Dare to Surrender (30 page)

She came against his face, her body sagging as she clutched at the fence so hard she felt the wood splinter under her palms.

When she finally floated down to reality, he slid his hand out of her pussy. He stood, straightened her dress, and slanted
her a grin. Then he said, “Let that be a lesson to you, miss. Don’t fight those in authority; they always win.”

D
o you think Joy’s okay?”

Erica looked up from her beer to find Kate stumbling into the booth. It was late, nearly midnight, but they were still at
Mario’s. Scott and Kate were on the train to hangover town, but Erica had been nursing the same drink for nearly an hour.

Slowly, Erica nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“So we finally got a glimpse of Ash Hunter. I gotta say he’s fucking hot.”

Erica shrugged. “All that matters to me is that he treats her well.”

Kate picked up a half-empty glass and gave it a sniff. “After what I saw tonight, I’d say he’s perfect for her.”

She hated to admit it, but Erica was inclined to agree. The energy between them was obvious, and the way he looked at Joy,
like he’d do anything for her, was definitely a good thing. He seemed perfectly able to care for Joy, and more important,
he seemed to want to.

Erica wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. All this time she’d been the one to look out for Joy, to help her get out
of the messes in which she inevitably seemed to find herself. It felt strange to know that if things continued with Ash and
Joy, he’d be that person from now on.

A few weeks ago, she would have been freaking out if Joy disappeared after an argument in the street with some guy Erica didn’t
know. But somehow she knew that wasn’t necessary, not with Ash.

See, she could let go of Joy. Blaine had no idea what he was talking about.

The thought of him made Erica’s teeth clench. He’d called and texted her several times that day, but she refused to acknowledge
him. She’d known this was going to happen, so why had she let herself fall for him? She was just a diversion, something fun
to do before he settled into his predictable upper-class life. Her, the culinary program. It was all fun and games to him.
And she’d nearly let herself get caught up in it.

No, this was for the best. Her phone rang again, and she glanced at the display. It was him again. She ignored it. Yes, it
was a darn good thing she’d seen the real Blaine while she still had time to get out.

“I have something for you.”

They were sitting in Ash’s truck, parked in her grandmother’s driveway. When she told him she needed to go to Atherton to
pick up her car, he’d insisted on driving her there, so she’d invited him to dinner. She really had no choice, as her grandmother
was cooking her annual birthday dinner, and now they were staring at the house. It seemed to loom above them.

A wave of exhaustion washed over her. She hadn’t been able to get a moment alone with Ash’s collection, and now it was Saturday.
Her thirtieth birthday. She was entering this phase of her life as she’d entered every other one. A mess.

For some reason, she hadn’t been able to actually go inside yet. She just wasn’t in the mood to suffer her grandmother’s passive-aggressive
insults today. Not that she ever was, but with all the stuff that had been going on lately, she was in even less of a mood
for the abuse than normal.

Now she turned to Ash, who was pulling something out of his pocket, a small gift box.

“Just driving me here is enough of a birthday present.” But, of course, a little feminine thrill shot through her at the thought
of Ash giving her something.

He actually looked sheepish. “Here. It’s nothing fancy….”

She slowly opened the box and pulled out the item inside. It was a dainty silver chain on which a marble pendant hung. It
had been carved into the shape of a delicate sparrow. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she looked up and met his gaze.
“You made this for me?”

He nodded. “The swallow is a traditional Navy symbol for trust.”

“Thank you.” Her throat was tight for some strange reason; it was just a little gift, after all! Still, she couldn’t believe
Ash had made something just for her, that he’d cared that much. And the tiny sculpture was beautiful, its miniature details
delicate and smooth. Turning, she pulled her hair aside.

“Would you put it on for me?”

He took the necklace, and she felt his fingers at the back of her neck. Her skin pebbled at the soft, warm feel of his hands
on her skin. After he’d fastened the necklace, he leaned forward and placed a kiss next to her ear. But her throat was tight.
He’d given her a token of trust.

Finally she turned back to him. “It means so much that you thought of me and made me something so beautiful and unique. Thank
you for this, Ash.”

He glanced away and then back at her. “Yeah. No problem. I guess we should go in.”

“I guess we should.” But she didn’t want to. She wanted to get away, from her grandmother, from her guilty feelings. But she
let Ash lead her out of the truck.

Her pulse quickened as they neared the door. She had no idea how her grandmother was going to behave in front of Ash. She’d
never introduced her to a man before and had certainly never brought one to her house for dinner.

Joy led them into the kitchen, where she found her grandmother chopping vegetables, presumably for a salad.

“Hello, dear,” Grandmother said, and came to give Joy a tight hug.

“Hi, Grandma. This is Ash Hunter. Ash, my grandmother, Miriam.”

Grandmother gave Ash’s form a quick scan, and Joy saw her mouth tighten. Ash wore his standard uniform of a leather jacket,
T-shirt, faded jeans, and boots. Joy knew her grandmother believed men should “dress for dinner,” but there was no way Joy
was making Ash dress differently. And Grandmother definitely wouldn’t approve of Ash’s two-day beard or his longish hair.
Oh well.

She pasted on a smile. “Nice to meet you, Ash.”

“Likewise,” Ash said, shaking her hand.

Grandmother gave Joy’s outfit a once-over. “That’s an interesting outfit, dear.”

“Thanks,” Joy answered, as if she didn’t know damn well that what her grandmother was really saying was,
A girl with your figure shouldn’t wear jeans. Especially not to dinner
.

But Joy didn’t care. It was her birthday, and she was sick of worrying about what her grandmother thought or said about her.
Tonight she’d worn the jeans Ash seemed so fond of, a colorful silk blouse, and brown riding boots. And, of course, a beautiful
necklace made out of marble. She absently touched the little bird at her throat, and a happy buzz of delight went through
her. She couldn’t believe he’d actually hand-carved a gift for her. Of course, that reminded her of how horrible she was for
keeping her secret, but she pushed it aside. It was her birthday, a perfect excuse to ignore her problems.

“Well. Shall we have a drink before dinner? Joy, I know how you like your aperitifs. Just remember, alcohol has a lot of calories.”

“Yes, Grandma, I remember.”
How could I forget with you constantly reminding me?
Joy was still recovering from the mental beating she’d taken for eating too many mashed potatoes on Thanksgiving.

Her grandmother led them down a hall to a sitting room. The room was painted a light yellow, and on one side an ornately carved
marble fireplace took up most of the wall. Joy and Ash took a seat on a floral upholstered love seat, and Grandmother sat
across from them in a matching wingback chair. The clock hanging on the far wall ticked loudly.

There were already cheese and crackers on the coffee table as well as a bottle of chilled champagne and two crystal flutes.

“Would you mind opening the champagne, Ash?”

He removed the bottle of Selosse 1999 Millésime from the chiller and expertly popped the cork. Then he filled three glasses.

Grandmother held hers up. “Cheers.”

They clinked their glasses. Joy drank half of hers in a single gulp while Grandmother, of course, sipped daintily.

“I’m sorry your brothers couldn’t make it tonight, Joy.”

I’m not,
Joy thought. She really wasn’t in the mood to spend her birthday listening to how successful and amazing her siblings were.

“But they’re so busy with their careers and families, you know. It’s hard for them to take any time away from their obligations.”
She took another small sip and turned her gaze on Ash.

Joy inwardly cringed; she knew what was coming.

“What do you do for a living, Ash?”

Here we go.

“I’m an artist,” he answered casually.

Grandmother’s smile went tight around the edges. “An artist? Well, that must be nice.”

“It is. In fact, that’s how I met Joy. She’s curating a show for me next week. You should come.”

“Are you a painter?” Grandmother asked, and Joy could practically hear the woman’s teeth grinding.

Joy drank down the rest of her champagne and then refilled her glass, hoping that Grandmother would be too disturbed by Ash’s
occupation to notice Joy topping herself off.

“I’m a photographer. Portraits, mainly.”

“Ash is one of San Francisco’s leading photographers, Grandmother. He’s very much in demand.”

“I’m sure he is.” Grandmother turned to Joy. “Dear, may I speak with you a moment in private?”

“Um…” She glanced at Ash.

“I’ll be fine,” he said with a smile as he made a sandwich out of cheese and crackers.

Grandmother could barely contain the look of horror on her face as she made her way out of the living room. When they reached
the study, Grandmother shut the door. “Joy. Who is that man?”

“I told you. He’s Ash Hunter.”

“He’s an artist,” she said with disdain.

Joy plopped into a leather club chair. “Um, I know?”

With a great sigh, Grandmother went to her desk and sat behind it. She clasped her fingers together and laid her hands on
the desk. “The last thing you need is a starving artist sniffing around your door.”

Joy refrained from telling her grandmother that Ash was anything but a starving artist. For some reason, she was enjoying
the woman’s discomfort. Besides, Ash’s finances were none of her grandmother’s business.

Grandmother met her gaze. “Joy, I have something to tell you. To give you.”

“Okay… so why are we in here?”

“Because it’s private and I don’t want someone like… that man knowing your affairs.”

Feeling a bit disturbed by the look in her grandmother’s eyes, Joy leaned forward. “What’s going on?”

“Well.”

Did Grandmother actually look nervous? If so, it was a first.

“As you know, I was the executor of your parents’ estate when they died.”

“I know.”

“What you don’t know is that you’re due to inherit a trust on your thirtieth birthday. Today.”

Everything in her went still. “Grandmother, what are you talking about?”

“Your inheritance. It’s all here in these files. Stocks, bonds. It’s quite a bit of money. I just hope you’re responsible
enough to handle it.”

Her body tense, Joy leaned forward in the chair. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

The older woman straightened the already perfect pile of folders before her. “I was hoping you would be more settled by now,
but there’s nothing that can be done at this point. It was set up so you would have access to it when you turned thirty.”
She drew her lips into a frown. “Now you are.”

Joy was speechless. “I can’t believe this—that you never told me. Why not? Why didn’t you trust me?”

“You don’t have the best record when it comes to responsibility, Joy. Just look at tonight. Look who you brought to dinner
with you.”

“What’s wrong with Ash?” she asked in a low voice, her blood pounding in her ears. Anger raged through her, and she fought
for control before she lost it.

“Men like that—
that artist
—will prey on girls like you.”

“Girls like me. What kind of girl is that, Grandmother?”

Grandmother met her gaze. “Girls who don’t think. You’re an easy target.”

“You told my brothers on their thirtieth birthdays, too?” Joy asked.

Grandmother looked at her desk. “Not exactly.”

“What do you mean, ‘not exactly’?” Joy asked in a steely voice.

“They received their inheritances when they turned twenty-one.”

Joy just sat there, frozen. Her parents’ will had given her brothers their money nine years before her? “What? Why?”

“Because your parents were smart. I pointed out that if something ever happened to them, any scoundrel could swoop in and
take full advantage of your spirited nature. I didn’t want you to spend your inheritance on frivolous things. I wanted you
to go to college and follow in your father’s footsteps!” she said, her expression fierce. “I wanted you to be like your brothers
and become a doctor or a lawyer, not some lazy heiress.”

Joy’s voice was stone-cold. “I love what I do. I’m sorry if I don’t fit into your idea of success, Grandmother. But I would
do what I do no matter what. It wouldn’t have mattered if I had money or not. Don’t you get that?”

“I just wanted you to be self-sufficient, Joy.”

“I am.”

She stared at her grandmother for a second before she said, “Why me? Why not my brothers?” She had to know.

“They’re boys, dear. And they’ve always been serious about their studies and their careers.”

“So was I,” Joy said in a low voice. “I went to Stanford for fuck’s sake! I got accepted into one of the most competitive
art history programs in Paris!”

Grandmother gasped. “Joy! Watch your mouth.”

“No. I curse like a sailor, Grandma. Better get used to it.” On shaking legs, she stood. “In fact, you better get used to
a lot of things.”

“Joy…”

“I’m not fat. I like Ash. I’m smart. And I’m sick of you manipulating me!”

“Everything I’ve done has been for your own good.”

“Really? Or is it because my perfect brothers can’t even be bothered to be a part of this family and I’m all you have? So
you do whatever it takes to keep me under your thumb. Let me see the paperwork.”