by Wynn, Renee
“I apologize for pushing you,” she said.
“It was bound to happen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re a passionate woman, Nicole. All that energy had to be released, why not on me?”
She shook head and uttered a brief laugh. “You’re one crazy man.”
“Only about some things.”
Riddles again? Even as a child, she never cared for puzzles and she had no plan on putting one together tonight.
“I need to get back to the party. My aunt will be wondering where I am.”
“I doubt it. Brent probably told her you were with me.”
“He wouldn’t know that for sure.”
“Believe me. Brent knows I wouldn’t leave you alone.”
Nicole narrowed her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“There’s nothing to understand…at least not right now. But so you will be comfortable, call your aunt and let her know you’re with me.”
“My cellphone is in my purse. I left it in your car.”
“No, problem.” He pointed to the sofa stand. “There are phones throughout the house. Help yourself. Since both of us didn’t eat tonight, I’m going into the kitchen to fix something.”
“You cook?”
He ignored her question. “Take your time with the call. When you’re ready walk down the corridor to your left, the kitchen is at the far end of the house. You won’t miss it.” He walked out.
Nicole exhaled the pent-up air in her lungs and felt the tension released in her shoulders.
She retrieved the cordless phone and dialed her aunt’s cell.
When she entered the kitchen, he was spooning food onto plates.
“You were right. Brent told my aunt that I was with you.”
He threw her a look over his shoulder and resumed plating the food.
She shrugged and moved further into the kitchen.
Nicole looked around the room. The décor was another surprise. Soft color of beige and accents of pale yellow and soothing lavender were present. Stainless steel appliances were situated strategically in their places. The bright and airiness of the kitchen reminded of her a woman’s touch. Why would his house have that? Was it possible that Ashton was moving in one of his many girlfriends? The thought made her unsettled. Now she was being crazy. It was none of her business whom he dated or moved into his house.
“Can I help?” she said.
With a plate in each hand, he walked toward the oval kitchen table and nodded to one of the four chairs surrounding it.
“Have a seat.”
Again, she bristled, at his tone, but sat down in one of the richly upholstered chairs. He set a plate of food in front of her and the other at his setting. A bottle of red wine was already on the table. He sat and then poured the liquid into the glasses.
Ashton picked up his glass and clink it to hers.
“What are we toasting?”
“Life. You. Happy Birthday, Nicole.”
She frowned. “It’s not until a few weeks from now.”
Silence hung between them. Again his blue eyes held her captive. “I know, June twenty-fifth,” he said so softly. “You’ll be twenty-four, right?”
She nodded.
“You’re well past the age of legal.”
Feeling more uncomfortable with his strange behavior, she took a sip wine trying to quell the butterflies in her stomach. She tried to think of something to say.
“The wine is good. At eighteen, my aunt started letting me have a small glass of chardonnay with dinner.”
While she rattled on, he’d leaned back in his chair. When she was nervous or excited she could talk nonstop. Brent would always laugh and tell her to slow down so he could catch up. She pushed the memory away and speared the fork into the food. Ashton had prepared a mushroom and spinach omelet with Gouda cheese topped with fresh chopped cherry tomatoes. She chewed slowly, savoring the sweetness of the mushrooms and the delicacy of the spinach.
“Your cooking skills have surprised me. There’s a taste a hint of cilantro, correct?”
“Yes. You cook?”
“Somewhat. But, I’m impressed that you do,” she said between bites.
“Don’t be. There are a lot of things you don’t know about me…yet,” he responded.
She tipped her glass, emptying the contents.
“You need to pace yourself.”
“I’m not trying to get drunk.”
“It never crossed my mind,” he said, dryly.
She set the glass down. “Getting drunk won’t erase the fact that Brent is married. But I’m a strong woman. I’ll cope.”
“I have no doubt you will.” He dug into his food, and nodded at her plate. “Go ahead and finish eating.”
She took another bite of the omelet. “Hmm…this is good.”
He remained silent with a sullen look. She shrugged. He was always frowning or glaring at something or someone. The man had issues. He was sure one unhappy and strange person.
Finally, she noticed he wasn’t eating but looking at her.
“You’re staring. That’s rude.”
A small smile hinted at his lips. Maybe he was human after all.
“Being called rude is nothing new to me.”
“Brent said—”
He grunted with disgust. “Brent knows nothing about me.”
“He’s your brother. Of course, he knows you.”
“I’m older than Brent. So that makes me an authority on what he knows and what he doesn’t”
“Rude and arrogant. Wow, what a combination,” she said cheekily.
“I don’t deny it,” he retorted with dismissal. “Do you know how old I am, Nicole?”
“You might not remember but I was at your last birthday party, the one your parents threw for you.”
“I remember. It was a party I didn’t want but my mother can be tenacious when she wants something.”
Nicole smiled. “Yes. I know. I still don’t know how she got you to agree to have the annual barbecue at your house last year.”
He grimaced. “It was painful.”
“Parties can be so much fun. I know that Brent—”
“I’m thirty-four, Nicole, does that bother you?”
“No.” She frowned trying to understand what he saying or rather what he wasn’t saying. What answer was he looking for? Did he think he was old? Granted, he was older than Brent but lean and all muscle. He had to know he was a very good-looking man. No matter the age, all the women vied for his attention. Some women managed to capture it but not for long. Sadly, there were quite a few who never made it to first base. Brent had enjoyed relaying his brother’s escapades to anyone who would listen, which was usually her.
“Are you feeling old or something?” she inquired puzzled at the direction of the conversation.
“Do you remember I asked you to dance with me?” He glared. “You refused.”
She stopped eating, placed the cloth napkin on the table and leaned back into the chair. “I didn’t actually refuse. Brent and I had just finished dancing and I was tired.”
“Everything always come back to Brent with you, doesn’t it?”
She fingered the napkin, thinking on how to answer. “He’s been a major part of my life for a long time. It’s not easy to let go.”
“Well, you’re going to have to,” he stated.
Hearing the words only made the wound spread. “I know.” Her hands gripped the edges of the table. “I just need time.”
“You’re an adult, Nicole.”
Her head jerked at the authoritative tone. What happened to their easy conversation?The harsh coolness in his voice commanded her attention. Somehow, it made her more aware of him.
He could easily be classified as the strong silent type. Maybe it was his height or the brilliance of his hard, cold blue eyes that made people stand to attention.
“Stop pushing me.”
“I won’t coddle you, Nicole.”
&nb
sp; He sounded angry and disgusted.
There were times when their debates had become heated, about social or political issues but never personal. However, tonight the topics were too intimate.
Nicole picked up the wine glass. It was empty.
“More wine?” he asked.
“Just a little.”
He poured the red liquid, barely covering the bottom but filled his glass to half full. She started to comment but didn’t. “Thanks.”
His response was a grunt. She wondered if he’d ever in life given anyone a genuine smile or better yet, just laughed for the hell of it.
“Would you like something else to eat?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go into the library.”
“Aren’t you taking me home?”
“Not yet. I have a proposition for you.”
She paused, wondering what it could be. She might as well get it over with.
“Alright.”
They entered a large room that housed wall-to-wall books on shelves that went from the floor to a high ceiling. Her breath caught at the beauty of the room. The library was decorated in soft brown and rust with splashes of pale yellow throughout the decor. Nicole immediately fell in love with the brightness of the room.
“Wow. This is really a library.”
Although, she had grown up in luxury it didn’t compare to the wealth of the Sinclair’s. Her parents, along with her aunt, had made their money in owing a chain of health food grocery stores. Ashton family’s wealth was old money rooted in Texas oil and cattle. Other businesses expanded into mergers, acquisitions, and a software business that brought in billions of dollars a year.
“I love to read.”
Surprised, she said, “Really? I didn’t know that.”
“It seems we do have something in common.”
“I guess we do. I love this room. It’s warm and inviting. Pastels are my favorite colors but I’m partial to yellow. I like the way it’s accented throughout the room.” She walked to the bookshelves. “I love all types of books.” She moved slowly from one shelf to the next, grabbed a book from one of her favorite mystery writers, turned it over, and read the blurb. “I’ve always been an avid reader, anything from ancient literature to contemporary. It really makes no difference.” She put it back on the shelf.
“I know.”
A nervous laugh escaped. She was a little embarrassed about what she was revealing about herself. He was never an easy person to talk you but tonight he seemed different…relaxed and interested in what she had to say.
“Ah…Once I get involved in a book, I have to finish it until I’m completely done.” She stroked the books and continued to move along the rows in awe that each of the six walls in the room housed only books and nothing else. It went into a circle around the entire room. “There were times I almost missed classes because I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning to finish a novel.” She smiled at the memory.
“You always had a book when you came to my parents’ house.”
“I’m surprised you noticed me at all.”
“I’m known to be observant.”
“I don’t normally leave home without a book or my eReader.”
Silence endured in the space, which only made her more nervous.
“Your decorator has great taste.”
“I told her what I wanted.”
“Really?’ She spun around quickly not realizing he was so close behind her. Trapped air lounged in her windpipe. “Uh…You like pastels, which is odd for a guy or rather a straight guy.” He frowned. “I’m not saying you’re gay or anything,” she quickly amended. “I noticed that the living room and kitchen have touches of it also.
“I know someone who likes these colors.”
“She must be very special if you decorated your house to fit her taste.”
He dipped his head and whispered in her ear, “she is.”
Awareness swirled in the space. Damn, he smelt good. Her breasts swelled with each rapidly increasing breath.
She stood perfectly still, knowing that if he stepped an inch closer, their bodies would be tempted to ignite the match that lay between them. He was so close that the fine lines around his eyes and a faint scar on his upper lip were clearly evident. The smooth firmness of his mouth, which was sensual and inviting, beckoned her. She wondered what it would feel like to have it moving against hers.
Shaken, Nicole stepped backwards bumping into the bookshelves. He reached out, but she righted herself before he could touch her.
“Uh…well. I think it’s time for me to leave,” she said in hoarse tones.
“You’re nervous. Why?”
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
She cleared her throat. “Look, are we finished here?”
He observed her closely. “I want to hire you as my PR person.”
“What?”
“I need you.”
“Why?”
“Ever since that rag magazine—”
“You mean when People magazine selected you as the sexiest man alive.”
He cringed. She almost laughed at how uncomfortable the title made him.
“Those dogs—”
“You mean reporters.”
“They’ve been calling every day, following me when I leave the office and being a pain in my ass. I need someone to contain the situation. Since you went to school for this sort of thing—”
She frowned. “I have a dual degree in Journalism and Communications.”
“With your knowledge of the media, you should be able stop them from at least following me.”
“Have they approached you?”
“In the beginning they did, but I threatened to knock the hell out of them and then have them arrested.”
“I bet that went over well.”
“They backed off, but now they are snapping pictures and it’s extremely annoying. I want it to stop.”
“I’m sure you can handle a few pictures.”
“I got a restraining order and they can’t come within a hundred feet of me.”
“That’s great. Now they are more intrigued with the reclusive and brooding Sinclair heir. All you did was add fuel to the fire.”
“I need for you to put out the flame.”
“I have no experience in this sort of thing.”
“Brent said your desire is to have a PR firm one day. What better way to start your business than with me? I’ll be your first client. It’ll be a challenge.”
“No, you’re the challenge.”
“You can handle me.”
She thought for a moment. “Alright, I’ll take on the job under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m the boss. You need to do exactly what I say.”
“Done.”
She squinted. “You said that too easily.”
“I trust you. You’re smart, stubborn, with a good head on your shoulders and I believe you have my best interest.”
She warmed at his praise. “Thank you.”
“Now that’s settled I want to finish the conversation about Brent and Melissa. They’ve known each other pretty much all their lives. He was a little wild. She let him go so he could get it out of his system. She’s waited a long time for him to come to her.”
He stopped talking. Was he waiting for her to contribute to the conversation? Well, she wasn’t going to do it. This was his speech, not hers.
Finally, he continued, “Although her family is a little dysfunctional, she’s a great person and deserves to be happy. For some reason, she thinks Brent is the key. Given time, Brent will come to realize he made the right decision marrying her.”
“What’s your point in this?”
“I don’t want Melissa hurt.”
“And?”
“You being around Brent would cause problems.”
“I would never come between them. I know what Brent and I had is over.”
“N
o one twisted his arm to marry Melissa. He married her because he wanted to,” he retorted.
“Brent married Melissa because of the Sinclair political aspirations. He would do anything to make you and your father happy.”
“So what? What family wouldn’t want a member of their family in politics? For generations there’s always been a Sinclair in public office.”
“Well, why does it have to be Brent? Why not you?”
“Not happening.”
She shrugged. “You’re the eldest son. It would only seem logical for you to run.”
“I don’t want or need the exposure. Besides, I’m my own man. I control my life. I told my father years ago don’t look for me to be the Sinclair to continue the political run.”
“So you threw Brent in the ring.”
“You’re really misguided when it comes to him.” He released a hard laugh. “Brent loves the rush, the game…the hunt. Being a politician is something he’s wanted all his life. We have discussed it numerous times.”
“He never mentioned it to me until tonight.”
“It doesn’t seem you know him as well as you think.”
“You’re wrong. We shared a lot.”
“Let it go, Nicole,” he shot at her.
“Brent was the first real friend I had. I was shy, awkward and reserved but he brought me out of my shell. He told me I could accomplish anything I wanted. I shared my dreams with him. He encouraged me to go for it.
“He never treated me like a kid or an orphan. I conquered my fears with his help. I owe him a lot,” she said quietly.
“I understand my brother helping you through some difficult times but you are a different person now. That scared, shy girl no longer exists. She grew into a beautiful and strong woman. From the first moment I met you, I saw how you relied on Brent for direction and everything else. He was your emotional crutch. You weren’t responsible for your parents’ plane crash.”
“I see Brent has been talking.”
“He told me about your parents’ death and how you felt it was your fault.”
“They have been gone almost ten years but sometimes it feels like it was just yesterday that I lost them. They were on their way to see me at boarding school. I’d taken a critical debate class in school. All the parents were invited to our first open debate.” Nicole smiled at the memory. “I was the lead debater.”