Hollywood Blackmail (8 page)

“I didn’t have any money to go anywhere else so yes, I stayed in LA. I got myself some hair dye and some cheap contacts so no one would recognize me, then I got a cleaning job at Seacliffe. Helen was…kind to me. She got me into nursing and paid for me to get my degree.” Bracing herself, she glanced up at him. “And that’s where I’ve been ever since. Does that answer your question?”

The spark of anger glowed in his eyes, bright and strong. Well, he probably had a right to feel that way. “Almost,” he said. “What’s with the hair dye and contacts still? It’s been years since American Porn Star was on TV.”

“Like I told you before, people have long memories.”

“No, that’s not it. You’re hiding, and I want to know what you’re hiding from.”

“I’m not hiding. I’m putting the past behind me.” She toyed with her spoon. “I prefer being Lizzie Kent. She at least has a life and a job she can be proud of, not one based on having a porn star for a mother and losing her virginity on national TV.”

Ash stared at her. “And I preferred Coco Dawn. At least she was honest about what she wanted.”

“Coco was also seventeen. She had no idea what she wanted.”

“She wanted me. Or was she lying to herself even back then?”

Her mouth went dry. The expression on his face was fierce, his gaze never moving from hers, and it was clear he wanted an answer.

You could lie. You could pretend he never mattered to you.

No, she couldn’t. She’d lied about a lot of things in her past but she’d never been able to lie about him. Not even to herself. “No,” she forced out. “She wasn’t. She did want you.”

But not enough to stay.

The unspoken truth hung between, heavy as a weighted curtain.

Would he say it? Or would he make her do it? But it was a truth he didn’t seem to want to touch either, because his fierce gaze flickered. “You say that like it’s over and done with,” he said. “But it’s not, is it? There’s enough of Coco still in you, Lizzie-girl. And she still wants me.”

He’s right. You do.

She wanted to deny it, tell him he was completely and utterly wrong. But deep in her heart she knew he wasn’t. She did still want him. Something she’d been trying to deny since she’d seen him again the night before last.

Her gaze dropped so she didn’t have to look at him, see the intensity in his eyes. “I don’t know….” She stopped, the lie sticking in her throat.

“Yes, you do,” he said softly. “You just don’t want to admit that you do.”

No, she didn’t. Because admitting it felt like opening a crack in her hard-won defenses and she needed those defenses. He was right, she was hiding. Because it was far better to hide than to leave yourself open to anyone who could hurt you.

But this is Ash. He knows you, remember? He knows everything…

Lizzie found she was clutching her spoon rather tightly in her fist.

“What are you so afraid of?” Ash’s voice was quiet and there was no anger in it this time.

“I don’t want anything to happen between us,” she said at last. “And if I admit it…”

“You think I’ll make you do something you don’t want to do?” he finished.

With an effort, Lizzie uncurled her fingers from around the spoon. “I don’t mean you’d force me, let me get that straight. You may be an asshat but you’re not that much of an asshat.”

“Thanks. I think.”

“No, but you can make me…forget things,” she finished lamely.

“Forget things? What things?”

“Things like what…happened. How it all went wrong…afterward. And how I don’t want to go there again.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “So, what? You’re going to stay celibate all your life?”

That hadn’t been the plan. But after she’d left home, after she’d wrapped herself up in her Lizzie Kent disguise like it was a warm, fuzzy blanket, she’d found she couldn’t get into the dating scene again. Sex had always been treated like a commodity by her mother, a vehicle for her greed for fame, and consequently Lizzie had sworn it would never be that way for her. That sex would be special, with someone she loved and trusted, and above all it would be private. Until her mother had ripped away even that from her.

So she’d decided not to go there again. Not until she found that special someone. So far, she hadn’t.

“No, I’m not. But sex should be special,” she said. “It should mean something”

“It meant something last time. Why can’t it mean something again?”

“Oh sure, what with all the blackmail going on? That’s special, all right.”

His eyes glinted. “I’m not apologizing, if that’s what you’re after. I wanted you here and I’m glad you are.”

A small, traitorous glow sparked to life, but Lizzie quashed it before it could start a fire. “Fine. Just as long as you don’t expect me to fall happily into your arms panting ‘take me now,’ okay?”

Ash remained quiet, studying her. Then he said, “You’ve got something on your lip.”

“What?”

“Here.” He extended a finger toward her and then paused. “May I?”

Lizzie blinked. Then realized something. He was asking her permission. A prickle of heat washed over her, her lips acutely sensitive. She should say no. Because why would she want him to touch her? He’d already done it once without her permission, why on earth should she let him do it again?

And yet “no” wasn’t the word that came out. “Yes,” she said.

Ash didn’t hesitate. Gently he touched her bottom lip, a light brush with his index finger, leaving a trail of heat and sparks behind him. She couldn’t move, pinned to the spot on her barstool, her mouth tingling. There was something white on the tip of his finger. “Yogurt,” he said by way of explanation. And put the finger in his mouth.

Oh, God. That should not be hot. It shouldn’t.

“Ash…,” she said hoarsely, not quite sure what she was going to say, probably something like “stop being so damn hot” or something else equally stupid.

“You were saying nothing is going to happen,” he went on as if she hadn’t spoken. As if he hadn’t touched her, set something inside her burning. “Okay then, nothing will. Not without your say-so. How does that sound?”

That sounded…strangely disappointing, actually. Not that she was going to admit that to herself. “It sounds fine.”

His mouth curved. “You didn’t miss the fine print, did you? The ‘not without your say-so’?”

“I got that part, believe it or not.”

“Good.” His dark gaze rested on her. “Because you know damn well I’m going to do my level best to make you give me that say-so.”

The heat inside her glowed hot. She tried to ignore it. “I said no. You know what that means, don’t you? Little word, indicating a negative?”

But that black gaze of his seemed to see right through her. “When was the last time someone seduced you? When was the last time someone treated you like a woman, not a nurse? When was the last time anyone made you feel good?”

“I don’t need anyone—”

“Yes, you do. You’re so uptight and defensive you’re like Fort Knox. Even your hair is uptight for God’s sake.” He put his hands on the counter and leaned toward her. “You should let Coco come out and play. Unless, of course, you’re afraid.”

Afraid? Ha. As if! “I’m not afraid.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned in a little farther, getting closer. “What about now?”

“What are you doing?”

“You said you weren’t afraid.” He leaned even farther.

God, he was so close, his mouth only inches away from hers. She couldn’t look away from him. His warmth and the scent of him were so familiar they made the breath lock in her throat.

When was the last time someone treated you like a woman?

Truth was, no one had. Not for a long time.

You remember what it was like with him…

She never let her herself remember because there were too many bad feelings around it, but now it came rushing back to her in hot flood of scorching kisses, gentle touches. Tenderness. Patience. And a pleasure so sweet it still made her breathless to think about it. Made her ache with longing to have it again.

“I’m not,” she said, her voice hoarse. Trying not look at his mouth so achingly close to hers.

“So prove it.”

She attempted a sarcastic laugh that came out more as a croak. “Prove it? I’m not seven years old for God’s sake.”

“No, just twenty-eight and scared of admitting you still want me.”

“I don’t want you.”

“Then why didn’t you want me touching you?”

“Because it’s rude. And…and…”

“Totally turns you on?”

“Ash—”

“I want to kiss you. Right now. Right here.”

Okay, this had gone far enough. It had to stop. Because she was seriously in danger of telling him he could. And she couldn’t let him kiss her. Just couldn’t. If he kissed her she’d…she’d…
melt into a puddle right here at the breakfast bar and let him do anything to you he wants.

Not good. She’d put him behind her years ago and she didn’t want to fall down that particular slippery slope, not again. Besides, not only was he blackmailing her into being here, but he was also one of Hollywood’s biggest playboys. Hardly her dream man.

“No,” she said thickly, grasping every bit of defensive armor she had. “Aside from the whole blackmail thing, it’s not like you’re hard up for feminine company. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of other women in your little black book you can call. You don’t need me.”

The bastard smiled. “But I don’t want anyone else. Refusing only punishes yourself as well, sugar. Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’m not punishing myself.”

“Aren’t you? You want me to kiss you, I can see it. Your eyes are dilated and your mouth is all full and pouty, and you’re breathing fast.” His gaze searched her face. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Something snapped inside her. Something that was already brittle and cracked. One minute she was sitting there staring at him, absolutely determined to resist for the good of her heart, not to mention her sanity. The next she’d leaned forward and covered his taunting mouth with hers.

Great. There went her “don’t get involved with the blackmailing playboy” vow.

Chapter Six

Lizzie’s kiss was as bright as a bolt of summer lightning. And the effect was pretty much the same as being struck by lightning, too—it set him on freaking fire. Her mouth was soft and he could taste the sweetness of the fruit she’d been eating. Or maybe that was just her. She’d always been sweet, like a peach. Seemed like nothing had changed.

A surge of desire went through him. He wanted to take control of that kiss, part her lips, and taste her with his tongue. Reach over the breakfast bar and grab her, haul her close. It had been so long and he wanted her so very badly.

But he didn’t. Because this wasn’t the way it was going to go.

Putting his hands in the damp silk of her hair, he eased her back from him instead. She blinked at him, gray eyes wide, cheeks flushed, her breathing fast and hard.

“Not like this,” he said softly. “I want you to kiss me because you want to kiss me, not because you’re trying to prove some point.”

“But you…you said prove it…”

“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.” His own stupid fault. He’d gotten answers from her, pushed her and pushed her, and she’d responded just as he’d hoped, her kiss evidence that she hadn’t put quite all of the past behind her. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted more.

She’d left him because her need for anonymity had been greater than her need for him, and that was a wound still hurting them both. A wound he needed to heal.

Now he knew how. He’d give back to her what her stupid mother’s thoughtless actions had taken from her. Those special moments of being loved, being cherished. Private and just for her. No one else. Now was the perfect time and this was the perfect place. While they were alone and there was no one else to see.

First though, he had to get her to trust him again.

“I want you to kiss me when you want to,” he went on, “not because I pushed you into it.”

Her jaw tightened. Then abruptly she slid off her barstool, smoothing her trousers as she did so. “You might be waiting a long time in that case,” she said coolly. “Because kissing blackmailing playboys isn’t really my thing. When you’re ready for your treatment come up to my room. I have the supplies in there.” And without waiting for a reply, she turned and went out of the kitchen.

Ash muttered a curse under his breath. Blackmailing playboys? Okay, so he’d give her the blackmailing part, but the playboys? Maybe six months ago that would have been true, but not now. Six months he’d been cleaning up his image and he hadn’t been with a woman since he’d made that decision.

He frowned at the doorway she’d just stalked through. It was strange to have to make an effort for a woman. Normally he only had to look at one and she’d be falling at his feet. It had always been that way, even before he’d gotten famous. The starlets who’d hung around the Misty Mansion, attracted to the constant rolling of the cameras as part of Misty’s show, had loved his security guard uniform and got off on the bruises he’d sometimes sported after his fights. That whole bad-boy vibe. He’d had more than his fair share of offers, it had to be said. But he’d never even noticed them when Lizzie was around.

Except she’d been Coco then. Coco with her red hair and sharp wit. Her passion and unexpected vulnerability. She was different, she always had been, and God help him but he liked that.

So, he had to tempt Coco out again. Make her trust him again. But how to do it?

Slowly he collected her bowl and spoon and carried them to the dishwasher. Thinking. He hadn’t missed the spark in her eyes when he’d served her some breakfast. The spark of surprised pleasure. She’d liked that. He’d bet not many people took care of her the way she took care of other people.

Ash put the dishes in the dishwasher, shut it, then leaned against the counter, still thinking. The edges of the book in his back pocket dug in and he shifted absently. Then he stopped. Smiled.

Reaching around, he slid Lizzie’s book out of his pocket and flipped through the pages until he came to the photo. The photo of their first date at the beach…

She’d enjoyed that; hell, they both had. So why not start there? A normal date. He could do that, couldn’t he? Take her on a date, take care of her. Treat her right. Okay, so he couldn’t do dinner and a movie outside of his house, but he could do it inside. He had a movie theater downstairs and he could set up a nice dinner. Maybe flowers. A proper, normal date.

Ash grinned to himself and flipped back to the first page. She’d liked this book a lot, though he couldn’t see the appeal, personally. Heathcliff sounded like a tool and Cathy kind of insane. But maybe he could try a couple of pages to see if he could get any more insights. Anything that was going to help him gain back her trust, he’d use.

Opportunities, that’s what it was about.

…

No amount of making her bed or refolding her clothes was going to make Lizzie any less mad, so eventually she stopped doing it and sat on the bed instead, fulminating.

Was she insane? Why the hell had she kissed him?

Uh, because you wanted to?

No. What she’d wanted was to shut him up. Completely.
Oh sure you did. And it wasn’t incredible and didn’t make you hot either. Not at all.

Lizzie glared out the window at LA. She didn’t know what was more embarrassing—that she’d kissed him or that he’d pushed her away.

I want you to kiss me because you want to kiss me, not because you’re trying to prove some point. .

The douche bag. He’d damn well pushed her into making that move, and then to come out with that was just… She had no words. At least none that were polite. What was even worse was that she could still feel the impression of his mouth on hers, a fleeting heat that had made her want to part her lips, taste him. Reach across that breakfast bar and pull him closer…

Her cheeks began to feel hot, her heartbeat accelerating.

God, she was an idiot. There were so many reasons why getting involved with Ash again would be a mistake. The past. The blackmail. His star status. Then there was the fact that he was her patient and having any kind of sexual contact with said patient was not only wrong but completely unprofessional. She should have made sure she was perfectly in control of herself. Not…not throw caution to the wind and launch herself across the kitchen counter at him.

Lizzie smoothed the comforter in a reflexive gesture. She needed to put it behind her. Forget about it. Go on as if nothing had happened. Because she wasn’t going to do anything that stupid again. There were too many things at stake to jeopardize with a meaningless sexual encounter, her career being the least of them.

She pushed herself off the bed and went into the bathroom, fiddling around with the treatment supplies. Then she got out the laptop she’d brought with her, sat down at the desk in the bedroom, and fired it up. Work had always made her feel better, so that’s what she did. Ash had given her a password for his Wi-Fi so she was able to access the web. She sent Helen an e-mail update and got a reply pretty much immediately, telling her they’d hired a temp nurse to cover and she wasn’t to worry about the leak, either. That everything was under control.

Not what Lizzie wanted to hear. Great that it was all under control, but it left her with nothing to do. God, she was going to have to put up with this for another two weeks. Crazy. Surely she didn’t have to stay locked up here with him the whole time?

She surfed around on some medical sites, read a few nursing articles, and was in the process of trying not to think about the hours she was supposed to somehow fill, when someone knocked on the door.

Of course it was going to be Ash.

Lizzie straightened her T-shirt, smoothed her hair, ignored the ball of tension sitting in her stomach, then went to the suite’s door and pulled it open.

Ash leaned against the doorframe, hands in his pockets. And yes, his damn shirt was still open.

“At least you knocked this time,” she said, folding her arms.

“At least you’re not asleep this time.”

“Do you have to have an answer for everything?”

“I could say the same thing about you.” He pushed himself away from the doorframe. “I’m ready for my treatment.”

Yes. The treatment. That’s why he was here. Nothing to do with the kiss whatsoever. The kiss that she wasn’t going to think about.

“Of course. Come into the bathroom.” She followed him in, then picked up some disposable gloves and put them on while Ash watched her.

“Man, you’re sexy when you do that,” he commented.

Lizzie threw him a quelling glance. “If you’re turned on by me putting on a pair of disposable gloves, there’s no hope for you.”

“Actually, I was more turned on by that kiss.”

“We’re not going to talk about the kiss.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not appropriate during your treatment.” She came over to where he stood, going fully into nurse mode, taking off the bandages and keeping her gaze on the wound on his face, not his naked chest.

“How about after my treatment?”

“We’re not going to talk about it at all, okay? I didn’t mean to do it and that’s that.” She frowned. He was so tall he was going to have to sit down so she could do this properly. “You need to sit.” Looking around, she spotted the chair beside the bath and dragged it over next to the vanity where she’d put the treatment supplies. “There. Sit down here.”

Ash grinned. “Bossy, sugar? It’s good. I like it.”

Lizzie decided to ignore him. Instead she fiddled around with the instruments she was going to use, sorting out the right solution to clean the wound, and running some water into the basin. Then once she’d done that she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. She was going to have to get close to him. Again.

Ash sat on the chair, his legs outstretched. Perhaps he had some inkling of her discomfort because a smile kept playing around his mouth. His long, sensual, hot mouth…

Pull yourself together, idiot.

Lizzie gritted her teeth and took a deep, silent breath. “You’re going to have to…uh…” She nodded to his legs, determined not to blush.

“What? Spread them?” The look on his face was all kinds of wicked.

“Yes, please.” She tried to keep her voice crisp.

“Why sure,” he said lazily. “I’d spread my legs for you anytime, Lizzie-girl.”

Ignore him. Keep ignoring him.

Lizzie stepped between his muscular thighs. He was just a patient. That’s all he was. Nothing more. She leaned forward and began to clean the wound with Colt’s special cleaning solution. He didn’t flinch, though she knew the solution had to sting. Just kept watching her with an intent expression in his black eyes.

“It’s looking good,” she said because she had to say something before the tension got too much for her and to take her mind off how the warmth of his body was making her knees weak. She kept flashing back to the night he’d come into the clinic and put his hands on her hips. How good it had felt.
Stop it, brain
. “The stitches can come out in another week. I assume Dr. Lazarus mentioned the laser treatment?”

“He did.” Ash moved almost imperceptibly and she felt the brush of his thighs against the outside of her own. She had to fight to stop herself from shivering. “I liked that kiss. Don’t think that I didn’t.”

“We’re still doing the treatment, Ash.”

“I just wanted you to know that.”

“Well, thanks for the update. I’m sure it’ll make it easier for me to sleep tonight.”

“I meant what I said. The next time you kiss me I want it to be because you want to.”

“There won’t be a next time. That was a one-shot deal.”

“You don’t know that. You’re here for two weeks, remember?” There was an insufferably smug look on his face. “Plenty of time for things to change.”

“What? You really expect me to stay here for that long without leaving?”

“Didn’t we talk about this?” He leaned back slightly. “Sure, you can leave. But if you do, I’ll be giving Helen a call. And I’m pretty sure she won’t want to deal with another clinic complaint. Not now.”

Goddamn him. Goddamn him and the horse he rode in on. Lizzie’s jaw was so tight it ached. “You can stop talking now.”

He didn’t move but she had the oddest impression that she was surrounded by him. By his warmth, his scent, his sheer personal magnetism.

A couple of moments passed.

“I want you to come out on a date with me, Lizzie.”

She paused, not sure if she’d heard correctly. “What?”

“A date. You know, where a man and a woman who like each other get to know each other better.”

For a second she didn’t have any idea what to say. “What kind of date?”

“Dinner. A movie. You and me spending time together. No pressure.”

“Says the man who blackmailed me into coming here.”

His mouth curved. “You keep mentioning that.”

“Mostly because it keeps making me angry.”

“I told you I’m not apologizing for it.” He paused. “But I want to make it up to you. In fact, I want to make up for the past eleven years if you’ll let me.”

She blinked. “What do you mean make it up to me? Make up what?”

“Make up for what your mother did. For what happened between us and for what was ruined by that stupid show. I want to give you what we should have had. Those special times.” The wicked glint had faded from his gaze; nothing but intensity blazed there now. “Those special nights.”

Why did that make her feel so short of breath? So full of yearning?

Disturbed, Lizzie stepped away from him and went to get the special ointment that Laz had specified was to go with the washing solution. Her heart was racing, her mouth dry.

She’d put all of that behind her, hadn’t she? She couldn’t want it back again, she couldn’t.

“We can’t go out on a date,” she said after a moment. “Wasn’t the whole idea that we stay here to avoid the press?”

“I didn’t say we’d go out. I have a movie theater downstairs and I can organize dinner here for us. And speaking of which, what’s your favorite?”

“Sushi. But don’t take that as a yes.” She picked up the tube of ointment, trying to keep herself in work mode. But God, he made that so difficult.