All She Ever Wanted (18 page)

"You can do all that later. You should go home, take a nap, watch a sporting event on TV, or since it's you, turn on one of the news channels and let your mind go."

"What about you? What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she said. "Do you think the reporters will have left?"

"Doubtful. They'll wait a while to make sure we don't circle back."

"Great."

They sat silently for a few minutes; then Cole said, "I have an idea. Do you feel like being anonymous for a while?"

"More than I want to take my next breath."

Cole glanced over at her and smiled. "We could play tourist in San Francisco, do all the things locals never do. I bet you've spent most of the past few years inside the hospital walls. Am I right?"

"You might be."

He nodded. "I knew it. Let's go." Cole started the car.

"Go where?"

"Well, first we need to get a disguise."

His words made her think of the disguise they'd found in Malone's room, and she felt guilty at the thought of taking some time off from the problem at hand. But the last few days, and especially the last few minutes, had been emotionally draining. She needed some fresh air, some wind in her face. Maybe she'd be able to think more clearly after a time-out.

A San Francisco Giants baseball cap covered her glorious red hair, a pair of dark sunglasses concealed her eyes, and a large gray sweatshirt made her look ten pounds heavier, but Cole still thought Natalie was the prettiest woman he'd ever seen. Actually, that wasn't completely true. While he was no doubt attracted to her body, he was also fascinated by the rest of her: the sharpness of her mind, the generosity of her spirit, the tenderness of her smile. She was a complicated woman—driven, ambitious, an achiever, tough when she had to be, and yet sometimes he saw the lingering remnants of a lonely girl who just wanted someone to love her the way she deserved to be loved. He'd once been that man. He'd blown it big-time, and he'd hurt her. She didn't have to tell him that. He knew. He'd known it a long time ago.

Natalie leaned over the railing to look at the water below. They were taking the Blue and Gold Ferry to Alcatraz. It was a chilly October day, especially here on the water, but Natalie seemed to be enjoying the fresh air. She looked more relaxed now than he'd seen her in a long time.

On impulse, he put his arm around her. She looked up, giving him a questioning glance, but she didn't move away. If he was going to take an inch, he might as well take a yard, he decided, drawing her closer to his body. "This is better," he said with a grin. "I was getting cold."

"That's the best line you've got? Ten years as San Francisco's most eligible bachelor, and you're using the 'I'm cold' line. Not very impressive, Cole."

Trust Natalie to call him on it. She'd never been an easy woman. Although she'd been easier at nineteen than she was now. It was funny. He almost liked her better now, because of her toughness, her confidence in herself, her unwillingness to be led. A strange tightness took over his chest, and he was struck by the ridiculous thought that he might be falling in love with her again. No, he told himself, it was just the challenge of being with a woman who didn't suck up to him all the time. That was what he was enjoying. It wasn't love.

God! He didn't even think the word love was in his vocabulary. Where had that come from? He didn't intend to love anyone in any kind of permanent way. Sex, friendship, that was all he needed, all he wanted. And Natalie would never be content with that. Would she?

Maybe she would. Maybe sex and friendship would fit right into her busy lifestyle. Maybe that's exactly what she would want.

"Cole," Natalie said, interrupting his thoughts, which was probably a good thing, "you haven't said a word in about five minutes. It was a joke, you know, about the 'I'm cold' line."

"I know." He slid her in front of him, wrapped his arms around her waist, and rested his chin on the top of her head as they stared at the island of Alcatraz growing bigger with each passing minute. "Have you ever been on the island?" he asked.

"Never."

"It must have been hell on earth for the inmates who lived there, but it's actually one of the prettiest spots around. There are incredible views from the prisoners' yard."

"So they were doubly tortured," Natalie said. "They could see exactly what they couldn't have. That must have driven them crazy."

Cole was beginning to feel the same way. Being with Natalie, holding her in his arms, breathing in the scent of her skin was making him want her with an almost overwhelming need. He couldn't have her, not just because of their history, but because of their present. His family held her responsible for Emily's death. They would never accept her as his girlfriend, his lover, his ... anything. And he couldn't choose her over them, even if he had the choice, which he didn't. Natalie didn't want him anymore. Sure, there were a few lingering sparks, but that was probably true for any two people who'd once been lovers, especially when that love had been a first love, a powerful love. What the hell was wrong with him? That was three loves in one thought. He was definitely losing it.

"My mother almost went to prison once," Natalie said, surprising him with that abrupt turn in the conversation.

"For what?"

"One of her boyfriends robbed a liquor store. She was in the car, passed out. Fortunately, being that drunk got her off from being an accessory to the crime."

"Where were you at the time?" he asked, feeling a decided dislike for Natalie's mother.

"I was studying in the library after school. I spent hours there. It was a safe place, you know. I knew who I was at school, a good student, someone who could succeed, and I loved the structure. The bells rang every hour. I knew where I had to be, and what I had to do. When I went home, life was a lot more unpredictable."

He planted a tender kiss on the nape of her neck. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It's not your fault. I don't even know why I told you that." She paused. "My mother wasn't a bad person. She was just weak and sick. Drinking made everything worse. I don't know why I ever took a drink, Cole. I knew it was wrong. I knew it would ruin me and the people around me. I had firsthand experience." She twisted around in his arms so that she was facing him now. "I thought I could handle it. I could be different. I was stronger than my mother." She shook her head. "But in those moments, I was just as weak. I'll never be that way again."

"I believe you. Everyone makes mistakes."

"That's not what you said before," she reminded him with a sad smile.

"I thought I knew everything back then. I was wrong, too." He pushed a piece of her hair behind her ear and smiled. "Now I know how you got so smart. All that time in the school library."

"I love learning new things, but I'm almost completely done with my education, my on-the-job-training. It's a little hard to believe that I almost have everything I ever wanted." A cloud passed through her eyes. "Unless ..."

She didn't have to finish her thought. He knew what she was thinking—unless this book destroyed her career, the life she had built for herself.

"I'm a little surprised you chose to work in the emergency room," he said, trying to distract her. "It doesn't sound very structured or organized, the kind of environment you said you prefer. Why didn't you pick something less stressful?"

"It is organized in a weird way. It's like chaos contained. You never know what's going to come through those double doors when the ambulances pull up, sirens screaming, people crying. But the madness stays there. Or at least that's where I leave it. When I go home, I'm done with it. I realized a long time ago that I'm bad at relationships."

"That's not true—"

She put her hands on his chest, stopping him with a smile. "It is true. After Emily died, after the group split up, I shied away from making new friends. I didn't want to get close to anyone else. When I had to choose a specialty, I realized that if I were a pediatrician, I'd have to get to know families. They'd come to count on me. They'd share their lives with me. I'd watch their kids grow up. I'd become attached. What if I messed up then? What if I let them down? In the ER I don't have to deal with the person, only with their physical problems. I can think of my patients as the broken arm, the head laceration, the burned right hand. I don't even have to know their names or where they live or what their background is. It's safer that way."

"You changed your specialty because of what happened to Emily?" he asked with surprise.

"It had something to do with it, I guess. It was definitely a turning point in my life."

"Mine, too." The boat suddenly rocked against the dock and Cole realized they'd landed at the island. "Ready for some exploring?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

They got off the boat and began the trek up to the top of the island where the jail was located. It was a long, uphill walk that they took at a fast pace. They started out strolling; then Cole walked faster, just to see if Natalie would try to keep up, and of course she did. By the time they reached the very top, they were running and short of breath.

"You have to make everything a race," she said to him with a laugh.

"It takes two to race," he said, appreciating the sparkle in her eyes.

"Thank God you made me buy running shoes. I'd never have made it up here in my high heels." She looked around and waved her hand at the scene. "You were right. This is an incredible view."

He had to agree. The breeze had blown away all the clouds and San Francisco spread out before them like a picture postcard. He could see the Transamerica Pyramid with its steep point towering above the other buildings; Coit Tower, a building in the shape of a fireman's hose that sat on the rolling hills above North Beach; and the colorful boats and piers that dotted the waterfront. He'd spent so much time thinking about getting out of this city that it surprised him now to feel such a strong connection to it. This was his city. His family had lived here for four generations. His roots were here. Hell, he was here. And it didn't look like he was leaving anytime soon. He waited for the yearning to twist his gut into a familiar knot, but it didn't come. Why hadn't it come? It always came.

"Shall we take the tour?" Natalie asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"We could just walk around."

"Then we won't learn anything about the prison or the island, unless you know it all."

He made a face at her. "I don't, but that sounds a lot like school to me."

"It does, doesn't it?" she said with an eagerness that made him laugh.

"Fine, we'll buy the tour. I think we can pick up the headphones over there."

An hour later Cole was glad they'd purchased the guided tour. He'd found the story of the prison and its inmates fascinating and it had been interesting to see which of the small cells had belonged to which prisoners. The prison was certainly a bleak, horrible place to spend a lifetime. He couldn't imagine what those men had gone through, being trapped on the island. And he couldn't help wondering if the escapees who had never been found had actually made it to freedom or had been drowned by the swirling currents around the island, as the tour guide suggested.

"We should do a feature on the island," he said as they walked back out into the sunlight, an hour later. "Maybe do some investigation into those escapees. I wonder if any of their families are still alive." He realized that Natalie was staring at him with a knowing smile. "What?"

"You're supposed to be taking a break, and you're working up a news story in your head."

"Hardly news, and I'm afraid it's just ingrained in me."

"You always had a curious mind. I loved that about you," Natalie said.

"Loved? As in past tense?"

"Okay, I like it about you now," she amended.

"Like is not the same as love."

"I don't think we want to talk about love, Cole. Hey, I think there's a boat about to leave. Shall we head back now?"

He hesitated, then nodded. She was right. Love was not a subject he wanted to get into with Natalie. "Sure. What do you want to do next?" he asked as they walked back to the ferry.

"I want to eat fresh crab on the wharf, or maybe order some clam chowder in one of those French bread bowls. I want to get ice cream in a waffle cone, watch the seals by Pier 39, and take a cable car ride up the steepest hills in San Francisco."

"Are you done?"

There was pure joy in the sound of her laugh. "Sorry, but you asked, and I think you created a monster when you suggested we play tourist."

"I like you like this," he said approvingly.

"I like me like this, too," she replied. "You always brought out this side in me. I'd almost forgotten what it feels like to relax and have fun. Thanks."

He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth, tasting the salt of the nearby sea on her lips. "Don't thank me yet. We've got a lot to do, and if you think this was fun, you ain't seen nothing yet."

Natalie dug her bare toes into the cool, moist sand on Ocean Beach and sighed with pure satisfaction. After riding the cable cars and stuffing themselves on an assortment of foods, they'd driven out to the beach and had taken up residence against the base of a cliff that ran along the Great Highway to watch the sun go down. "I love this time of the day," she said to Cole. "It's an in-between time. It reminds me of a story Emily used to tell us." She stopped abruptly, realizing she'd just brought up Emily's name. "Sorry."

"Don't stop."

"We agreed we wouldn't talk about the book."

"We're not. We're talking about Emily. Tell me the story." Cole stretched out on his side. He played with the sand, scooping it up, then letting it sift through his fingers.

"It was about fairies and gremlins that lived in the in-between places like doorways and windows, and they all came out to play at the in-between times—the moments between day and dusk, and the biggest in-between time of all: midnight. Emily said if we looked really close we might see them." Natalie laughed, feeling a bit silly for even relating the story to Cole. "Not that I ever believed it, but it was a good story. Emily used to tell it at night. She'd light a candle, and we'd sit in the dark and tell stories or share secrets. It was easier to see shadows dancing in the door frames in the candlelight. I'm sure that sounds pretty wild to a pragmatic man like yourself."

"I don't know about that. I can believe there are things in this world that are unexplainable."

"Really?" She was surprised at that. "I thought you were the hard-core realist."

"No, that's you." He softened his statement with a smile. "I grew up next door to a magician, and I had a sister who sat in the window seat of her bedroom every night and made up stories about the stars. While she didn't share the in-between story with me, I heard a few others over the years." He sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees as they both watched the sun touch the edge of the ocean. "I guess I shouldn't have been surprised that Emily was up on the roof that night."

"She loved to stargaze," Natalie agreed. "She liked this view, too, the ocean, the sky. We used to walk on the beach at sunset, and Emily would say, 'Can you believe that right now we're standing on the edge of the country, the very edge? Out there, across all that water, is another continent, a different way of life.' I guess Emily had a little of that Parish wanderlust in her blood."

"But she didn't get to go anywhere," Cole said heavily.

"Actually, wanderlust wasn't the right word. Emily was more of an armchair traveler. She was a watcher more than a doer."

"You're trying to make me feel better again."

"Maybe a little." She paused, watching his hard profile for a long moment. She could look at his face for a hundred years and never get tired of it. He was so attractive to her. His strong jaw, the hard planes of his face, his tan skin, the dark stubble along his cheeks. He must have to shave every day, she thought. His nose was long, his eyebrows thick, and his long dark lashes framed a pair of intense, curious, interesting eyes.

She forced herself to look away, to take a long, slow breath, to focus on something else besides the knot of desire growing in her gut, and the feeling of recklessness that was begging to be unleashed. She was sitting on the beach watching the sunset with the man of her dreams. Only, he wasn't her man, and this wasn't supposed to be romantic. She needed to start talking again, find a way to distract her traitorous body that was telling her brain to stop thinking and just let go.

"Something wrong?" Cole asked. "You're awfully quiet."

"Just thinking," she said desperately. "What— what are your future plans?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How far in the future are we talking about?"

"A year or two, maybe three. Do you foresee any changes in your career? Do you think you might still want to try being a foreign correspondent?"

"It's too late for me to make changes."

"It's not too late. You're thirty-two years old, not eighty. However, you're not getting any younger, so I'd do something soon."

"Thanks for reminding me."

"Seriously, Cole, if you want that old dream of yours, why don't you go for it?"

"I told you before. I have too many ties, responsibilities, commitments," he said, waving a frustrated hand in the air. "I'm trapped."

"In your head. Nowhere else."

"That's not true."

"It is true, Cole. You have choices. You just don't want to choose."

"You don't know what you're talking about. There are a lot of people who depend on me to put the paper out every day."

"Yet you've managed to take time off yesterday and today without the paper falling apart."

"The last few days are the only time off I've taken in the past ten years. My father and uncle spend more time on the golf course than they do at the office. I'm not complaining about them, because they deserve a break. They all worked hard for a long time, but I carry the burden now. I'm the oldest of the cousins that are involved. No one else is ready to take over and there has always been a Parish at the helm. Right now that's me." He paused. "Marty is coming along though. He's not bad. But he's only twenty-six."

She laughed. "And you were how old when you took over?"

"That was different. We were in a crisis. It's really only been in the last five years ..." His voice drifted away. "Okay, you've made your point. I guess I was about Marty's age when I took over."

"Here's what I think, Cole. You're never going to be satisfied with your life until you get on a plane and go somewhere far away and send back a news story about something. Otherwise, you'll always wonder what if. You used to be a man of action. Take some action."

"You want me to take some action?"

"Yes, I do," she said, meeting his gaze head-on.

"You're sure about that?"

She saw too late the wicked gleam in his eye. Before she could answer, she found herself flat on her back with Cole sprawled on top of her. Her heart almost jumped out of her chest at the intent look in his eyes. She wanted to tell him to stop, but there was no way she could get the word out. Instead she licked her lips and watched the fire light in his eyes as he concentrated on her mouth. A long, tense second passed, then another, but he didn't move. Her nerves screamed with anticipation.

"Just do it already," she told him.

And he did—a long, slow, thorough kiss that completely swept her away. His mouth tasted, explored, teased, caressed, and she kept up with him every step of the way, until they lost themselves in each other. Nothing else seemed to matter. The roar of the ocean blended with the pounding of her heart. His legs pushed between hers. His hard body pressed against her soft curves. His fingers ran through her hair, his hands holding her head firmly in place so he could take what he wanted. And she let him. She didn't want to fight him. She wanted to make love to him, right here on this strip of sand where the sun and the sea met, where the past and the present and the future were colliding. She wanted everything to be right with her world again, a world that had never been complete since he'd walked out of her life. Now he was back. For how long, she didn't know. But she could have him now. She could have it all.

But what was all? What was she doing?

He'd hurt her once. He'd hurt her again.

Natalie pushed Cole away. It took every bit of willpower, but she did it.

He rolled onto his side, breathing heavily as their eyes met. "I guess that's a no."

"I guess it is," she murmured. "For now." She could have kicked herself for adding those last two words. She saw his eyes flare at the promise, the challenge, the possibility.

"For now," he agreed.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"Too late. It's already said."

She shook her head. "I don't know what you want from me now."

"I don't, either, Natalie. But I know I want something. And I think you want something, too. Do you want to tell me what that is?"

She thought about his question for a long moment. She knew the answer, but if she said it, he'd run. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe she wanted him to put an end to this now, because she didn't think she could do it herself. "I think I want you to love me again," she said, staring straight out at the sea, because she couldn't bear to look at him. "What do you want?"

Silence followed her words. A silence that stretched her nerves to the snapping point. Natalie couldn't stand it, so she got up and did what she'd expected him to do. She ran.

Madison felt a momentary twinge of guilt as she ran up the stairs to Dylan's apartment, located conveniently above Club V. She felt a bigger twinge of guilt knowing that she'd taken the extra keys to his apartment out of his office after telling the receptionist she'd left her sweater there a few days earlier. She was bad. But Dylan might be even worse. He might be Garrett Malone. Her conversation with Josh the night before had refused to leave her head. Pictures of Dylan climbing up to Emily's second-story bedroom like a Romeo seducing Juliet made her want to throw up, but it also told her that the relationship between Dylan and Emily had been much closer than probably anyone knew. She suspected that Dylan's crush had turned into something a lot more personal once the two had found themselves alone in Santa Cruz.

She slipped the key into the lock and the door opened easily. Madison felt a little like Alice in Wonderland as she entered the loft, which was obviously the upper floor of what had once been a warehouse. As she moved farther into the apartment, she saw a corner area where three computers, a large television monitor, stereo system, and some kind of video camera were set up. Another area held microphones, black boxes of assorted shapes and sizes, and other types of magic paraphernalia. The king-size bed in the middle of the room was unmade, the pillows and covers tossed in abandon. She couldn't help wondering if Dylan had spent the last night he'd been here alone or with a woman.

Well, she wasn't here to figure out his love life. She was here to see if she could find any evidence that Dylan was Garrett Malone. If he'd written a book, it would probably be on one of the computers, she decided, heading over to turn them on. While they were booting up, she took a look through Dylan's clothes, which hung on two movable clothing racks. He certainly had a love affair going with the color black. And leather was obviously his favorite material. Her palms grew a little sweaty at the thought of slipping her hands down his black leather pants.

Clearing her throat, she turned a corner of the loft and saw a closed door. It was the only door in the room, and it was locked. That might have stopped someone else, but Madison had never met a locked door she didn't want to open. There was no way she wouldn't try to get in. There were five keys on Dylan's key chain, and the last one slipped in easily. The door opened. It was dark inside the small room, and it took Madison a moment to find a chain that pulled on a single lightbulb hanging in the closet. She jumped back as Emily's face appeared to her. Blinking rapidly, it took her a moment to realize that photographs of Emily covered every inch of the closet. They started from childhood and went up to college. In fact, the one right next to her was a photo of all four of them at Emily's nineteenth birthday party. They'd gone to a local restaurant to celebrate. And Dylan had taken a picture of them. She remembered that now, remembered all the times he'd been around with one of his cameras.

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

His voice made her jump. Whirling around, she looked into Dylan's furious eyes. A reason for being inside his locked apartment and inside his locked closet escaped her. She was busted. There was no way to defend her actions, so she decided to attack. "You're obsessed with Emily, aren't you? Even after all these years. Does Cole know about this?"

Dylan crossed his arms in front of his chest, his face as stony as a statue. A really pissed-off statue.

"I could have you arrested," he said.

"But you won't," she said with as much bravado as she could muster. "You don't want anyone to know about this."

Dylan suddenly grabbed her by the hand and yanked her out of the closet, slamming the door behind her. She rubbed her arm. "That hurt."

"You think I give a shit? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you."

"So you broke into my apartment? Have you heard of a phone?"

"Are you Garrett Malone?"

"No," he said shortly. "Are you?"

"Last time I looked, I was still a woman." Her words sent his gaze up and down her body, and she shivered at the look in his eyes.

"You are that," he muttered. "Get out."

"That's it? You're just going to throw me out?"

"Yes."

She stared at him, not sure how to react. She supposed she should be grateful he wanted to just let her go. But now that she had that option, she didn't feel like taking it. "I think we should talk," she said instead.

"You didn't come here to talk, did you, Maddie?"

Dylan took a step closer, and she was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were alone in his apartment, and there was a very good possibility he was insane. She glanced toward the front door. It was a long way away.

"Nervous?" he asked, a small smile now playing around his lips. "You like to be in charge, don't you?"

"I better go."

"Lost your chance."

Suddenly his hands were on her waist and he was walking her backwards, so fast she stumbled and fell flat on her back in the middle of his bed. He pulled her hands over her head as he straddled her body, his black leather pants rubbing against her bare legs.

She felt both terrified and aroused by the intense look in his eyes.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Dylan asked.

Madison licked her lips, trying not to show any fear. She could handle Dylan. He was just paying her back for breaking into his apartment. He was trying to scare her. Wasn't he? "Is this how you treated Emily?" she asked.