“I’m not asking you to name a hospital wing after her, William! What I’m asking is simple—accept her because I love her. It’s not a hard choice for me and it’s a bullshit ultimatum.”

William sighed and Nash wished like hell he’d known more about the breakup between his brother and his ex.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll do whatever I can to make her feel welcome. I’ll even call her and offer her her job back.” William chuckled. “She sure told me, though.”

Nash laughed. “Yeah, she’s everything, William.”

“Well, then, go get her back.”

After hanging up, he picked up a book and settled in to wait.

For want of something to do to make the wait easier, he called her cell again and was able to leave a message. At least her mailbox was empty. She’d listened to her messages. Or he hoped she had without just deleting them all.

* * *

After she stared at her phone for an hour, she decided to listen to her messages. The first ones were just demands that she talk to him, call him back, meet him and let him explain.

But the last one he’d talked until he’d gotten cut off. He told her he loved her and was in the process of explaining that to his brother. He said he’d been about to interrupt William to defend her when she’d overheard.

He loved her. Or so he said.

Curling up on the couch, she watched reality television and fell asleep.

* * *

Nash hadn’t been sleeping when his phone rang. He’d been lying in her bed, breathing her in, seeing her everywhere and wanting to hold her so badly he ached.

Surprisingly, it was Roseanne from The Dollhouse. “Yo, Emery, I hear you tossed Dahlia to the curb. You lookin’ for some action? I can help you move on really easily.”

Indignant, Nash sat up. “Hey! I thought she was your friend. I didn’t toss Dahlia to the curb. I love her! What the hell is wrong with you?”

Roseanne laughed. “Okay, you pass, Nash. Of course I’m Dahlia’s friend. I was testing you. She’s here in my guest room and she’s strung out and you’ve made her cry so much her face is a mess. And you know how much it takes to make a face like that look a mess? I am very displeased with you.”

“That was a test? You were yanking my chain for fun? Is she all right? Can I come and see her?”

“You had a reputation for a reason—I wanted to be sure you really loved her. She doesn’t know what to do. She loves you and she feels betrayed and humiliated. No, you can’t come over. She’d kill me if she knew I told you this much. Plus, I want her to rest. She has classes tomorrow. She’ll go home after that. If you’re lurking, don’t be stupid and park in the lot where she can see you.” With that, Roseanne hung up.

CHAPTER NINE

Dahlia got up and out of Roseanne’s first thing the next morning. She moved through her day in a daze, not really hearing anything anyone said. Finally, at four, she drove home on autopilot, relieved and saddened that Nash’s GTO wasn’t in her lot anymore.

Slumping up the stairs, she let herself into her apartment and tossed her bag to the side only to jump three feet in the air when Nash spoke from where he was sitting on her couch.

“Are you all right?”

He looked tired. Sad. A tiny bit lost. And, damn the man, he still looked handsome and sexy.

“Your car is gone! What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, arms crossed over her chest.

“Dahlia, please listen to me. I’m sorry you heard William say that. I know you must feel hurt being spoken of like you were just a cheap lay but…”

“I was so stupid. I should have known better. I knew what you were and I fell for it, anyway. It’s my fault, really, for thinking that a playboy who fucked everything willing would have real feelings for me other than wanting to bang me.”

He stopped like he’d been slapped. Storming over to her, he grabbed her up and tossed her gently on the couch. “You’re going to sit there and listen to me. Yes, you are stupid, Dahlia. You’re so fond of talking about how everyone judges you and how you’re so hurt by stereotypes, but you continue to hold on to this stereotype about me that isn’t true anymore. I have never, ever, given you any reason to doubt my feelings and commitment to you.” He began to pace and she watched him warily.

“I want you to name one instance, other than the first time I hit on you, that I’ve treated you badly. Made you feel anything less than like the woman I love. Yes, that’s right, Dahlia Baker, I love you. Even though you’re difficult and prickly and you have a major stick up your ass about my money. So go on. Tell me and if you can come up with one time I’ve acted like a playboy out to fuck anything willing—other than you—I’ll walk out that door and never bother you again.”

He sat on the chair across the room, staring at her with his arms crossed.

Standing up, she went to the kitchen and got herself a bottled water and went back to sit down, tossing him one as well.

He was right. Aside from that crap in William’s office and the first time he hit on her, he’d been genuine and caring with her. Made her feel beautiful and respected and, yes, loved. He’d cheered her on with her new job and had appreciated how much she loved the creative outlet of dancing at The Dollhouse. As it turned out, not very playboy-on-the-make at all.

Putting her head in her hands, she leaned forward. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I judged you the same way people have judged me all my life.”

She looked up at him and saw the unshed tears in his eyes.

“But it still doesn’t excuse you talking about me like I was a whore.”

Staying in the chair, he stared at her. “Even after all of the stuff you said, you still don’t trust me. William was the one who said all that shit. Who did you hear talking, Dahlia?”

“Both of you! William said most of it, but I heard you say Lara had a point!”

“She did! About me having a responsibility, about us being from different backgrounds. My responsibility was to make sure everyone knew what you mean to me. But you didn’t even let me explain. You just jumped to some kind of conclusion that I was an asshole just using you. I haven’t done anything to make you feel that way, and I’m sick and goddamned tired of you being so defensive and distrusting when I’ve gone out of my way to show you how much I treasure you!”

She blinked in the face of his anger. He’d never been that way with her before. He’d always just accepted her defensiveness and her moodiness with his laid-back calm.

“What have I done to deserve to be treated like shit, Dahlia? Haven’t I shown you how much I love you?”

“Why haven’t I met your mother, then? Every time you bring her up, you avoid the subject of us meeting. You talk about your responsibility but doesn’t that prove my point about you hiding me?”

“Damn you, Dahlia!” He stood up and began to pace.

“Why are you trying to push me away? I’m not going to let you do it, but I’m not going to let you continue to punish me for the sins of other men in your past, either. It’s insulting and I deserve more. I’ve given you time. I’ve given you space. I’ve done everything I could to show you how much I care for you. I tell you I want to be sure everyone knows what you mean to me and you turn it around and make it a negative. It’s time for you to give something, too.”

Shaking, she watched him as he moved. Terror gripped her. The idea of losing him made her sick to her stomach. He was right; he had been good to her. She hadn’t given as much as he had and, yes, she’d held on to her fears that he was nothing but a playboy. She supposed it was a way to protect herself if he did turn out to be an ass. It just made her one. But that didn’t explain the mother thing.