Hidden Desire Page 7

  “How can you tell about the clothes?”

  “I felt the fabric yesterday, when you were leading me to your car. Also... your bedsheets are very nice.”

  She blushes deeply, making my grin grow even wider.

  “All right then, Miss Detective. What’s your best guess?”

  “Your father has a sophisticated, rich-guy way of speaking, and he mentioned ‘duty’ when you two were talking, so I’m going to say he’s the head of some company, and you work for him. Either that or you’re some kind of socialite heir, and you don’t work at all.”

  “You’ve just accused me of being a lazy, free-spending parasite. I think I’m insulted,” I tease. “You’re very close, actually. I do work for my father. He’s the head of a big law firm, and I do a variety of things for him.”

  “He didn’t sound Australian,” she observes. “Why not?”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. Out of all the questions she could have asked regarding my father, this is the simplest to answer.

  “He’s lived in lots of places over the years, but since my birth he’s been here in America. My mother and I moved to Australia when I was a baby. I rarely saw him when I was growing up. More often lately. What about your parents? Are you close?” If I can get her talking about them, she might let a clue about their names or location slip.

  “We are. Too close, if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong—they’re wonderful people. They love me. They’ve actually been there for me in every possible way. I can’t say that about everyone. The blindness... well, not everyone has been able to handle it. Home has been sort of a sanctuary for me since my sight started failing. That was good at first. I think I needed some time to adjust emotionally. But lately the sanctuary has started to feel more like a prison.”

  “At least your parents care where you are and what you’re doing.” I try to keep the bitterness out of my voice but don’t quite manage. Laney notices.

  “And yours don’t? Your father did come to check on you this morning.”

  “Not out of fatherly concern,” I mutter.

  “Right. He said something about a plan—in addition to duty.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t really hear anything.”

  “I said ‘not much.’ I can’t see people obviously, but I do have a pretty good sense about them. You said your father is not a good man, and from what I’ve heard, I’d have to agree. But you’re so nice. How did that happen?”

  Nice. I let out a single sardonic laugh. She may be the first person I’ve ever met who’s labeled me as “nice.”

  “Listen, I don’t really want to talk about my father, okay? We’re not close. Actually I’m not close to either of my parents. Do you think yours are looking for you?”

  “Probably. I left that note, but knowing them they’re asking everyone I’ve ever met if they know where I’ve gone. I’ll let them know when I’m settled. Speaking of that, you said Brenna has a lead on a place for me?”

  I nod. “She told me she talked to someone who might need a new roommate.”

  Her shoulders sink against the seat. “Might.”

  “You’ll find someplace—don’t worry. Or... you could let me send you home.”

  “Why are you so determined to ship me back to—ooooh—you almost made me say it that time. What difference does it make to you whether I’m there or here?”

  There are so many answers to that question. For one thing, there is far away from the epicenter of the S Scourge. There is where Laney’s family is, eager and ready to take care of her and keep her out of trouble. There—is where my father and the Dark Elves like him are not.

  “It doesn’t make any difference to me,” I lie. “I’m just putting it out there as an option.”

  “Well, no thank you. I haven’t had quite enough California sun yet.” She feels along the armrest, hits the button to lower the passenger side window, and sticks her arm out, letting it float on the current of air alongside the car.

  “Or enough BFF time with drug addicts?”

  “They’re just like you and me, you know,” she scolds. “Regular people. Only they made a bad choice, and now they’re finding it hard to extricate themselves from the consequences.”

  I want to laugh. I’m all too familiar with bad choices—and their consequences. We pull into the condo’s parking lot and my garage, entering the condo through the door to the kitchen.

  “We’re in your house,” Laney says with apparent surprise.

  “Yes. How’d you know?”

  “It smells like you.”

  “Oh really. And how do I smell?”

  “Like citrus, and amber, and fresh water. With a little bit of caramel.”

  I blink in surprise, my breath suddenly going shallow. “That was very... specific.”

  “I’m into fragrances. You said we were going to see Brenna.” Her tone is suspicious.

  “We are. Have some patience. Aren’t you hungry?”

  “No. I want to go see Brenna. I want to hear about the apartment.”

  “Fine. Come on then.” I hold out my hand and she walks toward me, reaching out until our fingertips touch. Wrapping my fingers around hers, I steer her through the kitchen toward the front door and down the walk to Brenna’s place. “Let me knock. And talk. She has guests, remember?”

  “What do her guests have to do with anything? Oh—you mean we might be bothering her? Should we just call instead?”

  “I don’t like talking on the phone.”

  I ring Brenna’s doorbell, and within moments the door pulls open.

  “Oooh Culley. Ow are you?” The girl speaks with a strong French accent. I know I’ve met her before—in Manhattan I think it was—but I can’t remember her name.

  “Hello. Is Brenna in?”

  “Culley, it’s Estelle. Remember me? We met at Cielo in New York—a few months ago when you were betrothed to Ava. Remember?”

  “Oh, yes, right.” I glance to the side to see Laney’s reaction. Her expression hasn’t changed. “Good to see you again. You’re visiting? Or are you staying here now?”

  Her puffy lips pull together in a pout. “No. Unfortunately, I am only here for the week. Come in please. We can catch up.”

  She still hasn’t acknowledged that I’m standing beside a girl. Hasn’t even looked at Laney really. Which is probably for the best. If I want to keep Laney under my father’s radar, I don’t need to go introducing her all around the Dark Court. Brenna isn’t into the whole political scene or the Council’s plan to overthrow Nox and dominate the humans. I can’t say the same for Estelle—I don’t know her well enough.

  “I can’t stay, I’m afraid. I’ll wait out here—just need to chat with Brenna for a minute.”

  The pout turns into a sullen sniff, and Estelle quirks her pretty pointed chin to the side indignantly. “Very well. I weel let er know that you are eere.”

  She spins on her heel and disappears down the entry hall. Inside, the sound of a TV turned up high mingles with other chattering voices. Brenna’s visiting dancer friends, no doubt.

  “You dated her?” Laney asks.

  “No. I barely know her. Why?”

  “Nothing. Just the sound of her voice.” Laney pauses. “She likes you.”

  “Nah.” I dismiss her assertion as Brenna walks toward us smiling.

  “Oh Laney, that dress looks great on you! Did Culley tell you the good news?”

  “Yes, I’m very excited,” Laney says. “You have an apartment possibility for me?”

  Brenna grins. “Yes. I talked to one of my friends who has a place in Los Feliz. One of her three roommates is moving out at the end of the month. You could move in on the first and take her place. And you wouldn’t even need a down payment. Plus—they allow pets.”

  Laney’s face lights. “Oh wow. That’s amazing. Thank you so much. Do you know how much my share of the rent would be? I need to figure out how much I’ll have left over to pay for a hotel room until then.” She touches the tips of her fi
ngers to her thumb, doing mental math. “Let’s see... that’s five nights, so I’ll need to divide it up—”

  Brenna interrupts. “Hotel? Can’t she stay with you? It’s only a few more days. You have so many rooms over there, I was thinking of forking off some of my company on you.” She laughs loudly. “Don’t worry—I’m only kidding. I know how you like your privacy. But you and Laney managed just fine last night, didn’t you?” She gives me a wink.

  My mind immediately flashes to the scene this morning in my bed. “Fine” is not the word I’d choose. Though I’ve kissed my share of girls, and gone much farther with all of them than things went with Laney, nothing has ever affected me like those few minutes. The thought of spending another night alone with her—not to mention five more nights—has me tense and sweating.

  “I’ll pay for the hotel,” I say. “Don’t worry about that.”

  Laney’s chin lifts into the air, and I know I’m in trouble. “No. Absolutely not. You’ve done too much already. I will not take your money.” She doesn’t stomp her foot, but she might as well.

  “Look, be reasonable. As you pointed out earlier, money is not a problem for me. It’s really no big deal.”

  “It is to me,” she argues. “I won’t take it. Point me to the street, and I’ll go find a place on my own. If you force me into your car and take me to a fancy hotel and try to pay for it behind my back, I’ll walk away as soon as you leave and let the room sit empty.”

  Shooting a beleaguered glance at Brenna, I roll my eyes. I’m going to have to sway her.

  Or... you could respect her wishes and just let her go.

  My eyes narrow in a stubborn glare. Oh sure, let the little country bumpkin wander off to some cheap, bedbug-ridden motel within her “budget,” which I’m sure will be in a lovely neighborhood. Shall I pin a “Mug me” sign to her back as well? Oh—and did I mention, she’s BLIND?

  You don’t have to shout, Brenna responds.

  I’M NOT—Oh. I was shouting. I never do that. Sorry.

  What is it with you and this human chick anyway? Brenna’s eyes roam over Laney, assessing her head to toe. I would never have guessed you’d be a sucker for the pure and innocent type.

  “I’m not!” I snap, unconsciously saying the words out loud. And shouting. Again.

  “What?” Laney asks, jumping back a bit.

  “I’m not,” I repeat at a much lower volume. “... going to force you to take money. Of course not. But let me take you to a hotel—a decent one. You can pay me back later after you find a job.”

  “No.”

  I throw my hands up in aggravation. Ugh. This girl. She infuriates me and makes me sick with worry all at the same time.

  Okay then, one serving of Sway coming up. I have no choice now. Lacing my words with the strongest Sway I can manage, I say, “Laney—you will stay at a hotel of my choosing until your apartment is ready to move in. And you’ll like it.”

  For a few moments, she doesn’t say anything. She stands, expressionless, blinking up at me.

  Swayed.

  Then she says, “No. I’m not sure which part of that word you don’t understand, but it means, ‘I will not.’ Did anyone ever tell you, you are super bossy?”

  Shocked, I glance at Brenna’s equally wide-eyed face. It didn’t work. My Sway didn’t work.

  She shakes her head, clearly baffled. Maybe it only works if they can see your eyes?

  I don’t know. What now?

  Now, Brenna says with a smirk, You ask nicely.

  “Um...” I begin. “Yeah. I may have heard that a time or two. Listen, Laney... you’re right. I have been a little bossy... but it’s only because I’m concerned about you. You know that, right?”

  She makes a noise that sounds kind of like hmmph, clearly unimpressed.

  “Please. Please just stay at my place until your apartment opens up. It’s silly not to. As Brenna said, I have plenty of room. I’m gone all day and out most every night.” I grimace. “I’ll hardly even notice you’re there.”

  What a lie. If I become any more aware of her presence, I’ll be a stalker.

  Indecision coats her face. “I don’t know. I’ve put you out too much already.”

  “Five nights in even a cheap hotel will put a serious dent into your cash supply. You know your way around my place already. Cupcake loves it there. Brenna’s right next door in case you have questions about... girl stuff or whatever. I’m tired. You must be tired. Let’s just go home—I mean to my place—and order some dinner, open up the windows and let the breeze in... ” I’m casting around for anything I can think of to entice her. “There’s more Chunky Monkey in the freezer.”

  “Hey! You told me you were out of ice cream, you big liar,” Brenna says.

  Laney laughs out loud, and my heart leaps with hope.

  She bites her lip, twisting her mouth to one side as she considers it. Then she smiles. “Well... since you asked so nicely, I would be happy to accept your invitation. You’re right. Financially, it’s the smartest thing to do. And I do like Chunky Monkey.”

  “Well, all right then...” Trying to restrain myself from jumping up and doing a fist pump, I place a hand on Laney’s shoulder and steer her back toward my own front door.

  “I’ll ask how much your share of the rent will be,” Brenna calls after us. For me alone she adds, Have fun. But not too much fun—not unless you’re in the market for a Mrs. Culley Rune. I can almost hear the wink.

  Chapter Eight

  Adult Experiences

  In my whole life, I could probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve been nervous. This is one of them.

  Leading Laney back into my condo, I am jumpy, my skin ultra-sensitive, all my senses heightened as if there’s a threat nearby. But there is none. There’s just a small human girl who can’t even see me, for God’s sake. What is my problem?

  “So, what sounds good for delivery tonight? Want to try some Mexican this time? Italian?”

  She stops walking and faces me, a hopeful smile on her face. “Maybe we could go out somewhere? A restaurant near the ocean, with outdoor seating? My treat—I can never repay you for all you’ve done for me. But I can buy you a nice dinner.”

  “We can’t go out,” I blurt.

  Every time I’m out in the city, someone takes a picture of me. Often it’s a paparazzi. Normally I don’t mind all that much—it’s good for my modeling career. But I can’t be photographed with Laney—can’t take the chance my father will see the pics and the asinine captions that are bound to accompany them—New Lady Love for Culley Rune? Who is the Mystery Woman on Culley’s Arm?

  Her forehead wrinkles in concern. Or maybe disappointment. “Why not?”

  “You’re tired. It’s been a long day. And there’ll be a long wait at anyplace we go.”

  The furrow deepens. “I already said I’m not that tired. Working today actually energized me. It was good to feel useful again, to be treated like an adult. And I don’t mind waiting. I want to experience the city a little bit.” She pauses. “What’s the real reason? Do you not want to be seen with me? Is there something wrong with the way I look?”

  “No. Of course not. You’re beaut—I mean—you look fine. It’s just...” Being seen in public with me could put your life in danger. “... it’s been a long day for me. I’d really rather stay in. If you don’t mind. And poor Cupcake has been alone all day. We can’t leave him.”

  “Oh. Of course. That’s fine.”

  Her crestfallen expression makes me want to take it all back and put her in the car to head for Curtis Stone’s hard-to-book Gwen restaurant on Sunset Boulevard. Then I get an idea.

  “How about this? Why don’t we order in from Gwen? Ever heard of it?”

  “Of course. It’s famous—the chef is on TV. Won’t that be expensive?”

  “Not so much—I’ll select some menu items that are on the lower end of the price scale.” Which doesn’t really exist since a meal for two there runs about two hundred b
ucks. “Sound good?”

  She lifts her narrow shoulders and lets them fall. “Okay. You’ll have to read the menu to me.”

  I guide her to a chair in my living room and go to my desk where my laptop sits open. Calling up the Gwen’s website, I give her the choices—and the prices—subtracting a healthy amount from the real number of course. I also neglect to mention the exorbitant delivery fee I’ll be paying to get that gourmet food all the way from Sunset out to Malibu.

  “I would have thought that place would be so much more expensive,” Laney says. “It all sounds so good. I think I’ll have the handmade Orecchiette pasta and the dry aged rib steak. What about you?”

  “Same. I’ll make the call. Want to wait for it out on the deck? We can do our own seaside dining. I’ll bring out some drinks in a minute.”

  She stands, and I cross the room to take her arm and lead her to the back door. When she feels my touch, she pulls her arm away with a smile.

  “It’s okay. I don’t need your help. I know the way.”

  Blinking in surprise, I withdraw my hand. “You do?”

  Laney strides confidently to the door and puts her hand on the handle. Turning back toward me she says, “Don’t be so surprised. I told you—I’m fine on my own. I’m also used to being underestimated. That’s why I didn’t tell my parents where I was going. They don’t believe in my abilities either.” Then she opens the door and walks out onto the deck, closing it behind her.

  “What a bloody little fool,” I say to the empty room. She might have learned her way around my condo quickly and managed to navigate the S clinic today, but she’s still nowhere ready to live on her own in a place like L.A.

  When I call the restaurant I give them not only my address, but my credit card number to pay for the food—and explicit instructions about what the driver should say when he comes to the door. When there’s a big enough tip in it for them, the hopeful actors and starving artists who work those kinds of jobs are willing to go along with almost anything.

  Then I hang up the phone, pour a glass of tea for Laney and grab a beer for myself, and head out to the deck. When I sit down opposite her, I am contrite.