So why hadn't she sent him packing instead of inviting him inside? Because he didn't deserve the animosity that she had shown him before and she didn't have the heart to carry on the pretense that he did now that she knew the truth. Perhaps this would give them the chance to part on amicable terms.
"It's not what I would have expected."
His comment pulled her out of her thoughts and amused her because most people had the same reaction. "Let me guess," Callie said as she walked into the kitchen, needing something to occupy her mind other than him. "You thought everything would be purple and covered in rhinestones."
He appeared to consider the question before replying, "Now that I think about, this is exactly the kind of space you'd be comfortable in."
Intrigued, she asked, "What makes you think that?"
"The sparkle is just the surface of a multi-faceted woman," he replied intuitively. "It's the glamorous image that you project to the world. But underneath all of that, you're a very private person. Your home is a refuge. A quiet haven where you can relax and be yourself, which makes this warm, inviting space perfect for you."
With anyone else, Callie would have been surprised by their perceptiveness. Not so with Ford. He always had been able to read her. At one time he'd known her better than she knew herself. But that had been long ago and far away. This was the here and now and there was no way she was going to let him get that close again.
She'd paid too high a price the last time.
"When you're constantly surrounded by glitz and glamour, having a relaxing place to unwind is mandatory," she admitted as she removed items from the refrigerator. "Bastion wanted me to move into a private suite at Opulent, but I had enough of the resort lifestyle growing up. I wanted a place that felt like home."
"Where is home?" Ford asked curiously as he straddled a bar stool and folded his arms atop the granite countertop.
"Vegas," Callie replied as she placed the items on the opposite side of the countertop and turned to pour him a cup of coffee.
"Is your family still there?"
"I never knew my dad, and mom died when I was a teenager. Bastion became my legal guardian," she imparted as she stirred a spoonful of brown sugar crystals into the cup and slid it across the counter to him.
"Are you related to Baines?" Ford queried before he took a sip of the steaming brew. His expression assured her that he was trying to make the connection and coming up with the wrong answer as most people did.
"No, and he's not my father," she informed him to clear up that misconception. "Mom was the costume designer for the Aces High casino, so we lived on the premises. When Bastion took over ownership and had the place razed to build Illicit, he hired mom as his housekeeper. We lived with him until the resort opened and she started designing costumes again.
A glance at his face revealed that he'd arrived at the second misconception. "She wasn't his lover and neither am I," Callie clarified before he could take the next logical leap. "I don't know why Bastion decided to take us under his wing, but I'm glad he did. He's the one person that I can count on to always be there for me no matter what."
"He obviously cares very deeply for you," he acknowledged and looked uncomfortable as hell admitting it. It made her wonder what had happened when Bastion had tried to warn him off. Dollars to donuts it had not been pleasant because he took his role as her protector very seriously.
Oddly enough, the first time she'd met him, Callie had been terrified of Bastion. Then he'd sat down on the floor beside her and told her that he was there to destroy the monster that tormented her dreams. When he vowed to always protect her, she had believed him and even started calling him Bad because he reminded her of the song Bad, Bad Leroy Brown.
"He's been my protector since I was six," she explained with a fond smile of remembrance as she slid a plate in front of him. "I can't imagine what my life would be like without him." Callie carried her plate and cup of coffee around to the other side of the bar and slid onto a stool. Ford's gaze lifted from his plate to her face, his expression bemused. "What?"
"You added brown sugar to my coffee and put cream cheese, honey and walnuts on my bagel," he explained.
She looked at his plate and didn't understand the significance. "And?"
"And since you knew exactly how I like them both it suggests that we've had breakfast together before," he pointed out with a devilish grin that warned he was in a playful mood. "So, I have just one question for you."
"What is it," Callie asked warily.
"Was the sex as phenomenal as I imagine?"
She laughed and shook her head in refusal. No way in hell was she answering that question. Callie wasn't any more immune to him than she'd been a decade ago. There was no way that she was giving him more ammunition to add to his arsenal of lethal charm. "One-track mind," she complained in amusement and pointed to his plate. "Eat."
"Spoilsport," he sighed and dug into his food with relish.
After breakfast, they carried fresh cups of coffee into the living area and conversed about completely random and impersonal topics with the ease of old friends, just like they had done before. Callie had grown so comfortable with him that it came as a complete surprise when he turned those dark, intense eyes on her and requested, "Tell me about us."
"No." The automatic denial sprang from her lips without conscious thought.
Ford's expression was crestfallen. "Why not?"
"Because what we had was over a long time ago. It doesn't matter," she insisted, knowing it was a damn lie.
"It matters," he differed with a quiet conviction that carried more weight than a raised voice ever could. "You have all these memories of us and I don't. Share them with me, Callie."
"You don't know what you're asking of me," she denied fervently because discussing their past was not something that she was able to do. It would also be more painful than she could endure.
"Which is why I'm asking," he insisted. "Can you imagine what it's like to wake up and be told that you've lost almost an entire year of your life? To realize that you had no recollection of eight weeks? To wonder where you went, what you did, who you met? It's terrifying and frustrating because no matter how hard you try to remember; it remains an empty void."
"But you were there, Callie," he insisted and slid closer, his hand gently enveloping hers and squeezing encouragingly. "You can give me back the precious memories that I've lost. You're the only one who can."
The depth of emotion in his voice splintered the jagged pieces of her broken heart. Because she could empathize. Ford wasn't just curious about their past. He was desperate to recover the memories that eluded him. Just as desperate as she had once been to forget them. Sharing her memories with him might be what they both needed to heal.
She raised her head and met his gaze with tears shimmering in her eyes. "It hurts to remember," she confessed just above a whisper.
"Then let me share your pain," he pleaded. "I want to know all of it, the good and the bad. Please tell me about us."
Callie rose and walked over to stare sightlessly out of a window, arms wrapped protectively around herself as her head and her heart fought an internal battle over doing the right thing. Her heart won. "I really was wearing feathers the first time we met," she admitted with a bittersweet smile. "It was a pink flamingo showgirl costume."
Ford groaned as if he were in pain. "Fuck. You were hotter than hell, weren't you?"
"You certainly thought so," she replied and laughed shakily.
"Was it another costume party?"
"No. After Mom died, I took over as the costume designer for Illicit," she explained. "I'd worn the flamingo prototype to Bastion's office to get his approval for the design, and you were there waiting to meet with him about designing Opulent. You told me later that it had been love at first sight."
"Was it?" Ford asked and appeared to be hanging onto every word.
"It was for me," Callie confessed and swiped at a tear that slid down her cheek. "I t
hought Bastion was going to dismember you when he came in and found us talking."
"That hasn't changed," he said with a grimace. "At least now I know why the bastard hates me."
She turned to face him with an impish grin. "You drove him crazy," she admitted and went back to her spot on the couch.
"What the hell did I do to get on his bad side?" He queried.
"Everything," she said with a laugh. "He thought you were too old for me, hated your playboy reputation, and it really pissed him off because he didn't terrify you like he had my high school boyfriends."
"Did he try?" Ford asked with a devilish grin.
"Absolutely. He did everything he could to run you off, but you stood up to him. You told him that you loved me and he could either accept you or lose me because we were going to be together. That took guts and impressed the hell out of Bastion. You managed to earn his respect even though he despised you."
"He told me once that the only thing he couldn't protect me from was myself. I guess he was right," Callie said sadly as her smile faded. Because her love for Ford had led to her own destruction. "After you disappeared, he never gloated or said I told you so. He just helped me pick up the pieces of my broken heart."
"Which gave him another reason to hate me," he sighed regretfully and dark eyes filled with sorrow locked on hers. "I'm so sorry I hurt you, Callie. If I could turn back time..."
"Things happen for a reason," she hastily interjected. "We just weren't meant to be." Before he could comment, she rose and said, "I really have to get some work done today, Ford. New York Fashion Week is happening soon and I have a thousand loose ends to tie up for my show."
He accepted the dismissal with good grace and stood as well. "Please tell me that we can talk like this again," he implored. "I know it's painful for you, but it means more to me than I can say."
"I think it might be cathartic for both of us," she agreed because it was apparent that they both could use the closure. Even though it had hurt like hell to dredge up the old memories, she did feel lighter and that prompted her to tease, "Just promise me you'll use the door next time."
"Spoilsport," he accused with a laugh.
Ford
"Judging from your smile am I correct in assuming that Feathers agreed to the date?" Dr. Wilkes asked when Ford entered his office Monday morning.
"That she did," he agreed cheerfully and dropped down into the bean bag chair.
"Did it go as well as you hoped?"
"It was a complete disaster," he confessed and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands dangling freely. "But you were right. Not only had we met before the accident, but we were in love."
"That's wonderful," the shrink commended and looked genuinely pleased. "You discovered a missing piece of the puzzle."
"Even better, she's agreed to share her memories with me," he announced with a huge smile. "I'll finally know what happened during some of the missing eight weeks."
"Excellent news indeed," the other man agreed. "Does Feathers have any physical evidence of your time together?"
"Like what?" Ford asked with a frown.
"Something to prove her story has validity," he explained as his expression returned to its usual somber mien. "Anyone could claim to have known you during that period, and frankly, Ford, your desperation to fill in the blanks leaves you vulnerable to opportunists."
"You think she's lying?" He demanded in outrage.
"You just proved my point, did you not?"
"Fuck," he bit out when he realized the doctor was right. Ford considered the possibility for a moment before discounting it. "No. She's not lying, Doc. I saw her emotional distress. Hell, I could feel her pain. There's no way that Feather's was faking that. Besides, I was the one pursuing her. She didn't want anything to do with me."
The shrink must have been satisfied with that because he let it go to ask, "Did she tell you why?"
"Because I broke her heart when I disappeared without an explanation," he confessed. "It was no wonder she thought I was a heartless bastard."
"Since you used the past tense are you saying that misconception has been cleared up?"
"It has," he readily confirmed.
"How did this transformation come about?" Wilkes queried.
"I told her about the accident and confessed that my memories were gone," he confessed. "I felt like an ass because she left in tears, so when I called her later to apologize, she admitted that we'd known each other."
"Did she volunteer to share the details of your relationship?"
"No. I went over to her place yesterday and it took some convincing to get her to talk about it at all, but she told me how we met," he explained. "I could tell it was painful for her to discuss, but she agreed to continue sharing her memories with me. She thinks it will be cathartic for both of us and I agree."
"As do I," the shrink confirmed. "Has this development provided any clarity regarding the reason for your obsession with Feathers?"
"It has," he confirmed. "Even though I don't remember her, I think I recognized her on some level and that was why I couldn't get her out of my head."
"An interesting hypothesis," the other man opined. "Unfortunately, it can't be substantiated."
"Why not?" He asked just to be contrary and didn't give a damn whether it could be proven or not. Ford knew that some part of him had recognized Callie as the woman that he had loved and lost.
"Because a multitude of factors would have to be ruled out before further investigation of the concept could be given consideration," Wilkes explained patiently.
"Such as?" He pressed and was in the mood to push the good doctor's buttons.
"Physical attributes, eye and hair color, a smile, a laugh, or any other characteristic that would normally attract a male to a female," he expounded. "In your case, you stated it was the peacock feathers that first caught your attention, so they would have to be taken into consideration and ruled out as a source of attraction as well."
Now that he knew about their first meeting, Ford agreed that the feathers had played a significant role, but they were certainly not the attraction. "Go ahead and rule the peacock feathers out, Doc," he suggested with a devilish smile. "Last night I dreamed about fucking a flamingo."
Callie
"Are you certain I'm not breaking the agreement?" Callie queried more than a little anxiously.
"The terms set forth are very specific. As long as you comply exactly with the letter of the agreement, you're not in breach," her attorney replied via the telephone. "But I'd advise against this course of action, Callie. You're skirting the edge and it could bite you in the ass."
"Thank you for the advice, Malachi, but I don't think I have a choice at this point," she admitted as she looked up to see her best friend entering the office with little Lorenzo in her arms. A genuine smile curved her lips as she ended the call and said, "Hand over that beautiful bundle of joy."
"Gladly," Soraya said as she placed the sleeping baby in her arms. "He weighs a ton."
"He looks more like Graham every time I see him," she commented.
"Since my husband is gorgeous, I don't mind that at all," the other woman cheerfully agreed as she slid her leather-clad rear end into a chair. "Speaking of gorgeous men, I don't see any roses so I'm assuming Ford backed off."
Callie bit her lip before answering because she knew what the response would be. "I had breakfast with him."
"I'm sorry," Soraya said and smacked the heel of her hand against her ear twice. "There must be something wrong with my hearing because it sounded like you said..."
"I had breakfast with Ford," she repeated with an eye roll at her friend's dramatic display.
"He spent the night?" She asked wide-eyed.
"What? Oh, hell no," Callie fervently denied and then lowered her voice when the baby stirred. "He dropped by yesterday morning after I hung up with you. We had breakfast and talked."
The other woman held a hand up and said, "Let me get this straight.
When you thought he had dumped you, he was a heartless bastard that you avoided at all costs. But now that he's given you some sob story about having amnesia, all is forgiven? So, are you guys gonna kiss and make up now or what?"
"Don't be ridiculous," she admonished quietly, her hand rubbing soothing circles on the little boy's back. "And it's not a sob story. He really was in an accident."
"Are you sure it wasn't a minor fender bender that he blew out of proportion to play the sympathy card?" Soraya asked suspiciously.
"I'm positive," Callie said firmly.
"So you had breakfast and talked," she repeated and made a rolling motion with her hand.
"He wanted me to tell him about our relationship."
"Did you?"
"I told him how we met," she admitted.
"And?" Soraya prompted.
"And it hurt, but in a good way."
The other woman smacked her ear again. "I'm sorry. How is pain good?"
"Because he's desperate to know what happened during the eight weeks he lost," she admitted. "And I'm the only person who can give those memories back to him."
"Oh hell. He did play the sympathy card."
"He did not," Callie denied although it had been close. "Can you imagine how horrible it would be to lose that much time and know that nothing could ever bring it back? To always wonder what happened and why?"
"Hey, I've had a few mornings after like that and sometimes you're better off not knowing," she derided.
"Well I think he deserves to know," she insisted. "So, I agreed to share my memories with him in the hope that it will help both of us to heal."
"And once you've healed? What happens then?"
"We go our separate ways with no hard feelings," she said with a shrug.
"Ford agreed to that?" Soraya asked skeptically.
"He doesn't have a choice," Callie replied with more confidence than she felt.
Heartless Bastard (Rich Ruthless Bastards, #1) Page 7
