“You’re too good to bury yourself here, Zane. There are people out there who need you. How many drug dealers, terrorists, murderers and rapists have you taken off the streets? How many lives have you saved? How many more could you save? You don’t belong here, Zane, and you know it. Deep down inside, you know it.”
He took a single breath, pulling oxygen deep into his lungs. Shutting off every emotion that was swirling unchecked through his body, Zane turned his gaze to hers and stared deep.
“You’re wrong. This is exactly where I belong. No one else will get hurt as long as I’m here, in the middle of nowhere.”
“Jesus, you’re stubborn.” She threw herself back in her chair, her body slumping against the waiting cradle of the bars.
He opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off as Simon burst into the room, followed quickly by Marcy.
“What is going on?” The exasperation in Simon’s voice was palpable. “I thought we’d already worked this out. What is she doing back in handcuffs?”
Zane sagged against the wall between two shelves, his anger and zeal having spun themselves out during his confession.
“I caught her stealing a painting from your office.”
“The one you told me was stolen?”
Marcy pushed past Simon to stand before Elle. “Why would you do that, Elle? I thought you only wanted to see it. I believed you.”
Elle stared up at the other woman. “I did only want to see it. I wasn’t trying to steal it. After you left, I was standing in that hallway and all I could think was that I was so close and I just knew my final chance to see Nana again was slipping away. I’m leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t wait.”
She turned her gaze to Zane’s. “I was taking it down to get a better look, to touch her face, and the hanger snagged on the nail. I fell on the floor when it gave. I had every intention of putting it back and walking out of that room. Without the painting.”
Zane’s mind spun, like wheels stuck in mud. He wanted desperately to believe her. Too desperately. Was the innocence he saw in her eyes real or show?
But one tiny phrase stuck in his mind. “Marcy.” He turned to look at the other woman. “You were with her?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I was taking Elle up to see the painting when I got an emergency call and had to leave.” The other woman’s eyes swung to Elle’s. “I said I’d call you later. Why didn’t you just wait?”
Tears gathered at the edge of Elle’s lashes, turning her gray eyes a sparkling silver that he couldn’t look at. Damn, why was this so hard?
“I’ve waited for four years, Marcy. I couldn’t wait another minute, not when I knew she was so close.”
“Wait. Elle, that painting is yours? It was stolen from you?” Simon moved farther into the room so he could look at her.
The space wasn’t big enough for all of them. The air suddenly felt thick and cloying.
Elle looked at Simon. “Yes. The picture is of my grandmother. It was stolen from me four years ago. I thought I’d lost it forever until I saw it in that magazine.”
“I knew that photo shoot would be nothing but trouble.” His light sarcasm might not be appropriate, but it was typical Simon. “Why didn’t you contact me?”
“I did. You ignored all my letters, emails and never returned my phone calls. I assumed you knew it was stolen and didn’t want to deal with me. I consulted my lawyer and I had about a zero chance of getting it back through legal channels. I can’t prove that it’s mine. It was a gift to my grandmother and my father gave it to me when she died—no will.”
Simon raked his fingers through his hair, a scowl tightening his face.
“Zane, how much did I pay for the damn thing?”
He’d studied the single piece of paper that had come with the painting, a bill of sale. Had it memorized.
“Seven thousand, three hundred and twenty-five dollars.”
“Is that all?”
Zane nodded and waited to see what his boss would do.
He turned to Elle and shocked them all. “For God’s sake, take the damn thing. I don’t have any attachment to it. I spend that much on clothes every month.”
Zane knew that was a lie, but he wasn’t about to throw his friend under the bus at the moment.
Elle couldn’t hold back the tears that had been threatening. They began to flow silently down her cheeks. But her voice was crystal clear when she asked, “Are you sure? I’ll pay you. I don’t mind paying for it.”
“The hell you will. It’s yours and you shouldn’t have to pay for something that already belongs to you.”
“But you bought the painting in good faith.”
Zane cleared his throat, but Simon beat him to the punch. “I didn’t bother to ask for evidence that the painting was clean. That’s my fault. Buyer beware. Trust me, I won’t make that mistake again.”
This time it was Marcy’s turn to snort her disbelief. Simon flashed her a look that was both a warning and an acknowledgment that she was probably right.
Simon pointed his finger at Zane and said, “Unlock these handcuffs.” Then he turned to Marcy and continued, “Have the painting packed and ready to go in the morning.”
He turned back to Elle. “You are still planning on leaving in the morning, correct?”
Elle nodded her head, happy to do whatever he asked.
“Great. Now that my evening on the mainland has been ruined, I’m going to lock myself in my office. Unless the place is on fire—” his glaring gaze swept each of them, including everyone in the threat he was about to make “—really on fire, no one better disturb me until at least noon.” He was halfway out the door before he revised his statement. “Better make that two.”
Marcy turned on her heel and followed him out, but not before Zane noticed the way her shoulders tightened with annoyance.
Neither one of them bothered to close the door behind them. Zane crossed the room slowly, trying not to let the still-drying tracks on Elle’s cheeks affect him any more than they already had.
He reached behind her, working the key until the cuffs popped open.
She pulled her wrists into her lap, rubbing the red bands that circled them both.
After several seconds she looked up into his face and asked, “What happens now?”
The hope in her eyes mocked him. His chest tightened. He didn’t want to watch her leave.
But he couldn’t ask her to stay.
He couldn’t risk giving her that kind of power over him. Over his happiness and his sanity.
Losing Felicity had been devastating. Something told him that if he let her, Elle could become even more important to him. Losing her would hurt that much worse. And she was so reckless....
He couldn’t go through losing someone he cared about. Not again.
14
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN? You’ll leave on the morning ferry, with the painting that you came for.”
His words arrowed straight into her chest. She fought against the urge to curl her body protectively over the wound that only she could see.
“That’s it? It was nice to know you? Thanks for the great lay? Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out?”
He walked away from her again, depriving her of seeing his face. Just as well. It was blank when he turned back to her, and she didn’t think she could have watched that mask slam down. Not after he’d just opened up and shared the most devastating moment of his life with her.
“What do you want me to say, Elle? That sex with you was amazing? The best? True. That you make my blood boil with lust and frustration? Absolutely. That we don’t have a future? I think you already know that. We’ve known each other for less than a week.”
“Sometimes that’s all you need.”
“That’s all you need. My guess is you fall in and out of love three times a week.”
Elle sucked in a breath as if he’d actually punched her instead of wounding with words. It would be easy to fold in on herself and give up. But that wouldn’t be true to who she was and she refused to let this devastation he was handing out affect her that way.
Instead, she went with anger. “First of all, I never said I was in love with you.” Thought it, but never said it. “Second, that’s a lousy thing to say and I don’t think you actually believe it. I think you want to. It’s easy to convince yourself that, because I go off half-cocked, tend toward emotional outbursts and make myself vulnerable that I don’t know what I want.”
She stood, trying to ignore the pain that shot down her spine from the awkward position she’d been in for hours.
“You’re wrong. I know exactly what I feel. And, yes, I’m in love with you.” Okay, now she’d said it. Hadn’t really intended to, but that didn’t mean the words weren’t true.
He scoffed, the sound scraping against her nerves. “How can you know that, Elle? You barely know me. And for most of the past week neither of us even liked each other.”
“That’s not true. I always liked you. I just didn’t like that you were following me and keeping me from doing what I’d planned.”
“You mean, I kept you from committing a felony.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to protect herself from the truth of his words and what was happening. “Maybe.”
Throwing his hands up, Zane cried, “We don’t have a future. You live in Atlanta. I live here. You’re just starting to build a name for yourself as an artist. Do you think you could keep those important contacts going if you moved to a tropical island? I have a job.”
“That you hate.”
“That I don’t hate. I’m not willing to uproot my life for something that probably won’t last through the end of the summer.”
She walked slowly toward him, dropping her arms and her defenses. She’d always been the kind of woman to fight for what she wanted, and only heaven knew why, but she wanted Zane in her life. She shouldn’t. He was the type of man she’d always avoided, sworn she’d never let in.
But as Nana had often told her, with that sparkle in her eyes and a smile tightening her wrinkled skin, you don’t always get to choose who you fall in love with.
Elle pressed her body against him. She didn’t reach for him. She didn’t pull him to her. She didn’t kiss him. Instead, she stood on tiptoe so that her body rubbed against his and let the zing of electricity fly between them.
And did the only thing she could think of that might jolt him in to taking a chance. “Coward,” she whispered against his lips.
His entire body stiffened beneath her, but she ignored it. “You’re afraid to feel again. You’re afraid to let your heart thaw enough to let someone else in. You can’t let go of the guilt and forgive yourself.”
She looked up into his eyes, waited until she had his full attention and she knew he’d hear her words. “It was not your fault.”
He pulled his gaze away and, in that moment, she knew she couldn’t win. Nothing she said would change his mind. Stubborn man.
A lump formed in the middle of her throat. She swallowed it down. Finally pressing her lips to his, she let every ounce of her love and passion and hope and happiness bleed into their connection. For several seconds, she lost herself, in the hope that the kiss was real and that it would do what her words hadn’t.
But he didn’t wrap his arms around her or pull her into his body. Instead, he stayed still, his white-knuckled fists the only proof of the effort it had taken him to not respond. She took a step backward. And then another. And another. Until she was at the door.
And he just watched her walk away.
“YOU FRICKING IDIOT.” Marcy’s words held no heat, but Zane felt them all the way down to the soles of his feet.
He’d been avoiding her for the past week, a little difficult considering they worked on an isolated island. Every time she’d walked into a room, Zane had walked out. Until now, that strategy had worked, but he’d known it wouldn’t work forever.
However, avoiding her had given him something else to concentrate on. Something other than missing Elle with a fierceness that bordered on obsessive.
He wondered what she was doing. Who she was with. If she’d finished that painting of the waterfall.
If she was safe or had gotten herself into another one of her scrapes.
He’d bet his salary on trouble.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t escape from Marcy this time. She’d managed to corner him in his own home. She currently stood inside, hands on her hips, exasperation blazing from her eyes.