Читать книгу New Year's Resolution: Romance!: Say Yes / No More Bad Girls / Just a Fling - Leslie Kelly, Christie Ridgway - Страница 12
ОглавлениеTHE NEXT MORNING, Ashley woke to learn it was J. R. R. Tolkien Day. Most of the Bradley guests who’d been skiing or snowboarding the day before were in various states of pain. David was milking his sprained ankle, begging more of Mrs. Erwin’s cinnamon rolls to be served to him by his wife. “Everyone knows they’re the best medicine.” Others hobbled about, too, complaining of sore muscles or bruises in uncomfortable places.
She knew The Hobbit movie and The Lord of the Rings trilogy were playing in a nonstop loop in the media room, so she suggested over breakfast that relaxing while watching them for a few hours might be just the thing. But at the other end of the long dining table, Chase had a different idea. His suggestion: a short drive that would take them to an even shorter trek through the snow to natural hot springs. There, they could soak their aches away. It seemed the guests had been aware of the possibility because they all had bathing suits with them...except Ashley.
“I’ll stay here, then,” she told Chase as breakfast wound down.
“Good,” he said, his voice curt and his expression remote.
She tried not to take offense. He had things on his mind. A houseful of people to please. That she’d shared something so personal last night didn’t mean he had to be her BFF today. Still, it stung a little, and she felt the back of her neck go hot as he walked away from her. It seemed the man regretted knowing so much about her.
The rest of the day, she puttered about. First she changed the water in all the flower arrangements in the public portions of the house, pinching off any tired blossoms or leaves. Then she joined Fanny Erwin in the kitchen, watching as the caterer wound twine around pieces of beef that she’d stuffed with a concoction that smelled garlicky and delicious.
“How are you getting along?” the older woman asked, glancing at Ashley over her shoulder.
“Do you think I’m stupid to take on the job?” The question burst out.
Fanny shot her another quick look. “Now, why would I think that?”
“You know.” She waved a hand. “This whole group is out of my league.”
The older woman’s eyes narrowed. “Has anyone made you feel less...or less than welcome?”
“No,” Ashley muttered. Except Chase didn’t seem as...warm to her as he’d been in the days before. Last night, after she’d shared that second kiss with him, he’d practically bolted from the kitchen. He’d said something about checking on the guests upstairs, and she’d thought she’d understood—hosting was his first priority, after all—but now she just didn’t know.
“Well, they’d better not,” Fanny said hotly, returning to her food preparation. “Money doesn’t make one person better than another.”
Ashley didn’t try to hide her smile. Here was the thing about being born and bred in the mountains—especially for people like Fanny and the Walkers, who’d been in the area for generations—they considered themselves the richest in the world for the privilege of having a legacy tied to this amazing landscape. The part-timers, to their mind, held the shorter end of the stick.
The innate arrogance of the mountain people meant they were never intimidated by the wealth and fame of those they came in contact with—whether as florists, caterers, restaurant workers, cleaning people, whatever. Ashley’s own cousin, Poppy Walker, was engaged to a famous Hollywood movie star and the only thing that awed their family—the women in the family anyway—was his matinee idol good looks.
Ashley wasn’t sure she’d stay among the peaks and pines forever, but they would forever be part of her.
By late afternoon, everyone was back in the house. It was buzzing with new energy, because they’d been informed the evening meal would be Middle-earth-inspired. To make it more fun, they were instructed to come in costume. Dozens of pieces hung in the playroom for the guests to choose from.
Once again, Ashley was impressed with Chase’s mother’s novel ideas for entertainment. The grown men and women seemed as eager as eight-year-olds to dress up.
Before they retired to their rooms for their transformations, most hung around the bar with drinks in hand. The majority of the time Chase was surrounded by a bevy of people, but when she saw him wander toward the windows, she approached. “How was your day?” she asked him, trying to sound friendly.
He glanced over. “Fine.”
She waited, thinking he’d take up the conversational ball. When he didn’t, a wave of humiliated heat washed over her skin. Why had she told him about Stu? When he hadn’t known, Chase had been warm and attentive. He’d made her feel like a desirable woman. They’d shared a couple of amazing kisses, and she’d been sure he felt that same sizzle from them that she did.
A sizzle that had made her feel alive.
Now she was only embarrassed.
“Well, I’ll talk to you later,” she mumbled. Turning to go, she felt his hand on her shoulder.
“Ashley.”
She looked back. “Yes?”
“Are you all right?” His gaze studied her face. “Better?”
“I am,” she said.
“Good.” His hand fell away. His expression revealed nothing more.
On her way up to her room to change, Ashley brought with her a glass of wine. She nursed it along with a spurt of temper. What was with the hot-cold-hot-cold? She might not have a lot of experience with different men, but she knew something was off. Or was this just Chase’s way?
Jerk, she decided, if that was true. Look what her year of yes had gotten her into so far!
Gazing at herself in the mirror, in the filmy gown she’d chosen with a braided girdle and matching circlet for her head, it was hard to hold on to her regret, though. The pale blue of the low-cut long chiffon dress complemented her eyes. The skirt was made up of light layers that moved when she walked.
It was an otherworldly outfit, and she added glittery shadow and dark liner around her eyes to go with it. Several coats of mascara added to the drama. Her mood lifted by the primping and the pleasing reflection of herself, she nearly danced down the stairs to the great hall. There, she found that June was the only other person waiting for the evening to begin.
The other woman wore a black dress with a calf-length handkerchief hem topped by a quilted vest resembling armor. Her boots were something that a Doc Martens elf might have designed. “Wow,” Ashley said, in admiring tones. “A warrior.”
June’s grin was cheeky. “Is this fun, or what?”
“I know I’ll count on you to defend my honor,” Ashley said with a nod to the short sword tucked in the sheath hanging from the belt buckled around June’s waist. Then she looked around. “Where is everyone?”
“I’m hoping Legolas will show,” June said, leaning near. “But it won’t be Arch. He refused to snag the platinum wig that’s upstairs.”
“Legolas!” Ashley had to frown. “I’m an Aragorn girl.”
“Takes all kinds,” June said, smiling. Then she sobered. “Hey, is everything okay? You didn’t join us last night after dinner. Our science fiction story could have used more authors.”
“I...” She looked down. Her feet were bare except for sparkly nail polish on her toes. Then, instead of making some excuse, she heard herself speak the truth. “When the ski patrol called, I had a bad moment. You see...I’m a widow.” She peeked at June, saw the sympathetic expression overtake the other woman’s face. “My husband died in a ski accident four years ago.”
“Oh, that’s awful,” June said, and stepped forward to hug Ashley. “It’s a terrible thing. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you.” She pushed back from the other woman as the oddest feeling of lightness infused her being. “You’re...you’re only the second person I’ve ever told.”
June frowned. “What? It’s a secret?”
“There are no secrets when you live in a small place like this,” Ashley answered. “Everyone that matters has already known from the beginning. The information came to them almost as quickly as it came to me.”
“Well...” June’s brows drew together. “Should I be sorry that you had to tell me?”
“No. The opposite, actually.” Ashley looked up. “I don’t know if I can explain this, exactly, but...it feels good to say it. Like its weight is no longer pressing so heavily on my chest. Don’t get me wrong—I loved my husband, and I wish you had known him. He was a great guy.” She sucked in a breath.
June held out her hand.
Ashley grasped it. “Stu was a great guy,” she said again, and gladness filled her being as she shared it. A smile broke over her face. “I feel good,” she added with a note of wonderment. Really good.
“I’m glad,” June said.
“Me, too.” The sound of footsteps on the stairs had them both looking over.
Chase and Arch descended, the two big handsome men laughing. Arch had on a long tunic, leggings and boots. A crown sat on his head. “Very regal,” Ashley murmured. “Aragornish,” she said to tease the other woman.
But her smile died when she noted what their host had on for the evening. A very modern, very un–Middle-earth pair of dark gray slacks and a collared sweater. With or without a costume, he was so good-looking Ashley’s stomach tightened.
And resentment grew. How stupid she’d been to think they had some special...connection. It was his fault, she decided. His masculinity was just too alluring. His confidence like a nectar that Ashley couldn’t help but want to taste.
She glanced at June. “Why didn’t he dress up?”
“Well...he doesn’t like to, um, put on a costume.”
“What? Why?” Ashley didn’t try to hide the bitter note in her voice. “Was there one bad Halloween when the poor little rich boy didn’t get all the candy he wanted?”
“That’s not it,” the other woman said quietly.
The men were heading toward the bar and had yet to notice the women who stood in the corner of the big room. Ashley crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she didn’t find the dark-haired, gray-eyed man so appealing. What was wrong with her?
June cleared her throat. “He has an aversion to...camouflage, I’d guess you’d say. He doesn’t like deception of any kind.”
Frowning, Ashley turned her attention to the other woman. “It’s just costumes.”
“Not to Chase. I don’t know if I should tell you this...”
Please do, Ashley silently urged.
“He had a girlfriend in college,” June whispered in a rush. “A fiancée, actually.”
“He’s been married?”
“No. It didn’t get that far. Because...it was at a costume party. Figures in history or famous movie characters was the theme. There were, like, a gazillion Cleopatras.” June made a face. “I went as Margaret Thatcher. What was I thinking?”
“That it was more comfortable to attend in a stodgy suit than something slinky?”
“I still had this itchy wig, though,” June said, pointing to her head. “Anyway, Chase was looking for his Cleo as the party was getting rowdier and he wanted to leave. Glancing in a half-open bedroom door, he saw the Queen of the Nile doing the nasty with a guy dressed as Chewbacca. Try to get that out of your head.”
“He saw it was his Cleo,” Ashley guessed.
“Not right then. Fifteen minutes or so later. That’s when she came to Chase, acting all sweet and lovey-dovey.”
“So how’d he know what she’d done?”
“Clumps of fur in her wig. And when he asked, she told him it was true. Just a one-time thing, she assured him. It didn’t matter, she said.”
“It mattered to Chase.”
“Oh, yeah, big-time,” June agreed. “He’s not been eager to tie himself down since.”
Issues, Ashley thought. He had issues, just as she did. Sympathy and understanding cleared away all the dark clouds inside her. Hearing of her loss had probably reminded him of his own. No wonder he’d had a change of mood.
“Thanks for letting me know, June.” He’d been her shoulder the night before. It was her turn to make him feel better. Maybe the magic of Middle-earth would provide her with an idea of how to do just that.
* * *
INSPIRATION DIDN’T STRIKE Ashley until after everyone had retired for the night, and it was necessity that actually took her to Chase’s bedroom door. Pasting on a friendly smile, she gave a light rap on it with the knuckles of her free hand. The other was pressed to her bodice.
It took a moment, but then he stood in the open doorway.
Her breath caught. Chase’s chest was naked. Dressed only in slacks, his feet bare like hers, he looked at her, one brow rising over an eye.
“Um...” She hoped she wasn’t gawking. But, goodness! He was chiseled. Every muscle was carved to masculine perfection. Broad shoulders, defined biceps. Pectorals that were slabs of tough muscle dusted with dark hair. A toy boat could ride the ripples of his abdominal muscles.
Yanking her gaze from the trail of hair disappearing downward, it caught on the dusky circles of his nipples. Heat prickles rose on her back. Had she ever noticed those on a man before? Ashley curled her free fingers into a fist to prevent herself from reaching out and touching one.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I don’t know the location of anyone else’s room but yours,” she said, finally glancing at his face. “I didn’t want to go around knocking indiscriminately.”
Amusement etched lines in the corners of his amazing eyes. “By all means, let’s not be indiscriminate.”
At that sign of humor, her clutching stomach eased a little. “I need help.”
“What kind?”
Turning, she presented him with her back. “My hair is caught in the dress’s zipper.”
In a breath, he’d pulled her into his room and shut the door. She glanced around, and the low illumination from the bedside lamp revealed a massive four-poster, the lake view beyond French doors, the attached bath. The space smelled like him, that expensive, clean scent that reminded her of clear water and night air.
“I need to see better,” he said, and towed her toward the bathroom.
In there, he flipped on the overhead light. The mirror over the double sinks reflected her image—flushed cheeks and big eyes. Chase lined himself up behind her and studied the dress situation with a serious expression.
“How bad is it?” she asked, craning her neck to look over her shoulder.
“Pretty bad,” he replied. She felt his fingers at the midway of her back, the farthest point she’d managed to draw down the zipper before realizing her hair was caught in its teeth. As he worked on the situation, his knuckles bumped her spine and goose bumps broke out all over.
Chase stilled. “Really bad.”
“Oh, no.” She bit her bottom lip. “Tell me you don’t have to cut my hair.”
He cleared his throat and went back to fiddling with the zipper. “I don’t want to make any promises.”
She sighed, and tried not to squirm under the onslaught of his inadvertent touches. He doesn’t mean to do this, she told herself. He’s not intending to stir you up.
But she was stirred up anyway, heat and heaviness pooling in her body. Her breasts felt swollen and the tips were hard. Ashley’s free hand gripped the edge of the granite countertop, and she hoped he didn’t notice her state.
“You looked very beautiful tonight,” he said.
Oh, how glad she was that he’d noticed that! Trying to play it cool, though, she lifted one shoulder. “Um, thanks. I’m usually in jeans and T-shirts, so this was outside my realm of experience. As a matter of fact, everything that’s happened since I met you has been outside my realm of experience.”
“I made you cry last night.”
“What?” She glanced at him in the mirror. His focus was still on her uncooperative dress.
“I’m sorry.”
“But...” She tried to rein in her thoughts. “Before the zipper predicament, I was going to come to you and thank you for last night.”
He looked up now, and their gazes caught in the glass. “You were sad.”
“Yes, at first. But telling you...it made me feel better. I haven’t had to say the words before, did you know that? News travels fast in Blue Arrow. So it made me feel better to know I could tell you. It was liberating.”
“Okay. That’s good. But I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
“Why not?” Ashley demanded. Then an unsettling thought occurred to her. “Was it a pity kiss?”
“Definitely not pity.” He grimaced. “I tried telling myself it was for comfort, but then...”
“Then it became very hot,” she whispered.
He nodded. “And it made you cry. I wanted to kick myself.”
“Oh, Chase.” She pressed her lips together because she felt like crying again. “I wasn’t sad anymore. Those tears...they were tears of joy.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“Of relief, too. I was gratified to know I could respond to another man. It proves to me that I’ve made it to the other side of grief.”
A strange expression crossed his face and his gaze zeroed in on her face. Because she still had one hand holding up the bodice of her dress, she could feel how that look made her heart pound. It thrummed against the center of her palm, and she pressed harder, hoping she could keep it inside her chest.
Chase cupped her shoulders and drew her back against him. She could feel his bare skin against her spine. His mouth touched her temple. “You know I want you.”
She wanted him, too. So much. And it was her year, right? Her year of... “Yes,” she told him.
His hands tightened on her. Then he turned her to face him. His eyes studied her face. “You said your husband was your one and only love.”
“He’s gone now.” She traced Chase’s lips with her fingertips. “And I don’t want him to be my one and only love.”
“Then he won’t be.”
Her mouth turned down. “I’m still stuck in this dress.”
“I managed to free your hair. The zipper’s all the way down,” Chase said. He touched the back of the hand still plastered to her chest. “Let go, Ashley.”
* * *
LET GO. CHASE watched Ashley mouth the words, then her hand drifted away, and the dress dropped.
Hot blood shot like fire through his veins.
“Ashley,” he groaned, his gaze roaming all over her bare, creamy skin. Under the dress, she’d worn nothing but a pair of tiny lace panties. It made him crazy, thinking all night that she’d been just a few feet away, nearly naked.
His hand lifted and he drew the backs of two fingers along the gentle slope of her shoulder. Her lashes drifted down, casting shadows on her pink-tinged cheeks. So lovely.
His knuckles traced the outer curve of one breast and she trembled, but stayed in place as the circle spiraled, spiraled. When he touched the hard knot of her upright nipple, she gasped.
“Shh,” he soothed, leaning down to press his mouth to her temple, her cheek, the shell of her ear. “You smell so good.” He’d wake in the morning with her scent on his skin, he thought. It would be a pleasure.
But before that, other pleasures.
His palm brushed her nipple, back and forth, as the other curved under her bottom to fit her closer to him. Lips trailing across her cheek, he went for another kiss. She opened for him immediately, and he tasted her deeply, his tongue moving forward in dominant surges.
Just like sex.
But then he slowed himself. Think of her, Bradley. If he’d understood her right, she’d had only one other man in her bed. Not that he cared about numbers. But he cared about Ashley, and if this was her first time being with someone in four years, he had to make it good. Great.
One of her arms wound around his neck and her other hand slid between them. Hell! He jerked into the touch, his body disconnecting from his mind.
“No,” he said against her mouth, and grabbed for her wrist.
“No?” She arched against him, and he felt her hard nipples against his chest like tiny brands.
“Okay, yes.” Yes, yes, yes. “But later.”
“What now?” She drew her bare heel up the back of his calf and thigh to twine his hip with her leg. On tiptoe, she pressed against the placket of his pants. The heat was scalding-good. “What can I do now?”
Chase closed his eyes, groaning again, and slid his hand downward to hold one silken cheek. Lust raced through him and he took her mouth again, plundering. She melted against him, compliant, a rose-scented treasure.
He had to do this right. Take it slow. Make it good.
Swinging her up in his arms, he reminded himself this was for her. All her.
She deserved a lover. A considerate lover. Not an animal that was driven by savage want. Chase was too controlled for that anyway. He used his brains, even in bed.
That was where he took Ashley.
Placing her on the downturned sheets, he studied the picture she made there, forcing his lungs to suck in oxygen and expel it again in a calming sequence. Her hair was spread on the pillow, and he didn’t let himself remember the fantasies he’d had of it. On the pillow, just like that, or the ends tickling his ribs, or of his face buried in it.
Okay, he was thinking of them.
But then she was moving, shimmying that little scrap of lace down her legs, and Chase couldn’t get the rest of his own clothes off quick enough. Then he pounced, and she giggled like a girl as he covered her. He grinned at the sound, struck by the carefree aspect of it. “You make me happy,” he said.
Then he froze. Where had that come from? She made him happy? He was supposed to be making her happy. Sex-happy. There was nothing here about happy-happy. Not the heart kind of happy.
Her fingers speared his hair and moved over his head, as if discovering its shape. “You make this easy.”
That sounded better.
Chase applied himself to making it even easier, with his lips, his tongue, his hands. She was warm as candle wax and as pliable. He turned her this way and that, finding the secret cove behind her knee, the dimples at the small of her back, the notch at her throat. When he flicked it with his tongue, she cried out, and he could tell she was close to the edge.
So he took her closer. Now he went for the obvious places—her breasts, her belly, the hot and tender skin of her inner thighs.
A wildness thrashed inside him. It wasn’t his way. But Ashley...she did something to him.
Oh, he didn’t turn rough or savage or anything like that. It was his pulse that turned riotous, his heart that pounded with unruly abandon in his chest. He took her mouth again, a messy kiss that had her clutching his shoulders and moaning. His hands roamed her body, intrepid travelers of a foreign land that wanted to map every hill and every valley. She opened for him, her arms flung wide, and he felt all his sophistication fracture, then fall.
