The Owner of His Heart (12 page)

“You look good,” he said, by way of explanation when he finally released her from the kiss.

“You stole all my lipstick!” She laughed and wiped the color off his lips with her thumb. Luckily Jacob had given her an extra tube for reapplications.

He grinned. “You had it coming. Walking in here looking this good—you had to know how I would respond.” He secured an arm around her waist and guided her deeper into the party. “Let’s start doing the rounds, so we can get out of here in fifteen minutes.”

“I spent half a day getting ready for this party. We’re not going to just skip out,” she said.

“Okay, half an hour.”

“Two hours.”

“One hour. That’s my final offer.”

Layla laughed again. “Fine, Nathan.”

She thought she’d spend most of the party listening to Nathan talk business with his other associates, many of whom also served on the opera board, but to her surprise, he included her in every conversation, even going so far as to steer the dialogue back to topics she could discuss when it became too business-oriented.

It helped that Layla had already converted to Pittsburgh sports fandom, able to hold forth on why the Steelers were the best football team on earth, bemoan the ever-losing Pirates, and talk passionately about how the Mario Lemieux-led Penguins had convinced her to give hockey a chance.

Nathan disagreed with her on all counts, which meant even his own friends took her side over his and were happy to help her gang up on him when he tried to argue for the Patriots, the Cardinals, and Canada’s hockey teams. This started an inflamed conversation that kept them laughing, and soon other people at the party joined their circle, as if attracted by their loud arguments and sparkling back and forth.

Layla had expected a stodgy party, but she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this much. And when Nathan called time on their hour, she groaned. “I’m having so much fun. Can’t we stay a little longer? I’ll give you a five-minute kiss break.”

“The reason I want to leave is so I can kiss you without time limits. Besides if we leave now, we don’t have to sit through the boring speech.”

Layla winced. “But shouldn’t we stay for the speech? I mean you are on the board. You should be more supportive.”

He chuckled, “Only you would try to guilt trip me about skipping a fundraising speech.”

“Just twenty more minutes,” she said. “I didn’t go to prom, so this is my first fancy party. Like ever.”

He pulled her into his arms, folding his hands behind her waist. “You did really well tonight, Layla. Haven’t you ever heard of leaving them wanting more?”

“But I’m leaving in two weeks, so even if they wanted more, I wouldn’t be able to give it to them.”

She had meant this as a joke, but a certain sadness permeated the air between them as they both seemed to realized this would indeed be the last “fancy” party they ever attended together.

But then he said. “No, we can do this again. You can be my date to the Sinclair Ball in two weeks. It will be our last hurrah.”

She scrambled to recapture the previous breezy mood they’d struck. “I don’t know,” she said. “Will it be as fancy as this event?”

He took her empty champagne flute and handed it off to a passing waiter. “Even fancier. Now do me a favor and go reapply your lipstick, so I can take it off again in the limo.”

But before she could untangle herself from his arms, he kissed her again, this time a chaste buss and then another and another, as if he was looking for any excuse to give her extra kisses, even though he was the one kicking her out of town.

When he finally let her go, Layla felt a now-familiar melancholy come over her at the thought of leaving in two weeks, and true anger rose within her. Why was he making her leave? Why couldn’t he just forgive her for whatever it was she’d done? Most of all, how could he not feel about her the way she was beginning to feel about him after six weeks together?

In the restroom, she reapplied her lipstick on autopilot, wondering if this was how all the women he dated felt, like they were the center of his universe and maybe had a chance at winning his love—until he got rid of them the way he was about to get rid of her. If only she could find his brother. Maybe he knew something, something she could use to convince Nathan to let her stay.

“Layla? Layla Matthews?” a voice said to the right of her. She looked up to see a plump, red-haired woman in a black dress with a sweetheart neckline. “I thought that was you, when I saw you in the lobby, It’s me, Jessica.”

Layla shook her head.

“Oh, I know it’s been a while, but surely you remember that night with you, me, Nathan, and Andrew. That disastrous double date.” Suddenly her face fell. “You don’t remember me. It’s because I’ve gained so much weight, isn’t it?”

“No, that’s not it at all.” Layla reached out a hand to soothe the distraught woman. “I had an accident, you see. I fell and I lost a chunk of time, my entire first year of college. Maybe we met then?”

Layla sure hoped so, because the woman looked like she was about to burst out crying.

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Yes, that’s when we met. Really? You lost an entire year? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

Layla smiled. “Well, I’m nice, but no I wouldn’t fake a head injury to make you feel better.”

The next thing Layla knew, Jessica had gathered her up in a hug. “Oh, you poor thing. You poor, poor thing,” she said. “I can’t believe something like this happened to you. You were so nice.”

“I’m still here,” Layla said, gently disengaging herself from the smothering hug. “No, need to refer to me in the past tense.”

“Yes, you’re still alive. How lucky. And I saw you kissing your college boyfriend in the lobby, so it looks like you’re back together.”

Layla demurred with a shy head tilt. “I wouldn’t say back together. I didn’t even remember him when we saw each other again three months ago, the first time since my accident. And I’m moving to Savannah in two weeks, so who knows how it will all turn out.”

But Jessica shook her head, grabbing Layla’s hands with emphatic fervor. “No, you two were perfect together. Everybody used to say so.”

“Really?” Layla said. “Because we’re pretty opposite in most regards.”

“Maybe you two come from different classes, yes. But you’re both such gentle souls.”

“Gentle?” Layla said, because that would be the last word she’d use to describe Nathan. He didn’t have a gentle bone in his body, but maybe he was a lot different back then.

Her brain seized. Could it be possible that whatever she had done had made him this way? Was that why he’d been so adamant about her leaving town?

“Though, I must say I’m surprised to see he’s broken up with Diana. I mean I heard they were having problems, but I didn’t know they had separated. Or are they already divorced? Heaven knows, you can push those through pretty fast if you have a tight pre-nup, which I imagine they did as much money as both their families are worth.”

Then it became clear to Layla what was going on. “Oh, no, I think you’re confused. I’m not here with Andrew. I’m here with Nathan.”

To Layla’s surprise, Jessica’s face went from happy to angry, complete with narrowed eyes. “What?” she said.

“That’s who I was with in college, right? On our disastrous double date?” Layla asked, though the worst feeling was starting to steal over her.

“No,” Jessica said. “I was with Nathan. You were with Andrew. From what I could tell, you and Nathan hated each other.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

SIX weeks ago, Nathan had hoped inviting Layla to stay with him would cure him of his infatuation with her. It had done the opposite. When he first proposed her staying with him for the two months before she had to move, he’d seen himself kicking her out after two weeks, a month tops. He’d figured he’d get sick of the adult version of Layla, like he’d gotten sick of all the other women before her, no matter how beautiful they were.

But that hadn’t happened. In fact, given an inch, Layla had taken a mile. She’d yet to use the guest bathroom, insisting on using his, even going so far as to force him to share it with her, on the few days when he had to get to work early for a conference call with Japan or one of the other would-be global markets. Layla might seem like a pushover to everyone else, but he had serious problems cowing her anywhere outside of his bed. He’d always burned the midnight oil, but these days he went to bed earlier, because Layla had to be up in the morning for her shift. Not only had he’d decided to double Kate’s bonus at her behest, but also Lucynka’s who Layla insisted was still owed something due to the one time she’d caught them having sex. He’d taken to saying thank you, at first to stave off arguments with Layla, but over the course of the summer it had become a habit.

Worse of all, he’d found himself enjoying his time with Layla for reasons outside of sex. He actually liked having her in his space, looked forward to coming home to her ever-smiling face. Before Layla he’d watched CNN and the Military Channel in the evenings, with a few episodes of
Top Gear
thrown in for fun. But over the course of the past two weeks, he’d started watching summer reruns of a few night time dramas Layla liked and had gotten caught up in the story lines himself.

It had all grown very domestic, which made her leaving that much harder. He got angry just thinking about her moving on with her life, finding another boyfriend, maybe even marrying and having children. Sometimes when they were making love, it got so intense, he’d think to himself, “You’re mine, and I’m never going to let you go.” And he’d feel this so deeply, he’d come before he was ready, with the primal urge to spill his seed inside her, to put his baby inside of her, even though he knew she was on birth control. And even though he also knew she’d be leaving Pittsburgh soon at his behest.

But things between them began to sour the night of the opera fundraiser. It all started when their conversation hit an awkward note just as they were about to leave the gala. He’d thought inviting her to the Sinclair Ball would fix it, and it had for a minute or two. But then she went to the bathroom and emerged over fifteen minutes later with fresh lipstick and a changed demeanor. Her smile had completely disappeared, and her gaze kept skittering all over the place, never quite landing to meet his.

“Is everything all right?” he asked, already worried that it had taken her so long in the bathroom.

She shook her head and said, “No, I just have a migraine. I took something, but it still hurts.”

That night they went to sleep on opposite sides of the bed, with Layla claiming she was in too much pain to fall asleep in his arms as she normally did. And when he woke up she was gone. He found a note left on the refrigerator, explaining she needed to run a bunch of moving-related errands.

Apparently these errands took up most of the day, because she called late Saturday night to say she was exhausted from packing all day and was just going to sleep at her apartment that night.

“You can sleep over here,” he said.

“I don’t get a lot of sleep when I’m over there,” she answered.

“I’m not an animal. I can keep my hands off of you for two nights in a row. Now three, and we might have a problem.”

This had been a joke, and he expected her to laugh, but she just said, “I really don’t feel like driving. I’m just going to stay here.”

“I’ll send a car.”

“Don’t. That’s too expensive.”

Despite having been with him for six weeks, Layla still didn’t seem to grasp how rich he was, and that she didn’t have to worry about how expensive things were, because he could afford it. Buying her anything continued to be a battle. One he didn’t feel like waging with her at that moment.

“Okay, then, I’ll come and get you.”

“No, Nathan. That’s so far out of your way. Seriously, it’s okay. I can sleep here today and tomorrow.”

“Today and tomorrow?” he said. “When did it become today
and
tomorrow?”

“Well, I figured if I got everything out of the way now, then I’d have more time to spend with you before I go. But that means I really have to concentrate on getting everything done. No distractions.”

He knew she was attempting to tease him with the last line, but he couldn’t laugh, because he was suddenly overcome with an unfamiliar urge to beg. He didn’t want her to take two nights off from their relationship—in fact, the thought of not seeing her until Monday made him heartsick. So as always, when she made him feel things he didn’t want to feel, he got angry.

“Our agreement states that you’ll stay with me,” he said, deliberately making his voice cold and business-like. “That means wherever I am, you’re supposed to be.”

A frosty silence came down the line. And just in case that hadn’t been enough to convince her, he said, “You promised, Layla. I thought you always kept your promises.”

More silence. Then she said, “Fine” and hung up.

He’d tried calling her back, but she didn’t answer. Twenty minutes later, he was just about to grab his keys and go over to her apartment himself, when she came through the front door, already dressed in her pajamas and looking as tired as she had claimed on the phone.

“Layla,” he said, happier than he wanted to be to see her.

But without even acknowledging his presence, she went to the bed, climbed in, and closed her eyes. She didn’t even respond when he got into bed himself and pulled her into his arms. But she didn’t push him away either, so he settled for this. A pissed off Layla, he decided, was better than no Layla at all.

He’d thought they’d talk about what happened in the morning, but when he woke up she was gone again and this time she didn’t come home until after midnight, once again climbing into his bed without a word.

“Layla, I’m not going to let you do this two nights in a row,” he said to her back, after getting into bed himself. “If you’re angry at me, tell me. I won’t put up with the silent treatment.”

“What is there to say?” she asked, her back rigid. “I’m leaving in two weeks. I’m just trying to get ready for my contractually-obligated move.”