Billionaire's Contract Engagement(56)

He got this adorable, mischievous grin. "I was going to wait until Monday when it got here to tell you."

"When what got here?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise, but I suppose I could tell you now."

"Tell me what?"

He jumped up, looking a bit like an excited little boy, and reached for  his pants on the floor. He pulled his cell phone from the pocket, then  flopped down on his stomach beside her. He tapped at the touch screen,  but when she sat up and tried to see over his shoulder what he was  doing, he rolled onto his back. "Just hold on."

He had such a sweet, goofy grin on his face, she was dying to see what  he was up to. When he finally handed her the phone there was photo of a  car on the screen. A luxury mini-SUV in a rich shade of blue. "I thought  your car was new," she said.

"It is."

"So why buy another one?"

He laughed. "For you. That's your car. Well, not that exact one, but one just like it."

"You bought me a car?"

"You need one, right?"

"Oh, my God." She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him. "Thank you!"

He laughed and hugged her back. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Maybe not to you, but it is to me."

"If you scroll left you can see what it looks at from other angles."

She sat back against the pillows, scrolling through the other shots he'd taken.

"It's so cute! I love it."

"It also has an excellent safety record. And I got the extended option package. It has everything."

She scrolled to the next page, but it wasn't of the car. It took her a  second to figure out exactly what it was she was seeing, and when she  did, her head began to spin.

One second Mel was all smiles, then her face went slack and all the  color leeched from her skin. She lifted a hand to her mouth, as if she  might be sick.

He sat up. "Mel, what's wrong?"

She shook her head and said, "I should be dead."

He looked down at his phone and realized she was no longer looking at  her new car. She was looking at the photos he'd taken at the impound lot  in Texas, of what was left of her old car. He had completely forgotten  they were there.

"Crap!" He snatched the phone away, but it was obviously too late. He  should have erased the damned things, or at least transferred them to  his work computer. "I didn't mean for you to see those. I'm sorry."

She looked up at him, eyes as wide as saucers. "How did I survive that?"

"You were really lucky."

"Everyone kept saying that. But they always say that when someone has an accident and doesn't die. Right?"

He shrugged. "I guess sometimes they really mean it."

"Was it just the one picture, or are there more?"

"Half a dozen maybe. I'll erase them."

She held out her hand. "I want to see."

"Mel-"

"Ash, I need to see them."         

     



 

"It'll just upset you."

"It will upset me more if I don't. Please."

He reluctantly handed it back to her, and watched as she scrolled  through the photos. When she got to the last one she scrolled back the  other way. She did that a few times, then she closed her eyes tight, as  though she was trying to block the image from her mind.

Letting her look had been a bad idea. He should have told her no and erased them. "Mel, why don't you give me-"

"I rolled," she said, eyes still closed.

"That's right. Into a ditch. Then you hit a tree. The doctor told you that, remember?"

Her brow wrinkled in concentration. "The interior was black, the  instrument panel had red. Red lights. And the gearshift." She reached  out with her right hand, as if she was touching it. "It was red, too."  She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "There was an air freshener  hanging from the mirror. It smelled like coconuts."

There was no way she could have seen that kind of detail in the photo on his phone. She was remembering. "What else?"

"I remember rolling." She looked up at him. "I remember being scared,  and hurting, and thinking I was going to die. It was. awful. But I do  remember."

He wondered how long it would take before she remembered what else had  happened, why she rolled into the ditch. Had she been conscious enough  to know that she was miscarrying?

He put his hand on her shoulder. "It's over, and you're safe now."

She looked up at him. "There's something else."

He held his breath.

She stared at him for what felt like an eternity, then she shook her  head. "I don't know. I know there's something there. Something I should  know. It just won't come."

"It will," he assured her, hoping it never did, wishing she could just be content to let it stay buried.





Thirteen


Mel had a bad dream that night.

After a dinner of takeout Chinese that they both picked at, and a movie  neither seemed to be paying much attention to, Ash walked Mel to bed.

He was going to tuck her in then go to his office and work for a while,  but she took his hand and said, "Please stay." He couldn't tell her no.  They undressed and climbed into bed together. He kissed her goodnight,  intending it to be a quick brush of the lips, because he was sure that  sex was the last thing on her mind. But her arms went around his neck  and she pulled him to her, whispering, "Make love to me again."

He kept waiting for her demanding aggressive side to break through, but  she seemed perfectly content lying there, kissing and touching, letting  him take the lead. And he realized just how much he preferred this to  the hot and heavy stuff.

Afterward she cuddled up against him, warm and soft and limp, and they  fell asleep that way. It was a few hours later when she shot up in bed,  breath coming in ragged bursts, eyes wild with fear.

He sat up beside her, touched her shoulder, and found that she was  drenched in sweat. He felt the sheet and it was drenched, too. For a  second he was afraid she'd developed a fever, but her skin was cool.

"I was rolling," she said, her voice rusty from sleep. "I was rolling and rolling and I couldn't stop."

"It was a dream. You're okay." He had no doubt this was a direct result of her seeing those photos and he blamed himself.

"It hurts," she said, cradling her head in her hands. "My head hurts."

He wasn't sure if it hurt now, or she was having a flashback to the  accident. She seemed trapped somewhere between dream and sleep. "Do you  want a pain pill?"

She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. "I'm cold."

Well, lying between wet sheets wasn't going to warm her.

"Come on," he said, climbing out of bed and coaxing her to follow him.

"Where?" she asked in a sleepy voice, dutifully letting him lead her into the hall.

"My room. Where it's dry."

He got her tucked in, then laid there for a long time, listening to her slow even breaths, until he finally drifted off.

She apparently didn't remember the dream, or waking up, because she  shook him awake the next morning and asked, "Ash, why are we in your  bedroom?"

"You had a nightmare," he mumbled, too sleepy to even open his eyes.

"I did?"

"The sheets were sweaty so I moved us in here." He thought she may have  said something else after that but he had already drifted back to sleep.  When he woke again it was after eight, far later than he usually got  up. Even on a Sunday. He would have to skip the gym and go straight to  work.         

     



 

He showered and dressed in slacks and a polo since it was Sunday and it  was doubtful anyone else would be around the office, then went out to  the kitchen. Mel was sitting on the couch wearing jeans and a T-shirt,  her hair pulled back in a ponytail, knees pulled up with her feet  propped on the cushion in front of her. If he didn't know better, he  would say she wasn't a day over eighteen.

When she saw him she looked up and smiled. "Good morning."

He walked to the back of the couch and leaned over, intending to kiss  her cheek, but she turned her head and caught his lips instead. They  tasted like coffee, and a hint of something sweet-a pastry maybe-and she  smelled like the soap they had used in the shower last night. He was  damned tempted to lift her up off the couch, toss her over his shoulder  and take her back to bed.

Maybe later.

When he broke the kiss she was still smiling up at him.

"Good morning," he said.

"There's coffee."

"How long have you been up?" he asked as he walked to the kitchen. She'd already set a cup out for him.

"Six-thirty." She followed him into the kitchen, taking a seat on one of  the bar stools at the island. "It was a little disorienting waking up  in a bed I didn't fall asleep in."

"You still don't remember it?"

She shook her head. "I do remember something else though. The book I've  been reading, I've read it before. I mean, I figured I had, since it was  on the shelf. But I picked it up this morning after already reading  almost half of it, and bam, suddenly I remember how it ended. So I went  to the bookshelf and looked at a few others, and after I read the back  blurb, and skimmed the first few pages, I remembered those, too."