Читать книгу Always On Her Mind - Emily McKay, Catherine Mann - Страница 13

His mother’s house?

Celia still couldn’t wrap her brain around that nugget of information even a half hour after he’d spilled the beans. The press had reported in the past that he now supported his mother, declaring she deserved a life of luxury after all the sacrifices she’d made for him. But there were never any details about where Terri Ann Douglas had relocated after she’d left Azalea fourteen years ago.

Quite frankly, Celia hadn’t been that interested in staying in touch with the woman who reminded her so deeply of all she’d lost. Terri Ann hadn’t approved of Celia back then anyway, and with good reason. Celia was everything the woman had feared for her son—spoiled, selfish and more than willing to toss away her virginity if that tied Malcolm closer to her.

The thought of seeing Terri Ann again sent Celia’s stomach into knots as they pulled up to a large scrolled gate covered by vines. Cameras moved ever so slightly, almost hidden in the foliage. Malcolm stopped by the security box and typed a code into the keypad. The gates swung wide, revealing a road that lead into … nothing but trees.

She couldn’t see a house, and wouldn’t be able to see people, even if they showed up. The security was … beyond crazy. As she began to grasp the depth of the protection here, she had to wonder, had he changed his mind about Europe and decided to stash her away here with his mother, where he’d obviously already lavished a good deal of effort to ensure privacy?

Disappointment gripped her, too much considering she’d been questioning the wisdom of going with him. But she couldn’t deny a flickering wish deep inside her. Yes, her world had spun out of control since he’d returned, but she didn’t want to step off the dizzying ride just yet. This was crazy and scary, out of character for the new, steadier path she’d chosen for herself.

Except, even if they didn’t sleep together again—which they weren’t going to do, she emphatically reminded herself—she finally had a chance for answers, for closure on her teenage years, a time in her life that had almost broken her. She didn’t want to lose the opportunity.

“Malcolm, would you care to clue me in to what’s going on?”

He drove the car deeper into the forest of towering oaks and pines, gravel crunching under the tires. “I needed to regain some control over the security. We’re off the radar now, which gives us some breathing room.”

Suddenly, he turned from the dusty path onto a paved road. The leafy branches parted to reveal—oh, my God—a compound.

A columned mansion was surrounded by every convenience from a pool to tennis courts. Even a pond sported a small dock with a gazebo picnic area by the shore.

The home was a magnificent getaway. But at the moment, it looked rather like a prison to her. “Do you plan for me to stay here instead?”

He looked at her quickly. “Not at all. We’re still going to Europe. I told you my security would be taking care of you, and I meant that. We’re simply leaving from here instead of from a public airport.”

Too much relief zinged through her. Damn it, she was supposed to be gaining peace from this reunion, not wanting to spend more time with him. “Then I’m fuzzy on the details of how we’re getting from this place to Europe. I don’t see an airstrip.”

He pointed in the distance.

A helicopter flew just over the treetops.

She shrank back in her seat even though she knew the tinted windows provided complete privacy. “The press found us already?”

“No, that’s our ride.” He put the Maserati in Park next to a large concrete pad.

A space large enough for that bird to land. Holy cow.

Her eyes stayed locked on the white helicopter flying closer, closer still, until it hovered. Roaring overhead, it landed a few feet away, blades stirring dust all around the car. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. We’ll fly in the chopper to another location, where we’ll board a private jet and leave the country. Avoiding the press involves a lot more steps than going from point A to point B.”

Wow, okay. He did have resources beyond anything she’d imagined. But …

“I thought you said we were visiting your mother.”

“I said we were going to her house. She’s not here.” He pulled his briefcase from behind his seat. “She’s at her vacation flat in London.”

A vacation flat? “You’re a good son. This amazing house. A place in England, too.”

“What I give her is easy compared to all she did for me.” His eyes went sober, pained even. “The house, the apartment, they don’t even put a dent in my account. She worked two jobs just to put food on the table. She even cleaned my piano teacher’s house in exchange for lessons. Mom deserves a retirement. Now, are you ready?”

She was running out of time to say what had been chewing at her gut since last night. “I don’t want you to think that kiss meant more than it did.”

“What did it mean?”

“That I’m still attracted to you, as well, that we share a very significant past. But that doesn’t mean we have a future or that we should act on the attraction.” Because honest to God, right now she wasn’t sure how she would walk away from him a second time if they got even closer. They needed to use this trip together to talk through what happened when they were teenagers, to have the conversations they’d been denied because of immaturity—and the fact that he’d been locked away in a military school and she’d been sent to Switzerland. “It was more of a farewell to that past and a salute to friendship kind of kiss. Didn’t you write a song once about goodbye kisses?”

“Someone else wrote that one.” He smiled cynically. “My manager thought it would melt hearts.”

“It melted hearts all the way to the top of the charts.” She’d turned the radio station dozens of times to keep herself from crying over that damn song.

“Call me jaded—” he gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went bloodless “—but sometimes I feel like I’m selling a flawed ideal to my fans.”

“How can you deny there’s love out there?” She turned toward him again, clenching her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him. “We felt it. I know we did. That song last night proved it. Even though it ended, what we had was real.”

“Puppy love.”

Her head snapped back, his words a splash of bitterly cold water. “Are you being a bastard on purpose?”

“Just helping you resist the urge to kiss me again.” He reached across her and opened her door. “Our helicopter’s waiting.”

As her door swung wide, the biting wind blew grit and rocks inside the beautifully magnificent car, stinging her as tangibly as his angry words had. She grabbed her floral tote bag full of schoolwork and jumped out, slamming the door closed behind her. Helicopter blades whomp, whomp, whomped, slicing the air. Who traveled by helicopter besides the military and the country’s president?

Apparently platinum-selling stars did.

He opened the door for her. “Sit up front.”

Gingerly, she climbed inside the helicopter, the scent of leather and oil saturating the air as she settled in place. She eyed the empty copilot’s seat, the thrill-seeking ways of her teenage years nowhere to be found. The thought of riding in a chopper—of actually going to Europe—made her chest grow tight. She forced herself to breathe in and out evenly, willing back the rising panic attack.

Damn it, she could do this—she had to do this. She would use this time to turn the page once and for all on the chapter of her life that included Malcolm Douglas.

She snapped her seat belt on and tugged it extra tight while glancing at the controls and the thin sides, the surrounding glass. Okay, so maybe she could do this in a different seat. She turned to ask the pilot if she could sit in back but he slid out before she could speak. He passed his headset to Malcolm and put Malcolm’s ball cap on his head. The pilot sprinted toward the Maserati.

Malcolm slipped into the pilot’s seat. He tugged on his headset and passed a second set to Celia. She pulled them on, her ears filling with chatter over the airwaves.

He leaned toward her. “If you want to speak privately, just tap this button.”

And with that, he ran a check of the controls, his voice resonating in her ears as he called in to some tower for takeoff. How could the people on the other end of the radio not know they were speaking to Malcolm Douglas? His smooth baritone caressed her senses even when he just spoke, his voice utterly recognizable to her even without looking at him.

There was no denying he knew exactly what to do. “Um, Malcolm? Are you actually going to fly this—”

The helicopter lifted off. She bit down a yelp and grabbed her seat, terrified of touching something. It wasn’t as if she was afraid to fly, but this was all happening so fast, with so little explanation. She looked out at the house growing smaller and smaller the higher they flew.

“I guess you really are flying the chopper. You have a license, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You can’t tell me Elliot Starc taught you to drive this, too.”

“Not Elliot.” He glanced at her and winked. “Private instructor.”

She sagged back in her seat. “Of course. How could I not have known?”

Reservations about her decision were pointless now. She was going to Europe with the man who’d stolen—and broken—her heart eighteen years ago.

Malcolm steered the helicopter through the sky.

He had to admit there were definite perks to having an unlimited bank account. He had the coolest toys. His work with Interpol had only expanded the scope.

Plowing through the sky in a helicopter, having the little bird at his disposal, beat the hell out of the days when he and his mom could barely afford to keep a rusted Chevy running. Vulnerable women were his weak spot, and he knew that. When it came to Celia and their history, his tendency to protect was all the more powerful.

He monitored the controls, his feet working in tandem with his hands—like playing the piano, it required two-handed coordination along with his feet. He played the chopper through the air, over tiny houses far below. Far above the threat to Celia, for now.

Because no matter how much he wanted her in his bed again—and he wanted that so much it gnawed at his gut—he could not lose sight of his primary goal here. He had to keep her safe. And that meant keeping his libido in check. A more restrained approach once he had her tucked far away from here seemed the better plan than pressing her on that kiss now.

Given her death grip on the seat, it appeared Celia had left her daredevil days behind. Her paling face sucker punched him, making him feel guilty as hell for being cranky with her when she talked about sappy emotions. Love hadn’t pulled him out of his messed-up life. He’d put his world on track with practical determination and hard work.

Still, he couldn’t stand to see her hurt …

He thumbed the private mic button. “It’s going to be all right, Celia. I swear. We’re going to meet up with a school friend of mine at his vacation home in the Florida panhandle. He’ll be able to help us slip out of the country without the fanfare, attention and danger of going through an airport.”

At least he had her away from Azalea now. One step in the right direction.

She looked away from the windscreen and over at him. “A school friend?”

“Yeah, a few of us have kept in touch.” A few? A select few. The ones who worked for Salvatore, a group of pals from school who’d dubbed themselves The Alpha Brotherhood.

“Close friends?”

“Definitely,” he said simply. “There were two types of people at that boarding school. Those who wanted a life in the military. And those of us who needed the regimen of a military education.”

“You were already incredibly regimented and motivated.” Her soft voice caressed his ear, the hum of the helicopter engine fading until he only heard her. “You didn’t need that.”

“Apparently I did.” He couldn’t deny it. “Hanging out at bars underage, knocking up my girlfriend. I wouldn’t call that succeeding at life.”

“I played a part in that.” Her voice held so much regret it reached across to him.

“I’m damn lucky I ended up there, where they could straighten me out.”

“How bad was the school they sent you to?” Her hands slid from the seat to twist in her lap. “I worried about you.”

“Not as bad as jail would have been. I know I was lucky. Like I said, I got a top-notch education, music lessons and discipline.” It wasn’t what he would have chosen for himself, but he’d made the most of the opportunity, determined to prove himself to all the doubters. “And the major bonus? My mother didn’t have to work double shifts anymore.”

“Ahhh.” Her melodic voice hummed softly. “So you really stayed at the school for your mother.”

“You always did see right through me.” He checked the controls again, refusing to let the tension knotting his gut affect his skills. “I was so angry back then that I wanted to tell the judge where he could stick his ‘deal.’ I was innocent and no one was going to label me a drug user. But one look at my mother’s face, and I knew I had to accept.”

“So you left town.”

“I did.” He’d left her. That had been the toughest part, knowing she was carrying his child and he’d failed to provide a future for them. “Chances of me walking away from that trial with a clean slate were slim.”

She’d already told him she planned to give up the baby, and as wounded as he was by her decision, he had nothing to offer to change her mind. He’d left town. There’d been no reason to stay.

“Tell me about these close friends who are going to help us out?”

A safe enough subject. Most of the press knew who his friends were; they just didn’t know the details of what bonded them to each other. “Troy Donavan will be meeting us when we land.”

“The Robin Hood Hacker … I didn’t expect that.”

Troy had hacked into the Department of Defense’s computer system as a teen to expose corruption. He’d done the crime and proudly served his time at the military school. If anything, Troy had griped about not being sent to jail.

He continued naming. “Conrad Hughes will meet us along the way.”

“A casino magnate with questionable ties? And Elliot Starc, as well, playboy race-car driver?” She laughed, but she also sank deeper in her seat. “I’m not feeling all that safe here.”

If only she knew …

He explained what he could. “Yes, we landed at that school for a reason and came out better men. If it makes you feel any better, our Alpha Brotherhood includes Dr. Rowan Boothe.”

“The philanthropist doctor featured in People magazine’s 100 Sexiest Men issue? He invented some kind of revolutionary computerized surgical technique …”

“With our computer-expert buddy Troy. Do you trust my friends now?” He glanced over at her and found a twinkle in her eyes.

Damn. She’d played him, getting him to share more than he’d intended. He’d always been susceptible to this woman. She might appear less impulsive, more steady.

But she was every bit as seductive.

Why did everything she learned about Malcolm have to be so blasted appealing?

Celia had worked during the whole helicopter ride to find a flaw in him, and the more he shared about how he’d spent his life since he left Azalea, the more she found to admire about him.

She pulled her eyes off his handsome profile as the helicopter began landing at his friend Troy Donavan’s beach house on the Florida Gulf Coast. Apparently the Robin Hood Hacker allowed choppers to land on his lawn, as well.

What an unexpected friendship. Malcolm had been so straitlaced as a teenager. Although the tabloids certainly painted him as a partying Romeo now.

But she couldn’t stop thinking about his saying he’d chosen the reform-school option for his mom rather than fighting the charge. Without question, Celia knew he’d never touched drugs. And she also knew him to be very prideful of how hard he’d worked. To swallow his pride and accept a plea bargain had to have been horribly difficult for him.

This decision to go with Malcolm to Europe grew more complicated by the second—and more enticing. What other secrets might she discover about him? What other nuances were there to the adult man he’d become?

A man who flew a helicopter as adeptly as he played the piano.

The chopper touched down lightly on the lawn with a simple kiss to the earth. The blades rotated overhead, sea grass bending with the rotor gusts. A uniformed guard opened her door and offered a hand to help her out. She snagged her floral tote bag and stepped free, the ground buzzing beneath her feet.

Before she could blink, Malcolm was at her side. His arm looped around her waist, warm and muscular, guiding her not toward the stucco beach mansion but toward a small private airstrip with a Learjet parked and waiting.

She felt as if Alice had just slipped a little farther down the rabbit hole. Her father traveled first-class, and even periodically rented a Cessna, but nothing on as grand a scale as this.

Seconds later, Malcolm palmed her waist as she stepped inside the luxury aircraft, where another couple waited in the cabin of white leather and polished brass.

A red-haired woman with freckles stood, her hand extended. “You must be Celia. I’m Hillary, Troy’s wife.”

The wife of the Robin Hood Hacker.

Hillary appeared down-to-earth, blessedly normal, wearing jeans and a T-shirt—no doubt designer given how perfectly they fit. But still, no fake boobs or platinum-bleached hair. Just genuine red hair and freckles with a natural smile.

Already, Malcolm had moved past her to shake hands with a man she recognized from newspaper articles—Troy Donavan, quirky computer mogul who’d once used those skills to breach the cyber walls of the Department of Defense.

She overheard Malcolm’s familiar Southern drawl. “Sorry we’re late. The drive out took us longer than we expected.”

“No worries, brother.” Troy led him to a row of computer screens at a corner-office console in the tricked-out jet. “I’ll give you a quick update while my wife keeps our lovely guest occupied.”

Her eyes lingered on the broad expanse of Malcolm’s shoulders, the strong column of his neck exposed as he leaned over the computer.

Hillary touched her lightly on the arm to regain her attention and gestured to a seat. “You look shell-shocked. I’m guessing he didn’t take much time to explain. But covering his trail from the press, the fans and whoever has been bothering you had to happen fast.”

Celia sank onto the leather sofa and patted along the seat for the belt. They were leaving now? No packing, no passports? No telling her friends … What the hell had she agreed to?

Her gaze tracked back to Malcolm. Who was this man she’d just agreed to leave the country with?

Hillary sat beside her. “We’ve heard a lot about you from Malcolm.”

She looked up quickly, warily. “What did he say?”

“That you’re old friends and you’re having trouble with a stalker. So he’s helping you out.”

“He is. I’m lucky,” she conceded to Hillary and herself just as the Learjet engines buzzed to life.

The captain’s voice piped over the intercom, welcoming them all. All four of them. Not just Malcolm’s friend, but Donavan’s wife, as well. She hadn’t expected Hillary to come along. Did the woman’s presence here—the whole “group” outing—mean the romantic signals she’d been getting from Malcolm were wrong?

No wonder he hadn’t acted on the kiss.

She should be grateful. The pressure was off since he wouldn’t be tempting her. She could tamp down the crazy desire to jump his bones and just chalk it up to nostalgia. She kept right on repeating that to herself as they climbed into the sky, heading for the first stop on Malcolm’s European tour.

Except, no matter how many times she told herself otherwise, she couldn’t deny the truth. She wanted more, more of Malcolm’s kisses. More of him.

And there wasn’t a chance in hell she could afford to act on that desire.