OVERPROTECTED (17 page)

I searched for Colin—saw his dark head of hair near the back, where he stood—his expression indecipherable. He wasn’t smiling.

Just watching. His serious expression sent a shiver of the unknown through me.

I stood and bowed.

Daddy hugged me—claiming ownership of everything I was.

Guests clamored to us. “Marvelous.”

“How talented she is, Charles!”

“She’s blossomed since last year.”

Daddy’s look at me held then, like he was contemplating the

‘blossomed’ comment, searching for himself what his colleague had noticed. My face warmed. Had I changed? The thought that someone had noticed thrilled me.

“So proud of you, darling.” Mother kissed my cheek and embraced me. I loved seeing her genuinely pleased and proud of me.

After she bragged with shameless adoration to the guests standing nearby, she took my hand. “Are you and Felicity having a good time?”

I nodded. “It’s a beautiful party, Mother.”

“Do you think?” She glanced around, her gaze lighting on Colin.

“Excuse me, darling.” Then she was gone, weaving through her friends to Colin.

The DJ started up again, and Mother took Colin onto the dance floor. A tight awkwardness jilted the atmosphere from party to floor show. Next to me, Daddy stiffened, his steely gaze locked on Mother, coaxing an obviously reluctant and very red Colin to dance with her.

“Come now, dance with me,” Mother cooed over the music.

No one dared step onto the center spot—which had cleared—

making way for them, or was it keeping away from them? I wasn’t sure. But Daddy’s face squared with displeasure.

Colin glanced over at Daddy, then me, and his discomfort was so squirmy, I ached. I laid my hand on Daddy’s arm and was shocked to find his bicep rock hard.

Felicity stole to my other side and leaned close. “Um. What is your mother doing?”

“I… don’t know,” I whispered.

“Maybe you should do something.”

Did I dare with my earlier rejection? Yet it was clear that Mother was completely clueless her actions were causing eyebrows to raise and gossip to be traded in shady whispers around the room.

Either that or she adored flaunting Colin so much that she didn’t care about how inane she looked or how her behavior reflected on Daddy.

I took in a breath, and crossed the empty floor to where Mother swayed with a very stiff Colin. Mother’s smiling radiance dimmed when she saw me.

The moment I was close, Colin released her.

“Mother, Daddy wants a dance,” I said. Mother caught sight of Daddy’s tense demeanor and quickly excused herself with the graciousness honed from years of practice.

“You can dance with Mother and not me?” I whispered.

“About that,” Colin said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be dancing at all tonight.”

Colin took me in the traditional dance stance: one arm extended, the other around my back. Sweat beaded in a light film on his tense jaw. His hand was cold and clammy.

Discomfort evaporated from the room and the dance floor filled in with chattering guests. The DJ played an upbeat tune. I didn’t dare look at Mother, but Daddy’s marble demeanor was still wintry, his attention on her as they whispered back and forth.

Colin’s fingers tightened at my waist and around my hand. “And, it’s not that I didn’t want to dance with you. I work for your father.

Never mix business with pleasure.”

So we would never be anything as long as he worked for Daddy?

Is that what I was forced to accept? A sting burrowed into my heart.

We continued to sway, but he pulled me closer, his body against me from breast to knee. I tried to read what I thought I saw: a silent message that seemed to say this move, this moment, meant more than words could verbalize.

The townhouse was like the inside of a shaken snow globe: littered with the confetti of leftovers from a successful party.

Daddy paid a cab driver to take Felicity home. She left after the last of the guests. I changed out of my dress, hung it on the back of my closet door, and then I dipped into the bath, too wound up to luxuriate in bubbles, heat, and fragrance. I couldn’t get Colin’s face out of my mind, or the way he’d pulled me against him. Had he really been trying to say something to me? Something real?

I hated that my repertoire of experience was fictional and could be found between the paperback flaps of romance fiction.

I laughed. Right. He worked for Daddy. We’d never be lovers, or anything else if he followed that ‘no mixing business with pleasure’

rule. I was pleased he chose to live a standard I wasn’t even sure my own father kept. Mother, clearly, didn’t care.

I dressed in my pajamas and decided to seek Colin and feel out how he felt about what had happened tonight.

I slipped my robe over my pajamas. In the hall, I heard the snapping of my parents’ voices from the main floor. I took the stairs down. They were arguing in Daddy’s office, the doors cracked. I stopped near the bottom stair.

“Don’t
ever
do that to me again.” Daddy.

“You’re hurting me,” Mother whimpered.

“Good.”

Good?
Dad’s cold comment stabbed an icicle into my heart.

A clattering followed a thud. I took the stairs back up, and was about to cross the hall into the safety of my bedroom to digest the argument, but I saw Colin standing at the top of the third flight of stairs. His sober expression indicated he, too, had overheard Mother and Daddy. The compassion on his face seemed to invite me toward him, so I took the final flight up. Mother’s sniffling, and her heels on the marble stairs caused both Colin and I to duck into the shadows of the third floor hall. My heart pattered. What if Mother didn’t go directly to her room? What if I was discovered with Colin?

Daddy’s office doors slammed. A tense silence burrowed into the townhouse. Colin turned and his eyes carried a slant of sadness.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded. This may have been the first time he’d heard them argue, but their marriage had been fraught with ugly fights—

escalating recently—like a body consumed with cancer cells.

The doors to Daddy’s office clamored open and I scampered with nowhere to go. Daddy’s heavy footfalls sounded on the stairs.

Colin snatched me into his bedroom. He pointed at the closet. I darted over, crouched down beneath the hanging clothes and closed the door.

“Charles.”

“Can I have a word?” Daddy’s agitated tone ground to a slow growl.

“Yes, of course.”

I could tell they’d moved into Colin’s room. The proximity of their voices neared. Nerves skittered beneath my skin. I reached up and grabbed hold of the sleeve of Colin’s coat so I wouldn’t lose my balance.

“I apologize for Fiona’s behavior tonight. She had too much to drink. I realize her actions put you in a compromising position. I wouldn’t blame you if you found my employ no longer acceptable.”

“No. It’s fine.”

A pause followed. Colin’s response calmed me.

“Do you want some time to consider this?”

“Charles, no harm was done.”

“I’m going out of town for a few days. You have my cell phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

The door closed and I realized I’d been holding my breath. I let it out, and with a deep breath took in Colin’s scent worn into the fabric of his clothes surrounding me. Colin opened the closet door and extended his hand. I took it and he gently pulled me to my feet.

My nerves ticked. “Are you sure you don’t want to quit?” I asked.

I wanted to see his eyes when he gave me his answer.

“I’m not quitting, Ash.” He looked at me for a long moment, with something grave that caused my stomach to turn over as if I needed to vomit.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

He bowed his head a moment and I couldn’t see his face. When his eyes met mine, his brows cinched. “It’s late. You should get some sleep.”

I wasn’t tired. Not when I was with him. He, on the other hand, had wilted. Dark smudges surfaced beneath his gaze. Something—

perhaps the bizarre event on the dance floor with Mother—

weighed him down. I wanted to touch his sore eyes, kiss them.

I stepped closer, reached up, and his gaze suddenly became brighter. My arms slipped around him and I hugged him. “Good night.”

One of his arms wove around my waist. I waited to feel his muscles pull away with the message
I’m done
, but the firmness in his core didn’t shift at all. He held me close. I closed my eyes. I could sleep in his arms. I could wake in his arms. His embrace was not threatening, but assuring. Not caging, but empowering.

When his body finally moved, I gripped him harder for an impulsive instant. His hands remained on my shoulders for two seconds before he drew back. He stepped away, as if finally realizing he was touching me.

“Goodnight,” he whispered.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A thick haze hung inside the townhouse the next day, as if the previous night’s nasty gossip still slinked the halls and rooms like ghouls. Even daylight streaming through the windows couldn’t break through the miasma.

A cleaning crew came in early to take care of the aftermath. I heard a vacuum somewhere. I dressed in jeans and a shirt before venturing down stairs to the kitchen, sure I’d find the house filled with strangers.

Colin stood in the entry. My heart lifted a few octaves in my chest. He was speaking Spanish to a worker, but his calming voice stopped when his gaze found me. Then he finished his instructions to the nodding maid and she went on her way.

He met me at the bottom stair. His jeans and a long sleeved tee shirt accentuated his casual stride.

“Hey,” I said.

“Morning.”

“You’re up early,” I observed.

“Early?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s eleven. Taking care of the cleaning crew.”

“Where’s Mother?”

“I haven’t seen her yet. Charles called me early this morning and gave me instructions for the cleaning staff.” He waved a hand, indicating the sparkling townhouse. The scent of orange spritzed the air.

Mother was probably holing up in her room, or sleeping off her yearly post-Christmas party hangover. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Last night. Today.”

“Aren’t they done yet?” Mother’s voice sounded like an old car engine barely able to shift into first gear. She navigated down the stairs with the care of the blind through a mine field. Usually, she slept off her post-party hangover. She wore black from head to toe—silk sweats and running jacket. Her auburn hair poked up on end. Her bug-eye black sunglasses covered her eyes.

“Ashlyn. Rockstar,” Mother snapped.

I bristled, but didn’t move. Mother continued her cautious decline. “
Ash-lyn
.”

Blowing out a silent breath, I crossed to the kitchen. I could still hear their conversation.

“Ashlyn, get one for Colin!” Mother shouted.

“No,” Colin called. Then louder, “No thank you.”

I grabbed a Rockstar from Mother’s stash and hurried back into the entry.

“No vices, dear boy?” Mother tilted her head at him.

I shoved the cold can at Mother. “Quit coming onto him like a cougar.”

“How dare you speak to me in that vulgar manner,” Mother hissed.

“Since when was the truth vulgar?”

“Your father is going to hear about this, young lady.” Mother wagged her finger in my face. I batted it back like it was an annoying gnat. She lifted her arm to strike me. I ducked.

Colin’s hand caught her wrist in mid-swing. “Fiona.”

Mother wobbled. Her expression was flat, emotionless, but her body shook. Her mouth opened, like she wanted to protest Colin stopping her with physical force, but she seemed speechless, and astounded by the strength in his grip.

When her anger appeared to have subsided, Colin let her go.

Her arm sagged like a dead member to her side. She pointed a finger at Colin. “You work for me, remember that.”

Then she turned and stalked back and forth a few feet away, chugging the drink.

“I am so sorry,” I said. Erasing the awkwardness that had just happened was impossible.

He brought himself close, his gaze filled with concern. “Has she hit you before?”

“I’ve taken my share of her slaps,” I muttered. Colin shifted with obvious discomfort. Had he ever been slapped? Imagining Barb, Phil, the kind patience I remembered them having when I was a child, I doubted Colin had ever been hit.

One of the cleaning team quietly appeared. Had the guy been waiting for the fireworks to stop? I couldn’t help but wonder if the worker’s image of the family on Park Avenue was now one of disgust that people like us fight over such stupid things.

He spoke to Colin in Spanish. Colin nodded, shook his hand and the young man pulled out a cell phone and made a call. Within minutes, three other maids appeared and the group of them left.

“Good as new.” Colin’s gaze swept the entry.

Mother would be the judge of that and in her mood, I wouldn’t put it past her to slip on a white glove and don her bi-focals for inspection. Of course, it wasn’t Colin’s job to see that the house was put back together.

“Is it like this every year?” he asked with a glance at Mother, still prowling a few feet away.

“Like what? Mom hung-over, Dad gone?”

He hesitated, but nodded.

“Merry Christmas, right? I don’t blame you for wanting to go home for the holidays. It’s not very… there’s not a lot of Christmas spirit here.”

Mother sauntered over. She stopped close. Her breath was sour and rancid, mixing with stale perfume applied the night before.

“Haven’t Barb and Phil ever argued?” Her tone cut with sarcasm. “Or are they still blissfully married?”

“Don’t attack Colin’s family, Mother.”

“It’s true. They were always so happy,” she said with a tinge of envy.

“Fiona, I don’t want to be the reason for an argument.”

“You’re not the reason, darling,” Mother said. “Charles and I have been like this for years. I’m sure Ashlyn was going to fill you in on every dirty little Adair secret, weren’t you, Ash-lyn? I’ll save her the breath. Separate bedrooms make for more than geographical troubles. I’ll bet Barb and Phil still sleep in the same bed, am I right?”