Murphy's Law

by Lori Foster

  “I was thinking of you, actually, picturing you as you looked when I last saw you.”

  Meaning agog from a kiss, with wet noodles for knees? “Yeah, so?”

  “I kept trying to align the image with pink taffeta, but it’s not working. Or were you just pulling my leg?”

  She unlocked her car and slid into the seat. For October the weather remained stifling and humid. It wasn’t much cooler outside in the fresh air than it had been inside with broken air-conditioning. Her shirt stuck to her back, and her hair hung damp and limp on her shoulders.

  “I don’t even know what taffeta is, but the truth isn’t much better.” After starting the car, relocking the doors, and cranking up the air-conditioning, she asked, “You really want to hear about my dress right now?”

  “Can you not hear the anticipation in my voice?”

  Funny how talking to Quinton on the phone made all her exhaustion evaporate. Dangerous. “All right, then. You asked for it.” She began backing out of her spot “It really is pink, but a pale pink. Silk, not taffeta, but it’s got some itchy lace on it. V-necked, floor length…”

  His voice darkened. “Sounds lovely.”

  “Hey,” Ashley teased, “is this turning into one of those perverted phone calls?”

  “I’m just visualizing you in silk.”

  “Yeah, well, if you start breathing heavy, I’m hanging up.”

  Quinton laughed. “I promise to behave.”

  “Good. Because I’ve had a hard enough night.”

  She heard some rustling, as if he’d just settled back in bed to get comfortable. “How’s that?”

  “The air went off and Flint couldn’t reach anyone from maintenance.”

  “Flint the security guard?”

  “That’s him.” She carefully steered the car from the garage, and though her nervousness had dissipated, she still glanced around at all the shadows, looking for she didn’t know what. She saw nothing but debris. No lurking madmen or threats of any kind. “The death of the air conditioner set the tone, and everything else went wrong, too. I’m sweaty, hungry, tired, and cranky.”

  “Now that’s an image I can reconcile better than pink taffeta.”

  “Ha ha.” But he was right. She couldn’t see herself all dressed up, either. She just knew she’d end up looking stupid. “Right now I’m aiming to eat, shower, and hit the sack, in that order. No time for phone sex, sorry.”

  “Another time then.” In the middle of her laughing, he added, “I haven’t eaten yet, either. Breakfast sounds terrific. Where should I meet you?”

  Her punching heartbeat ended the laughter. Butterflies started a brawl in her stomach. Her fingers hugged the steering wheel. “Who says you’re invited?”

  He gave an exaggerated sigh. “You tell me that you have no time to get to know me. Well, I’m up at this ungodly hour, and we’re both hungry, so sharing breakfast is the perfect plan.”

  “If the hour seems ungodly to you, why are you up?”

  Ashley could almost hear him thinking.

  “I have some things to do today.”

  To her ears he sounded evasive. “Before dawn?”

  “Soon. And no, I didn’t get up just to shanghai you for a meal. Actually, I assumed you’d be going straight home to bed. When I called, it was with the intent of hearing your voice, that’s all.”

  Ridiculous how badly Ashley wanted to believe him. With the offer out there, going home to sleep no longer seemed so appealing.

  So what would one meal hurt? A public restaurant would be a natural block to her explosive sexual urges. She’d have to keep it in check, and so would he.

  “Besides,” he said, intruding on her thoughts, “we should discuss the wedding. You haven’t even told me what time to pick you up, or where we’re going.”

  He had a point. Ashley glanced at the clock on her car console. “I was going to grab a bowl of cold cereal at home, but…” She decided to take a chance. “Know where the Squirrel is?”

  “Up a tree, I’d assume.”

  Ashley couldn’t help grinning. “The Squirrel is a little mom-and-pop diner in Stillbrooke, close to where I live.” She gave him brief directions. “They serve a lot of truckers, so they’re open now, and they make a mean ham and eggs breakfast. I’ll meet you there if you’re still interested.”

  She was sure he wouldn’t be. She doubted Quinton had ever been in a greasy spoon, much less dined on their fare.

  “I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  Her jaw fell open. “No joke?”

  “Don’t back out on me now, Ashley.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.” New life entered her tired muscles. He was going above and beyond to see her. That had to count for something, right? “Fifteen minutes. Bye.”

  After she hung up, she found herself grinning. She wouldn’t get much sleep before her classes started, but these days, sleep was an elusive commodity anyway.

  She had work, school, a wedding… and once again the steady beams of headlights filled her rearview mirror.

  Damn it, she was being followed. Now she had to decide what to do about it.

  ———

  Quinton parked his Bentley a good distance from the entrance of the diner. The light of the moon reflected off Ashley’s little Civic, situated among a variety of work vehicles. His Bentley wasn’t the best choice for detouring to the Squirrel, but he’d made a promise he intended to keep.

  Gravel crunched beneath his feet as he crossed the cluttered lot for the open door of the diner. A warm glow, accompanied by the sounds of laughter and conversation, spilled out into the otherwise quiet night. Leaning against a fence, a man and woman embraced. Standing alongside a rig, two truckers conversed quietly behind the red smolder of cigarettes. Quinton glanced around the rest of the area, enjoying the quaint atmosphere, the small-town familiarity.

  That’s when he felt it.

  Someone watched him with ripening tension. Being rich hadn’t made him an idiot, and he didn’t ignore his instincts. He did a subtle perusal and spotted the junker parked across the street. A shadowed figure sat behind the wheel.

  Reminded that Ashley had also had a feeling of being watched, Quinton’s temper slipped up several notches. A coincidence? He tried, but couldn’t convince himself of that.

  In his position of wealth, he was used to being followed, photographed, and sometimes stalked—and he had no problem ignoring it most of the time. But he’d be damned before he let anyone harass Ashley.

  He started across the street with a purposeful stride.

  Before he even reached the curb, the car burped and gurgled to life, then sped away on balding tires.

  Damn it. He watched until the taillights disappeared around a corner before striding into the small restaurant. He located Ashley sitting in a booth toward the back. Turned sideways in the bench seat, her spine slumped against the wall and her legs stretched out, she looked to be half-asleep.

  Quinton’s frustration eased away, replaced by sexual awareness, tenderness, and an odd and inexplicable pleasure.

  For long minutes he just looked at her. Even in repose her face seemed so expressive to him. Signs of exhaustion eased away the cockiness and defensiveness. He wished for some way to protect her from herself and her staunch determination for independence. He didn’t yet know her background, but he had a feeling her life hadn’t been an easy one. Unlike him, she most likely came from moderate means.

  Why else would she just now be working her way through college?

  When the waitress eyed him, Quinton smiled at her and unglued his feet from the entrance. Ashley didn’t stir until he slid into the seat across from her. Then her head turned toward him, her eyes opened, and her lips curled in greeting.

  “Tired?” he asked, needing to say something to break the spell of intimacy.

  As her eyes adjusted, the automatic nod of agreement froze. While slowly looking him over from his gray sweatpants to the print on his Rolling Stones T-shirt, she stra
ightened at the table.

  Feeling a little self-conscious with her visual examination, Quinton ran a hand over his hair. “Have I grown a third eye that I’m unaware of?”

  She shook her head while her gaze crawled all over him, as effective and stimulating as a touch, before finally coming to rest on his face. She licked her lips, but said nothing.

  Quinton felt like he’d just been the recipient of sizzling foreplay. Every place she’d looked at him now tingled with awareness. He cleared his throat. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “It’s… shocking. That’s all.”

  The way she reacted, you’d think he’d shown up naked. “Excuse me?”

  “You look even better in sweats than you do in a suit. And I didn’t think that was possible. I mean… you look really hot in suits.”

  Ah. She liked him in casual clothes. Too bad he wouldn’t be comfortable wearing them to the office. “Thank you.”

  “Makes me wonder what you’d look like…” She whistled. “Never mind.”

  “No, please.” He crossed his arms on top of the table and leaned toward her with a smile. “Say it.”

  Not one to let a challenge pass, she gave her own cheeky grin. “All right. I’m wondering if you look as good in the buff.”

  “Want to find out?”

  She shrugged, slid her gaze over him again, but said, “I’ll pass.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Naw. It’s just that I don’t want you to get arrested for indecent exposure.”

  Laughing, Quinton indulged his own quick perusal, and couldn’t resist reaching across the table to smooth her hair away from the side of her face. “You’re a terrible tease. But you do indeed look sweaty. I hope they get the air fixed before I go in at noon.”

  Rather than be insulted, she chuckled and lounged back in her seat—out of his reach. “So what has you up and about so early, and dressed so comfy?”

  He didn’t intend to share his plans for the day. What he did in his spare time, well, it was personal and private, his alone, something he did because it made him feel good. He’d decided years ago that parts of his life would not be for public consumption, so he shrugged off her question.

  “Personal business.” To keep from expounding, he picked up a menu. “So what are we ordering?”

  “Personal,” she insisted, “as in intimate? With a female?”

  That she pressed the issue when he’d made it clear he hoped to avoid it shouldn’t have surprised him. Naturally, Ashley didn’t bow under the pressure of good manners; he should have known that. And given the look on her face, she wouldn’t give it up any time soon. Still, he tried a nonanswer to distract her. “When I get intimate, rest assured it’s with a female.”

  She propped her chin on her fists. “Look, if you’re seeing another woman, it’s no skin off my nose. I didn’t ask to—”

  He took her hand and gently squeezed her fingers. “I haven’t looked at, haven’t even thought about another woman since I first met you.”

  She hesitated only a moment before jeering. “If you say so.” Sarcasm dripped from her tone. She might as well have called him a liar outright.

  He released her and dropped back with a scowl. “You have absolutely no idea what it’s like to walk around with the start of an erection all day, do you?”

  “Uh… no. Can’t say as I do.”

  “Well let me tell you, it’s not comfortable. But I can’t seem to help it since every available second, I’m thinking of you . As to that, I’m spending all available seconds chasing you. I’ve done everything in my power to get to know you better. Do you honestly believe I react that way often?”

  She gave an indolent roll of one shoulder—and his temper ignited with a growl. “Ashley—”

  Her chuckling cut him off. “Hey now, don’t get in a snit.”

  “I don’t get in snits, damn it.” He was insulted. And frustrated. And getting desperate. And he hated the way she zeroed in on his reactions. He was in a snit, blast her. But most women wouldn’t have put it that way.

  She flashed a grin. “I bet women never give you a hard time, do they?”

  Not usually, but he wasn’t about to admit it to her. “There’s been a challenge or two. But I have to admit you’re the most difficult.”

  “I’ve been clear about my position.”

  “Absolutely.” He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. “You compliment me, admit you want me, admit to thinking of me in very involved ways, but then tell me to get lost.” His smile mocked her. “How could you be any clearer?”

  Pretending to wince, she asked, “I was too honest?”

  She toyed with him, but Quinton couldn’t tell if it was a deliberate ploy for control or a cover for uncertainty.

  That was the thing about Ashley—she was neither predictable nor common. Rules that applied to other women had no bearing on her. “You kiss me like you want to eat me alive.”

  She sighed. “Yeah, I know.” Her gaze avoided his. “That’s probably because I sort of do.”

  Shit. When she said things like that, his body just reacted. She made him insane with her push-pull rejections.

  He sat forward to twine his fingers with hers. “One way or another, Ashley, we will get together. Then you can kiss me anywhere and everywhere you want.” Before she could deny him, which she looked ready to do, he added, “But I meant it when I said I’d keep things platonic for now. I’m willing to give you as much time as you need. As long as you don’t ever think I’m filling that time with another woman—because I’m not.”

  She tested his grip, trying to ease her hand away, but when he pretended not to notice, she relaxed again.

  While he had her attention, he decided to clear up any notion she had of other women fulfilling the desire he had for her. “Understand, Ashley. You might see me with other women—”

  Her gaze clashed with his.

  “But only in a business sense.” His thumb rubbed over her knuckles. “I have lunch and dinner with a lot of prospective clients. It’s part of business.”

  “Whatever.”

  He shook his head. “No, don’t act like it doesn’t matter. I haven’t forgotten how you reacted to Zara Trilby.” She’d immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion, which had set him back on his courtship. Zara was known for flamboyance and lots of hugging and kissing. But she wasn’t his type. “That particular client—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I know it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Do you?”

  “Yeah. She’s dating a friend of mine now.”

  Further explanations died on his tongue. Zara Trilby was a beautiful, voluptuous, very demonstrative and outgoing businesswoman. But she was also rich as Midas, so it surprised him that she and Ashley might mingle socially. “You’re serious?”

  “Yeah. She seems nice enough.” Ending that subject, she curled her fingers around his. “I’m just busting to know… what’s the appeal?”

  Lost to her meaning, he raised a brow. “Excuse me?”

  Gesturing between them with her free hand, she said, “You, me, this little lust-fest you have going on. I’m not stacked. I’m not gorgeous. I haven’t been all that nice. And other than a few unruly comments, I haven’t led you on, not deliberately, anyway. So…” She lifted her shoulders. “Why me?”

  “You’re serious?”

  She nodded. “Believe it or not, men aren’t throwing themselves into my path. They don’t chase me. For the most part they ignore me just as I ignore them.”

  “You didn’t ignore me.”

  “I tried. You wouldn’t let me.”

  She looked genuinely perplexed, prompting him to kiss her knuckles. He was used to women who knew their own allure and used it to the fullest. He’d dated women whose charm got them anything and everything they wanted. He enjoyed the feminine guile—but he appreciated Ashley’s in-your-face attitude more.

  “It’s a lot of things.”

  “Like?”

  “You’re sexy.
”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re into teen bras and skinny legs?”

  “I love your fashion sense.”

  Laughing, she said, “Yeah, I can tell rummage-sale couture is your speed.”

  “You’re unique and fun. And honest. I adore your hair. And your long legs. And your smiles. I see you, I hear your silliness, and I want to kiss you.”

  She tilted her head. “My silliness, huh?”

  “That audacious way you have of talking.” He’d seldom heard such imprudent bluster from grown men, much less a slip of a woman in outrageous clothing. “You’re honest to a fault, uncaring of the consequences. You know what you want and what you don’t want, and you spell it out.”

  She chewed her bottom lip before meeting his gaze. “Some would call me obnoxious.”

  “Maybe someone threatened by your confidence.”

  Her smile went crooked. “Is that how you see me? Confident?”

  “You have a candid approach to life that I find very sexy. And I can’t help wondering if you’ll be that decisive in bed.” He rubbed her knuckles again. “I hope so.”

  With an odd look on her face, she eased her hand away from him. “Uh, no, I wouldn’t.”

  “I don’t believe that. One feature of life always reflects another. You’re assertive, a woman in control. A woman who spells it out without shyness. Experienced. Forceful.”

  She looked so dumbstruck by his observations that he thought to reassure her.

  “I’m not criticizing, Ashley. I find your brazenness a real turn-on.”

  Her lips twitched before parting on a full-blown laugh. “This is too funny.”

  “It is?”

  With a shake of her head, she said, “Sorry, Quenton. But you’ve based your attraction on some huge misconceptions.”

  Very softly, Quinton said, “No, I don’t think so. I think I’m getting to know you pretty well.” And the more he knew her, the more he liked her.

  “Well, you missed something somewhere because I’m not what you think I am.”

  “In what way?”

  “First off, I’m not so hot in the sack, so get that idea out of your head.”

  Quinton settled back, ready to be enlightened. And about damn time. He’d spent too long trying to get her to open up. If she’d had a bad experience with a man, that’d explain much. “You’re saying a past lover failed to satisfy you?”