Ravish (2 page)

For a moment, he thought his father would turn around
and walk away. Then, he reached out a hand. Brody shook it, more
grateful than words could ever say about being home once more.

“Come inside,” his mother said, stepping back but
tugging on him. “I’m fixing dinner.”

“I know. I could smell it outside. Been a long time
since I’ve tasted your home cooking.”

The familiar bang of the screen door behind him sent
him farther down memory road. Summer nights, running in and out of
the house, only to circle it on the veranda then back in again.
Chasing the lightning bugs to put in jar and bring to his room,
only to release them the next night and do it all over.

His father shut off the television and joined them in
the kitchen. Brody sat at the table, accepting the tall glass of
tea his mama gave him.

“So, what have you been doing all this time?” she
asked.

“I’ve been in California. Acting.”

“And, they don’t have phones out there you could call
your mama?” she reprimanded as she began filling the potpies.

“They have phones, yes. I know I did this wrong, but
I did the best I could. I sent money.”

His father opened a beer. “Through some man we never
even heard of before.”

“He’s my agent.”

“We’re your parents.”

“James, please.”

There was no denying the plea in his mother’s voice.
His father grunted and drank some of his beer.

“I wanted, needed to be anonymous. I had to see what
I could do.”

“And, what did you find?” Her question had him
turning from his father to look at her.

“That Alton Rivers is a great actor. I came home
because I had to tell you, I’ve been offered a part opposite a big
name star, and if this movie does well, they will find out who I
really am, and people may come here to see what my childhood home
and parents are like.”

“Alton Rivers?”

“Yes, sir, that’s the name I use in the movies.”

“Your middle name is Alton.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you think we can’t handle a few people coming
over here?”

He rose and walked to kiss his mother’s cheek. “I
know you can, Mama. I don’t know how this will play out, but I
didn’t want you to be blindsided by it on the chance it
happens.”

“Why wouldn’t it have happened before now?” she
asked.

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t in big
roles. I had small parts.”

“If this is going to be where people come here to dig
into your past, have you told Hermione?”

At his mother’s question, his father crossed his arms
and arched an eyebrow, telling him he also wanted to know the
answer to that.

Brody leaned against the countertop. “No. I saw her
today in the bank, but she wouldn’t talk to me.”

Both his parents gave him a look he knew was a no-duh
look.

“I don’t know how they do things out there,” his
father said. “But here, if you walked away from the best thing that
ever happened to you without a word and are now possibly making it
so she has to face that, you’d best get a way to have a discussion
with her before it happens.”

“I know. Do you know who she’s dating?”

Her mother smacked him in the arm. “Do you really
think your ex-fiancée wants to talk to us a lot after our son
abandoned her?” She shook her head. “That’s between the two of you.
I don’t want to get involved.”

He wished it was a road he didn’t have to revisit
either. But, he did have to. He owed her that much, at least, for
doing what he’d done.

“Do you at least know where she lives?” The moment he
asked it, he accepted he’d worded it wrong. He should have asked if
she would tell him. Either way, he would find her tomorrow, and
they could have a little chat.

A tensing of his belly at the thought of being close
to her again had him shaking his head and going to the fridge for a
beer of his own. This was not the time for feelings to be brought
back up, at least not ones he’d left behind.

Hadn’t he?

Chapter
Two

Hermione slowed as she returned from her run to her
drive when she saw the large shadow of an SUV in the driveway.
She’d begun running after Brody had left her as a way to channel
her pain and anger. Since then, it had become habit, and she did it
every day religiously. The unease in her gut told her who it was,
even before he emerged from the interior.

It’s too early for this. I haven’t even had my
coffee yet.
She slowed to a walk and tried to cool down a bit
before reaching him. He’d left a boy and come back all man. His
jeans were slightly baggy. Not that it mattered; she knew what he
had. Black boots on his feet braced slightly apart, and she dragged
her gaze up over the button-down light denim shirt that covered
another blue shirt beneath it. The sleeves on the long-sleeve were
rolled up, exposing his powerful forearms to her hungry gaze.

His hair, gone on the sides, was close cropped on the
top. He had a circle beard—she’d always loved that on him—but now,
his face had matured, and it did so much more for him. His dark
brown skin tempted her even from the distance separating them. Even
after all this time.

She wiped the sweat off her brow and slowed even more
as she neared him. The sun glinted off the black stone in his ear,
and she soured. “Some reason you’re parked in my driveway, Alton
Rivers?”

He removed his sunglasses and hooked them over the
blue t-shirt beneath the long sleeve.

“Don’t call me that.”

She rolled her shoulders. “Why not? Isn’t that who
you are now? You turned your back on Brody Paget.”

A grimace twitched at the corners of his mouth
briefly before he smoothed it away. “Not to you. Look, can we
talk?”

She snorted.
You’re not a damn thing to me now
except a painful memory.
“Now, you want to talk? I couldn’t
possibly imagine what about.” Hermione walked by him to her front
door. It didn’t take a genius to know he’d fallen into step behind
her.

Removing her key, she took several deep breaths
before opening her door, although she wasn’t sure it was wise, for
his scent ran roughshod over her. He entered after her, and she
barely refrained from snarking at him.

This was her sanctuary. A place his memory and ghosts
hadn’t any foothold on her. Until now. Until he walked over that
threshold. In seconds, his imprint was all over her home.
This
isn’t fair; it’s just not fucking fair.

“Sit. I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t wait to see if he listened, just hoofed it
to her room. After embarking on a swift shower, she dried off and
tugged on her work clothes. The professional attire would act as
another layer of protection for her. Hopefully.

The scent of coffee filled the air, and she groaned
in anticipation. She walked by him, still seated in her living
room, and fixed herself a mug. After a moment, she made one for
him, as well.

“So talk,” she ordered, setting the mug within his
reach before retreating to the other side of the coffee table and
taking a seat there.

“Since you called me Alton, I take it you know where
I’ve been.”

She blinked at him.

“Okay,” he said. “The thing is, now, I’m in a big
movie, and if it does as well as we’re hoping, people will be
digging for stuff about my past.”

She narrowed her gaze slightly but continued to sip
her coffee.

“I wanted you to have a head’s up in case some
reporters come here asking about our past relationship.” He drank
some coffee before peering directly at the mug then her.

“I didn’t poison it.”

“I know. I was thinking you made it exactly the way I
love my coffee. You remembered.”

Something private and special passed between them.
The hitch in his tone nearly got to her. Somehow, she stayed on her
path and didn’t allow herself to be deviated. “What does you making
it big have to do with me and my life?”

“They may come and ask you questions about us. About
our past.”

She placed her mug down, incredulous. “And, what, you
think that a bunch of strangers asking me questions will be harder
to face than you hightailing it out of town, leaving me, your
fiancée,
behind without a word? Did you think holding my
head up and looking the people in this town in the eye was easy?
Why the fuck would I give a damn what a bunch of nosy ass reporters
think of me, or your
fans
? I have already walked barefoot
through hell, and trust me—Alton Rivers or Brody Paget, whichever
goddamn motherfucking name you want to be addressed by—nothing your
paparazzi can throw at me would
ever
be worse than what I
faced here. Alone.”

She wanted to punch the wall. Anger coursed through
her. She tried to calm down. She failed.

“You know what?” she began again. “I’m sure it was
just guilt that brought you back here. Why the fuck would they even
ask about me? I doubt you’ve been telling your caviar and champagne
friends—crowd, I don’t even know, or care, if you have friends in
that cesspool out there of plastic surgery, fake smiles, and
diamonds—you were once engaged to a girl in a hick town. Don’t you
dare come here to appease your conscience when you don’t even have
the Goddamn decency to apologize for bolting on me. Get out!”

She shoved to her feet and stalked back to the
kitchen, entire body shaking with the amount of raw emotion pouring
through her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Ten years too late.” She forced herself to meet his
gaze. “Go peddle your apology somewhere else.”

Instead of leaving, he neared her. She hated how she
still physically reacted to him. He stopped five feet away from
her, crossing his arms. She stared at the watch on his wrist. Her
heart lurched. It was the one she’d given him once they’d gotten
engaged.
Why would he still have that? Surely, he can afford
something more expensive.

“Let me explain.”

Lifting her chin, she shook her head. “No. You don’t
get to decide, after all these years, you want to come demand I
listen to you. Especially since we both know you wouldn’t have
returned if not for the threat of me spilling something about you
to the press. As before, your concern is all about you. You know
where the door is, use it.” She pivoted around and dumped the rest
of her coffee, no longer having the stomach for it.

When she finished and turned, it wasn’t all that much
of a shock to see him waiting there. Same position and this look on
his face she’d wished had been there the years ago before he
bolted. Stubbornness.

Perhaps, then, they would have been able to salvage
their engagement. Their future with one another. Instead, he’d
left. Ran. Vanished.

He stopped her when she began to move by him. Every
cell in her body flared to life at the single touch, despite it
being through her blazer. Forcing all emotion from her face, she
angled it toward him and arched an eyebrow.

“You’ve changed so much,” he said, near to a whisper.
His tone was seductive and held a hint a shock.

Only with him do I cuss this much. Otherwise, I
don’t typically let those words pass by my mouth.
“I’m sure. Do
you mind?”

His gaze lingered on her lips. Would he? No. He
wouldn’t dare. Her heart kicked up in speed, and her breathing grew
shallower as it also increased. His thumb skimmed along her arm,
driving her to distraction.

“No,” he murmured. “I most certainly do not mind at
all.” He dipped his head and slanted his lips over hers.

Tentative at first, he moved lightly along her mouth.
Then, he grew bolder, and his tongue invaded her mouth, seeking out
hers. He tasted the same. Wholly addictive. She whimpered and
struggled not to lean into him. Memories she’d moved beyond opened
their doors and stepped into her thoughts. She couldn’t slam them
all and not nearly fast enough.

Yanking away from him, she made a production of
wiping her mouth. “That will
not
be happening again. You
need to leave now.”

The emotional turmoil she witnessed in his gaze
almost gave her pause. Almost. Instead, she infused steel in her
spine and didn’t move until he’d left and she heard the click of
the door behind him. Then, she stumbled to the table and sank on
the nearest chair. This wasn’t fair, at all.

She didn’t move for a good five minutes, merely
trying to get her heartbeat to return to normal and her breathing
to calm down. Her hands continued to tremble as she picked up the
used coffee mugs and put them in the sink before shaking her head
and moving them to the dishwasher.

This wasn’t right nor was it fair. She didn’t need
this, especially now. “I’m in a good place in my life, right now.
Good job. House. Friends. Why is this happening to me?”

She slumped back in a chair at the table and dropped
her head to the surface with a muttered groan. “I cannot be kissing
him again. That’s not going to make this any easier for me if I
allow that type of behavior. In fact, I should just avoid him,
because when we’re in the vicinity of each other, my language goes
to shit.”

Who knew if out-of-sight, out-of-mind would work now.
Brody Paget or Alton Rivers hadn’t ever been completely out of her
mind, despite being out of her sight.

f

He drove. Brody didn’t have an end destination in
mind; he just drove. When he reached Tourin Park, he got off the
road and entered. There were no vehicles there he could see, so he
took the spot he wanted and got out.

Walking without direction, he ambled around the park.
The breeze blew over him, welcoming him home, and he closed his
eyes as he leaned against one of the large trees.

What the hell was I doing, thinking it would be
smart to kiss her?
He’d just acted. It had been the most
natural thing for him to do. Taking those full lips with his. All
he’d wanted to do was sweep her up in his arms and carry her back
to the bedroom to relearn her body. Wipe the memory of any other
man from her mind. Make her whimper and cry before screaming his
name to the heavens as she came around his cock.