Stripped (8 page)

S
ix months after that first dinner at her apartment, Dahlia could admit without hesitation that she loved Nash Emery. She was pretty sure he loved her, too. He certainly treated her that way.

But the doubts remained. Every time they were out and one of his friends would approach, she saw how they looked at her. They spoke of things she didn't know, of people and places she was unfamiliar with. Many of the men looked her over in ways that made her feel cheap, and the women, if they addressed her at all, were patronizing, and it was clear they didn't think much of her.

She hated that. Worse, she hated her hesitation in bringing it to Nash, who seemed totally clueless. She was a confident woman! She wanted to believe what her heart told her and she loathed the weakness she felt over it. Still, things were going better than they ever had, personally and professionally. Her job was amazing, and she was nearing the time when she'd be leaving The Dollhouse for good.

She headed into The Dollhouse a little early to stretch before opening.

Even better, she heard Nash's voice coming from William's office and she moved toward it, happy that he'd returned a few days early.

“I know what Lara says, William. She's got a point…”

“Don't be stupid. Dahlia's got no family name. I can see the appeal, she's a hot number. You fuck a girl like that. You buy her some expensive gifts, enjoy the hell out of her body for a while and you move on.

“You've been seen all over town with this girl for months now. It's time to remember who and what you come from. Dahlia isn't one of us. She can't fit into our life. And you shouldn't want her to. She's not made for it. Can you imagine what Mother would do if you brought her home? You can't. You bring home a woman like Lara Warner.”

Dahlia held her stomach, nausea holding her hostage as her world crashed around her head.

“Hey, Dahlia! Nice to see you tonight,” one of the bouncers called to her as he walked in the front doors.

The discussion in William's office halted and she pushed the door open to see both brothers looking toward her guiltily.

Nash started to speak but she held up her hand as she stalked to William's desk.

Rage warred with shame as she took a long look at her former boss. “You can go fuck yourself, you goddamn snob. I quit.” With that she turned on her heel and ran past Nash, shoving at him as he tried to grab her.

She heard him shouting her name moments later, but she ran to her car and drove the hell away from The Liege and the man she thought loved her.

Smacking the steering wheel with her hand she gnashed her teeth. Who the hell did Nash think he was, anyway?
Lara had a point?
She'd fallen prey to his charms and forgotten herself. That she'd actually thought he loved her made her feel like an utter fool, but, damn it, what made him and that prick brother of his better than her? She worked hard! Made her own way in the world.

Her phone rang. She tossed it down when she saw it was him.

Finally arriving home, she'd started to pull into the lot but saw Nash's GTO. Reversing her car, she headed to Roseanne's.

Roseanne took one look at her face and pulled her into the apartment and gave her a hug. “Honey, what is it?”

Her phone rang so many times she turned it off and told Roseanne the whole story.

Roseanne made a face. “What the fuck? I don't understand. Look, Dahlia, I don't know a lot of things but I do know Nash Emery is in love with you. William is an asshole, yes. But Nash? Honey, his face lights up every time you walk into a room. I don't buy the idea of some secret hate about your lack of a pedigree.”

The tears came then, and Roseanne held her tight until they passed. “Oh, God, I'm in love with him. He always avoided talking about taking me to meet his mother. He's ashamed of me. He'd say he wished I could come with him to London or Milan but never, ever that he wished his mother could meet me. I should have listened to my inner voice about it.”

“Sweetie, I think you should let him explain. If it's not what you want to hear, what have you lost? But what if you misunderstood? You said you only heard William talking. Are you going to write this off so easily?”

“I don't know what to do!” True, it had been just William. But what about that comment about Lara's being right? And what about his being ashamed of her? The possibilities struck her frozen, unable to think about anything.

“What do you have to lose?”

“My heart. My dignity.”

“Girl, you already lost your heart and what the fuck is dignity when you're sleeping on a garage-sale couch in my living room when a man like Nash just might truly love you?” Roseanne rolled her eyes. “I'm going to work. If you want to stay, the bed in my spare room is made up. I love you no matter what.”

Roseanne walked out and Dahlia put her head in her hands.

* * *

Nash had thought of nothing but Dahlia the whole plane trip back from New York. It was high time his family accepted that he was in love and with this woman for good. He also wanted to push through the last of Dahlia's emotional walls and tell her he loved her straight out. He'd shown her, he'd said it in a hundred other ways but he wanted to tell her.

Knowing his mother would be the biggest battle, he decided to go to William first. He'd dropped his bags off at home and gone to The Dollhouse.

When he'd confessed the depth of his feelings for Dahlia, William's attitude had gone from amusement to concern that Nash may have been the target of a gold digger. He hadn't had any real idea of just who Dahlia was. Part of that was Nash's fault for not having her around William more socially so he could get to know her better.

Worse, Lara Warner had been talking shit around town. Though she did have a point. Nash did have a responsibility to his station in life—a responsibility to make it one-hundred-percent clear that he was with Dahlia Baker. Not as a fling. Not as a pretty bit on the side. But for good.

He'd been on the verge of interrupting his brother to reiterate just how deeply he felt for Dahlia, to tell William why he trusted her, when they'd heard Dahlia's name being called. Time had slowed as he'd turned to see her standing there in the hallway.

Nash would never in a million years forget the look on her face as she'd stood there, obviously hurt and humiliated. He'd jumped up to explain, but her hand had flown up, cutting him off, and she'd stalked in, told William off and stormed out.

He'd been so stunned by the whole thing, that lapse of time had given her a head start. He stood there, watching her taillights, his stomach sinking. Grabbing his phone, he called hers and got voice mail as he got into his car and raced toward her place. Arriving first, he thanked his forethought to take the back way.

Using his charm and a hundred-dollar bill, he managed to convince the manager to let him inside her apartment. Nash had been there often enough that the guy knew him by sight.

And then he waited.

After her mailbox filled up he called William and chewed him a new one.

“I didn't know she was standing there!” At least his brother sounded guilty.

“William, how can you work with these women and think about them the way you do? She's a good person. Do you know I have to talk her into taking presents from me? She could have worked me for tens of thousands of dollars by now, but she goes out of her way to pay every bit she can. I love her. I mean to be with her and if I can get her to take me back after this mess, I'm asking her to move in with me and marry me by the end of the year.”

“I think she's out of your comfort zone, Nash. I think being with a woman like Dahlia is going to be a big test for you.”

“A test? What the hell are you talking about? We've been together for six months. It's not like I'm nineteen years old and I met her yesterday.”

“You're going to bring her to social functions and she'll be uncomfortable. Your friends and family will be uncomfortable because she's not one of us. It'll eat away at both of you.”

“This isn't about you and Leah, William. Or is it? Is that why the two of you broke it off?” Leah had been William's fiancée of two years. They'd broken off the engagement suddenly, and William had refused to talk about it. Nash began to wonder just how much of William's feelings about Dahlia, about women in general, had to do with Leah.

“Not your business at all. When it comes down to it, Nash, you can't trust this woman because you have something she doesn't. Money.”

“This
is
about Leah, isn't it? Was Leah a gold digger?”

“We're done with this subject. If you love Dahlia, fine. That's enough for me, but I want you to remember this is not going to be a bed of roses. It's easy for you to downplay the class thing, but she's the one who has to suffer for it.”

“I'm not asking you to name a hospital wing after her, William! What I'm asking is simple—accept her because I love her. It's not a hard choice for me and it's a bullshit ultimatum.”

William sighed and Nash wished like hell he'd known more about the breakup between his brother and his ex.

“You're right. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever I can to make her feel welcome. I'll even call her and offer her her job back.” William chuckled. “She sure told me, though.”

Nash laughed. “Yeah, she's everything, William.”

“Well, then, go get her back.”

After hanging up, he picked up a book and settled in to wait.

For want of something to do to make the wait easier, he called her cell again and was able to leave a message. At least her mailbox was empty. She'd listened to her messages. Or he hoped she had without just deleting them all.

* * *

After she stared at her phone for an hour, she decided to listen to her messages. The first ones were just demands that she talk to him, call him back, meet him and let him explain.

But the last one he'd talked until he'd gotten cut off. He told her he loved her and was in the process of explaining that to his brother. He said he'd been about to interrupt William to defend her when she'd overheard.

He loved her. Or so he said.

Curling up on the couch, she watched reality television and fell asleep.

* * *

Nash hadn't been sleeping when his phone rang. He'd been lying in her bed, breathing her in, seeing her everywhere and wanting to hold her so badly he ached.

Surprisingly, it was Roseanne from The Dollhouse. “Yo, Emery, I hear you tossed Dahlia to the curb. You lookin' for some action? I can help you move on really easily.”

Indignant, Nash sat up. “Hey! I thought she was your friend. I didn't toss Dahlia to the curb. I love her! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Roseanne laughed. “Okay, you pass, Nash. Of course I'm Dahlia's friend. I was testing you. She's here in my guest room and she's strung out and you've made her cry so much her face is a mess. And you know how much it takes to make a face like that look a mess? I am very displeased with you.”

“That was a test? You were yanking my chain for fun? Is she all right? Can I come and see her?”

“You had a reputation for a reason—I wanted to be sure you really loved her. She doesn't know what to do. She loves you and she feels betrayed and humiliated. No, you can't come over. She'd kill me if she knew I told you this much. Plus, I want her to rest. She has classes tomorrow. She'll go home after that. If you're lurking, don't be stupid and park in the lot where she can see you.” With that, Roseanne hung up.

D
ahlia got up and out of Roseanne's first thing the next morning. She moved through her day in a daze, not really hearing anything anyone said. Finally, at four, she drove home on autopilot, relieved and saddened that Nash's GTO wasn't in her lot anymore.

Slumping up the stairs, she let herself into her apartment and tossed her bag to the side only to jump three feet in the air when Nash spoke from where he was sitting on her couch.

“Are you all right?”

He looked tired. Sad. A tiny bit lost. And, damn the man, he still looked handsome and sexy.

“Your car is gone! What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

“Dahlia, please listen to me. I'm sorry you heard William say that. I know you must feel hurt being spoken of like you were just a cheap lay but…”

“I was so stupid. I should have known better. I knew what you were and I fell for it, anyway. It's my fault, really, for thinking that a playboy who fucked everything willing would have real feelings for me other than wanting to bang me.”

He stopped like he'd been slapped. Storming over to her, he grabbed her up and tossed her gently on the couch. “You're going to sit there and listen to me. Yes, you
are
stupid, Dahlia. You're so fond of talking about how everyone judges you and how you're so hurt by stereotypes, but you continue to hold on to this stereotype about me that isn't true anymore. I have never, ever, given you any reason to doubt my feelings and commitment to you.” He began to pace and she watched him warily.

“I want you to name one instance, other than the first time I hit on you, that I've treated you badly. Made you feel anything less than like the woman I love. Yes, that's right, Dahlia Baker, I love you. Even though you're difficult and prickly and you have a major stick up your ass about my money. So go on. Tell me and if you can come up with one time I've acted like a playboy out to fuck anything willing—other than you—I'll walk out that door and never bother you again.”

He sat on the chair across the room, staring at her with his arms crossed.

Standing up, she went to the kitchen and got herself a bottled water and went back to sit down, tossing him one as well.

He was right. Aside from that crap in William's office and the first time he hit on her, he'd been genuine and caring with her. Made her feel beautiful and respected and, yes, loved. He'd cheered her on with her new job and had appreciated how much she loved the creative outlet of dancing at The Dollhouse. As it turned out, not very playboy-on-the-make at all.

Putting her head in her hands, she leaned forward. “You're right. I'm sorry. I judged you the same way people have judged me all my life.”

She looked up at him and saw the unshed tears in his eyes.

“But it still doesn't excuse you talking about me like I was a whore.”

Staying in the chair, he stared at her. “Even after all of the stuff you said, you still don't trust me.
William
was the one who said all that shit. Who did you hear talking, Dahlia?”

“Both of you! William said most of it, but I heard you say Lara had a point!”

“She did! About me having a responsibility, about us being from different backgrounds. My responsibility was to make sure everyone knew what you mean to me. But you didn't even let me explain. You just jumped to some kind of conclusion that I was an asshole just using you. I haven't done anything to make you feel that way, and I'm sick and goddamned tired of you being so defensive and distrusting when I've gone out of my way to show you how much I treasure you!”

She blinked in the face of his anger. He'd never been that way with her before. He'd always just accepted her defensiveness and her moodiness with his laid-back calm.

“What have I done to deserve to be treated like shit, Dahlia? Haven't I shown you how much I love you?”

“Why haven't I met your mother, then? Every time you bring her up, you avoid the subject of us meeting. You talk about your responsibility but doesn't that prove my point about you hiding me?”

“Damn you, Dahlia!” He stood up and began to pace.

“Why are you trying to push me away? I'm not going to let you do it, but I'm not going to let you continue to punish me for the sins of other men in your past, either. It's insulting and I deserve more. I've given you time. I've given you space. I've done everything I could to show you how much I care for you. I tell you I want to be sure everyone knows what you mean to me and you turn it around and make it a negative. It's time for you to give something, too.”

Shaking, she watched him as he moved. Terror gripped her. The idea of losing him made her sick to her stomach. He was right; he had been good to her. She hadn't given as much as he had and, yes, she'd held on to her fears that he was nothing but a playboy. She supposed it was a way to protect herself if he did turn out to be an ass. It just made her one. But that didn't explain the mother thing.

“Is this an ultimatum?”

“So she speaks.” One of his eyebrows rose. “Yes, I suppose it is. I won't let you chase me away totally, but if you can't trust me, I have to back off. It hurts too much to be with you like this. It's not right for you to expect me to stay if things are one-sided. But I love you. And, damn it, I am pretty much begging you to be with me.”

She took a deep breath and thought hard.

He sighed. “I'm going to run home and clean up. I need to make some calls. Why don't you think about it and if you can be with me and give me your trust, come to me. You know the code to my penthouse. I love you, Dahlia. With everything I am. I want us to be together. I want
you
to want that, too.”

He looked at her one last time and left.

She sat, staring at the door for what seemed like an hour as she replayed their entire relationship from his first insulting pickup line to that moment where he walked out her door.

The laughter, the fear and the pain all flowed over her. She'd been in love with him for months. Her anger at him dissolved because he was right. She was the one who was wrong.

Her lack of trust in him crashed through her. Her doubts, her stupid fucking past, had hobbled her and she'd allowed it. Thought she was so damned strong, but she'd held on to stereotypes to keep herself from truly being happy with this man.

She'd been so wrong. He'd given her his heart, saw her stripped of everything and loved her, flaws and all. And she'd thrown it in his face. She'd run out on him, not even letting him explain, and when he'd tried, she'd yelled at him. She'd been a total coward.

She would not lose him. Nash Emery was hers. Her arrogant, very hot, very sweet man and she meant to make things right. Even if she had to deal with his idiot of a brother and get to the bottom of this crap about his mother.

Standing up, she went into her bathroom and showered, changing into the dress he'd given her for Christmas. Pulling a coat on over it, she headed to him.

Still shaking, she took a deep breath, pressed the entry code into the elevator and rode it to his penthouse.

* * *

It had been the hardest thing Nash had ever done, walking out on Dahlia. He'd watched her shake and tremble. Had known how upset and shaken she was, but his outrage and hurt had trumped his concern for her. He deserved respect and trust and he had to demand it. They had a future together, he knew she knew that. But they wouldn't last if she didn't let go of the last bit of her fear and trust him to love her.

An hour passed with no word from her, and he began to worry. What if he'd pushed her away completely? He did need to explain about his mother—he should have done so at her place. What if she used that to hold him back?

Well, fuck that! He'd go back over there and make her listen. Damned stubborn female!

His heart skipped a beat when the concierge called him to let him know Dahlia had arrived and was on her way up. Taking a deep breath, he went to the doors to let her inside.

When the elevator opened, she stepped out and he saw she was wearing the red stilettos he'd given her for Christmas. That was promising, wasn't it?

Her smile was hesitant and he saw the emotion on her face. He held out his hand and she reached out, taking it, and he knew they had a fighting chance. But also knew he'd have to hold strong.

“Hi.”

She smiled and he led her into his place. When she took off the coat, he saw she was wearing the Chanel dress.

“I know, I'm overdressed. But I thought—” She shook her head and exhaled sharply. “I don't know what I thought. It seems stupid now.”

“Tell me. You're not stupid. I'm glad you're here.”

She reached out, touching his face gently and he leaned into her hand.

“I thought that if I wore this, you'd see that I accepted it. Accepted the part of you, one of the parts, that scared me before.”

“And it doesn't scare you now?”

“I'm going to try very hard not to let it. I'm sorry, Nash. You were right. I blamed you for what William said. I let my fears grab any little straw to push you away, and that was stupid and wrong. You've been so good to me. I do trust you, Nash. I know I haven't acted like it. But I do, and I'm sorry.”

Letting out the breath he'd been holding, he pulled her into an embrace for long moments, letting the feel of her against him calm him.

He moved to look into her face. “I'm sorry, too. Sorry you had to hear that and sorry that you had enough history to make you wonder about me. I'm not ashamed of you. But I won't lie. It'll be difficult when you meet my mother. I didn't want you to meet her because she's a hard woman. But that's about her, not you. I've called her and told her about you and how serious things were. I'm giving her time to digest it but made it clear there's no other option but to accept it.

“You haven't commented on my telling you I loved you. How…do…aw, hell, do you love me, too, or am I just an idiot?”

Reaching out to touch his cheek, she nodded. “You're totally an idiot but I do love you. And since I'm an idiot, too, I suppose we'll be okay. Although the mother thing makes me nervous. I want her to like me.”

Nodding, he kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose. “Thank you for loving me. And let's just take it one day at a time with my mother, okay? Now, before I ravish you, I need to get a few things settled.”

She pouted. “Oh, all right. Speed it up, then. I want to get to the ravishing.”

He sat on the couch and pulled her onto his lap, facing him, pushing up her skirt. “This dress is pretty figure-hugging. Not a lot of room to ravish in this thing.”

“This is what you wanted to get straight?” Standing up, she pulled it off and laid it on the chair behind her.

“Holy crap. How am I supposed to concentrate with those tits staring me in the face?”

“Get to it already!”

“I think you should move in with me. We can get a place together. The penthouse isn't a home and your apartment is too small for me to have an office.”

Dahlia's heart pounded erratically. “I don't know what to say!”

“Yes, you do. You want to say yes, but you're afraid.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, so I want to say yes but I'm afraid.”

“See? How hard was that? I'm afraid, too. So there. I made an appointment with a Realtor for Sunday afternoon. Don't argue, we've already agreed you want to say yes and we'll get through the fear stuff together. My plan is lots and lots of sex.”

“You're really pushy. But since I quit my job at the Dollhouse, I'll have Sundays free. Of course I won't have a lot of money. Certainly not enough to buy a house in your price range.”

“The second thing is that you'll stop freaking about my money. I have it and you don't. Yet. But you will when you start working full-time at Tate. Not as much as me because, well, I have a shitload of cash, but stop being so damned sensitive about it. Anyway, the house can be your wedding present.”

She gaped and he laughed. “Still scarring my ego, Dahlia. Give a guy a break. I love you and you love me. We're moving in together. We've been together for six months. Let's just say we're getting married New Year's. If you find out something terrible about me that's a deal breaker like you hate my laundry soap or something, you can back out. If not, marry me on New Year's.”

“You know, Nash, subtlety is utterly lost on you. Yesterday I was just your girlfriend, but now you want to set up house and marry me?”

“We've already established my greed. But I'm charming, good in bed, a good provider. And I love you. I want you to be happy and I want to be the one who makes that happen.”

“I hate when you're charming and I'm utterly helpless against it.”

“You're so romantic, Dahlia. Is that a yes?”

Sighing dramatically, she nodded. “If I say yes, will the ravishment take place sooner?”