the sound held little humor. "This barely qualifies as alcohol." He put the half-full third bottle on the table and got up. "What I'd like to do is get drunk on you."
Frowning, she held her position just outside the doorway, not about to allow Noah St. John to intimidate her. "You're drunk," she said, putting a hand on his chest and pushing when he came too close.
"No, I'm not." He backed her up against the house, placed his hands palms-down on either side of her shoulders. "You don't hate the taste of beer, do you, Kit?"
"No, but--"
He kissed her.
Her parched, starving nerve endings shrieked to life. She'd dreamed of Noah's touch for so long, and now he was finally, finally, touching her. He tasted of the crisp bite of beer and of Noah. Just Noah.
She had no defenses, no shields, no way to protect herself.
Fingers curling into his T-shirt, she rose toward him. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he fisted a hand tight in her hair... and a hint of reason infiltrated her mind. This was all too sudden, too fast, too aggressive.
Not romance.
Not passion.
Anger.
Lashes flicking up, she saw his eyes on her face. Flat. Remote. He wasn't involved, she realized, her pleasure turning into this ugly coldness that made her feel dirty inside. He was kissing her, but he wasn't the least bit involved. She could've been a mannequin for all he cared.
Tearing away from him, she wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. "Why would you do that?" she whispered, her entire body shaking. "Why would you hurt me that way?"
His eyes glittered. "You seemed to be having a good time."
She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth a second time, bleeding inside. Enough, she thought. Enough.
He'd fucked another woman in front of her and she'd managed to forgive him, had given him another chance, but she wasn't a self-flagellating doormat. "Get out," she said quietly.
Chapter 30
"Since you've been drinking," she added, "I'll call you a car. But you will get out."
His face was stone, eyes about as soft as concrete. "So that's how hard you'll fight for me?"
She trembled, her hand fisting. "How about you fight for me for once?"
Not giving him a chance to answer, she shook her head. "You don't trust me with your secrets, you mess with my head, you make me feel ugly and unwanted, and you ask why I won't fight for you?" Anger smashed into hurt, the jagged shards splintering through her. "Fuck. You."
Noah's face set into an impenetrable mask. It was the same look he'd given his parents at the charity gala.
Hardening her heart against him, protecting herself against the pain he could so carelessly inflict, Kit said, "You did this. Whatever the pain inside you, tonight you made the decision to drink and to do that to me." But alcohol or not, he wasn't drunk, had known full well what he was doing.
"I'm not leaving you with that creep out there."
Kit gave him a humorless smile. "I'll survive. I damn well did while you were busy fucking every groupie from here to God knows where." Her words made him flinch, and a small, vengeful part of her felt good that she'd hurt him too.
And that made her hate him a little, that he'd turned her into this vindictive bitch. Not wanting to say anything else, words that would make her hate herself too, she walked into the house and grabbed her phone. She felt Noah come in, go into his room. He was outside with his duffel when the car drew up, Casey at the wheel. The bodyguard and driver was meant to be on a break, but she'd asked him to do this as a favor, not trusting any other driver not to use it as a payday.
Locking the door the instant Noah was out, she determinedly refused to cry. Instead, she called Fox. "I threw Noah out," she told the lead singer. "Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." However much she hated him at this instant, she couldn't forget the night that had begun this journey, how she'd found Noah in the motel room.
"I'll take care of it," Fox said in his distinctive grit-laced voice. "You okay?"
"No." Everything hurt.
"You want Molly to come over? Sarah'll be fine on her own--she's steadied since we got back."
"Thanks, but I think I need to be alone right now." Get her head screwed on straight. "Look after him." With that, she hung up and went back out into the garden.
Seeing the beer bottles Noah had left out there made her angry all over again. Picking them up, she took them inside to the sink, poured out the beer that remained in the third bottle, then ran the water so the smell wouldn't linger and took the bottles out to the recycle bin. After which, she returned to the garden.
Except she couldn't find peace here, not today. All she kept seeing was Noah. All she kept feeling was him, his lips pressed against hers and his eyes so bitterly cold. "No more, Kit," she whispered. "You can't help a man who doesn't want to be helped." She loved him, would probably always love him, but it was time she accepted that being with him would slowly destroy her.
She was done.
Noah ripped up the stupid little cherry blossom tree he'd planted in an effort to recreate Kit's garden inside his home and slammed it against the opposing wall. He missed, hit the wall of glass. The dirt slid down in smudged streaks, but he didn't stop to watch; he was already ripping up the other plants. He'd put down smooth stones like she had in certain places in her garden, and now he picked those up and threw them at the glass. It smashed.
The sound was right, was an echo of what was happening inside him.
He picked up another stone. Then another. And another.
By the time he ran out of stones, he'd broken every single pane of glass that had previously provided a view from the house into the garden. Shards glittered under the small lights that had come on automatically when he stepped outside. He'd put in those lights because he knew Kit often sat in her garden at night. He'd liked to imagine her here, a cup of green tea in hand as she relaxed after dinner.
"You done?"
Jerking around, he saw Fox leaning in the doorway that led into the garden from near the living area, his arms folded and his expression unreadable.
"How the fuck did you get in?"
"You gave me a key," Fox reminded him. "I wouldn't have come inside on my own except you weren't answering the door."
Chest heaving and hair falling over his eyes, Noah stared at his friend. "It's eleven at night. You didn't just decide to leave Molly and Sarah alone and drive over here."
"Sarah's asleep and Molly's talking to her best friend on the phone." Fox's eyes watched him without blinking. "I'm going to make you some coffee."
Noah didn't go inside. He destroyed what little remained of the garden. When he was done, no one would've guessed that there'd once been a pathetic little garden here. No one could see his fucking heart, all stunted and hopeful and overgrown with weeds.
"Here." Walking out, Fox thrust a mug of coffee into his hand.
Holding his own cup, the lead singer looked around. "Feel better?"
"Go to hell." Noah threw the damn coffee against a wall. It made a satisfying crash of sound, the coffee dripping like blood down the white stucco.
Fox didn't look at the new damage. "Kit called me."
Skin going tight all over his body, Noah stared at the coffee-stained wall. "Why?"
"She thought you might do something stupid." Fox took a sip of his coffee. "I don't think she was thinking about garden destruction."
Noah fisted his hands. He wasn't going to talk about Kit to anyone.
"What did you do?"
"None of your fucking business."
"Fair enough." Fox drank more of his coffee. "Do I need to punch you in the face?"
Glancing at the other man, Noah shrugged. "It's done. Over."
Fox's eyes looked black in the light as he held Noah's gaze. "Bullshit."
"Fuck you."
"Now that we're past that, we're going to talk."
Snorting, Noah swiveled on his heel and went to walk inside. Fox blocked him. Noah shoved at his shoulder, Fox shoved back, and then they were throwing punches, Fox's mug falling unheeded to the rucked up dirt and dying plants. If it had been Abe, Noah would've been in trouble--the keyboard player was big enough that his size was a distinct advantage in a fight.
Fox and Noah, however, were evenly matched. He landed a punch for every one of Fox's. His fist smashed into Fox's cheek, the other man's slammed into his jaw, making his teeth crash down on the side of his tongue and the hot taste of blood fill his mouth. He retaliated with a punch to Fox's ribs that made the lead singer double over.
Reacting to the hit, Fox headbutted him in the gut, taking him to the dirt.
And Noah stopped thinking.
Wiping the blood off his face with a towel some time later, Noah looked in the mirror. "You fucked up my face, man."
"Shut the fuck up," Fox snarled from the kitchen area.
When Noah walked in, the other man threw him a bag of frozen peas that had probably been around since the Ice Age. Noah didn't even know who had put it in his freezer. Fox was holding another bag of some frozen thing against his eye.
Noah chose to use the peas against his jaw. Unlike Fox, he didn't have a black eye. He had a jaw that felt as if it had come to within a hairsbreadth of being broken, a cut above his left eye, and another one on his cheek. His mouth wasn't in the best condition either.
"You look like shit," he said to Fox.
"Thanks, princess. You look great." His hair damp from the water he'd thrown on his face at the sink, the lead singer pointed at Noah. "You're calling Thea."
"Not happening. Let the tabloids make up some bullshit story about how the band is splitting up." The fact they'd been in a fight would be pretty damn obvious as soon as the two of them were caught on camera. "She's probably asleep anyway."
"Thea doesn't sleep, and you're a chickenshit."
