Heart of Ash (12 page)

“You did great.” Kaitlin patted her hand. “That can’t have been easy.”

“I would have smacked one of them,” Jaime muttered. “Or both of them.”

“It’s over now,” Emily said. She gored Kaitlin with a dark look. “I need you to haunt that auction table. Top any bid Roman lays down. I’ll cover it. Will you do that for me?”

“You know I will.”

After her speech, Emily made the rounds from table to table, chatting with the guests and sharing why Teen Waystation was such an important cause. She saw Ash milling in the crowd, mingling with representatives from some of the other foundations. But every time he approached her, she quickly found someone else to talk to, even if it was a volunteer or a waiter or random stranger. The same strategy worked with Roman, but she had to be more vigilant, because he was far sneakier.

Kaitlin was manning the silent auction table and Jamie was covering the donations table, so neither of them could offer any help.

It stood to reason one of the men would catch up with her at some point. She should have expected it, judging from the way they were shadowing her around the room. She just never expected it to be in the cloak closet.

Mrs. Finnerty had misplaced the claim check for her fur and come to Emily in a tizzy. Emily had reassured her not to worry, but to set the woman’s mind at ease, she’d gone into the closet to find the fur and check the number on the tag.

The room was dark and muffled, but she knew, instantly, when someone else had entered. Her first thought came with a flare of excitement that perhaps it was Ash. Which was ridiculous, given everything that had happened between them. The last thing she should feel was this exhilarating lift of her spirits at the prospect he might have followed her.

The click of the door echoed through her bones. She whirled around and froze. Her heart sank. Her pulse pounded painfully in her temples. Because it wasn’t Ash.

It was Roman.

And he was drunk.

“Emily,” he burbled, stepping closer, caging her, blocking her in.

Horror howled. “Paula?” She called. Hopefully someone at the counter would hear. Hopefully someone saw him come in after her.

She scanned the small room, desperately hunting for a weapon. There was no guarantee Roman wouldn’t try
that
again. He’d caught her alone at a frat party once in college. She’d not been feeling well and had gone to the ladies room. When she emerged, he’d been waiting at the door. He’d snagged her around the waist and dragged her into a nearby bedroom. Forced her onto the bed. Thrown his heavy weight on top of her and…

She could taste her rising gorge at the memory.

It was not happening again.

It was not.

But it was. She could feel it humming on the air

With every step he took toward her, she took a step back until she hit the wall. He followed, pressed against her, his breath hot on her neck.

She hated feeling like this. Helpless.

“Paula? Jackson?” A panicked cry.

Nothing. No response.

“Don’t bother,” Roman rumbled, fumbling with her skirt. “There’s no one there.”

Something cold dribbled down her spine. It felt like panic. Her fingers curled around something—an umbrella? Hardly a weapon, but it wasn’t all she had. Fury rose inside her too. Fury at what he’d done. The way he’d made her feel. How that one incident had flavored the whole of her life with fear.

Rage surged within her. Rage at all of them.

At Roman for trying to rape her when she’d been only seventeen, and trying to intimidate her again now. And Ash for using her and tossing her aside. But the worst of it she reserved for herself. For letting them treat her like she wasn’t important. For allowing feelings for one of them to endure.

But Ash was the least of her worries now. Right now Roman, pressing against her, rubbing his erection against her, was the imminent threat.

Denial howled through her soul.

No. No. No.

Not again.

Not anymore.

She lifted the umbrella and brought in down on his foot. Hard.

He howled, lurched back. “What the fu—”

She brought up her weapon, jabbing the pointy end in his direction. Roman danced back to avoid it.

“You always were a bitch,” he sneered, which was hardly fair. Every day of her life, she’d bent over backwards to be polite.  Every day until now.

Something inside her snapped.

“Get out,” she snarled.

“What?” She wasn’t sure what surprised him the most, having a woman fight back or the fact that Emily Donahue was allowing herself to be rude. But she hardly cared. They were both things that needed to happen.

There was a time to be polite and there was a time to kick some ass.

“Get out or I’ll skewer you.”

Unbelievably, Roman laughed. “You’ll skewer me with an umbrella?”

She jabbed him.

He yelped, which she found very satisfying, but then an angry look descended on his face. He grabbed the umbrella, yanked it from her grasp and tossed it aside. He glared at her, his intent simmering in hot waves.

She had the sudden sense she’d just poked a feral bear.

He lumbered toward her, blocking out the light. Terror clawed at her. She still had her knee, she reminded herself. And her thumbs. And she knew how to use them. She and Kaitlin had both taken self-defense classes after that disastrous party and now it was time to find out if they had been worth the money.

Apparently not. Apparently predators knew all the moves too. As she raised her hands, he captured her wrists. At the same time, he shoved his knees between hers and pressed her hard against the wall.

She hated his laugh. It rumbled through her like a claxon.

Her vision clouded. Her muscles seized. Her mind went numb.

It was happening again. It was—

The door opened, flooding the room with sound and light.

And yelling.

“What the fuck?”

Emily nearly fainted as Ash’s outraged bellow rocked her.
Thank God
, she thought.
Thank God
.

He wrenched Roman around and stared at Emily. A muscle flexed in his cheek. “Are you okay?” he clipped. She understood what he was really asking.
Do you want this
?

“No.”

“Okay.” Before she could say anything more, before she could react or move or anything, his fist plowed into Roman’s cheek and the bulkier man went reeling. Emily stepped aside and let him fall, insensate, onto the floor.

When Ash yanked her into his arms and held her, she let him. The comfort, the relief, was dizzying. He stroked her hair and murmured into her ear and she realized, she was crying. “Let it out,” he said. “Just let it out.”

“Ash,” she gulped. “I need to get out of here.” The room was closing in on her, making it hard to breathe.

“Of course.”

He led her out into the hall and barked, “Get security in there,” at Paula who was just returning with a plate of appetizers. Paula glanced into the cloak room, and rushed off to get help. But Ash didn’t wait.

He quickly guided Emily down the hall and into a small lounge next to the ladies’ room, sat on the sofa and settled her on his lap. And held her. “It’s okay,” he kept saying, though whether he was trying to convince her or himself, she wasn’t sure. And she didn’t care.

She wanted to stay here forever, in his arms.

This man with whom she’d had a one night stand.

The man who’d been her first.

Her only.

The man who had devastated her.

If she let him, he’d do it again.

She wanted to stay here forever, in his arms.  But she couldn’t.

So she stood and edged toward the other side of the room. The distance did not make her feel any safer. Because the real threat was in her heart.

“Thank you, Ash,” she said, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Thank you for…saving me.”

“I’m glad I listened my gut and followed Roman. He’s an ass,” he muttered.

She snorted a laugh, and then caught it halfway.

He met her gaze. Held it. “I’m an ass too.”

“I beg your pardon?” Those were not the words she’d expected to hear.

He smiled. It wasn’t a cocky, smarmy smile. It was threaded with humility and a hesitancy she’d never before seen in him.

“Emily.”

“A-Ash.”

“I was wondering if…we could talk.”

She blinked. “T-talk? O-okay.”

His lips parted, as though he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of the words. And then, after a long, dangling pause, “God, you’re beautiful.”

Heat raced through her. Ribbons of elation. Her body softened.

She knew it was stupid. This was a guy who used women. Unrepentantly.

He’d used her.

Admitted it.

She was so many kinds of a fool for still wanting him. Aching for him.

But she did.

So when he took a step forward, she didn’t back away, like a sane woman would. She held her ground. He stopped about a foot away.

While she appreciated that he gave her her space, she yearned to feel his arms around her again, a clawing need. She reminded herself to remain aloof. To not fling herself into his embrace. She’d leaped into tempting waters with him before, and regretted it.

“I’ve missed you, Emily. More than I can say.”

“You…missed me?” She choked on the words. She meant to say them in an incredulous tone, but she missed the mark. To her ears, they sounded feathery and breathy and befuddled. She shook her head. Rallied her resistance. Firmed her resolve.

Yes, he was gorgeous in that crisply pressed tux. Yes, his cologne drifted out and clogged her senses with a raging lust.

But he was Mr. One Night Stand. And she, apparently, was an easy mark.

She reminded herself of her vow—no more emotional decisions—and she took a step back. Something flickered over his expression. It might have been pain, but that was ludicrous. Guys like Ash Bristol didn’t feel pain, remorse, regret. They just took what they wanted and then walked away.

Sorrow welled in her chest. She willed the tears prickling her lashes not to fall. She would not let him see her cry. She crossed her arms and attempted a smirk, although she wasn’t good at smirking. She hadn’t had much practice. “What do you want, Ash? Another roll in the hay? Because, according to your rules, our
convocation
has expired.”

He winced. Raked his hair. “Emily…” He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to apologize. For what I did and said. I was wrong. That’s all. I’m sorry. And for the record, I will always regret hurting you. Until the day I die.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and gazed at her, as though memorizing her face. And then he turned. To leave.

To leave.

She thought she felt panic before? It was nothing compared to this rampant dread. If he walked out that door she knew,
knew
, she would never see him again.

“Ash!”

He froze. Waited.

But the words she wanted to say, ached to say—
stay, hold me, love me
—would not come out. The part of her brain in charge of survival would not allow it. Instead, she folded her fingers together and offered the sweetest smile she could manage. “Thank you very much for saving me.”

His eyes narrowed. As though he didn’t like her formality, which was ridiculous. He was the one who had ended things between them. Or her demeanor, which was also ridiculous. She was only being civil.

“Quit being so damn polite.”

She gaped at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“No.” When she tipped her head to the side in confusion, he repeated himself. “No. You never beg my pardon. Never. In fact, I beg yours.  I meant what I said Emily. I was an ass and I’m sorry.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it again. Her brain fizzled and popped but she couldn’t make any intelligible words come out. Finally, at long last, she managed, “That’s okay, Ash.”

“No, damn it. It’s not. It’s not okay.” His vehemence surprised her. “I’ve been hurt in relationships, Emily. And I liked you. I liked you so much I was scared of getting hurt again. So instead…” he fixed her with a remorseful look. “Instead I hurt you. And I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Excitement, hope and annoyance swirled inside her. She wasn’t sure which to focus on. She settled for politeness. “I… Of course Ash. I understand.”

He glared at her.

She didn’t know why he glared at her. She was accepting his apology after all. “What?” she asked.

“Would it make you feel better to hit me?”

“What?”

“Because it would make me feel better if you hit me. Yelled at me. Punished me. Something.”

For some reason, his outburst made her unaccountably happy. She laughed. “I’m not going to hit you. And I’m not going to yell.”

He grimaced. “Punishment then?”

She folded her hands before her and then deliberately unfolded them. “That depends.”

“On what?”

“On where we go from here.”

She liked the way his gaze warmed. “So… You are willing to…give me another chance? Would you…” He ran his finger around his collar. “Would you…go out on a date with me?”

Her heart faltered. “I don’t think that would be wise.” Not just yet, anyway. “But we can be friends.”

He swallowed. “Friends?”

She nibbled her lower lip. “I…would like to get to know you better.”

“I’d like to get to know you better. I really would.” The way he said it, the glint in his eye made her knees weak.

She ignored it. The glint. The wobbly knees. The thudding pulse. She stepped toward him and thrust out a hand. “Friends?”

His Adam’s apple worked as he stared at her offering. Then he slid his hand into hers. As their palms kissed, electricity sizzled through her. She stepped closer.

As did he.

Until they were face to face, chest to chest, breath to breath—

“Emily!”

They sprang apart. Emily whirled to see Kaitlin in the doorway.

Kaitlin’s gaze flicked from her to Ash and back again. Narrowed. “Are you…okay?”

Emily laughed. She didn’t know why she laughed, other than the joy filling her heart. And Kaitlin’s expression. “Yes. I’m okay.”