Dare to Surrender (15 page)

Scott and Kate shook their heads sadly. She turned to Erica, who was just staring at her, her eyes sympathetic. “Joy, I don’t
want you to get hurt. Again.”

Just then her phone started vibrating on the table. Like some kind of alien had just landed, all of the group members stared
at the cell in wondering silence.

Five heads leaned to peer closely at the phone. “
Ash
,” they all said in unison.

A prisoner in the booth, Joy whipped up the phone and answered, aware of her engrossed audience.

“Joy, we need to talk.” His voice sounded strained and tense.

Her heart stopped momentarily as panic set in. Damn. Had he discovered the missing sculpture? She tried to sound casual. “Sure,
about what?”

“Listen, can you come over?”

She looked around her, to the four pairs of eyes that were watching, eavesdropping on her every word.
Booty call
. But what if it wasn’t just that? What if he knew about the stolen art? What if he was mad at her?

Or what if he did want a booty call?

Her body responded to the sound of his voice, making her blood go hot. Her ass throbbed as a reminder of what they’d done
in the car, and she realized she wanted to see him again. Badly.

She nodded.

“Joy, are you still there?” Ash asked.

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be right over.”

Her three “friends” gave exasperated breaths next to her as she ended the call. “Sorry, guys. Gotta go.”

“Are you kidding? You’re ditching us because some guy calls you and demands it?” Erica asked incredulously.

It was Blaine who put a comforting hand on Erica’s arm, but she shook it off.

Joy looked at her friend. “It’s not like that, Erica. This is about business.”

“At nine o’clock at night?”

Frustrated and guilty and tipsy, Joy nearly told everyone about what she’d done, how she’d stolen the sculpture from the San
Francisco Art Museum. She opened her mouth to speak but quickly snapped her lips shut. Yeah, her friends saw her as a bit
of a mess, but they also thought she was a good, honest person. Joy wasn’t ready to disillusion them yet. And anyway, she
had a
plan,
a plan that was going to fix everything.

She shook her head, replacing the contents of her purse she’d excavated while searching for her cell phone. “Please, guys.
Don’t be mad; it’s not like that.” Ash wasn’t like that, she wanted to add, but knew the statement would only sound patronizing.
“Would you please excuse me?”

Erica remained in place, but Scott and Kate scooted out to allow Joy’s escape. Digging through her bag, she tossed some money
onto the table. “Thanks for understanding, guys.”

Avoiding her gaze, Erica just grumbled. Joy would deal with her later, without an audience.

But Scott raised his eyes and smiled. “Use a condom.”

Shaking her head, she turned and pushed her way through the now-crowded bar. As she passed the women in their tight jeans,
high-heeled boots, and flowing tops, Joy couldn’t help but compare herself to them. Yeah, she was wearing tighter jeans than
she usually did, but she still wore an older, loose sweater and her same old flat shoes. Boring.

Ash could have any girl he wanted. If it wasn’t about the sculpture (and she prayed that it wasn’t), why had he called her?
Was she being stupid? Was she simply an easy booty call and he was feeling horny?

As she pushed through the front door of the bar and walked to the corner to catch a cab, she pulled the collar of her jacket
tighter around her neck. Winter was on its way, and the streets still smelled like wet asphalt. The scent reminded her of
driving to Palo Alto in the rain, of seeing Ash with his family.

He was a good man. He wasn’t like the others.

Still, as she climbed into the backseat of a taxi, she couldn’t help the little whisper of doubt at the back of her mind.
What if she was wrong? And it wasn’t as if this was just any old booty call; this was different. Much different. This was
new territory, involving rope and domination and submission and a whole bunch of other things she didn’t quite understand.

All she knew was that she liked it. A lot. She knew she was starting to crave it, crave Ash. Every time she went to him, it
raised the stakes, and she became a bit more vulnerable. He was in charge of so much: her job, her show, her body. Her heart.
Yeah, he was slowly growing to hold so much of her life in his hands. The question was, was she ready to give him that much
power?

Y
ou okay?”

Erica looked up from her beer. Kate and Scott had moved to the bar so Scott could chat up some Goth-looking guy, but Erica
wasn’t in the mood to talk. With anyone, especially Blaine.

If only he would take the hint.

“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Blaine smiled gently, and Erica looked away from those knowing brown eyes. And she also ignored the way her heart beat just
a little faster than it should. And why were her nipples getting a little tingly?
Stop that!
They didn’t listen.

“Your little friend. You’ve looked ready to jump out of your skin ever since her boyfriend called.”

Erica jerked her head up. “He’s not her boyfriend.”

“Are you always this involved in her relationships?”

“I told you. She’s my best friend, and I care about her. Why is that so hard for you to understand? And why do you care, anyway?
Don’t you have something better to do? I bet there’s a Republican rally or something that could use all this energy of yours.”

Blaine just held her gaze for a second before he spoke. “You have a real chip on your shoulder, you know that?”

The alcohol loosened her tongue. “Yeah, well, I know your type, and I don’t like them.”

He took a slow swig from his beer, and she couldn’t help but notice the perfect shape of his lips.

“And what type is that?”

She straightened. “Born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Never had to work a day in your life. Think you’re better than
everyone because you have money.”

“Is that so?” he said slowly. “You think you have me all figured out.”

“Yes.” But her heart was racing. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she knew him at all.

“And how do you know me so well?”

“I… I just do.”

He encircled her wrist with a firm grasp. “Is that so?”

She couldn’t speak, so he jerked a nod.

Scared. That was the only way to describe it when Blaine leaned forward until his face was only inches from Erica’s. Her heart
pounded, and she couldn’t breathe, and every nerve in her body was alive, aware.

And she couldn’t move. She couldn’t move when she felt Blaine’s hand tighten around her wrist, and she couldn’t move when
she felt his breath on her neck. She couldn’t think as Blaine leaned closer, so close she could feel his warm breath on her
neck, her ear. Hot, seductive, and male—and sooo not preppy. He smelled like spices and beer, and the scent made something
in Erica melt.

“I like you, Erica. You’re an irritable, overly confident pain in the ass, but I like you. If you ever get past this hang-up
of yours, I’ll be here.” Releasing her wrist, he trailed his fingers up Erica’s arm until goose bumps erupted on her skin.
“But I won’t wait forever.”

Speechless, Erica watched Blaine slide out of the booth and walk away.

Finally, when her breathing returned to normal and her brain started functioning again, anger began manifesting itself in
her chest. What did he know? Erica was the one who’d been treated like shit her entire life by the wealthy. Her mother cleaned
their toilets, and Erica had served them food for fifteen years. The richer they were, the less tips they left. All the same.

So why was she having this reaction to Preppy Boy?

Temporary insanity. Brought on because when she watched him cook, it was beautiful. The guy could flambé like no one she’d
ever seen….

A tiny shiver raced up her back.

I won’t wait forever.
Blaine’s words ran through her mind and were still doing so that night when she got into bed, overriding her worry about
Joy.

By the time the taxi dropped Joy off in front of Ash’s place, it had started raining again. Obviously, he’d been waiting for
her. He was immediately outside, ushering her into his loft under the protection of a big, heavy umbrella.

When he closed the door behind them, she turned to face him with a bit of trepidation, not knowing what to expect. And when
she saw the way he was looking at her, her heart skipped.

He looked… serious.

Yes, very serious.
Oh, God, does he know about the sculpture? Just put me out of my misery, now!

He was wearing low-slung jeans, a black T-shirt, and no socks or shoes. Even his feet were sexy: long and lean just like the
rest of him. She pulled her gaze away from his feet to catch him running his hand through his hair, which promptly fell back
into its disarrayed state. Her own hands curled with a desire to touch him, to hold his head as she kissed him.

Unless, of course, he thought she was a thief, and then there would be no more kissing.

“So, what’s up?” she asked, holding her bag close to her body.

He pried the purse out of her fingers and then slipped off her jacket. When his gaze landed on her jeans, his eyes widened.
“Wow. You look…”

She felt her face go hot.
Fat? Hippy? Plump?

“Phenomenal.” He hung her jacket and purse on the coatrack. “You should wear those jeans more often. Like every day.”

Self-consciously, she ran her damp palms over her thighs. “Really?”

Smiling, he tugged her hand and led her to the alcove he used as his studio. On the way, she noticed his dining table held
multiple computers and other electronic instruments that hadn’t been there before. She didn’t even know what half of them
were.

She didn’t have time to ask him about that, though, because soon he had her placed in front of a camera, and he was standing
behind it.

“Ash? What are you doing?”

“Just looking.”

“At me? Why?”

“Because I’ve had this idea in my head, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“But what does that have to do with me?”

“You said you want more pictures for a show, right?”

“Yes, but not of me! I’d planned on talking you out of that part.”

He straightened and his green eyes were amused. He knew he had her. “Too bad. That was the deal.”

She stared back, something inside her going a bit crazy. Between the lemon drops, her friends’ words, and Joy’s own wacky
feelings, she couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

“Ash, what is going on here?”

Pausing from loading some film into his camera, he looked up. “What do you mean?”

“This.” She waved her hand back and forth between them. “You and me. You call me up, we have sex. Am I a fuck-buddy, a friend?
A business associate? My friends say you’re going to hurt me. I don’t want to believe them, but frankly this whole thing is
fucking with my head, and I don’t need another Englishman, banker, or drug dealer!”

“Drug dealer?”

“Long story. Anyway, I need to know something.”

“What?”

“Your intentions.”

“Intentions?”

She straightened her back. “Yes. I’m not asking for a commitment or anything like that, but is this a booty call?”

“What? No! I just wanted to take your picture.”

She gave him a look. “By any chance will I be naked in this picture?”

He had the courtesy to shift on his bare feet, looking slightly uncomfortable. “Underwear?” he asked.

The thing was, she wanted to do it. She couldn’t help it; the way he looked at her, the way he photographed her, made her
feel beautiful, made her look beautiful. Made her see herself differently.

And yet her self-protective instincts were screaming at her to run for the hills. Well, her instincts and three of her friends.

“Ash, did you call me over here tonight just so you could… take a
picture
?”

“I guess I did. Why?”

Anger bubbled inside her. “I thought you had some kind of emergency. I ditched my friends.”

She went to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm. “I’m sorry, Joy. I didn’t mean for you to do that. For me.”

She met his gaze. “Then what did you mean? You call me at nine o’clock at night and tell me you have to talk to me.” She shook
off his arm and went to snatch up her jacket and bag. “And, of course, I run right over. Just like with the banker.”

“Banker? What banker?”

Shrugging on her jacket, she said, “Just another guy who thought I should be so thankful he showed me any attention I had
to drop everything I was doing at a moment’s notice and run to him. Kind of like you just did.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she held up her hand, stopping him. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s not like that, Joy.”

Laughing wryly, she looked around his loft, at all the black-and-white images of female forms, female forms that were tall,
skinny, and so unlike her own. She returned her gaze to his. “Then what is it like?” she asked, wondering why her throat felt
so tight.

“I’m sorry. It’s just when I get an idea, I can’t get it out of my head.”

She turned away. “So call one of your supermodels.” The words sounded bitter, even to her.

Spinning her to face him, he grabbed her shoulders in a tight grip. “I don’t want them.”

Her throat was now closing down, constricting her voice. “Then what do you want?”

The silence seemed to extend forever, and Joy held her breath. His green eyes roamed over her, taking in her body in one quick
glance. “I want you to pose for me.”

She tried to jerk out of his grasp, but he held her firmly, and she couldn’t move away. “Why me?” she finally whispered.

“Because you’re… you’re…”

“I’m…?”

“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but a loud giggle escaped her lips. “What bullshit.”

He looked confused and, if she didn’t know better, hurt. “What are you talking about?”