Burn (Breathless 3)

“Sounds like one big happy family,” she murmured.

“Of sorts.”

They arrived at the restaurant and the maître d’ immediately ushered them to the table always reserved for himself or Gabe or Jace when they chose to eat here.

Josie sat across from Ash, but she didn’t fully relax. She was perched on the edge of her seat and her gaze kept darting left and right and beyond Ash. She looked ill at ease and like she’d rather be anywhere but here with him. His ego was taking one hell of a beating. Women didn’t normally have to be blackmailed in order to agree to a date with him.

“Would you like wine?” he asked when a waiter immediately appeared.

She shook her head. “No. Water will be fine. Thank you.”

“Make that two,” Ash murmured to the waiter.

“Don’t let me keep you from enjoying wine if that’s what you prefer,” she said. “I just don’t want to drink and then have to get back home. Alcohol makes me pretty fuzzy. Last thing I need to do is be stumbling around Manhattan after dark.”

“So you can’t hold your liquor and when you do imbibe, you drink girly drinks. I’ll have to remember that.”

Her lips twitched and her eyes flashed. He’d almost gotten a smile out of her. Was he such an ogre? He was used to women falling for his charm, although in Josie’s defense he hadn’t exactly been charming in her presence. Something about her brought his caveman instincts roaring to the surface. He was lucky he could form coherent sentences without growling, beating his chest and dragging her back to his cave by her hair.

That would go over well . . .

Not only would she have his balls, he’d never see her again.

The waiter took their orders and then quickly disappeared. Josie glanced up, a question in her eyes as soon as they were alone.

“Did you bring the jewelry?” she asked softly.

He reached into the breast pocket of his dinner jacket and pulled out a small velvet drawstring bag. Placing it on the table, he slid it across to her, but held on when she would have retrieved it.

“The deal was dinner,” he said. “I’ll give you the jewelry now and hope you don’t make a break for it the minute it’s in your possession.”

She flushed, whether from embarrassment or guilt he wasn’t sure. Maybe she had considered it.

“My ego is taking one hell of a beating,” he said, voicing his earlier thought. “Am I that unattractive, Josie? I didn’t imagine your response to me in the park. You were as aware of our chemistry as I was. But you act like I’m carrying the plague and you don’t want to breathe the same air as I am.”

Her fingers curled over the bag, brushing against his. Instant warmth traveled up his arm to his shoulder. At just her touch. Such a simple thing. Nothing behind it. It was incidental and yet the air was instantly charged with awareness. No, he wasn’t the only one who felt it, but he was the only one embracing it.

“I think you know you aren’t unattractive,” she said lightly. “I doubt you need me to tell you that. I’m sure you hear it all the time. Women probably fall over themselves to compliment you.”

“I don’t give a damn what other women are thinking,” he said bluntly. “I’m more concerned with what you think.”

She carefully drew her hand back, the bag with the jewelry tightly fisted in her grasp, as if she were afraid he’d prevent her from taking it. When he made no move to intercept it, she quickly opened the bag a nd gently pulled out the two rings, a necklace and a bracelet.

Relief was evident in her eyes. The aqua pools lit up as she lovingly traced the lines of the jewelry. A faraway look entered her eyes and when she raised her gaze back to Ash, moisture glistened around the edges.

“Thank you for giving my mother back to me,” she whispered. “This is all I have of her. My grandmother too. One day I want to pass it down to my daughter. My grandmother and mother were exceptional women. I want my daughter to have this legacy. Though my daughter will never know them, I want her to know about them. Who they were and how important they were to me.”

“What happened to her?” Ash asked gently.

Her lips trembled, but she held herself together, her gaze never faltering, though it grew suspiciously brighter with the evidence of tears.

“Cancer,” she said, her voice aching with sorrow.

“Recent?” he asked in a quieter tone.

The last thing he wanted was to upset her, but it gave him absurd pleasure that she’d open up to him. Communicate. It was a start. The start of something more permanent if he had his way. And he had every intention of getting his way. It was just going to require a great deal more patience than he was used to having to employ.

Adrenaline spiked, burning through his veins. She was a challenge. One he looked forward to conquering. It had been a long time since he’d been excited about anything. And Josie definitely excited him.

“Two years ago,” Josie said, sadness creeping into those beautiful eyes. “But she was ill for a lot longer. In the end . . .” She broke off, her voice cracking at the very last.

“In the end what?” he prompted gently.

“In the end it was a relief even though I was devastated over having to let go and say good-bye. She was in so much pain. It hurt to see her like that. It hurt her. She hated for me to see her that way, to have to take care of her. She worried for so long that she was taking up too much of my life, that she was holding me back and saddling me with the responsibility of taking care of her. But God, she was my mother. I would have done anything for her. I never regretted a single moment of our time together. And in the end, she was ready to go. She’d fought for so long and so hard. She was exhausted and no longer had the strength to fight. That was the hardest for me. To watch my kick-ass mom slowly fade. I just wanted her pain to be over and for her to have peace. So when she passed away, there was relief. And I know that sounds horrible.”

He shook his head. “Not horrible, Josie. Human. She was your mother and you loved her. No one likes to see their loved ones endure pain and heartache.”

Josie nodded and wiped at her eye with the back of her hand. Her fingers were shaking when she lowered her hand back to the table.

“Wow, not great dinner conversation, right? Sorry to babble on like that.”

“I asked,” he said simply. “What about your father? Do you have any siblings or are you an only child?”

She blew out an unhappy sigh. “I’m an only child. My parents wanted more, but my mother couldn’t have any more after me. She had cancer once before and with all the treatments, not only could she not bear another child, but she was too weakened by the whole process. I—we—thought she’d kicked it, you know? She went twenty years in remission and then it came back. Much more pervasive this time. She didn’t respond to treatment like she did before.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. There I go again.”

He reached across the table and slid his hand over hers. “We’re having a conversation, Josie. It’s what two people do when they go out on a date. Stop apologizing. If I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t have asked. However, if it’s too painful a subject, we can certainly talk about other things. But I’m interested in every part of you. I very much want to hear about you, your life, your family, whatever makes you tick.”

She smiled and didn’t pull her hand away from his. A fact he was absurdly triumphant over.

“Now, you said parents. Did your father pass away as well?”

Her lips tightened and coldness crept into her gaze, turning the aqua color more to blue. It was like looking at a frost-covered windowpane.

“He left her—us—the first time she had cancer. Not right away. He waited until she was well enough to make it on her own and then he split. His reason? He couldn’t stand the heartache of losing her to cancer. He didn’t want to have to watch her die and so he left instead. Isn’t that the biggest bullshit you’ve ever heard? It makes no sense to me. It’s never made any sense that he’d walk away from his wife and child, all because he worried she’d die. He lost her either way, but he lost me too. I never forgave him for that. For leaving us both when we desperately needed him. Especially my mother. Who after undergoing extensive treatment then had to find a job so she could support me and pay the bills.”

“Yeah, it is bullshit,” Ash said darkly. “So you haven’t seen him since? How many years ago was this?”

“Eighteen,” she replied, her voice tight. No matter her anger—and he didn’t blame her for being angry—there was also hurt in her voice. Betrayal. He rubbed his thumb over the tops of her knuckles in a soothing motion, silently urging her to go on.

He had her talking now and hopefully she’d relax and open up further.

“I was ten years old when he left. For a long time he didn’t even try to contact her or me. Then when I graduated high school, he called me. He wanted to send me a graduation gift. I told him where to stick his graduation present.”

The more she spoke, the cloudier her eyes got and her lips formed a grimace.

“He didn’t contact me again until Mom died.”

Tears glittered brightly in her eyes and she used her free hand to rub her thumb along the corner of her eye where a damp trail had formed.

“Sorry,” she muttered again. “I don’t talk about it at all. I mean I never shared this. It’s just sort of all coming out and I didn’t realize how angry I still am about it all.”

“That’s understandable,” he said. “That’s a long time to keep that shit bottled up.”

She nodded her agreement.

“So he contacted you when your mom passed away? Did he know she was sick again?”

“He knew,” Josie bit out. “He never came to see her. Never called. Never spoke to her. After she passed away, he called wanting to see me. He said he was sorry about Mom but that he wanted us to be a family. I told him that family doesn’t do the kind of shit he pulled and that my family was dead. That was two years ago. He’s never tried to contact me again. I don’t even know where he lives. He moved a lot after he and Mom divorced. His job takes him away quite a bit.”

“Do you ever regret not seeing him?”

She looked startled by the question. “No. Not at all. I don’t think I could see him without flying into a rage. Especially right after Mom died. If he’d been there, I think I would have just gone off on him. I was furious and heartbroken. And I was pissed. Pissed that he’d been such a coward and that he hadn’t been there for my mom when she needed him most.”

“I get it. Believe me I do. I don’t see my family. Well, most of them. Recently my sister came to see me but until then I’ve had nothing to do with any of them.”

She cocked her head to the side, studying him. Their hands were still joined and he traced several patterns on her skin, from her knuckles to the top of her wrist and back. He liked touching her. Could touch her all night. And it wasn’t sexual. He simply enjoyed the satiny softness of her hands. Fingers that were stained with paint, a different color on each tip.

“What did your family do?” she asked softly.

“Long story. I’ll tell you about it sometime. Right now, though, I’m much more interested in hearing about you.”

She frowned. “That isn’t fair. I’ve told you about my family. I won’t say another word unless you reciprocate.”

He chuckled and his hand tightened around hers. Her eyes widened and she glanced down at their joined fingers. Yes, she felt it just as much as he did. But she was fighting it and he wasn’t.

“Very well then. I’ll give you a tidbit and then it’s your turn again.”

Her gaze narrowed. “That depends on how worthy I feel your information is. You must give a piece of equal value to the one I gave to you.”

“Now that’s impossible,” he murmured. He looked intently into her eyes, that drowning sensation washing over him. “No information I can give you will be as valuable as you sharing yourself with me.”

Her cheeks grew pink and she dropped her gaze. Her hand twitched beneath his, but he held it firmly so she wasn’t able to draw it away.

“Maybe you think so,” she said in a husky voice. “But perhaps I find information about you to be much more valuable. You see, you have me at a disadvantage. You’ve checked up on me, had me followed. I have no doubt that you know far more about me than I’m comfortable with. So it’s only fair that you even the odds by telling me all your deep, dark secrets.”

She was flirting with him. In a shy, adorable way, as if she were uncertain of how to do so. He’d never experienced such an intense surge of . . . excitement. There was lust, absolutely. He wanted her like he hadn’t ever wanted a woman before. But there was more. He was interested in her. What made her tick. He wanted inside her head every bit as much as he wanted inside her body. Most of all, he wanted her trust, even if nothing he’d done so far deserved such a gift.