Scarred (Book 1, #1) (7 page)

The hostess greeted them, calling Derek by name. She led them to a table that was right up against the window and outside on the rocks that ran close to the deck and its twinkling lights, a couple of sea otters slept.

“Do you drink wine?” Derek asked her.

She tore her eyes from the ocean and looked and locked them on the ocean that was his eyes. Did she drink wine? Yes she did, when she was home and safe or out to dinner with Lexi. Did she drink wine when she was three hundred miles from home with a strange man? She didn’t know. This was a new experience. A glass of wine might calm her nerves...

“Sure, a glass of wine sounds good,” she said.

Derek called over the waiter and ordered a bottle of Chablis. Then he looked at her again and said, “You have to try their blueberry muffins, they’re incredible.”

She smiled at him then. Something about his face when he’d said, “Blueberry muffins” had reminded her of a little boy who was excited about getting a treat. Damn him! It wasn’t going to work. He could be human and endearing all he wanted, this was one dinner...then she walked away

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T
he wine was delicious and as badly as she hated to admit Derek was right, so were the warm muffins they started their meal with. Derek had the lobster bisque and crab cakes and Chloe had the Cajun haddock. The food was as good as the view and the blackberry and raspberry crisp they brought at the end of their meal was delicious as well. The conversation had been somewhat stilted at first, mostly due to Chloe’s hesitancy to answer any of Derek’s questions about who she was and what she liked to do...but eventually they’d settled onto common ground.

Chloe had recently started working with a group in Rhode Island a weekend or two a month who went around the city and covered graffiti and revitalized parks. When she mentioned it Derek said, “It’s not Hannah’s Hearts that you do work for is it?” he asked.

Suspicious once again, Chloe said, “Yes, you know of it?”

“I do. My firm made several donations to them last year. I remember seeing them on my tax return.” Chloe smirked without realizing it and Derek said, “Do you think giving money is less honorable than actually doing the grunt work?”

She smiled and said, “Not less honorable...easier though, for sure. Of course the grunt work is not for everyone. There has to be an even balance I suppose between those who write the checks and those who wield the hammers and paint brushes.”

Derek’s lips twisted to the side as he said, “That almost sounds like a challenge.”

“Not at all,” Chloe said, glancing at his smooth hands, “Some people are cut out for some things...and others are cut out for...writing checks.”

She wasn’t sure what she was doing...was she just trying to see if he had a sense of humor? Did she want to know how he would handle a little bit of prodding?

She really wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stop herself as she said, “I’m sure you have much more...socially appropriate charity events you’re obligated to attend on the weekends.”

“Socially appropriate?” he said with a raised eyebrow. “You wouldn’t be insinuating that I’m a snob, would you?”

“Oh of course not,” she said. “I just somehow have a hard time picturing you painting a see saw.”

Derek smiled and Chloe felt almost disappointed when it reached his eyes. She’d expected him to take offense. She’d been goading him, trying to get him to react. Instead, he seemed to rise to the challenge. “I think maybe I’ll have to prove you wrong there,” he said. He let it go then and after signing for the bill he said, “Would you be up for taking a walk on the beach?”

Chloe glanced out the window. There was a soft breeze blowing but it didn’t look too cold. She decided that she would agree to it, as long as they stayed in full view of the restaurant...and witnesses. “Sure, I’m always up for the beach,” she said.

Derek was catching on fast, as they left the restaurant, he refrained from touching her. Once they were outside he leaned down and took off his shoes and socks and rolled up his pants. Chloe took hers off as well. Carrying them in their hands they made their way down the three steps to the sand below and Derek headed towards the water.

When they were along the edge of it, just out of reach of the tide he began walking with Chloe at his side. They’d gone about five steps when he said, “Did you grow up near the water?”

Once again, she was taken back to her childhood. Nothing but scenes of torture and abuse littered her mind when she went there. The long nights when she was too young to leave the house...too small to get away...too afraid to fight back. The nights when her adoptive mother and sister would turn a blind eye to the cries that came from her room when her drunken adoptive father would force his way in...

“No,” was all she said.

“Something about it calms me,” he said. “I can be completely undone after a day at work and a walk on the beach renews my spirit.”

She knew what he was talking about. Every step they took caused the sand to shift under their feet and squish up through their toes. Chloe didn’t verbally agree or disagree with him. She didn’t want him to feel like he was bonding with her over a common goal as they watched the white tipped waves roll in and spread themselves across the beach softly. Chloe found it strange that she could stand here next to this man and feel so comfortable in his quiet presence that was until she felt him touch her. He had simply reached over and took her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. His touch was gentle and warm, but after two years of being alone...and mostly afraid, it was foreign. She shuddered involuntarily.

“Are you cold?” he asked. He stopped walking and let go of her hand. She didn’t want to tell him that she was now, suddenly. He didn’t wait for her answer anyways. He slipped off his jacket and offered it to her.

“I’m okay,” she said. Derek smiled at her and draped the jacket around her shoulders.

They were face to face, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. For a fraction of a second, she thought he was going to kiss her. The most frightening part of that was that she wasn’t sure how she would react if he did. Part of her was aching for it. Her pounding heart and suddenly ragged breath were indicators of how badly she wanted to feel his lips against hers. The knot that remained twisted up in her stomach however said otherwise.

She moved her hands up and pulled the jacket around her. “Thank you,” she said as she once again took a step back, putting a distance between them that she was comfortable with.

They started walking again and he said, “How long have you lived in Rhode Island?” It was an ordinary question for a first date. He was trying hard to make conversation and she knew that she wasn’t making it easy.

Taking a deep breath she said, “A couple of years.”

He nodded and said, “And how long have you worked for Roxi?”

“About a year and a half,” she said.

Something suddenly made her want to tell him that she didn’t enjoy it. She didn’t like gyrating to sleazy music and sliding her body up and down an oiled pole half naked while men got off watching her. Part of her wanted him to know the real Chloe...the one who didn’t have far to go to finish her degree and become a teacher, the one who got straight “A’s” in school and got a full ride scholarship to college...but she caught herself before she opened her mouth. That was the Chloe who was too much like Kelly Ward...she had to do something with Derek that she didn’t have to do with other people...remind herself to be careful.

“Do you like to dance?” he asked.

She had to be careful, “Yes.” She said, simply. She wondered if he was getting frustrated with her one word answers. She wondered if he was regretting spending the evening with someone who didn’t seem able or willing to open up and let him know who she really was. She wondered why she cared so much. On their walk back up towards the car, he took her hand again. She let him and this time her body didn’t even react in a shudder.

On the helicopter ride home she began to feel bad about the scanty conversation they’d had throughout the evening and she said, “Did you start your company yourself, or was it a family business?”

“I started it myself,” he said. “I can’t claim that I could have done it without some initial financial backing from my father, but I paid him that all back eventually so that now I can truly claim the success as my own.”

“That’s something to be proud of,” she said, sincerely.

“It feels good,” he said. He didn’t seem arrogant about it in the least although Chloe knew he had to be a lot more than lucky to get where he was at such a young age. She hadn’t asked him, but according to the bio’s she’d read online he was only thirty-one. He did have a lot to be proud of.

“Do you have any brothers or sister’s Chloe?”

She thought about Daphne, her adoptive sister. Chloe was adopted at birth so one might think that she thought of Daphne as her sister and Marg and Tom Ward her “Mom and Dad,” but one would be wrong. The only thing she held onto after she found out that she didn’t come from them biologically was that at least she didn’t have the same evil DNA that seemingly ran rampant through their blood.

“No,” she’d said. “No siblings, how about you?”

“I have a brother,” he said.

She couldn’t really tell from the way he’d said it if that was a good thing or not. Then he went on to say, “He lives in New York. He’s an attorney...he and my father both. We’re only two years apart, he’s older. We were close growing up but now life just kind of gets in the way.”

Chloe could identify with that as well. For all her trying to not like this guy, she had failed miserably. By the time the helicopter landed in Rhode Island she liked him...a lot. When they stepped off the helicopter and she saw the driver standing next to the Bentley with the door open she felt a twinge of regret that the night was over. Somewhere deep down in the part of her brain that still allowed fanciful things to slip in, she’d still hoped for a kiss.

He walked her to the car and told the driver, “It’s okay George, I’ll get the door for her.”

The driver went around and discreetly disappeared into the driver’s seat. Derek was standing between her and the car and Chloe wondered if he was going to ride back to town with them. Her question was answered when suddenly he cupped her chin in his fingers and brought her head up so that they were looking at each other’s faces. “I’m going to let George drop you back at the club so you can get your car and drive yourself home as promised. I won’t be back to the club...I don’t want to be one of Roxi’s clients. I want to see you again Chloe but I get the feeling that’s still a quandary for you...so I’m leaving it in your hands.”

He slipped a business card into one of her hands and said, “Tonight was about proving to you that I’m not like those other guys you dance for. I want so much more than the beauty I see when I look at you’re outside. I want to know what’s inside...what’s behind those pretty brown-rimmed blue eyes. I want you to know me and know that you don’t always have to be poised to run away. I won’t hurt you. There are a lot of things I’d like to do to you and with you...but none of them involve pain.”

Then before Chloe could even formulate a response in her currently muddled brain his sweet, warm lips met hers in a whisper-soft kiss that was so light and so brief, it could have almost been imagined. She hadn’t even had time to tense up.

“Good night, beautiful Chloe,” he whispered as he stepped out of the way so she could get into the car.

“Good night,” she managed to squeak out through the gigantic lump that had found its way into her throat.

He closed the door and stood watching them as they drove away. Chloe watched him until he was out of sight and by the time they got to the main road she realized that all of her limbs were shaking. For the first time in years it was because she was feeling desire...not fear. She shook her head and hoped the driver didn’t hear her as she mumbled, “Trouble, trouble, trouble.”

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he first few days were the hardest. Those were the days...and nights that every time Chloe let her guard down, her mind would want to travel back to that kiss. His lips had been as soft, and as sweet as she’d believed they would be...and twice as unforgettable. She had to fight off the urge to use the card he’d given her and call him up. She wanted to see him again...but she didn’t. She wanted another kiss, more than that...but she didn’t. The bottom line was she knew better. All she had to do was look past the fact that he’d been a perfect gentleman and that he’d kept every one of his promises...even the one to not show back up at the club and remember Jesse. On the third day after their dinner, she took out her journal and wrote:

June 8, 2011

Okay, I let myself have it...three days of agonizing over how badly I want him, three nights of dreaming about taking that sweet kiss to the next level...and now I’m finished. Today is the day that I remind myself how sweet Jesse’s kisses used to be. Today I remember the first day I saw him on campus...it was like an ethereal vision and I knew in my heart that he was the one. Today I remember our first fight and how he’d left me feeling so small and insignificant as he went out with his friends and got drunk...and then I’ll remember how he’d come home that night and pawed all over me and I had let him, calling it “making love” in my heart, but knowing it was something dark and twisted inside my head.

Today I remember the first time he hit me and the first time he brought me flowers to say he was sorry. Jesse wasn’t a perfect gentleman...he was a perfect actor who gradually morphed into a thing that nightmares are made of. I am nowhere near ready to trust that isn’t who and what Derek is as well. I threw the card away...I’m not going to call him. I’ve worked too hard and come too far to risk it all for a pair of crystal blue eyes.

She put the journal away, slipped on her robe and went out to make the coffee. She was surprised to find Lexi up already until her “tax guy” suddenly came into view. He had the decency to at least be wearing pants and look embarrassed about being in her kitchen without a shirt on.