Dare to Surrender (12 page)

And she was a wildcat in bed.

His cock stirred whenever he thought about sex with her, which was all the fucking time. Gripping the steering wheel, he focused
on the road.

Joy patted the dashboard. “Don’t worry. She may not have much horsepower, but she’ll get us there safe and sound.”

No horsepower was the understatement of the night. The old diesel went from zero to sixty in about ten minutes. But he had
to admit that once they got cruising, the old car ran smooth and steady.

The wipers swished across the windshield, barely able to keep up with the torrent of rain. He glanced sideways. “So, I guess
I should warn you about my family.”

“Oh?” She tossed a napkin over her shoulder. Joy’s car may have run clean, but the interior was anything but. Books were piled
between them on the bench seat, he’d had to move a pile of sweaters off the driver’s-side seat in order to get behind the
wheel, and he could have sworn there was a wayward bra strewn across the backseat.

He tried not to think about that.

“They can’t be any worse than my family,” she said.

Ash sighed. “My sister’s a paraplegic.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her go still. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.”

He swallowed. “It was a random burglary. I was overseas.” Every time he told the story, a knot of anxiety tightened in his
gut. He would never stop feeling like it was his fault. “My sister was shot. She lived, but she needs care. Full-time care.
My mother quit her job, and it’s been… rough on her.”

“I can imagine.”

Ash’s palms were damp on the steering wheel. “Mom’s great—amazing, actually. But sometimes it gets to be too much for her,
and my sister senses when she needs a break.”

“Is that what happened tonight?”

“Yeah. My sister called and asked if I could take over until Mom went to bed. I want to hire a nurse, but Mom adamantly refuses,
says she can do it all herself.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking bringing you. Must have been the whiskey.”

Reaching between them, she touched his shoulder gently. “Maybe you wanted some support.”

“No, I’m used to taking care of this by myself.”

“What about you?” she asked softly.

“What do you mean?”

“Who takes care of you?”

Gaze focused on the road, he answered, “No one. It’s
my
job.”

She gave his shoulder a soft squeeze. “You carry a lot of responsibility, don’t you, Ash?”

He shrugged. “It’s my duty.”

“Is that why you joined the military? You felt it was your duty?”

He paused, unsure how to answer. But then he admitted something he never had before, not out loud. “No. I wanted out.”

“Out of your house?”

“Yeah. Even before the accident, I always felt responsible, ever since my dad died when I was thirteen. One day when I was
a senior, I saw the recruitment station set up at my high school. I signed up and never looked back.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Loved it.”

“Why’d you leave?”

He shifted in his seat, his shoulder suddenly tingling as he remembered exactly why. “Helicopter accident. We were shot down.
I was discharged.”

Joy didn’t ask for details, and he was glad because he didn’t want to give any.

“My sister had been paralyzed a few months before that, so it was good timing. I needed to come home and take care of things
here.”

“Your being shot out of the sky was good timing?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes.” He was dead serious. He’d needed to come home, and that was the only way to do it honorably. Seven years later, his
shoulder still gave him trouble. “Rotator cuff injury. You can’t be a SEAL if you can’t swim. So I came home, got a real job,
and started supporting my family. I want my sister to have the best care possible.”

“Are you like some kind of saint?”

“Did I seem like a saint earlier, when I had you on your knees?” he asked, ready to change the subject. Sex was always a good
distraction.

She got the hint, and when he glanced at her, she was smiling. “You definitely didn’t act like a saint earlier. But, you can
be the devil with Miss Joy anytime you like.”

J
oy tried not to be nervous when they pulled up to a cottage-style house near downtown Palo Alto. Everything was familiar to
her; Ash’s family lived only a few blocks away from the restaurant where she’d met Erica. But this was new, meeting his family.
She had no idea what to expect.

He pulled to a stop in the driveway. Silently, they both looked at the front of the house. It was quaint and charming, the
kind of house Joy loved, with big trees dropping colorful leaves onto the lawn and lots of foliage growing around the exterior.
Modest yet lush.

“Ready?”

Joy nodded. Ash’s back was straight as a ruler as he approached the front door. He knocked softly and entered, not waiting
for an answer. “Hello? Ma?”

“In her room,” came a soft, feminine voice.

Joy followed Ash through a hallway to a living room. It was decorated in bright colors, with two comfy-looking sofas and a
coffee table stacked high with books and magazines. Next to one of the sofas was a woman—she looked like a girl, really—in
a wheelchair. She was beautiful, a feminine version of Ash. Her blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, emphasizing her striking
cheekbones. Though her legs were disproportionately thin, it was obvious she was tall. She could have been a model.

Ash went to her, bent and kissed her on the cheek. “Pretending to be fine. She’s in her room, supposedly reading, but I heard
her crying earlier.”

She looked over Ash’s shoulder with surprise. “Who’s your friend?”

Ash stood quickly. “Oh, this is Joy. She’s an art curator. Joy, this is Violet.”

Unsure, Joy approached Ash’s beautiful sister, who graciously smiled and held out her hand. “It’s okay. I have full use of
my arms.”

Joy shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Ash shifted awkwardly. “I’m going to go check on her. Then I’ll be back to help you get ready for bed.”

“Thanks, Ash,” Violet said, and Joy saw concern in the young woman’s eyes.

Ash left, leaving Joy alone with his sister. Smiling, Joy sat across from her on the yellow sofa.

“So, how did you meet Ash?” Violet asked.

“I first bumped into him—literally—when he was visiting my neighbor about six months ago. Then he was a guest at a museum
gala last week, and we, um, got to talking about… art and things.” She hoped Violet didn’t notice Joy’s blushing face. “He
said he’s giving up art, which I admit I find a shame. He’s very talented.”

Violet nodded. “I know. But he also gets restless. He’s always loved to be in the heart of things, especially when he was
in the military. But he worries about me and Mom, even though I wish he wouldn’t.” She waved a hand as if to dismiss the subject.
“Anyway, Ash and his security. He’s a bit obsessed with it.”

“Oh?” The only thing she’d seen Ash obsess over was photography.

“Yeah. After this happened”—Violet motioned to her legs—“I think he thought it was his duty to secure the entire world.”

Joy must have looked confused, because Violet asked, “Did he tell you what happened?”

“That you were…”

“Shot. Eight years ago, when I was seventeen.” She smiled gently. “Don’t worry, it’s not a secret.”

“He did mention it.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

Joy shook her head. “Not really.”

“We were robbed. Right here in this house. I was a stupid teenager, tried to stop them from taking the television. One of
the guys was trigger-happy. Happened to pierce my spinal cord. Lost all use of my lower body. Major recovery time; took years,
but now I can at least take a shower with minimal help, be more independent.”

The bravery in Violet’s eyes nearly made Joy tear up. “It must have been hard.” She thought of Ash. “On everyone.”

“It was. Is. Mom had a successful landscape company but gave up everything to care for me. She’s been amazing, but she doesn’t
take care of herself like she should. She always puts my needs before her own, and sometimes I know it’s overwhelming for
her.”

“I’m sure,” Joy murmured, her heart aching for Ash’s family.

“I was wondering how long he’d stay away from doing what he loves. He’s forever trying to catch the bad guys.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I think he has some unresolved issues, because the police never caught who broke in that night.”

The blood drained from Joy’s face. “You mean the thieves?”

Violet nodded.

“Right. Makes sense.” Joy tried to remain calm, but every nerve in her body felt like it was twitching. What the hell had
she gotten herself into? She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. How could she possibly tell Ash about what she’d
done?

He was going to hate her, which, she realized, was way worse than killing her.

“I’m writing about it.”

“Pardon me?” Joy asked, drawing her attention back to Ash’s sister.

“That’s the silver lining. I’m writing my autobiography. I never enjoyed writing before, but it’s been very rewarding, very
therapeutic. Not that anyone will ever read it.” She laughed, a light tinkling sound that warmed Joy’s heart. “Ash says it’s
a good thing I’m writing because otherwise I never stop talking!”

Reaching out, Joy took Violet’s hand. No matter what Joy had done, Violet was a good, sweet girl. “If you ever need someone
to talk too much to, call me.”

Violet gave her a wide smile. “Thanks, Joy. I just might do that.”

“She’s in bed. I got her to agree to let me take care of you tonight.”

The girls looked up to see Ash standing in the hallway. “I’m sorry, Ash,” Violet said.

Ash came into the room and stood before his sister. “I’ve told you a million times, never apologize to me.”

“I know, but—”

“Do you need me to spend the night?”

Violet shook her head. “You’ve spent all this money making this place accessible for me. I’ll be fine, I promise. Can you
just help me change for bed?”

“Definitely.” He looked at Joy. “Do you mind waiting a bit?”

She shook her head. “No, of course not.”

Violet moved a control on the right armrest of her wheelchair and backed up a few inches. “It was lovely to meet you, Joy.”

“Hang on!” Joy dug into her bag, produced a pen and paper, and scribbled her number on it. “Remember what I said. Call me
anytime.”

Violet smiled, her blue eyes warm. “I will. Definitely.”

Ash followed his sister out of the room, but not before something flashed across his face, something Joy swore could have
been admiration.

And it tore her apart inside.

The rain had faded to a light patter on the windshield as they drove north, back toward San Francisco. So much had happened
that day: discovering Panos had sold the sculpture, the mind-blowing sex in the darkroom, the trip to Ash’s family home, meeting
his sister.

Finding out that Ash had a personal vendetta against thieves.

She felt like there was a twisting, turning ball of anxiety in her core, tearing her insides apart like jagged wire.

She had to tell him. And it wasn’t the fact that she was developing feelings for him that made her so afraid to do so; it
was the fact that he seemed to trust her, and she was going to break that trust. She had the distinct feeling Ash didn’t trust
easily.

He was going to hate her. And because she was selfish, she also couldn’t help but think that she was about to lose her job.
All because of one stupid, impetuous impulse.
You never think, Joy
.

“Joy, thank you for coming with me tonight. You were… very kind.” His face was tight, his gaze aimed straight ahead.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t freak out when you met my sister.”

“Why would I?”

He gave a wry bark of laughter. “You’d be surprised. But somehow I knew you’d be okay. You’re a good person.”

Stop saying things like that!

“I feel bad.”

She twisted to face him. “What? Why do you feel bad?”

“Because you’ve been trying to talk to me about something for a few days, and I keep cutting you off.”

“Oh, it’s okay. Really.” Joy Procrastination Montgomery. That should be her legal name.

“No, it’s not. And I’m pretty sure I know what you want to say.”

She froze. “You do?”

“It’s about the art, isn’t it?”

She thought she might puke up the cheeseburger from earlier. “How did you know?” she whispered.

“It’s pretty obvious.”

“Are you horribly mad?”

He glanced her way, his brows furrowed. “Of course I’m not mad. It’s your job.”

“I-it is?”

“Yeah. You work for a gallery. You want my art. It’s your job.”

She stared at him. “You mean…?”

“Yeah. I’ll do a show for you. After tonight, I think it’s the least I can do. But I have a stipulation.”

She could barely speak, let alone negotiate. “Okay. Right.”

“No sculpture; only photographs I already have and any I take of you.”

She recoiled. “Me?”

“You got it. Like the ones I took of you the other night, on the table.”

Out of nowhere, the memory made her tingle a little bit, everywhere. “Um, Ash. I don’t know.”

“You want erotic art, right?”

Or I’ll be fired.
“Yes.” They could discuss the sculpture later. She was sure she could persuade him to include those beautiful pieces.

“And, Joy?” He slanted her a look.

“Yes?”

“I plan on taking some more. Pictures of you, that is.”

“You do?” she squeaked.

“A lot more.”

“Who’s going to want to see pictures of me? Naked?” A shudder of fear went through her. It was like her worst nightmare coming
to life, and yet she was in no position to argue. He was going to do a show for her!

“Didn’t you like the photographs you saw earlier in my darkroom? You sure seemed to. In fact, I think you liked everything
that happened earlier tonight. You like to be mine for a little while, don’t you?”