Distrust

by Lisa Jackson

  Masking the fact that his words had wounded her heart, Ashley turned, walked out of the room, grabbed her jacket and reached into a downy pocket for the keys to the Jeep. She had already pulled on her boots, zipped the ski jacket to her neck and wound her hair into her stocking cap by the time Trevor joined her in the small foyer. “Let’s go,” she whispered while purposely avoiding the silent questions in his bold eyes.

  * * *

  The Lambert cabin was only a little over a mile up the hill, but the drive took nearly ten minutes because of the snow that had drifted over the seldom-used road. The storm wasn’t nearly as fierce as it had been, but large flakes still drifted leisurely to the ground and danced in the bright beams of the headlights.

  Though it was nearly nine o’clock, it seemed like daylight. The pristine drifts of snow, settled carelessly against the trunks of graceful Ponderosa pines, gave the night a blue-gray illumination. Clumps of pine needles protruded proudly from their winter cloak of white and the shadowy mountains blended into the dark sky.

  Ashley had to wipe the windshield with a cloth as condensation collected on the cold glass. The Jeep hit a patch of ice. One tire spun wildly, causing the vehicle to slide on the slippery terrain and roughly tossing the passengers against the dash. Trevor winced in pain when his shoulder was thrust against the door.

  “Are you all right?” Ashley asked, when the wheels of the Jeep were securely gripping the gravel once again. Her elegant face was pinched with concern.

  “Just great,” Trevor replied sarcastically. “Thanks to your cousin Claud.”

  Ashley pursed her lips together angrily and the remainder of the trip was made in mutual silence.

  Lights were glowing in the paned windows of the Lambert cabin. Trevor’s pickup was parked near the garage. Nearly three inches of snow had piled on the hood and roof of the truck.

  Ashley stopped the Jeep and pulled on the emergency brake, but let the engine idle. She turned to face Trevor and found that he was staring thoughtfully at her. His eyes were deep blue and sensual. They seemed to caress her face.

  “You could come in,” he invited, tugging gently on her stocking cap and allowing her hair to fall in wisping black curls around her face. Her breath caught in her throat at the intimacy of the gesture.

  “I . . . I don’t think so,” she whispered, shaking her head and avoiding his probing stare. “It would be best, for both of us, if I left.”

  When his fingers softly touched her temple, they trembled. Ashley closed her eyes and moved her head away from his persuasive touch. “You’ll be okay, won’t you . . . by yourself ?” she asked, thinking of his injury. In the close quarters of the Jeep, it was difficult not to feel the urgency of his touch.

  “I’ll manage,” he said, his voice tight.

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m used to doing things on my own, Ashley,” he reminded her. “I can take care of myself.”

  “And that’s why you spent a week in the hospital.”

  His jaw clenched furiously as he reached for the handle of the door. “You can blame Claud for that one.”

  Ashley’s hand, which had still clung to the steering wheel, reached out to clutch his arm. “Let’s not argue,” she implored. “It’s time to stop this fighting before it gets to the point where it can’t be stopped.”

  For a breathless instant, there was silence. Snowflakes gathered on the windshield, providing a protective curtain from the rest of the world. His eyes searched the innocent wisdom in her gaze.

  “Why did I ever let you go?” he asked himself, his blue eyes filled with dark self-mockery.

  She swallowed against the dryness in her throat as, slowly, he lowered his head and his lips brushed tenderly against hers. How long had she waited for this moment? She sighed and one hand slid beneath his jacket to touch him gently on the neck. Old emotions, long dormant, began to assail the most intimate parts of her. His kiss was flavored with the hint of Scotch and reminded her of a time, somewhere in the distant past of her carefree youth, when they had made love in a fragrant field of clover.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered as he reluctantly pulled his lips from hers. “Dear God, Ashley, I’ve missed you.” His strong arms held her close to him and he buried his face in the thick ebony strands of her hair. “Stay with me.”

  A sob, filled with the raw ache of eight forgotten years, broke from her lips. The warmth and protection of his embrace was all she had ever wanted. She leaned her forehead against his neck and she closed her eyes against the feelings ripping her apart. She had vowed never to let this man touch her again and yet she couldn’t let go.

  She could hear the sound of his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his breath as it whispered in her hair. Her heart wrenched painfully as she remembered how brutally he had thrust her out of his life and she knew that she could never trust him again.

  “I . . . I have to go,” she stated, her voice quaking with the small lie. She couldn’t allow her vulnerability for Trevor to overcome her common sense.

  “Why?”

  “I have things I’ve got to accomplish.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as start looking through the company books. At your request.”

  Gently he released her. His lips were pulled into a thoughtful line of disbelief. “That’s just an excuse, Ashley. You’re afraid of me, aren’t you?”

  She let out a ragged breath. “No, Trevor, I’m not afraid of you, as a man or as a senator. But I am afraid of what becoming involved with you might mean.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She avoided his gaze and stared out the partially covered windshield. “I’ve worked a long time to become an independent woman. All my life I’ve had some man telling me what to do. First Dad, then you and finally Richard.”

  At the mention of her ex-husband’s name, Trevor’s muscles tightened. “I don’t want to get involved with a man for a while,” she murmured. “Not until I’m certain that I can stand on my own two feet.”

  “Haven’t you been doing that?”

  She nodded. “For several years. But now I have to prove myself—to myself.”

  “With the timber company,” he guessed. “The last thing I would have expected from you, Ashley, is that you would turn into a latent feminist.” He raked frustrated fingers through his chestnut-colored hair. “I thought you liked living in the lap of luxury.”

  She turned her mysterious eyes back on him. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me,” Ashley suggested, smiling wistfully. “Maybe someday we’ll talk about them. But . . . right now, I need time, Trevor. Time to think about you and me, about what we meant to each other and about everything that has happened between your family and mine.”

  He frowned, his dark brows blunted in vexation, but he seemed to accept what she said. “This is your decision, Ashley,” Trevor reminded her. Then, with more dexterity than she thought him capable of, he opened the door of the Jeep, climbed out of the vehicle and walked, head bent, toward the front door. As he opened the door to the rustic Lambert home, he turned toward her. Ashley imagined that he was inviting her inside. She swallowed against the ache in her throat at the sight of him standing in the snow.

  Somehow Ashley managed a weak wave before she put the Jeep in reverse, released the brake and headed back to her cabin. The picture of Trevor standing on the small porch in the darkness, with snowflakes clinging to his wavy chestnut hair, stayed with her on the short trip home.

  Once back in her own cabin, she brushed the snow off her shoulders, hung the jacket on the hall tree and hurried into the den. After checking her watch and contemplating the wisdom of her actions, she dialed the number of John Ellis, accountant for Stephens Timber Corporation.

  The young accountant answered on the third ring. “John, this is Ashley. I know it’s late, but I need a favor.”

  “Anything,” was the congenial reply.

  “Can you send me a copy of all transactions that have occurr
ed at the company for the last eight months?”

  There was a weighty pause on the other end of the line. “What do you mean by ‘all the transactions’?”

  “I mean everything—general ledger, checkbook, computer entries, expenses, payroll, the works.”

  “That’s a lot of information . . . I suppose you want to audit the books of every branch—”

  “I do. But let’s start with Portland.”

  “You’re joking,” he said tonelessly while contemplating the magnitude of the task.

  “No. Sorry, John, but I’m dead serious.”

  “Great. I figured as much.” Ashley could almost hear the wheels turning in the young accountant’s head. Despite his grumbling, John loved to scour the books. “And I suppose you want it tonight?”

  “That would be nice, but I’ll settle for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow!” John’s anxious voice indicated that he thought she had just asked for the moon.

  “Look, I realize that everything won’t be available, but just start sending things to the Bend office through the computer. I’ll pick up the first set of figures around three in the afternoon and then I’ll get anything else on Thursday.”

  “You make it sound so easy—”

  “I knew I could count on you. Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. You might be asking the impossible.”

  “Don’t I always?”

  There was an amused chuckle on the other end of the line. “Yep. I suppose you do.”

  “Then you’re going to love this. I’d like all the records for each branch available next week when I’m back in Portland.”

  “ls that all?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Just one more thing. I want you to keep this confidential. Don’t tell anyone at the office what I’m doing. Not even Claud.”

  There was silence on the other end for a moment. “You think someone’s embezzling, don’t you?” the accountant thought aloud.

  “I hope not,” Ashley murmured fervently. “God, I hope not.” She replaced the receiver carefully and a small shiver of dread ran down her spine. What had she gotten herself into? If she found nothing in the books, Trevor still wouldn’t be convinced that she was telling the truth. And, if she did discover that someone in the company was skimming money from the corporation to sabotage Trevor’s campaign, she would only prove that all of the rumors that had circulated about Stephens Timber were true. Either way, it was a no-win situation.

  * * *

  Ashley opened her eyes against an intruding beam of sunlight, which was flooding the room in the soft silvery hues of winter. The sheets on the small bed were ice cold. Ashley hurriedly reached for her velour robe lying at the foot of the bed. As quickly as her cold fingers could accomplish the task, she pulled the soft blue garment over her shivering body.

  Tying the belt under her breasts, she raced down the steps leading from the loft and quickly restarted the fire in the den. Then, intent on putting on a hot pot of coffee and rebuilding the fire in the wood stove, she hurried into the kitchen. She was rubbing her forearms briskly as she entered the kitchen but she stopped dead in her tracks when she viewed the littered kitchen table.

  Strewn carelessly over the smooth maple surface were dozens of pieces of paper. Computer printouts, general correspondence and financial statements were piled on the table without any trace of organization.

  Ashley pulled an exaggerated frown at the documents as she walked over to the stove and lit the fire. So much for Trevor’s theory. Nothing in the documents even remotely hinted at foul play. She had been awake until nearly two in the morning poring over the documents she had brought with her from Portland. True, she had just barely scratched the surface of the company records, but she felt an incredible sense of relief that all the books for the last month seemed in perfect order. “Put that in your mouth and chew on it a while, Senator,” she whispered vindictively to herself. Then, without warning, a distant memory of Trevor, which she had locked away in a dark corner of her mind, came vividly back to her. His thick brown hair was rumpled, his muscled torso naked and bronze against pale wintergreen sheets, and as he had reached for her, his sleepy blue eyes had sparked with rekindled passion....

  Stop it, Ashley! she demanded. It’s over. When are you going to accept the fact that he never loved you? But the thought of last night and his tender embrace nagged at her and contradicted her angry words. Last night, she had felt his need, witnessed his restraint and known that he still cared for her, if only just a little.

  Forcing herself to ignore the traitorous yearnings which had begun to flow within her veins just at the thought of his kiss, Ashley went through the motions of brewing coffee. She couldn’t afford to feel anything for Trevor—not now, not ever. The pain of the past had left her too vulnerable and scarred and she had vowed never to be trapped by his erotic eyes again.

  When the kitchen began to warm up and the coffee was perking, Ashley straightened the corporate reports and put them into her briefcase before she went back to the loft, discarded her robe and headed for a hot shower. The warm water was invigorating as it splashed against her skin and hair. Softly, she began to hum.

  By the time she had towel-dried and slipped into a clean pair of jeans and sweater, she could smell the inviting aroma of coffee wafting through the small cabin. Without bothering to put on her shoes, Ashley made her way down the stairs and padded over the scattered throw rugs and oak floors to the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” Trevor remarked as she raced through the open archway separating the den from the kitchen. Ashley’s heart jumped to her throat.

  She hesitated slightly at the shock of seeing him again. In the daylight he seemed more real than he had in the shadowy night. His eyes were as clear and blue as the mountain sky and the enigmatic smile that had trapped her in the past was neatly in place. Her heart hammered excitedly for a moment, but then reality returned to her. Indignant fire sizzled in her sea-green eyes. “Don’t you know how to knock, for God’s sake? Or do you just get a kick out of breaking in and scaring the living daylights out of me?”

  His easy smile was self-assured and his blue eyes twinkled in amusement as he took a sip of his coffee.

  “Help yourself,” she mocked with a severe frown.

  “Still have a sweet disposition in the morning, I see,” he remarked before lifting his cup. “Join me?”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than a bad impression of a cat burglar?”

  He raised his hands in protest. “I haven’t stolen a thing—”

  “Yet.” She took a chair opposite him at the table and accepted the coffee he had already poured for her. It was laced with sugar and cream. Just the way she liked it. “I drink it black—”

  “Since when?”

  “Since I got a little older and have to watch my weight.”

  Again his blue eyes sparked with humor. He cocked his head in the direction of her cup. “Go ahead,” he suggested, “indulge yourself. Sin a little.”

  Her dark brows raised fractionally but she managed a smile.

  “By the way, I did knock,” Trevor announced, “but no one answered.”

  “I must have been—”

  “In the shower,” Trevor finished for her. Ashley nodded and smiled into her cup. “When you didn’t answer, I got worried. After I came into the cabin, I realized you were in the bathroom, but it didn’t seem to make much sense to go back outside and wait in the cold while you took your sweet time upstairs. I think we know each other well enough not to worry about formalities.”

  She was forced to smile, but the familiar caress of his eyes encouraged her to shift her gaze out the window to stare at the soft accumulation of snow. “How did you get in?”

  He reached into his pocket, withdrew a dull piece of metal, and tossed it onto the table.

  Ashley’s heart missed a beat as she turned her attention to the object and touched the cold metal. “The key—how?” she began to ask, but her voice caught an
d faded. She had given the key to Trevor eight years ago, during Indian summer when they had met in secret tryst at the cabin. Tears, unwanted and filled with silent agony, stung the backs of her eyelids. Silently she dropped the key back onto the table.

  “I never threw it away,” he said solemnly. There was a wistful sadness in his gaze.

  “You kept it all these years?” Her voice had grown husky.

  He nodded and frowned thoughtfully into the black depths of his coffee.

  The telephone rang shrilly and disrupted the intimate atmosphere which had surrounded them. Ashley was glad for an excuse to leave the table and avoid the unasked questions in Trevor’s bold eyes.

  “Hello?” she called into the receiver as she brushed the hot tears aside.

  “Ashley. It’s John.”

  Ashley managed a smile at the familiar voice. “Good morning.”

  “If you say so,” he replied. “Look, I’ve got a start on the Portland records and I’ll send them to Bend. I called Eileen Hanna at the Bend office so she’ll be expecting them. She didn’t ask any questions when I said they were just some financial projections that you asked for.”

  “Good.”

  “However, she might get a little suspicious when she sees the volume of paper involved,” John warned.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure Eileen won’t question anything that I want.” Eileen was one of the few employees in the vast timber empire who didn’t begrudge Ashley her inheritance. The quiet, fiftyish woman was a feminist to the end and perceived that any advance of women in the timber industry was a major step in the right direction.