Dare to Surrender (7 page)

She had hoped to find at least one of her brothers’ cars parked there, but no such luck. With a deep breath, she opened the
door and went inside the house, using the kitchen entrance.

“Hi, Grandma.” Joy found her grandmother setting bread on the dining table.

“Good morning, Joy,” she said, not very surreptitiously glancing at her watch.

It seemed every week she visited her grandmother, the elderly woman became smaller and smaller. As she approached Joy, her
back was stooped in her white sweater and her navy slacks seemed loose. When Joy hugged her, she felt the bones of her grandmother’s
shoulders.

“What can I do to help?” Joy shrugged off her jacket and purse and dropped them onto a side chair.

“It’s all done, dear.” She gave Joy the weekly once-over and shook her head. “A girl with your figure shouldn’t wear that
fabric, Joy. It does nothing to hide that tummy.” She touched her own trim waist. “I always had the opposite problem. I was
so skinny I couldn’t find anything to fit properly.”

Joy never had that particular problem. Instead she could never find pants that accommodated her curvy hips. “Yes,” she said.
“That must have been very hard for you.”

Grandmother’s face was tight as she picked up Joy’s discarded items and disappeared through the kitchen door. Joy glared after
her, wondering what Ash thought of her midsection, and immediately pictured the superthin model in the photo hanging over
his sofa.

She should probably start another diet, but instead she suddenly wanted to eat everything on the table. For some reason, she
always ate until she felt sick every Sunday morning she spent in Atherton.

Grandmother came back a few seconds later carrying a plate of smoked salmon and placed it on the table.

“I could have gotten that, Grandma! Why don’t you sit down?”
And why are you so freakin’ stubborn?

“Tell me how your week was, Joy.” Grandmother took a seat at the head of the oversized dining table and placed a linen napkin
on her lap.

Well, I think I’m getting fired from yet another job, I committed a felony, and I let a playboy artist tie me to a wall and
fuck me last night.

She helped herself to a bagel, slathered it with cream cheese, and took a big bite. “You know, Grandma. The usual.”

Grandmother eyed the bagel with a frown.

Joy slowly put the bagel on her plate. “Why do you always put them out if you don’t want me to eat them?”

“David said he might come to brunch.”

Of course, it was okay for one of her brothers to eat as much as they wanted, but not Joy. She laughed harshly. “David always
says that, and David never shows up.” None of her brothers ever showed up.

Which was why Joy always did.

“He’s a busy man. A wife, two kids, and he just was made partner in the firm.”

Joy scooped up a large piece of frittata and slid it onto her plate. “That’s wonderful.”

“Yes, it is.” Grandma daintily ate the tiniest piece of smoked salmon. “David made partner in his law firm, Samuel just got
the job at Stanford as their newest heart surgeon, and another one of Campbell’s companies has gone public. All the boys are
doing so well.” The words hung heavy in the air, suffocating Joy with insinuation.

“That’s just great.” She forked in some more frittata. “Good for them.”

“You must get your appetite from your father. Your mother was always a dainty eater. Like me.”

Joy’s mouth was full, so she couldn’t answer verbally. Instead she nodded her assent. Plus, Joy knew where this conversation
was headed, and there was no point in arguing. Since Grandmother hit her mid-eighties, she tended to repeat herself, and it
was the same story every week.

“It was just awful when your parents died in that plane crash. I
told
them to never fly private in Spain!” Her blue eyes went watery, and Joy never knew if the tears were real or good acting
on her grandmother’s part. “It’s a horrible thing to lose your daughter, Joy. A horrible thing.”

Joy thought it had been pretty horrible to lose her parents, too, but she refrained from saying so.

“You were sixteen, and the boys had just gone off to college. I was so proud of the way they handled everything. So proud.”
She looked at Joy, who was helping herself to another piece of frittata. “Well, an art history degree is great, too.”

“The PhD program at Stanford was pretty difficult, Grandma,” Joy couldn’t help but say.

“Oh, I’m sure. And living in Paris, and traveling, looking at art all day long. Studying.” She said the last part with a chuckle.
“I can imagine it was just lovely. Girls your age have so many options, don’t they? Why, when I was twenty-nine, I already
had three children to raise.”

And Joy didn’t. No children, no husband, and a career that seemed frivolous to the rest of her family.

But she had learned long ago not to argue or defend herself. Nearly fourteen years of experience had taught her it wouldn’t
do any good. The fact was, Grandmother had taken Joy in when she was a teenager. It was Grandmother who’d come to her high
school graduation, who never forgot her birthday, who always made sure she had what she needed. Besides her brothers, the
older woman was the only family Joy had. Despite her faults, she loved her grandmother.

“Do we have any champagne?” Joy asked, pushing out of her chair.

“Why, yes. But are you sure you want the extra calories, dear?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Joy said with a sweet smile. “I’m really, really sure.”

A
fter Joy left, Ash stood in his bathroom, gazing sightlessly around him. For the first time in months, he wanted to take photographs,
and he wasn’t sure if it was his mind’s way of rebelling against a job he said he’d never do again, or because of Joy and
his desire to see her on film. He wanted to see her through his lens. He wanted to capture the mischievousness that sparkled
in her hazel eyes.

And part of him just wanted to capture
her
.

He wanted to see her bound. Last night was a crude tease for him; he needed to explore her body, to decorate her form with
rope until she was completely his. Just the thought made him hard. With his models, he rarely became aroused. They were simply
objects to help him carry out his vision.

Joy was different, in every way. She was so open; he thought he could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him. Somehow,
he trusted her completely, and in his experience, that was a quality that couldn’t be taken lightly.

He twisted the hair tie he’d found on his bathroom floor and smiled. He sniffed it, and it smelled like Joy, like vanilla.
His cock twitched. Already, he wanted to see her again.

And he wanted to photograph her. Maybe even do another sculpture; maybe he’d do one just for her. A gift.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he went downstairs to his computer. He couldn’t think like that. Hell, maybe he wasn’t thinking
at all; as Joy slept, he’d been up all night researching navigation routes for a transport that was scheduled in a few hours.

He’d committed to be part of a team, and even if he was doing it from home, he had to put the job first. This was partially
why he’d stopped doing art in the first place. He couldn’t afford to be frivolous. He needed a steady income, and no matter
how much money he had in the bank, it wasn’t ever enough. He never felt confident that his mom and sister would be secure
if something happened to him.

And yet Romero had called it. Ash couldn’t deny the antsy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew that feeling, knew it
would grow and grow until he was bouncing off the walls. The need to go. To flee.

But he couldn’t just pick up and go, not anymore.

He was going to deposit every paycheck from this job directly into his mother’s account. His sister’s wheelchair was nearly
two years old. She could use a new one—and the things weren’t cheap. He had responsibilities. He couldn’t be distracted by
Joy, by art, or by anything else.

That afternoon, Joy was recovering from brunch with Grandmother by reading the latest
Art News
when the doorbell rang. She went to the call box and pushed a button. “Yes?”

“Joy! Where the heck have you been?” Erica’s voice asked in a high, shrill tone.

“Hang on.” She buzzed her in, and a minute later, Erica was stomping through the door, her red peep-toe pumps clicking on
the hardwood floor.

“I’ve been worried sick, Joy!” But despite her harsh tone, she grabbed Joy in a tight bear hug.

After Erica released her, Joy removed a pile of art books from a kitchen chair and plopped down. Her entire body slumped with
weariness, and suddenly the thought of a long, hot bath sounded like heaven.

That would have to wait. “Why were you so worried about me? You know I see my grandmother every Sunday.”

Her friend crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I’ve been calling you since last night!”

“Oh, crap. I think my phone battery died sometime yesterday.”

Erica just stared at her for a minute before lifting a basket of fruit off another chair and sitting across from Joy. “Listen,
next time you go to some guy’s house and disappear, do me a favor and keep your phone on, will you?”

Guilt flooded her. “I’m sorry, Erica. I wasn’t thinking about that, I guess. I wasn’t planning on spending the night.”

Erica leaned across the table, her eyes wide. “You spent the night? Details! Now!”

An unwanted hot flush crept over Joy’s skin as she remembered waking up in Ash’s arms. “Yeah.”

“Did you…” Erica made a circle with one hand and moved her other index finger in an in-and-out motion.

“Um, yes. We did.” Joy arranged a stack of bills on the table. For some reason, she wasn’t ready to talk about the details
of her experience with Ash, not yet. She was still relishing the new feelings of being bound by him, still processing the
whole thing in her head. It was like a little treat just for her, and she wanted to savor the feelings.

It was a first. She’d met Erica over ten years ago. Unlike most college students who preferred partying on weekends, Joy had
spent her Friday nights going to the small but trendy café in Palo Alto for their amazing crème brûlée. Joy normally confided
everything to Erica, including her feelings of animosity toward her grandmother. And including details of her sex life.

Joy always thought it strange that, despite her beauty, Erica never seemed interested in any of the many men who courted her.
The girl had a wall around her heart two feet deep.

Now Erica’s gaze sparkled. “Are you going to see him again?”

“I have no idea. I had to leave in a hurry this morning to get to my grandmother’s in Atherton. He didn’t mention it, and
neither did I.” She shook her head at herself, wondering if that phenomenal kiss had been a long kiss good-bye. “But I never
did get around to discussing business with him.”

“You were there all night, and you never discussed the gallery?” Erica asked incredulously. “What were you doing?” She held
up her hand, palm out. “Wait. I don’t want to know.”

Silence stretched on for a few minutes before Erica spoke. “I don’t want you to get hurt again, Joy.”

Joy blinked. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s just that you always go for these guys who are players, like Cartwright.”

“You haven’t even met Ash. He’s nothing like Cartwright.” And yet she’d thought the same thing when she met him.

Now, just the thought of the dashing Englishman sent a rancid churn through her stomach. He truly was an entirely different
breed from Ash; she knew it in her heart. Everything about Ash was open, honest. Even though she sometimes caught a glimpse
of something dark in his eyes, she trusted him to at least tell her the truth.

And she’d stolen from him.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Erica, I appreciate your concern, I really do, and I’m sorry I made you worry. But I’ve
had a long couple of days, and I just want to take a bath and have a glass of wine.”

Erica’s eyes went soft. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you. I just worry, you know? You’re my best friend. I don’t want you to
get hurt.”

Standing, Joy went to her friend and gave her a tight hug. “I know you do. That’s why I love you.”

Erica squeezed her before breaking away. “Go take your bath. I’ll run to the market and get something to make us for dinner.
How does coq au vin and roasted potatoes sound?”

Joy beamed. “That would be divine. Thanks, Erica. You’re the best.”

After Erica had left, Joy took what remained of her glass of wine, cleared some room on the sofa, and plopped down. Her hair
was still wet. She’d waited to take her bath until after Erica had gone, and now that she was alone, her thoughts drifted
to Ash. The knowledge that she’d stolen from him went from a niggling doubt at the back of her mind to full-on, raging guilt.
She had to tell him. Now that she knew him so intimately, she realized she couldn’t live with this between them. Even if she
never saw him again, it was eating her up inside.

Tomorrow; she’d tell him tomorrow.

She sat there a second longer, staring into space, before she realized she couldn’t wait even one more day. “Shit,” she muttered,
picking up the cell phone off the coffee table. Fully charged now, she had no excuse not to call him.

She had to call Ruby to get his home number, which fortunately her friend gave her without asking any questions. Then, with
trembling fingers, she dialed Ash’s number.

He picked up after two rings.

“Ash, it’s Joy.”

“Joy,” he said, and she couldn’t tell if he was happy or not to hear from her. “How was brunch at Grandma’s?”

“Fine. Listen, I need you—I mean, there’s something I need to talk to you about. Like, now.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“N-no, that’s not necessary.” She really did not want to have this conversation in person.

“See you in twenty minutes.” And then he hung up.

“Damn,” she said, and downed the rest of her wine. Not only did she prefer to tell Ash she was a thief over the phone, but
she was also in her grungiest sweatpants and tank top, she hadn’t gotten around to blow-drying her hair, and she wore no makeup.