Mistress to the Magnate

Ash spent a lot of the drive on the phone with work, and though she wasn’t sure exactly what was being discussed, the tone of the conversation suggested that they were relieved he was coming back. And he seemed happy to be going back.

They crossed the Bay Bridge shortly after one, and they were finally in San Francisco. Though the views were gorgeous, she couldn’t say with any certainty that it looked the least bit familiar. They drove along the water, and after only a few minutes Ash pulled into the underground parking of a huge renovated warehouse that sat directly across the street from a busy pier.

He never said anything about them living on the water.

“Home sweet home,” he said, zooming past a couple dozen cars that looked just as classy as his, then he whipped into a spot right next to the elevator.

She peered out the window. “So this is it?”

“This is the place.” He opened his door and stuck one foot out.

“What floor do we live on?”

“The top.”

“What floor is that?”

“Six.” He paused a second and asked, “Would you like to go up?”

She did and she didn’t. She had been anticipating this day for what felt like ages, but now that she was here, back to her old life, she was terrified. What if she didn’t remember? What if the memories never resurfaced? Who would she be?

Stop being such a baby, she chastised herself. Like Dr. Nelson had reminded her the day she was discharged, it was just going to take time and she would have to be patient. No matter what happened up there, whether she remembered or not, it was going to be okay. She was a fighter.

She turned to Ash and flashed him a shaky smile. “I’m ready.”

She got out and waited by the elevator while Ash collected their bags from the trunk. He pushed the button for the elevator and it immediately opened. They stepped inside and he slipped a key in a lock on the panel, then hit the button for the top floor.

“Does everyone need a key?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Only our floor.”

She wondered why, and how many other condos were on the top floor. She was going to ask, but the movement of the elevator made her so dizzy it was all she could do to stay upright. Besides, as the elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open, she got her answer.

They stepped off the elevator not into a hallway, but in a small vestibule in front of a set of double doors. Doors that led directly into their condo! They weren’t a condo on the sixth floor. They were the sixth floor, and what she saw inside when he unlocked the door literally took her breath away. The entire living area—kitchen, dining room and family room—was one huge open space with a ceiling two stories high, bordered by a wall of windows that overlooked the ocean.

The floors were mahogany, with a shine so deep she could see herself in it. The kitchen looked ultramodern and she was guessing it had every device and gadget on the market. The furniture looked trendy but comfortable, and everything, from the oriental rugs to light fixtures, screamed top-of-the-line.

For a second she just stood there frozen, wondering if, as some sick joke, he’d taken her to someone else’s condo. If they really lived here, how could she not remember it?

Ash set the bags on the floor and dropped his keys on a trendy little drop-leaf table beside the door. He started to walk toward the kitchen, but when he realized she wasn’t moving, he stopped and turned to her. “Are you coming in?”

“You told me you do okay,” she said, and at his confused look she added, “financially. But you do way better than okay, don’t you?”

He grinned and said, “A little bit better than okay.”

Her fiancé was loaded. She lived in a loft condo overlooking the ocean. It was almost too much to take in all at once. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shrugged. “It just didn’t seem that important. And I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh, awesome idea, because I’m not the least bit overwhelmed now!” She was so freaked out she was practically hyperventilating.

“I take it nothing looks familiar.”

“Curiously, no. And you’d think I would have remembered this.”

“Why don’t I show you around?”

She nodded and followed him to the kitchen, looking out the bank of windows as they passed, and the view was so breathtaking she had to stop. She could see sailboats and ships on the water and they had a phenomenal view of the Bay Bridge.

Ash stepped up behind her. “Nice view, huh?”

“It’s. amazing.”

“That’s why I bought this place. I always wanted a place by the water.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“I bought it after the divorce was final. Right before we met. You’ve lived here almost as long as I have. You’ve always said that your favorite room is the kitchen.”

She could see why. The cabinets had a mahogany base with frosted glass doors; the countertops were black granite. All the appliances, even the coffeemaker, were stainless steel and it looked as functional as it was aesthetically pleasing. “Do I cook?”

“You’re an excellent cook.”

She hoped that was one of those things that just came naturally.

There was a laundry room and half bath behind the kitchen, then they moved on to the bedrooms, which were sectioned off on the right side of the loft. Three huge rooms, each with its own full bath and an enormous walk-in closet. He used one as a home office, one was the master, and the third he told her was hers.

“We don’t share?” she asked, trying hard to disguise her disappointment.

“Well, you’ve always used this as an office and kept your clothes and things in here. I just figured that until things settle down, maybe you should sleep here, too.”

But what if she wanted to sleep with him?

He’s only thinking of your health, she assured herself. She knew that if they slept in the same bed they would be tempted to do things that she just was not ready for. Look what had happened in the hotel. And last night she had wanted so badly to climb out of her own bed and slip into his.

She walked over to the closet and stepped inside, looking at all of her belongings. She ran her hands over the shirts and slacks and dresses, feeling the soft, expensive fabrics, disheartened by how unfamiliar it all was.

“Well?” Ash asked, leaning in the closet doorway, looking so casually sexy in faded jeans and an untucked, slightly rumpled polo shirt, his hair stilled mussed from driving with the windows down, that she had the bone-deep feeling that as long as they had each other, everything would be okay.

“They’re nice clothes, but I don’t recognize them.”

“It’ll come to you, just—”

“Be patient, I know. I’m trying.”

“What are you planning to do now?”

“Look through my things, I guess. It’s weird, but it feels almost like I’ll be snooping.”

“If it’s okay with you,” he said, “I’m going to go to the office for a while.”

They’d barely been back ten minutes and already he was going to leave her alone? “But we just got here.”

“I know, but I’ll only be a couple of hours,” he assured her. “You’ll be fine. Why don’t you relax and take some time familiarizing yourself with the condo. And you look like you could use a nap.”

She didn’t want him to go, but he had sacrificed so much already for her. It was selfish to think that he didn’t deserve to get back to his life. And hadn’t the doctor suggested she try to get back into her regular routine as soon as possible?

“You’re right,” she told Ash. “I’ll be fine.”

“Get some rest. Oh, and don’t forget that you’re supposed to make an appointment with that new doctor. The card is in your purse.”

“I’ll do it right away.”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead, a soft and lingering brush of his lips, then he turned to leave.

“Ash?”

He turned back. “Yeah?”

“Thank you. For everything. I probably haven’t said that enough. I know it’s been a rough week, and you’ve been wonderful.”

“I’m just glad to have you home,” he said. He flashed her one last sweet smile, then disappeared from sight. Not a minute later she heard the jingle of his car keys, then the sound of the door opening and closing, then silence.

As promised, the first thing she did was fish the doctor’s card from her purse and called to make the appointment. It was scheduled for Friday of that week, three days away at nine in the morning. Ash would have to drive her of course, which would mean him taking even more time off work. Maybe he could just drop her off and pick her up. She wondered if it was close to his work. The receptionist spouted off cross streets and directions, none of which Melody recognized, but she dutifully jotted them down for Ash.

With that finished, she stepped back into her bedroom, wondering what she should investigate first. There was a desk and file cabinet on one side of the room, and a chest of drawers on the other. But as her eyes swept over the bed, she was overcome by a yawn so deep that tears welled in her eyes.

Maybe she should rest first, then investigate, she thought, already walking to the bed. She pulled down the covers and slipped between sheets so silky soft she longed to shed all of her clothes, but this was going to be a short rest, not a full-blown nap.

But the second her head hit the pillow she was sound asleep.

Despite how many times Ash reminded himself what Melody had done to him, she was starting to get under his skin. He was sure that going to work, getting back to his old routine, would put things in perspective. Instead, as he rode the elevator up to the sixth floor, his shoulders sagged with the weight of his guilt.

Maybe it was wrong to leave Melody alone so soon. Would it have really been so terrible waiting until tomorrow to return to work? But he’d felt as though he desperately needed time away, if only a few hours, to get her off his mind. Only now that he was gone, he felt so bad for leaving, she was all he could think about.

Damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

The halls were deserted as he stepped off the elevator, but when he entered his outer office his secretary, Rachel, who’d single-handedly held his professional life together this week, jumped from her chair to greet him.

“Mr. Williams! You’re back! I thought we wouldn’t see you until tomorrow.” She walked around her desk to give him a warm hug. He wouldn’t ordinarily get physically affectionate with his subordinates, especially a woman. But considering she was pushing sixty and happily married with three kids and half a dozen grandchildren, he wasn’t worried. Besides, she was sometimes more of a mother figure than a secretary. She reminded him of his own mother in many ways, of what she might have been like if she’d lived. However, no matter how many times he’d asked, she refused to address him by his first name. She was very old-fashioned that way. She had been with Maddox long before he came along, and probably knew more about the business than most of the hotshots working there.

“I decided to come in for a few hours, to catch up on things,” he told her.

Rachel backed away, holding him at arm’s length. “You look tired.”

“And you look gorgeous. Is that a new hairstyle?”

She rolled her eyes at his less-than-subtle dodge. He knew as well as she did that her hair hadn’t changed in twenty years. “How is Melody?”

“On the mend. She should be back to her old self in no time.”

“I’m so glad to hear that. Send her my best.”

“I will.” Rachel knew Melody had been in an accident, but not the severity of it, or that she had amnesia. There would be too many questions that Ash just didn’t have the answers to.

It was best he kept Melody as far removed from his life as he could, so the inevitable breakup wouldn’t cause more than a minor ripple.

When rumors of her leaving the first time had circulated, the compassionate smiles and looks of pity were excruciating. He didn’t appreciate everyone sticking their noses in his personal life, when it was no one else’s business.

Rachel looked him up and down, one brow raised. “Did someone make it casual day and forget to tell me?”

He chuckled. “Since I’m not officially here, I thought I could get away with it.”

“I’ll let it slide this one time.” She patted his shoulder. “Now, you go sit down. Coffee?”

“That would be fantastic. Thanks.” He was so zonked that if he were to put his head down on his desk he would go out like a light. He’d slept terrible last night, knowing that Mel was just a few feet away in the next bed, naked. It only made matters worse that she insisted on walking around the room naked beforehand.

While Rachel fetched his coffee, Ash walked into his office. It was pretty much the way he’d left it, except his inbox had multiplied exponentially in size. He was going to have to stay all weekend playing catch-up. Just as he settled into his chair Rachel returned with his coffee and a pastry.

“I know you prefer to avoid sweets, but you looked as if you could use the sugar.”

“Thanks, Rachel.” He’d been eating so terribly the past week that one little Danish wasn’t going to make much difference. Kind of like throwing a deck chair off the Titanic. Thankfully the hotel in Abilene had had a fitness room, and he’d used it faithfully each morning before he left for the hospital.

“I there anything else?” she asked.

He sipped his coffee and shook his head. “I’m good.”

“Buzz if you need me,” she said, then left his office, shutting the door behind her.

Ash sighed, gazing around the room, feeling conflicted. He loved his job, and being here usually brought him solace, yet now he felt as if there were somewhere else he should be instead.

With Melody, of course. All the more reason not to go home.

Ash picked up the pastry and took a bite. Someone knocked on his door, then it opened and Flynn stuck his head in.

“I see our wandering CFO had finally returned to the flock. You got a minute?”

Ash’s mouth was full so he gestured Flynn in. He swallowed and said, “I’m not officially back until tomorrow, so I’m not really here.”

“Gotcha.” He made himself comfortable in the chair opposite his desk. “So, after you left so abruptly last week I tried to pump Rachel for information but she clammed up on me. I even threatened to fire her if she didn’t talk and she said this place would tank without her.”

“It probably would,” Ash agreed.

“Which is why she’s still sitting out there and I’m in here asking you why you disappeared. I know your parents are dead, and you never mentioned any relatives, so it can’t be that. I’m guessing it had something to do with Melody.” He paused then said, “Of course you can tell me to go to hell and mind my own business.”

He could, and it was tempting, but Ash figured he owed Flynn an explanation. Not only was Flynn his boss, he was a friend. However, he had to be careful to edit the content. Maddox had some very conservative clients. Conservative, multimillion-dollar clients. If rumors began to circulate that his mistress of three years left him because she was carrying another man’s love-child, it would only be a matter of time before word made it to someone at Golden Gate Promotions, who wouldn’t hesitate to use it against Maddox.

Not that he believed Flynn would deliberately do anything to jeopardize the success of the company his own father built from the ground up, but despite the best of intentions, things had a way of slipping out. Like the affair that Brock, Flynn’s brother, was rumored to be having with his assistant. Brock and Elle probably never intended that to get out either.

It just wasn’t worth the risk.

“I found her,” Ash told Flynn.

“You told me you weren’t even going to look.”

“Yeah, well, after a few weeks, when she didn’t come crawling back to me begging forgiveness, I got … concerned. So I hired a P.I.”

“So where was she?”

“In a hospital in Abilene, Texas.”

His brow dipped low over his eyes. “A hospital? Is she okay?”

Ash told him the whole story. The accident, the drug-induced coma, all the time he spent by her bedside, then having to drive home because she couldn’t fly.

Flynn shook his head in disbelief. “I wish you would have said something. Maybe there was a way we could have helped.”

“I appreciate it, but really, there was nothing you could have done. She just needs time to heal.”

“Is she back home with you now?”

“Yeah, we got back today.”

“So, does this mean you guys are … back together?”

“She’s staying with me while she recovers. After that.” He shrugged. “We’ll just have to wait and see.”

“This is probably none of my business, but did she tell you why she left?”

“It’s … complicated.”

Flynn held up a hand. “I get it, back off. Just know that I’m here if you need to talk. And if you need anything, Ash, anything at all, just say the word. Extra vacation days, a leave of absence, you name it and it’s yours. I want to do anything I can to help.”

He wouldn’t be taking Flynn up on that. The idea of spending another extended amount of time away from work, stuck in his condo, just him and Melody, made his chest feel tight. “Thanks, Flynn, I appreciate it. We both do.”

After he was gone Ash sat at his desk replaying the conversation in his head. He hadn’t lied to Flynn; he’d just left out a few facts. For Flynn’s own good, and the good of the company.

His mom used to tell him that good intentions paved the way to hell, and Ash couldn’t escape the feeling sometimes that maybe he was already there.

Eight

Melody ’s quick rest turned into an all-day affair. She roused at seven-thirty when Ash got back feeling more tired than before, with a blazing headache to boot. After feeling so good the day before, the backslide was discouraging. Ash assured her that it was probably just the lingering aftereffects of the barometer and temperature change going from Texas to California, and she hoped he was right.

She popped two painkillers then joined him at the dining-room table in her sleep-rumpled clothes and nibbled on a slice of the pizza he’d brought home with him. She had hoped they could spend a few hours together, but the pills seemed to hit her especially hard. Despite sleeping most of the day, she could barely hold her head up. At one point she closed her eyes, for what she thought was just a second, but the next thing she knew Ash was nudging her awake.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he said, and she realized that he had already cleared the table and put the pizza away.

Melody stood with his help and let him lead her to the bedroom. She crawled in bed, clothes and all, and only vaguely recalled feeling him pull the covers up over her and kiss her forehead.

When she woke the next morning she felt a million times better. Her head still hurt, but the pain was mild, and her stomach howled to be fed. Wearing the same clothes as yesterday, her hair a frightening mop that she twisted and fastened in place with a clip she found under the bathroom sink, she wandered out of her bedroom in search of Ash, but he had already left for work.

The coffee in the pot was still warm so she poured herself a cup and put it in the microwave to heat, finding that her fingers seemed to know exactly what buttons to push, even though she had no memory of doing it before. While she waited she fixed herself something to eat. She spent a good forty minutes on the couch, devouring cold pizza, sipping lukewarm coffee and watching an infomercial advertising some murderously uncomfortable looking contraption of spandex and wire that when worn over the bra was designed to enhance the breasts and improve posture. She couldn’t imagine ever being so concerned about the perkiness of her boobs that she would subject herself to that kind of torture.

She also wondered, if she’d never gone to Texas, and the accident hadn’t happened, what she would be doing right now? Would she be sprawled on the couch eating leftovers or out doing something glamorous like meeting with her personal trainer or getting her legs waxed?

Or would she be in class? It was only mid-April so the semester wouldn’t be over yet. She wondered, when and if she got her memory back, if they would let her make up the time and work she’d missed or if she would have to go back and take the classes over again. If she even wanted to go back, that was. The law still held little interest, but that could change. And what if it didn’t? What then?

Worrying about it was making her head hurt, so she pushed it out of her mind. She got up, put her dirty dishes in the dishwasher alongside Ash’s coffee cup and cereal bowl, then went to take a long, hot shower. She dried off with a soft, oversize, fluffy blue towel, then stood naked in her closet trying to decide what to wear. Much like the bras she had packed for her trip, everything she owned seemed to be a push-up or made of itchy lace—or both. Didn’t she own any no-nonsense, comfortable bras?

It gave her the inexplicable feeling that she was rummaging through someone else’s wardrobe.

She found a drawer full of sport bras that would do until she could get to the store and put one on. Maybe she’d liked those other bras before, and maybe she would again someday, but for now they just seemed uncomfortable and impractical. The same went for all the thong, lace underwear. Thank goodness she had a few silk and spandex panties, too.

She was so used to lying around in a hospital gown that the designer-label clothes lining her closet seemed excessive when all she planned to do was hang out at home, but after some searching she found a pair of black cotton yoga pants and a Stanford University sweatshirt that had been washed and worn to within an inch of its life.

Since she was already in the closet, she decided that would be the place to start her search for memory-jogging paraphernalia. But around ten, when Ash called to check on her, nothing she’d found held any significance. Just the typical stuff you would find in any woman’s closet. She wondered if she was trying too hard. If she stopped thinking about it, maybe it would just come to her. But the thought of sitting around doing nothing seemed totally counterproductive.

Refusing to let herself get frustrated, she searched her desk next. She found papers in her hand that she had no recollection of writing, and an envelope of photos of herself and Ash, most in social settings. She’d hoped maybe there would be letters or a diary but there were none.

In the file cabinet she found pages and pages of schoolwork and other school-related papers, but nothing having to do with any specific research she’d been working on. In the very back of the drawer she found an unmarked file with several DVDs inside. Most were unmarked, but one had a handwritten label marked Ash’s Birthday. Video of a birthday party maybe? Home videos could jog a memory, right?

Full of excitement and hope, she grabbed the file and dashed out to the family room to the enormous flat-screen television. It took her a few minutes just to figure out how to turn everything on, and which remote went with which piece of equipment. When the disk was in and loaded she sat on the couch and hit Play … and discovered in the first two seconds that this was no ordinary birthday party. At least, not the kind they would invite other people to. For starters, they were in bed … and in their underwear. Those didn’t stay on for long though.

This was obviously one of those videos that Ash had mentioned. Although, at the time, she had half believed he was joking. She felt like a voyeur, peeking through a window at another woman’s private life. The things she was doing to him, the words coming out of her mouth, made her blush furiously, but she was too captivated to look away. Was this the kind of thing Ash was going to expect when they made love? Because she wasn’t sure if she even knew how to be that woman anymore. She was so blatantly sexy and confident.