The Bridal Path: Ashley

by Sherryl Woods

  “Dillon Ford, you are as incorrigible as ever,” she announced in the same voice she would have used to dismiss a pesky student. Her gaze shifted to Ashley. “As for you, I’m shocked to find you with this…”

  Words seemed to fail her. She finally settled for calling him a mischief-maker. Dillon hid a chuckle at her notion of a disparaging label. She had had a whole list of names she’d trotted out years ago when she’d been displeased with his performance in class. Apparently she’d forgotten them.

  “I’m not with him,” Ashley said in a rush. “That is…oh, never mind. It’s good to see you, Mrs. Fawcett. Dani wrote to me about your retirement. How have you been enjoying all your free time?”

  “I’m bored stiff,” she said succinctly.

  Dillon watched as a spark of pure devilment lit Ashley’s eyes.

  “Perhaps you’d enjoy a ride on Dillon’s motorcycle, then,” she suggested to their old teacher. “It’s remarkable how young and alive it makes you feel.”

  Delighted with Ashley’s probably unintended admission that she had enjoyed the ride, Dillon was quick to jump in and echo the invitation. “Come on, Mrs. Fawcett. How about a quick spin, just to the top of the hill and back?”

  “Young man, I will not be climbing on the back of that contraption in this lifetime,” she said, despite a rather wistful glance outside at the offensive vehicle.

  She scowled at Ashley. “And you have no business on it, either. It’s improper and dangerous. You, of all people, should understand how important it is not to give others the wrong impression. Why, you were the most responsible, well-behaved girl I ever taught. It was no surprise to me that you went off and became a big success. I always knew you’d accomplish anything you set your mind to.”

  To Dillon’s amazement, Ashley looked thoroughly uncomfortable at the lavish praise. Rather than basking in it as her due, she looked as if she wished she was someplace else. Before he could figure out the meaning of her odd reaction, he caught Mrs. Fawcett’s wistful glance straying to the motorcycle again.

  He couldn’t let a moment like this pass. He leaned down. “Dare you.”

  Color flamed in her overly powdered cheeks. “Never,” she insisted with a huff.

  “Never’s a very long time,” he taunted. “Isn’t it time you did something totally unpredictable?”

  “I do not need to take foolish risks. Nor do I need to prove anything to you, young man.”

  “It’s perfectly safe,” Ashley chimed in. “Dillon’s a very skilled driver.”

  “He’s certainly been at it long enough,” the teacher said. She glared at him. “Isn’t it time you grew up and started driving a real car? Perhaps a nice, safe sedan?”

  Dillon thought of the fleet of “real” cars he had in his garage in California, including a stretch limo that was so dull and safe he refused to use it except on those occasions that demanded he make a show of his success. There were people in Los Angeles who wouldn’t hire his security company unless they thought he was their social equal. He had to make it seem that hiring Security-Wise was a status symbol.

  “I have a real car,” he conceded. “I save the motorcycle for special occasions back here in Wyoming. I’d hate to disappoint the good folks of Riverton by turning into another average, straight-arrow guy. You all have always counted on me to be the town bad boy. You really would die of boredom if I took that away from you.”

  “Some of us had higher expectations for you,” Mrs. Fawcett chided. “The only thing that disappoints me, young man, is when someone fails to live up to his true potential. Perhaps it’s time you thought about that.”

  That said, she whirled around and marched out of the store, her back ramrod straight, her shoulders set rigidly.

  When she was gone, Dillon faced Ashley and caught her trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

  “I guess she told you,” she said.

  “Care to make a wager?” Dillon asked.

  “What kind of wager?”

  “Five bucks says I get her on the motorcycle before I leave town.”

  “No way. You heard her. She will not take foolish risks.”

  “Five bucks,” he repeated.

  Ashley grinned. “Easy money. You’re on.”

  Since he appeared to be on a roll, he decided to up the ante. “Want to make another wager?”

  She hesitated and regarded him suspiciously. “On?”

  “Whether or not you and I will be able to stay in the same house for the next week or so without making love.”

  He saw his mistake the instant the words left his lips. He’d put her on notice about his intentions. Ashley was far too stubborn to let him win that kind of a bet. In fact, she looked mad enough to bop him over the head with that giant zucchini she was holding. At least, they both knew exactly where they stood now.

  “That one’s a foregone conclusion,” she snapped. “You can hand over the money now, because the odds of you and me getting involved are about the same as those of Prince Charles and Di reconciling.”

  Dillon’s pulse hummed. Let her dig in her heels. He loved a good challenge. That would make his victory all the sweeter.

  Already planning for the eventual outcome, he grabbed a bottle of outrageously expensive champagne and tossed it into the cart. The gesture drew a scowl.

  “Planning a party?” she inquired testily.

  “A celebration.”

  It was obvious to him from her chilly expression that she knew exactly what he was saying.

  “The only celebrating going on at that cabin will be on the day you leave,” she said.

  Dillon heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Sweetheart, you’re breaking my heart.”

  “I doubt you have one.”

  He reached out and tucked a finger under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “If that’s true, Ashley Wilde, it’s because you stole it years ago.”

  Chapter Four

  How could Dillon say something chauvinistically male and outrageous one minute and something so sweet and romantic the next? Ashley wondered during the ride to the cabin. One minute she had wanted to smack him for practically daring her to sleep with him, and the next he’d accused her of stealing his heart years ago.

  Which Dillon Ford was she supposed to trust? Probably neither one of them, when it came right down to it. For all she knew Dillon was a master of manipulation who knew exactly what he was doing when he’d melted her heart with that remark about her effect on him. It had probably been the first step in his deliberate campaign to get what he wanted–her in his bed. That wager of his might only be for a few bucks, but he clearly took it seriously.

  She spent the rest of the day giving him a wide berth, but there was no way to avoid him over dinner. While she’d been off on a solitary walk, he’d grilled the fish on her father’s gas barbecue, created some sort of vegetable and rice concoction that looked better than anything she knew how to prepare, and warmed a loaf of sourdough bread, which he actually claimed to have baked from scratch. Since no such loaf had been in with their groceries, she had to believe him.

  He’d set the table on the deck. “It’s too nice a night to eat indoors,” he said as she approached. “Is this okay?”

  “It’s fine with me. It’s cooling off, now that the sun’s going down. Let me get a sweater.”

  He gestured toward the back of a chair. “I brought one out for you.”

  The thought of Dillon in her room, going through her things, had her swallowing hard. It seemed there were limits to the degree of intimacy she was prepared to accept.

  She was about to lambast him for invading her private space when he said mildly, “It was in the living room, in case you’re worrying that I was going through your stuff.”

  His ability to see straight through her startled her. She must be far more transparent than she’d been led to believe. All those years of practice at hiding her real emotions in front of a camera hadn’t paid off, after all. Now, when it really counted, she couldn’t seem to
mask a thing.

  “Thanks,” she said, pulling the warm crewneck sweater on over her T-shirt. She sat gingerly across from him. “Everything smells wonderful. Where’d you learn to cook?”

  “You seem to have forgotten my background,” he said.

  Ashley immediately recalled the forgotten tales of his childhood–a mother who’d died when he was a boy, a father who traveled on business. More often than not, Dillon had been left to manage for himself and his younger brother and sister. It was no wonder, everyone had said at the time, that he’d run wild. There’d been no discipline or parental supervision at home.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’d forgotten how difficult times must have been for you back then.”

  He shrugged. “We got along. I learned my way around a kitchen in a hurry. Actually, I enjoy cooking. It seems to be the only creative task at which I excel. Can’t sing worth a darn. Can’t dance or draw.” He grinned. “Obviously, I couldn’t do algebra. Took me two years to pass the class.”

  “Algebra wasn’t creative,” Ashley countered. “It was drudgery.”

  “How can you say that? You were in an advanced class and you got an A in that.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “You remember all that?”

  “When you were as bad as I was in a subject, you knew exactly which students were acing it. Did you know Mrs. Fawcett wanted to arrange for you to tutor me?”

  “Really?” she said in amazement. “Why didn’t she?”

  “I wouldn’t let her. I couldn’t have afforded to pay you. More than that, though, I didn’t want you to see how lousy I was. I had my tender, male pride at stake. You were two years behind me, after all.”

  “I think Mrs. Fawcett is actually very fond of you,” Ashley said.

  “Oh, really,” he said doubtfully. “Is that why she looked so horrified when she saw the two of us together today?”

  “That was because she now knows the juiciest piece of gossip in all of Wyoming and she can’t share it,” Ashley said. “Thank goodness, she’s always disapproved of spreading rumors.”

  “Worried about your reputation?” Dillon asked with a faint note of defensiveness.

  “Of course not,” Ashley said without the slightest hesitation. “I came here to do some thinking. If my sisters hear that I’m at Daddy’s cabin, they’ll be up here pestering me to know why I’m hiding out.”

  “That’s the second time you’ve said something about needing solitude to think. Are you sure you don’t want to talk with an objective observer about whatever’s on your mind? I’m not sure I’d recommend listening to any advice I dole out, but I can be a decent sounding board.”

  Ashley shook her head. “Thanks, but I have to work this through on my own. Now let’s get back to you. What other subjects did you struggle with in high school?”

  The past struck her as safer ground than the present, perhaps for both of them. She had no idea what Dillon’s life was like these days, and for the moment it seemed like a very good idea to keep it that way. She wasn’t sure she was prepared to handle the news that he was one step away from being carted off to jail.

  “All of them,” he said, apparently accepting her reluctance to talk about her own problems. “I wasn’t much of a student. I was too easily distracted, especially in high school.” He sighed dramatically. “All those girls and so little time.”

  “Exactly how many did you make a pass at?”

  His expression sobered. “All of them except you, I suppose.”

  Ashley couldn’t decide whether to be hurt by the admission or incensed by it, even though she’d guessed as much long ago. “Why’d you leave me out?”

  To her surprise he looked as if the question made him uncomfortable. “Dillon?” she prodded.

  “You were different.”

  “A snob?” she asked, thinking of a remark he’d made the night before. It had brought back similar accusations from the other boys she’d kept at arm’s distance then.

  None of them had understood that staying focused on her goal of getting away from Riverton had been paramount. She’d refused to let her feelings for anyone interfere with that. She could see, now, how that might have been misinterpreted by fragile young male egos. Dillon’s ego, however, had hardly been fragile.

  “No,” he said at once, confirming that his ego had never been shattered. Nor had he feared rejection, apparently. His warm gaze met hers and held. “You were special, too good for the likes of me.”

  “Oh.” It was the last thing she had expected him to say.

  He grinned. “You sound surprised. Surely I’m not the first man ever to tell you how special you are.”

  “Maybe you’re just the first one who ever sounded like he really meant it,” she said candidly.

  “I do mean it,” he said emphatically. Then, his expression thoughtful, he added, “I suppose you’ve met some creeps and jerks in your business, though.”

  “More than a few.”

  She toyed with her rice, trying to figure out how to explain so that he would understand. Linc had been a perfect example of the problem. She used him to characterize the type of man she tended to meet.

  “The problem with most of them isn’t that they’re awful people,” she explained. “It’s just that they never really see me. They see the face or the figure and never look any deeper than that. Sometimes I wonder…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she was opening the very topic she had just moments earlier sworn to avoid.

  “Wonder what?”

  Because he sounded genuinely interested and because deep down she did need someone to really listen, she tried to explain at least some of what she was feeling.

  “Sometimes I wonder if even I know who I am anymore,” she admitted with a trace of wistfulness in her voice.

  He didn’t laugh at the statement or remind her that she was Trent Wilde’s daughter and a famous model. Instead, he simply asked, “How so?”

  He sounded so eager to understand that she told him.

  “The modeling business demands that you project an image, that you represent glamour and beauty. It doesn’t demand that you have an idea in your head or care whether you woke up with the flu. Pretty soon you learn to shut all those other things out so you can do the job. Then one day you wake up and worry that maybe there’s nothing left inside anymore.”

  He nodded his understanding. “So, is that why you’re here?”

  “Part of it.”

  “And the other part?”

  As kind as Dillon was being, Ashley wasn’t about to tell him she’d been bounced from her job because she was too fat. No one who wasn’t as obsessed with looks as a model could possibly understand why a few pounds mattered so desperately. Nor did she want to change the way he looked at her by planting the idea in his head that she considered herself to be too heavy.

  Right now, when Dillon looked at her, she didn’t feel fat, anyway. She felt desirable.

  And maybe because he’d known her before she’d become famous, she felt as if his wanting her mattered somehow, as if he truly wanted Ashley Wilde, not the cover girl.

  Recognizing the unique power he held over her, she realized that that made her vulnerable to him. And with his promise to seduce her lingering in the air between them, every moment they spent together spelled danger.

  Oddly enough, though, with the night air cool and whisper soft with just a hint of rain, she found she didn’t care so much about the danger. In fact, she was beginning to wonder if being here with Dillon wasn’t the first risk she’d faced worth taking in a very long time.

  * * *

  Long after Ashley had gone off to bed, Dillon lingered on the deck. The temperature had indeed dropped after sunset, but he didn’t mind the sharp bite to the air. He zipped up his leather jacket, propped his feet on the railing and stared into the clear night sky, trying to recall the last time he’d ever felt so much at peace.

  The truth of it was, though, he couldn’t think of a single moment. The day
he’d opened his security agency came close. Seeing his name on the door of that first tiny office had brought him an astonishing sense of satisfaction. Signing his first big client later that same day had proved that Trent Wilde’s faith in him hadn’t been misplaced.

  He wondered what Ashley would think if she knew just exactly how big a role her father had played in his life. It was Trent who’d bailed him out of the Riverton jail years ago. And it was Trent who’d had a quiet word with the judge and seen to it that the flimsy case against him for a robbery he hadn’t committed was dropped.

  There wasn’t a doubt in Dillon’s mind that without Trent’s intervention, he would have served serious jail time despite the lack of hard evidence against him. Too many people in Riverton were quick to jump to conclusions about him and eager to blame him for crimes they didn’t want to know had been committed by their own children.

  He’d never known exactly why Trent had leapt to his defense, but he’d sworn never to let him down after that. And when his mentor had advised him to leave Riverton for a while and make something of himself where his past wouldn’t be thrown in his face, Dillon had climbed onto his Harley and taken off. His only regret back then was that he would never know what might have been between him and Ashley Wilde.

  This accidental encounter would give him a chance to discover if his adolescent crush truly meant anything. He wondered what Trent would do if he knew Dillon was locked away up here with his youngest daughter. When asking about Trent’s family, Dillon had always tried very hard never to mention Ashley any more than Sara or Dani. If his eagerness for news of Ashley had been evident, Trent had never let on.

  Despite the closeness he and Trent shared, Dillon had always feared there might be unspoken limits. He’d figured a relationship between him and Ashley might top the list.

  But though he never wanted to betray the older man’s trust in him, Dillon had recognized in the past twenty-four hours that nothing would stand between him and Ashley this time. There was a fragility to her now that intrigued and worried him. Something or someone had hurt her, and he aimed to find out how. If it was within his power, he would fix things for her.