Heart of Ash Page 11

  “And I was having a hard time with it. Okay. Let’s be honest. I was being a total shit. To everyone. Then one day, my dad brought home this skinny kid. Said he was in foster care. Said we were going to “mentor” him. I thought my dad had gone around the bend. What I didn’t realize was, he had done this for me. I needed a reminder.”

  “A reminder?”

  “Of how good I had it. Even though my life wasn’t perfect, at least I had someone. This kid had no one. Nothing.”

  “He had no one?”

  “No one. His parents were dead and he had no relatives. He was shuttled from foster home to foster home, school to school. And…there were other issues too. Anyway, my dad took him under his wing. Practically made him a part of the family. We went to baseball games and on fishing trips and out to the island. Every time I turned around, there he was.

  “At first I resented the hell out of him. He was nothing but a mopey pain in the ass, but as I got to know him I realized, he was a great guy. And he’d been through…well, he’d been through hell.” Ash fiddled with the corner of the folder. While he wanted to tell Emily all the details, it wasn’t his story to share. “At any rate, my dad was his mentor all through his teen years…he even lived with us for a while when he aged out of foster care. We made damn sure he went to college.” He fixed his gaze on the file and lowered his voice. “He ended up being the best friend I’ve ever had. It horrifies me to think what would have happened to him if my dad hadn’t stepped in. I suspect the reason Parker is alive today is because of this program. I know his success is a direct result of Fostering the Future.”

  “Parker?”

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to say his name. “He’s like a brother to me.”

  “All right then.” Emily sat back. “Fostering the Future it is. So Ash, what do you want to accomplish with this fund-raiser?”

  “Accomplish?”

  “What are your goals? How much money do you want to raise? That determines the kind of venue, the people we invite, you know. Stuff like that.”

  “Ah. Yeah.” Money. Money meant nothing. If he’d learned anything in life it was that money could not solve every problem. He leaned forward, ignoring the bristling giant at the coffee bar. “What I’d really like to do, I mean, what they really need, are more mentors. Businessmen and women who want to give their time and knowledge to help a kid get back on his feet. Or her feet…”

  “There are girls in the program too?”

  “Yes. It’s about half and half right now.”

  “And how many clients do they currently have…”

  Emily went on to ask questions and Ash answered when necessary, but his attention was riveted on her. On her face, the way it lit up and shone, the animation of her features when an idea came to her. She madly scribbled notes as they talked.

  She threw out names of potential donors who would also be excellent mentors; it seemed like she knew everyone who was anyone in Seattle society.

  God, she was incredible.

  It occurred to him that she would make a perfect wife for a man in his position. Especially if he took over more responsibilities at the foundation. After the disaster of his marriage, he’d decided if he ever married, he’d probably need to choose someone from his own financial strata, just to avoid the risk of marrying a gold digger.

  Now he saw that idea for the idiocy it was.

  Emily was perfect for him.

  Even without being rich.

  She would love him for himself…if she ever did fall in love with him. She would be faithful and warm and make him laugh. They would be a perfect match.

  They were a perfect match.

  All he had to do was convince her of that.

  He was suddenly more determined than ever to make that happen. He glanced over his shoulder. But it wouldn’t happen here. Not with chaperones in tow.

  “Okay,” she gusted, recapturing his attention. Or part of it. “Here’s what I’m thinking.”

  “Yes?”

  “Because we want to find mentors for these kids, it’s crucial to get the kids and the potential mentors together. So they can interact. The thought is, once they meet these kids and see how great they are, they won’t be able to resist.”

  “Um. Okay.” Sounded good.

  She winked. “It works with homeless kittens too. Anyway, what do you say about this… We hold a weekend party on the island. We have the donors come down on Friday for a swanky soiree, you know, to soften them up. And then bring in the kids on Saturday for a beach luau. We’ll have games and activities so they can all get to know each other.” She tapped her lips. “Maybe fireworks? And then on Sunday we’ll hit them with the call to mentor, and hit them hard. I know it’s a tight clock, but I’d like to have the event before school starts. That would give us a little less than a month. Two weeks at the soonest.” Her eyes shone. “What do you think, Ash?”

  What did he think?

  She was perfect.

  Absolutely perfect.

  And he was going to win her.

  No. Matter. What.

  Excitement danced through Emily as she reviewed the details of the event. She loved this kind of project. Especially one with such potential impact.

  But there was more to it than that. It was this. Spending time with Ash. Working with him on a project that meant something.

  Already, in this short period of time, she’d learned so much about him. About what made him tick.

  She had been attracted to him on a physical level the instant she’d set eyes on him. Now, she saw through to his soul. The Ash behind the mask he presented to the world.

  She could see the ten-year-old boy, lost and confused when the foundation of his life had crumbled. She could see the wounded man, deeply in love and cut to the core by his bride’s betrayal.

  She could understand why he vowed to keep his distance from pain, why he swore never to be hurt like that again.

  She, after all, had sworn the same thing. And it had ruled her life for far too long.

  She would not allow it to rule her anymore.

  Yes, she could see the depth of Ash Bristol’s soul. And she liked it.

  She liked him.

  She wanted…more.

  As incomprehensible as it was, after everything that had happened between them, she wanted more. She was willing, ready, to try again.

  Emily glanced at her friends, pretending not to ogle them. Then she smiled at Ash. “I think we’re done here.”

  His face fell. “Already?”

  “Yep. There’s lots more to do, but I think we have the bones down.”

  “Already?” Was it her imagination, or did he not want to end their tête-à-tête?

  She put a palm on her stomach. “I’m hungry. How about you?”

  He perked up at that. “Yeah.”

  “What do you say we get out of here and go somewhere…more private?”

  He really perked up at that. “Is this a…date?”

  “Maybe.” Her lips twitched.

  He beamed at her. And then he sobered and cleared his throat. “I should probably warn you, Holt’s not going to like us dating. Lane either.” Then, after a moment of reflection, “And probably Drew.”

  “True.” Emily nibbled her inner cheek. “So it’s probably best if we don’t take them on any of our dates.”

  “Agreed.” Humor laced his tone. “But how do we lose them?”

  “Easy. We shake hands, and then you gather your things and leave.”

  “Leave?”

  “I’ll pretend I’m going to the restroom and sneak out the back door. We can meet in the parking lot. You did bring your car?”

  He nodded.

  “Perfect. We can escape and go have dinner somewhere.”

  “Where would you like to go?”

  She shrugged. “Anywhere.” Anywhere with him.

  His eyes lit. “I know just the place. There’s…something special I’d like to show you.”

  “Okay.” She thrust
out her hand. He took it. And though the handshake was utterly decorous, it gave Emily an unholy thrill.

  Because she and Ash were going on a secret date.

  Chapter Thirteen

  He took her out for teriyaki, which was not what she’d been expecting.

  When he’d said, I want to show you something special, she’d thought, at the very least, it would involve linen tablecloths. But she was a fan of teriyaki, and this was some of the best she’d ever had. And they were together.

  And Holt wasn’t hovering.

  All in all, it was pretty awesome.

  When they were full, they pushed their plates and chopsticks to the side and Ash leaned forward. “Emily, can we talk?”

  She nibbled her lip. “We are talking.” They’d been talking all evening. Just not about anything real.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Oookay.” Her belly flipped, making her wish she hadn’t eaten that second egg roll.

  “What are we going to do about this thing?”

  Emily blinked. “This thing?”

  “This thing between us?”

  Oh. That thing.

  She fiddled with the paper from her straw. Rolled it into a ball. “I dunno.”

  He took her hand, quieting her restlessness. When she looked up, he snagged her gaze. The heat of his intent burned her. “Please tell me there’s a chance for us. A real chance.”

  Heavens, he was attractive. Even with his muscles tight, his expression stark, his cheeks flushed. Everything about him radiated sincerity.

  She couldn’t help but be impressed. He didn’t strike her as a man who begged often. If ever.

  She wanted to give him another chance. She really did. But—

  “I’ll be honest, Ash. I’m afraid.”

  He winced. “Of me?”

  A little nod. “Of getting hurt again.”

  “I won’t hurt you. Ever again. I swear.” When she didn’t respond, he blew out a harsh breath. “Okay. I understand—”

  She silenced him with a finger to his lips. He froze at her touch. Closed his eyes and sighed.

  “I don’t think you do, Ash. I like you. I do. More than I should, I suppose. More than my friends think I should…”

  He grimaced.

  “I should just walk away…but I can’t. I feel like there’s something…something here.”

  “With us?”

  “Yes. With us.”

  His tension broke; a smile wreathed his face, making him more handsome than ever. ”Thank God.”

  “But Ash, you do realize it’s going to take time for me to—”

  “Yes. I realize that. I’m prepared to wait. For as long as it takes.”

  She frowned. “It could take a while.”

  “I understand. Though…if you’ve decided on my punishment, that might speed things up.”

  Emily blinked. “Your what?”

  “Remember? We agreed. You should punish me for being an ass. You should think of something.”

  “I should?”

  “It would make me feel better.”

  “Even the playing field?”

  “Something like that.” He sat back. “Is it selfish of me to want to clear the slate?”

  She shook her head. Tried not to grin. “Maybe I should just use you.”

  “What?”

  “You know. Use your body.”

  He gaped at her.

  “Maybe I should use you and toss you aside…”

  His throat worked. “I-I couldn’t blame you if you did.”

  Silly boy.

  Little did he know, she was only teasing. She couldn’t toss him aside if her life depended on it. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. Okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  It seemed as though that was enough for him. For now. He sat back in his chair and exhaled what might have been a breath of relief.

  “Was there something you wanted to show me?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” His features lit up. He tossed some bills on the table and grabbed her hand, towing her after him out the door and down the street to a small building a block from the restaurant.

  “What is it?” she asked as he pulled out a key and unlocked the door.

  “My shop.”

  “Your…shop?” But when he opened the door and ushered her in with a flourish, she understood. The smell of solder and baby powder was unmistakable to someone familiar with glass art. “Oh my goodness.” She glanced around. It was a small space, brightly lit once he flicked on the fluorescent overheads and, heavens, the workshop was a treasure trove.

  She flitted from one bench to another, oohing and aahing like a child at Christmas, checking out his array of tools and molds and soldering irons, the stands of uncut glass, in a myriad of colors. “This is incredible.”

  “These are my kilns,” he said, showing her several, lined up against the wall, different sizes ranging from the largest they made to a small one perfect for bead and jewelry making. “Would you like to see my most recent projects?”

  She nodded. “Please.”

  He headed for a shelf on the far side of the room and pulled a towel off a long, elegant glass platter.

  Emily stilled. For there, playing out in the ethereal lines of glass, was a scene burned into her memory. It was the island, their island, in a sapphire swirling sea with the backdrop of a glorious sunset, burnt umber streaked with yellow and red. “Oh—” Her voice caught. “Ash. It’s beautiful. How…how did you do this?”

  “It was easy. I started with a photograph of the island, and then cut out the forms. The island, the water and the sky. I fit them together and fused them on a base. Then I slumped the platter on the tray form.”

  She stared at him. He made it sound so simple. Having done fused art, she knew it hadn’t been. Just cutting the glass so there were no gaps would have taken her hours. The fusing phase could take a full day in the kiln depending on the temperature. And annealing was an art in itself. “I love it. It’s our island, isn’t it?”

  He nodded.

  “What’s this speck?” She peered at an odd black spot on the ripple glass of the water.

  He cleared his throat. “That’s a couple on a Jet Ski.”

  She bent down for a better look. Astoundingly, it was. Tiny, as though he’d painted it with a thread, but without a doubt, the form of tiny couple jetting across the water for an island tryst.

  “I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

  “It’s lovely, Ash. Just lovely.”

  “I made this one too.” He removed the cover on another platter, featuring the image of an exquisite eagle in flight. “And this one…” A tiny cabin perched on a cliff over crashing waves. “And this one…” A silhouette. Two people a breath away from a kiss.

  The lines were exquisite. Haunting. Devastating.

  Only those who created art understood. It wasn’t just a pretty piece of glass lying there. It was a chunk of his soul. Need and pain etched in every line.

  She set her palm to his cheek. “I love them.”

  “I made them for you.”

  Her heart fluttered. He’d spent so much time on these exquisite pieces. And all the while, thinking of her. It was a thrilling thought. Heady. Humbling. There was no doubt in her mind, he meant every word he said. “You are-you are very talented, Ash.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed her palm, but didn’t move closer, though he could have, if he’d wanted to. Right now, she would have allowed him almost anything.

  She tried not to be annoyed that he didn’t take advantage of her vulnerability. To hide her feelings, she pretended to study his workshop. “Do you come here often?”

  He took her cue and stepped away. “I, ah, not as often as I’d like. I’d like to have a studio at home.” He chuckled. “But I can’t get zoned for the kilns. So I come here, sometimes for days at a time, and work. When I get hungry, I eat teriyaki.”

  “And when you get tired?”

  “There’s a bed in t
he ba—”

  He broke off, as though he’d just realized what he’d said. Or just remembered there was a bed in the back. With a suddenness that stunned her, the energy around them shifted.

  The muscles in his face went tight. Something ticked in his cheek. The moment hung for an endless eternity. Tension throbbed between them.

  Was that all it took? She wondered with a self-directed snort. The mention of a bed in the vicinity?

  Apparently.

  Because, as one, they moved. Toward each other. In a rush.

  They met in the middle of the room, chest to chest, groin to groin. He wrapped his strong arms around her and she curled around him. He didn’t kiss her. They kissed each other. A wild scalding, heart-pounding manic exchange that left her light-headed and elated.

  There was no apathy in the kiss. No politeness. No civility. It was savage. Savage need. Savage hunger. Savage delight.

  His lips raked hers. His tongue thrust in. He consumed her. She responded in kind, unable, unwilling, to draw back.

  This. This. This was what she wanted. What she needed. What she craved.

  His essence, his taste, his scent, infused her, maddened her, aroused her.

  “Ash,” she whispered. “Ash.”

  “Emily.” He nested in the crook of her neck, sucking, ravaging, enervating, every nerve.

  His hand stroked down her arm, up her ribs and—she sucked in a breath, and yes—he cupped her breast. Thumbed a nipple. Sensation rained through her, scored her, scorched her. She gave a feral cry. His hold tightened, his intensity flared. “God, Emily.”

  The material of her skirt danced over her thighs as he bunched it up. She knew she should stop him. But she couldn’t stop him. Her body ached, hungered, sang.

  When he scraped her tender center, she seized. Excitement lanced her. He pressed against that swollen, aching nub, making wide circles, and then smaller ones, narrowing in, centering all her attention on that one smoldering spot.

  She gasped as pleasure lanced her, and then gasped again when he slipped beneath the band of her panties and touched her.

  “Oh, Em,” he growled.

  She knew she was wet. Drenched. Weeping for him.

  He delved deeper between her folds. She spread her legs a bit to allow him entrance. Because, God, she wanted this. Needed this. And, oh…