Distrust

by Lisa Jackson

  Without an invitation, or so much as a look in her direction, Trevor got into the passenger seat of her sporty Mercedes convertible and for the first time in her life, Ashley was embarrassed by the ostentatious display of wealth.

  The short drive was accomplished in stilted silence. Only the dull whine of the engine and the tires spinning on loose gravel disturbed the quiet of the mountains.

  Ashley roared to a stop near the garage, pulled on the emergency brake and shut off the engine. “We can talk here,” she suggested, but Trevor was already getting out of the car.

  Damn the man! He intended to go inside. Just the thought of being alone with him made Ashley’s pulse quicken. She chalked it up to the fact that he was Robert Daniels’s son. That alone made her nervous.

  Her hands were shaking when she unlocked the door, opened it and silently invited him inside.

  Once in the den, Trevor looked at the less-than-opulent surroundings with a cynical arch of his brow. “Spending a quiet vacation in the mountains?” he mocked, his skeptical gaze taking in the interior before returning to her.

  “I was.”

  “A change of pace from your usual style,” he observed as he walked across the rustic room and stood near the window, pretending interest in the view of the craggy slopes of Mount Washington. He placed a boot on a footstool and leaned on one elbow as he studied the view. His jeans stretched tightly over his hips and thighs and Ashley had to look away from the erotic pose. Was it intentional? For a moment she wondered if he intended to seduce her, but pushed the rash thought aside. He seemed like a rational man, not one who might seek revenge against her father by compromising her.

  But if he did, how would she react? The thought quickened her heartbeat. Trevor turned to look at her and Ashley realized he expected her to reply to his comment.

  “How would you know what my usual style is?” she asked, her throat uncommonly dry.

  Trevor grinned cryptically before moving away from the window and settling into one of the worn leather chairs near the empty fireplace. “There’s a lot I know about you,” he admitted, watching the slightly confused knit of her brow. “I know that you studied art in Marseilles before switching majors and universities, that you prefer BMWs to Chevys, that you would rather shop in San Francisco than L.A., and that you don’t, for the most part, spend time alone in the Cascades.”

  Ashley listened to his observations with her breath catching in her throat. Either he was incredibly lucky at first impressions or he had spent a lot of time studying her. It occurred to her that their meeting at the Lamberts’ wasn’t by chance.

  She gambled. “So why did you come looking for me?”

  He didn’t deny it. “I wanted your help.”

  She was wary. Her elegant brow puckered suspiciously. “But why?”

  “I want to find out what happened to my father.”

  “I have no idea where he is,” she replied honestly. He thought for a minute, but seemed to believe her. His broad shoulders slumped slightly and he changed the subject, convinced that he would get no further with Lazarus Stephens’s stubborn child. “So what are you doing up here, anyway?” Once again his merciless eyes traveled over the interior of the room, lingering for just a moment on the book Ashley had been reading. He picked it up and frowned. It was written in French. “Les Miserables.” He looked at her sharply. “What’re you trying to do—see how the other half lives?”

  “Improve my mind,” was her pert retort. Suddenly she wanted him out of the cabin and out of her life. There was something enigmatic and dangerous about him, something that touched her and wouldn’t let go....

  “Why did you come here?” he demanded, blue eyes seeking hers.

  “I needed a vacation.”

  “You work for your father.”

  “That’s right.” How much did he know about her? Why did he care?

  Trevor glanced from her to the loft, and back again. His fingers were tight with tension when he pushed them through the coarse strands of his hair. “It just doesn’t fit,” he muttered.

  “What doesn’t?”

  “You . . . this . . .” He held up the book, making a sweeping gesture to include everything in the cabin. Finally, somewhat defeated, he returned his gaze to her. “You’re not exactly what I expected.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you,” she replied, noticing the hardening of his angular jaw. “Maybe you should have done your homework a little better.”

  He slowly rose from the chair and walked back to the middle of the room where she was standing. “I hate to admit it, lady,” he whispered, “but you haven’t disappointed me at all.” He reached out. The tips of his fingers trailed the length of her bare arm, sending chills of anticipation through her veins, before lingering at her wrist.

  “I haven’t been much help to you.”

  “Yet.” He stepped closer, and his gentle fingers didn’t release her wrist. He tugged on her arm, bringing her body next to his. Ashley knew that he was about to kiss her and that it was madness, but the thrill of it all—the excitement of his touch—made it difficult to resist.

  For a heart-stopping moment, she felt his hesitation, as if he, too, was unsure. “This can’t happen,” he whispered just before his lips pressed urgently against hers.

  Ashley closed her eyes and swallowed against the persuasive warmth his kiss inspired. His fingers caught in the strands of her hair, holding her close, brushing against the exposed muscles of her back, begging for more intimacy. She felt her body, as if ripe with need, respond to him.

  His fingers splayed against her naked back, forcing her closer to him. The gentle pressure of his chest crushing against her breasts created a savage fire that burned bright in the deepest part of her.

  Her breasts ached for his touch and when an exploratory hand cupped the restrained fullness, she lifted her arms upward and wound them around his neck, thus offering more of herself to him. This is crazy, her mind screamed from somewhere in the dim reaches of her rational thoughts, but she couldn’t stop the torrid fires beginning to consume her.

  His head lowered and his lips nuzzled the exposed length of her throat, leaving in their wake a dewy path of desire. He kissed the hollow of her throat, his lips hovering over the sensitive pulse in soft warm breaths. Ashley responded, her heartbeat quickening convulsively.

  Slowly, he pressed on her shoulders, forcing her to kneel with him. Then, when she was positioned to his liking, he lifted his head from her neck and gazed steadily into her eyes, watching her reaction as he leisurely slipped the thin strap of her halter dress over her left shoulder. She shuddered in anticipation, but continued to hold his gaze.

  The dress fell open and one breast spilled out of the soft apricot fabric. Ashley felt an embarrassed blush rise upward through her body as Trevor gazed at her, his blue eyes fierce with desire. Tenderly his fingers came forward and traced the straining dark peak.

  Ashley inhaled deeply, closing her eyes against the warm sensations swirling within her. How could one man make her feel as if she would do anything he commanded? She told herself that she was being reckless, playing with fire, but she didn’t care. All she could think about was wanting hlm, a wild lust that was traveling in wicked circles within her body, aching for release.

  “I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he admitted, his voice rough. He was half lying now, and the warmth of his breath fanned her breast.

  “You . . . you don’t even know me.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweet lady. I’ve known you for so long, so very long.”

  “Just because I’m Lazarus Stephens’s daughter.”

  His blue eyes were wicked when he looked up at her. “Just because you’re Lazarus Stephens’s beautiful daughter.” Gingerly, his lips closed over the rosy tip of her breast. The denial that had been forming on her lips was never spoken. She could think of nothing other than letting him touch her, assuaging the bittersweet ache that was beginning to throb within her.

  His tong
ue teased her gently and she moaned for more of the savage pleasure. Her fingers twined in his hair, forcing him closer. He took more of her into the warm cavern of his mouth. One hand splayed against her naked back, while the other softly kneaded her breast as he suckled and drew out the sweetness she offered.

  Slowly, his lips moved from the naked breast to the delicious mound covered in soft apricot fabric. The nipple was taut and straining against the dress and Trevor placed his mouth over the covered tip, suckling and wetting the fabric with his mouth.

  Ashley’s head was spinning crazily and she knew that if she didn’t stop his masterful lovemaking now, she wouldn’t be able to break the magical spell of love he was weaving.

  “Touch me,” he whispered as he lifted his head and wound his fingers in the ebony silk of her tangled hair and tugged on it, forcing her head backward so that he could nuzzle her exposed throat. Gently he guided her hand to the evidence of his desire.

  Ashley let her fingers linger slightly on his straining jeans. The low moan from the back of his throat convinced her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered. Slowly, she withdrew her hand. “ I . . . I can’t.” Tears of frustration stung her eyes.

  “Shhh . . . Ashley,” he said. He kissed her eyelids and tasted the salt of her tears. “Just let me love you.”

  “I don’t know you, Trevor,” she said, trying desperately to rise above the lustful urges of her body. Never before had she been so tempted by a man, so ravaged by desire. Never had the ache within her throbbed for a release only he could offer.

  “You will,” he promised, gently rising on one elbow. His eyes took in the tangled disarray of her blue-black hair, the mystic allure of her green eyes and the swelling invitation of her firm breasts. “I’ve waited a long time for you,” he vowed, as one long finger traced the column of her throat, past the hill of her naked breast, to probe beneath the apricot dress draped over her waist. “I can wait a few more days.”

  “And what makes you think that I’ll agree?”

  He smiled despite the strangling ache in his loins. “Bcause you want me as badly as I want you.”

  “You’re so damned sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she asked, her breath still ragged.

  “When I have to be.” His finger traced the definition of her lowest rib. “You and I have so much in common, you see.”

  “So you think it’s fate. Right?”

  “Most definitely not.”

  “What then?”

  His eyes drove into hers as if he were searching for the darkest part of her soul. “It’s a case of a man being obsessed with a woman.”

  She laughed at the absurdity of the situation, holding the bodice of her dress over her breast. “Obsession? You can’t be serious!”

  His eyes darkened dangerously. “Just wait and see how serious I am.” With that, he hoisted himself from the floor and offered a hand to Ashley, who accepted his help.

  When she straightened and managed to slip her shoulder strap back into place, he took hold of her arms and roughly pulled her against him. His lips moved suggestively over hers. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. “I have plans,” she offered lamely.

  “Cancel them.” With his final words, he left her and walked out of the door.

  “Bastard,” she muttered under her breath, determined never to see him again.

  * * *

  Ashley spent a sleepless night dreaming of making wild and wanton love to Trevor and in the morning she admonished herself for her immature lust. She told herself that some of the fascination she felt was because he was the adversary—the one thing in life she had to deny herself.

  “He’ll use you,” she warned herself whenever she caught herself thinking about him that morning, but she couldn’t help but look out the window in anticipation whenever she heard a vehicle rumble down the lane.

  At ten o’clock there was a knock on the door. Ashley’s heart was racing when she answered it and discovered Trevor, his cynical smile in place, standing on the small porch.

  “I thought you were going to be busy today,” he mocked. His blue eyes twinkled devilishly as they raked possessively over her body.

  The anger she wanted to feel refused to surface. “It wasn’t anything important.” She moved out of the doorway, allowing him to enter. “I thought you might like to go on a picnic.”

  “That’s not exactly what I had in mind—”

  “I’ll bet not. But I’ve already saddled the horses and thrown together a lunch,” she replied, trying to overlook the hint of seduction in his intense gaze. “It’ll be fun.”

  “Promise?”

  “Guaranteed.”

  He smiled before laughinig out loud. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he asked with a pleased expression softening his face. “The daughter of Lazarus Stephens saddling horses and making sandwiches—it just doesn’t fit.”

  “Maybe what doesn’t fit is your stereotype of spoiled little rich girls who refuse to get their hands dirty.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged his shoulders and followed her into the kitchen. Ashley pulled a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator and shoved it into the already bulging leather bag, which was slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

  Trevor watched her pack. “Saddlebags?”

  “How else are we going to carry all this food? What did you expect? A picnic basket?”

  “I suppose.”

  Ashley smiled to herself. “Then I guess my first impression of you was wrong.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’re not a cowboy?”

  “Far from it.” Trevor chuckled to himself at the thought. “I’m working at a law firm in Bend for the summer.”

  “A lawyer?”

  “Not yet. But soon, I hope.”

  “You’re still in school?”

  “Willamette University,” he replied, taking the bulging leather pouch and slinging it over his shoulder. “I hope to take the bar exam in January.”

  “And what then, counselor?” she teased, her green eyes dancing merrily. Strange as it seemed, she hadn’t felt this happy in years. She was comfortable with this man; the fact that he was her father’s rival’s son added just a little bit of daring to the relationship.

  He hesitated for a moment, sizing her up, and decided there was no reason to hide the truth. “Politics.”

  There was something in the way he said the word that gave Ashley pause. “Whatever for?”

  He grinned cryptically. “To change things, of course.” He held the back door for her and then waited somewhat impatiently while she locked it.

  They walked together down the short path that led to the stables. Diablo and Gustave were tied to the fence and nickered softly when Ashley approached.

  “Looks like rain,” Trevor remarked, eyeing the cloudy sky.

  “You’re not going to weasel out of this,” Ashley stated. “I worked all morning planning this thing, and we’re going on a picnic come hell or high water.”

  “Whatever you say, ma’am,” he drawled with a bad western affectation.

  “You do know how to ride?”

  Trevor positioned the saddlebag on Diablo’s broad, black back. “A little.” Diablo stamped a dark hoof and tossed his head, jingling the bridle in contempt.

  “It’s all right.” Ashley soothed the agitated horse with a soft pat on the neck before taking the reins of the smaller horse and swinging into the saddle.

  They rode together in silence, Ashley leading the way on Gustave, a fiery bay quarter horse who had the bad habit of shying away from any noise. “Don’t be such a scaredy-cat,” Ashley admonished as she rubbed Gustave’s thick neck.

  The dusty path led uphill through sagebrush and pine trees. After traveling for three miles, they reached the spot Ashley remembered from her childhood. It was a barren ridge with an enthralling view of the snow-covered Cascades.

  When she stoppe
d, Trevor pulled up next to her and cast an approving eye at the view. “Worth the ride,” he muttered as he studied the mountainous horizon. The blue sky had filled with gray clouds that gathered around the highest peaks. “Could be in for some rain,” he reminded her.

  “Then we’d better eat now,” Ashley stated as she swung out of the saddle. “I’m starved.”

  While Ashley spread a blanket and arranged the food, Trevor tethered the horses. Ashley smiled as she watched him work. “Not bad for a tenderfoot,” she teased.

  Trevor smiled and took a seat next to her on the blanket.

  The first drops of rain started to fall just as Ashley poured the wine. As quickly as possible, they drank the wine and feasted on cold chicken, cheese, grapes and French bread. Even with the threat of rain, the meal was perfect. Ashley, as she laughed at Trevor’s witticisms, wondered vaguely if she was falling in love.

  Because the storm looked as if it would worsen, Trevor repacked the saddlebags and they started back to the cabin much earlier than Ashley had planned. She had envisioned a warm, lazy afternoon with Trevor, learning more about him.

  The summer shower began in earnest about halfway back to the cabin and Ashley was forced to urge Gustave into a trot. Once back on familiar soil, the quarter horse sprinted for the barn with Diablo on his tail.

  Ashley was breathless by the time they were back in the stables and her long black hair was tangled from the fast ride.

  Trevor unsaddled and cooled the horses while Ashley returned to the cabin, started a fire and unpacked the saddlebags. The wind picked up and the sky grew overcast, darkening the interior of the cabin. Rain pelted against the windows.

  The fire had just caught and Ashley was sitting on the hearth attempting to brush the knots from her hair, when Trevor came back into the cabin. Raindrops lingered in his dark hair and reflected the warmth of the crackling flames. The interior of the cabin was filled with the scent of burning wood and hot coffee.

  “I . . . I made some coffee,” Ashley stated, straightening and setting the brush aside.