“Oh, put a lid on it, you impossible man.” She grabbed the ice cream and clenched it to her chest, not even feeling its iciness. “I’m trying to politely tell you this was a one-night stand and it’s time you scurried home.”
Laughter disappeared from his face. His eyes grew serious, hard.
“This, baby, was no one nighter. We’re just beginning.”
“No…we…are…not. And there’s no ‘we’ here, Ron.” He continued to glare at her, his eyes smoldering, his stance unyielding. She turned toward the living room. “Goodbye, Ro—mmph!”
The swift, possessive kiss was unexpected, the rapid response of her body inevitable. He didn’t give her a chance to come to her senses and protest his high-handedness. He stormed her senses, strummed her like a damn instrument. She was just starting to gather her wits when his head lifted. Ashley blinked at him, completely dazed. Both of them were breathing hard, their bodies vibrating in perfect unison.
“What was that?” she blurted stupidly.
“A sure way to shut you up. I didn’t like what you were saying.”
He didn’t like….
Anger drained from her, and Ashley started to laugh. His hand moved from the back of her head, swept down her back and stopped on her waist. When he grinned down at her, she pushed at his chest. Surprisingly, his hand dropped from her waist and he stepped back.
“Go home, Ron. It’s been a long day and I’m exhausted. I want to go to bed.” When he opened his mouth, she added quickly, “alone.” Something flashed in his eyes. Pain? She couldn’t be sure. “I’m sorry. I just really need to be alone tonight.”
“Okay. I understand your need for privacy, so I’ll leave. But,” he paused until she was back looking at him, “I’ll be here first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t. Please. I don’t need the complication of a relationship right now.”
“Too late, babe, because we’re having one.” He picked up his jacket, shrugged it on, then turned and flashed a grin at her. His hot gaze raked her body.
Ashley closed her eyes, as if that simple act could stop her body from greedily responding to the promise in his gaze. She must be jinxed or something. When she opened her eyes, Ron was staring at her with a triumphant grin on his face.
“Don’t come back, Ron. I don’t want you to.”
“You can’t get rid of me that easily, babe. I will not go away just because you order me to, so don’t.” He closed the gap between them, the grin disappearing from his face. When he stopped before her, he was so close his breath ruffled the strands of hair on her forehead. He lifted her chin until their gaze locked. A searing buzz of sexual heat flickered, then warmed the air.
“Don’t push me, Ron.” Her voice came out shaky. She hated that.
“I will until you accept the inevitable.” His voice was soft, but relentless. “You can say you don’t want me, but we both know it’s a lie. Your body knows what it wants, what it craves. Don’t fight me, Ashley, because when it comes to this,” he lowered his head and landed a possessive kiss on her lips, “I always win.”
Ashley couldn’t speak. Since her reasoning had long disappeared, she watched him walk to the door without uttering a single word.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He paused one last time and glanced her way. The door closed softly behind him.
She staggered to the couch, opened the already melting ice cream and dug in. For what seemed like forever, she forced the cold treat down her throat without actually tasting it. She had eaten half the box when she calmed down enough to have rational thoughts.
She needed to reevaluate her options fast. Ron was like a derailed train. No matter what she said or did, he was determined to be by her side through this ordeal. Every person she’d ever loved had been taken from her—first her parents, then her uncle, Jade’s father, and now Jerry Kirkland, who was hanging on to life by a thread. She’d rather have Ron hate her than see him hurt. She got up, picked up her cell phone and dialed the number Detective Sanchez left with her.
“I accept your offer of protection, Detective Sanchez, but under one condition. Ronald Noble must not come anywhere near me or my home until Dunn is behind bars.”
***
Sleep came hard for Ashley. The day’s events kept running through her head, and in the background was the worry about how Ron would react when he learned about what she’d done. She did the right thing, damn it. It was for his own good. Why then couldn’t she stop feeling guilty about it?
When she finally succumbed to sleep, the harsh whispers of male voices arguing woke her up. Ashley tried to locate their whereabouts, but it was pitch black. Not even her hands were visible. She was cold and her body ached. Her jaws clenched, her body shuddering.
She reached for a blanket, but all she encountered was a cold, cement floor. Why was she lying on the floor in a fetal position?
Carefully, she patted the floor around her, her head swerving left then right. The whispers got louder, competed with the pounding, staccato rhythm of her heart. Breathing out jerkily, she sat up. When she got on her knees, she extended her hand in front of her like a blind person until her fingers encountered something solid. She felt around, realized it was a wall and murmured a quick prayer of gratitude. Where there was a wall, there was likely to be a door or a window.
Bracing herself, Ashley got up then shuffled forward until her face was flush against the wall. The voices sounded louder, but the words were still unintelligible. A shiver raked her body. Had Dunn kidnapped her? Was he now plotting her demise?
Snap out of it, Ashley. This was no time for self-pity. She had to find a way to escape. Putting one foot forward, she slowly scooted away from the voices. It was a slow process, with total darkness and fear nipping at her heel.
Her foot touched something. From the hollow, tinny sound, she realized that it was a metal bucket. She lurched down to grab it before it could tip over. For a few seconds, Ashley held her breath, waited for someone to pounce on her. When nothing happened, she let out a shaky breath, then went back to following the wall. She reached a corner, where the wall turned, and saw a dim light. She shuffled toward the light, for once hope dominating fear.
It was a glass panel on a door, with burgundy curtains covering it. She could see a small part of the room through an opening. A couple sat on a leather couch, but all she could see was the back of their heads—the woman’s curly chestnut hair and the man’s short-cropped raven mop. The way their heads kept moving, and the occasional appearance of the woman’s hand as she gestured, indicated they were conversing, yet Ashley couldn’t hear a sound. She groped for the door handle that wasn’t there.
“Hey,” Ashley yelled, raised a fist and banged on the door. “Over here.” The couple acted as though they couldn’t hear her.
“Please, help me.” She kept banging and yelling. What was wrong with them? Why couldn’t they hear her?
Just then, two men appeared from the left side of the room and blocked her view. From their dark clothing and height, they could be identical twins. Ashley scooted out of sight. When she peeked through the opening again, the two men were approaching the couple on the couch. Each man held a white washcloth in his hand. Not exactly waiter-like. A warning went off in her head. These men were not here for cocktails. Just then, one of the men turned his head to signal the other and Ashley gasped.
She recognized those dead eyes, the face, the gold studs on each ear. It was the man in her drawing, Vaughn’s driver.
“Look behind you,” she yelled at the couple on the couch and banged on the door with both fists. Her frustration mounted. “Turn around, damn it.”
A few seconds before the men reached them, the woman turned and Ashley saw her face. Shock rocked her body.
“Mother,” she whispered.
Then the man from her sketch grabbed her mother from behind and slapped the white washcloth on her face. The other man struggled with her father.
“No,” Ashley screamed.
; She staggered backward, started to fall as her mother reach for her attacker’s face, the jagged edge of a broken champagne flute clenched in her hand. As her mother’s body twitched, the glass slid down her attacker’s face, leaving behind a bloody, gaping wound.
Ashley was still screaming when she hit the floor with a thud. Pain jarred through her, and for a moment, she lay there, disoriented, trapped between the dream and the present. A wailing sound echoed eerily around her. She didn’t realize she was the one moaning.
“They killed them…they killed them…,”
Reality slowly settled in. She was no longer on a hard floor but the plush rug of her bedroom floor. Could she have witnessed the murder of her parents ten years ago? Was that why she blocked the memories of that night? She sat up and wrapped her arms about her knees, a shudder shaking her frame.
CHAPTER 13
Ron lay on his neatly made bed and scowled at the vaulted ceiling. His room, decorated in hues of blue with a massive fireplace and a panoramic view of Los Angeles, usually brought him peace. Today, he might as well be buried neck-down in the Sahara Desert with a swarm of scorpions gunning for his eyeballs.
He’d driven around aimlessly after leaving Ashley’s home, stopped at a diner for coffee and pie, then driven some more, thinking about what the heck he was doing. Not that it did him any good. By the time he’d arrived at his place, he’d been wide awake, restless. Jumping on the treadmill hadn’t helped. Catching up on paperwork in his home office had only made him edgier. Even swimming lap after lap in his pool hadn’t exhausted his demons.
The last week and a half he’d been acting the fool, pretending to be an average horny Joe lusting after an average woman. The problem was there was nothing average about Ashley or his needs, which unfortunately had never before gone beyond a good romp in bed. But from their first meeting, he’d felt a connection between him and the delectable artist that went beyond sexual attraction. Perhaps it was their shared past. All he knew was the physical attraction between them was quickly mushrooming into something more, which scared the hell out of him.
We’re just beginning. The words he’d uttered last night came back to haunt him.
He still couldn’t understand what had happened last night. One moment, he and Ashley were working together, helping the police piece together that bastard Dunn’s movements. The next, she was claiming she’d slept with him because of his reputation. Ron grimaced then grinned. How in the world had she flipped scripts on him? Usually it was the other way round, he explaining his position on relationships, namely nothing long-term, and the women storming off in a huff.
He was very good at pleasing a woman in and out of bed, and yes, being charming and generous had gotten him a lot of trim. But being blunt about his apathy toward anything serious often killed most of his liaisons before they even begun, which meant he went through women fast. But Ashley wasn’t just another notch to add on his bedpost.
What was she if not another conquest? A picture of her floated in his head. Sweet and sensual, vulnerable yet strong. Along with the image came a gnawing hunger that had nothing to do with sexual conquests. He tried to imagine her during the photo shoot—the bold seductress in her element, instructing him on what to do, driving him crazy with her touch. But the images kept morphing into the breathless, trembling woman who’d made him burn with a touch. Confusion pounded at him, and on its heels was anxiety. What did he really want?
He sat up and scowled. Forget it. If he knew the answers, he wouldn’t be asking himself the damn questions. It bugged him that the first woman to ever make him want a monogamous relationship hadn’t wanted him around and was denying their strong physical attraction. Just as he’d told her, he wasn’t going to slink away and leave her alone. And it had nothing to do with the fact that she was the first woman to ever play him. The two of them were great together.
Ron scratched his bare chest and scowled. All that would mean zilch if the rumors about his father were true. Ashley would demand his head on a platter, kick him out of her life for good. The thought made him break out in sweat. God, he hoped she’d understand once he explained. Women were hard to fathom that way.
Once he’d thought he’d known one woman very well, convinced himself he was in love. Sharon, one of his mother’s protégées, showed him just how limited his knowledge about women was. But Ashley wasn’t after a prominent role in his mother’s play or using him in any way. This time, he was the one with a hidden agenda, the one refusing to be completely honest. Maybe he should come clean and tell her the truth.
The resounding ding-dong of his doorbell deepened his frown. He pulled on a robe, his gaze going to the clock by his bedside as he left the room. It was too early for his mother to invade his privacy. That left Kenny.
Ron entered the kitchen and squinted against the light pouring into the room through the skylights. He yanked the back door, ignored the private investigator’s cheerful grin and retreated inside his house, but left the door open for Kenny to enter.
“How was your evening with the lovely artist?” his friend asked, following him.
Ron poured a cup of hot coffee straight from the coffeemaker pot and took a long sip. “Wonderful,” Ron offered calmly. “But I’m sure she’s not the reason you were leaning on my doorbell at such an ungodly hour.”
Kenny looked at his watch. “It’s after nine. When did you get in?”
“Sometime this morning.”
“Uh, still loving them and leaving them before dawn.”
Ron scowled. Did he really have a reputation for not sticking around?
“Or maybe you didn’t get any action.”
He gave Kenny a screw-you look then started around the kitchen counter. “I’m hitting the shower. If you’re still around when I get out, I’ll assume you’re here to discuss business and not drink my coffee.” They both preferred coffee made the old way, with an electric drip filter machine. Ashley had one of those state-of-the-art espresso/cappuccino makers. He grinned, relishing the thought of making her a cup of his Ethiopian Arabica special blend. The smile died on his lips as images from last night rushed back to taunt him.
Ron paused in the archway leading to his bedroom and glanced at Kenny, who was already pouring himself a cup of the dark brew. “I don’t love and leave women before dawn. I remember a few occasions when I stayed for breakfast.”
“College days don’t mean jack,” Kenny retorted and sipped his coffee.
“Coming from a man who hasn’t gotten laid in what? This decade? Is your sister and mother still running your love life? No, I forgot, Grandma’s still trying to get you a nice girl from the old country.”
Kenny flipped him off.
Ron grinned and drained his drink. “I’ll be out in a sec. Make yourself comfortable.”
“Always do,” Kenny answered. He had already retrieved a bowl and was opening the fridge.
Yeah, they’d studied hard and played even harder, a game Kenny had outgrown. Kenny claimed he was in a monogamous relationship now, with his work. Maybe it was time Ron outgrew playing fast and loose with women too. He didn’t want to end up alone like his uncle. Even his grandmother and mother had no one special in their lives.
Ron disappeared in the bedroom, shrugged off his robe and stripped off his sweatpants. As he lathered his body, he recalled the shower he and Ashley had taken together last night. The way she’d loved him with that pretty mouth of hers, branding him. The evening didn’t deserve a one-night stand label as she’d claimed. Something else was going on in that mind of hers, and he intended to find out what.
The smell of eggs and bacon drifted into the bathroom, interrupting his musing. A smile crossed his lips. The one important thing Mrs. Nichols had taught her only son was how to take care of himself. Kenny raided his kitchen every time he stopped by, and Ron didn’t mind one little bit. Cooking wasn’t his thing. The two of them went way back to when they had met in college as freshman. He and Kenny stayed in touch even after his friend heade
d to Quantico and he back east to graduate school. Before he started receiving anonymous letters, they met twice a month for a game of basketball. Now they saw each other a few times a week.
Ron’s phone rang just as he stepped out of the showers. Ashley, the name escaped his lips as he rushed to get it. Yeah, as if she would be calling him after last night.
“Yes?” he barked into the phone, pulling on underwear.
“Mr. Noble? It’s Jeffrey Stone, sir.”
Jeffrey Stone? Who the hell…ah, the morning security guard at Ashley’s apartment building. He’d given him a list of instructions at six this morning when his shift started.
“What’s going on, Jeffrey?”
“Officer Sanchez is here with a team of her people. They’re putting up surveillance cameras around the lobby, the stairs, and inside the elevator and Ms. Fitzgerald’s home.”
Relief sliced through Ron. Thank goodness Ashley came to her senses about police protection. The woman might be pig-headed, but stupid she was not. “Good. Have you met the officers who’ll be working with her?”
“Yes, sir. There are two outside the building in a van, and two more, including a woman, who’ll stay here in the lobby.”
At least now he wouldn’t have the security guards and Kenny’s people guarding her on the sly. “Thanks for letting me know, Jeffrey.”
He hung up and tried Ashley’s number. Both her house line and cell phone were busy. He left a voicemail, finished getting dressed and left the bedroom. Kenny was on the living room sofa, eating breakfast while watching ESPN. Ron served himself a plate of eggs and bacon his friend had left for him, poured another cup of coffee and settled in an armchair. For a moment, they ate and watched sports.
Ron waited until Kenny was done before he said, “So? What’s the latest?”
The investigator put aside his empty plate and rested his elbows on his knees, his gaze penetrating as he studied Ron. “Why don’t you tell me?”
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