“Any reason not to use this?”
Ashley blinked. She’d been watching with fascination as Ty worked. He seemed at home in the kitchen—this one, at least—and it was a pleasure to watch. Of course, he was a pleasure to watch anyway, doing anything.
Except ordering you around, she reminded herself sternly. And, if she were honest, it also bothered her when he left the cabin periodically, with his usual cautions and reminders about how to contact Elite in case of emergency. He was doing regular reconnaissance, which reminded her of why she was here. Why that was upsetting, beyond the obvious, she didn’t want to think about.
What, you want to pretend you’re just off on a vacation with him?
But now he’d stopped in the middle of prepping what would apparently be a sauce for the fish, holding up a bottle of white wine. It took her a moment to realize he was asking if she had any problem with alcohol.
“Oh. No.” She wondered why he’d asked, if it was routine or if he suspected she had a problem. She did not. She almost had, when she’d been at college and it had been rampant, but she hated the aftermath so much she rarely drank more than a couple of drinks in an occasional evening.
She’d watched with interest as, after they’d cleaned, scaled and filleted the fish, he’d shown her the reddish flesh along one edge. “That’s what gives it the taste some people don’t like,” he’d explained, and trimmed it away.
Now he poured about a cup of the wine into the pan and raised the heat. He’d sautéed the salted and floured fish in the skillet and then covered it while he peeled and cut up garlic and a lemon, half of which he squeezed for juice, the other half he cut into thin slices. He didn’t consult a recipe, so he’d clearly done this before.
“Have to settle for dry oregano, since it wasn’t on the stocking list,” he said, as he added butter to the pan, then the seasonings.
“It already smells wonderful,” she said.
And when she took her first bite, her eyes widened. “Oh. My, that’s good.”
“Must you sound so surprised?”
It was such a perfect imitation of her own intonation earlier that she nearly burst out laughing. “Touché,” she said, and took another bite. The flavors were an amazing blend, and the fish light and flaky. “Except for my mom’s swordfish, this may be the best fish dinner I’ve ever eaten.”
“Considering where you’ve likely eaten, I’ll take that as a great compliment.” Then, with a warm smile, as if he’d liked that she’d given her mother the exception, he added, “And I’m sure your mother’s swordfish is amazing.”
“You—” She cut herself off in more than a little shock when she’d been about to say, You’ll have to try it sometime. She never ever broached that subject with a man. Never brought up the possibility of taking him home to meet them. It was part of her vetting process. If a guy asked to meet her parents within the first three months, she knew he was after something.
But that was a guy she was dating. Not a guy her parents had hired to protect her.
“She loves to cook,” she said instead, rather inanely. “I think she looks forward to their cook’s vacation more than he does.”
She was watching his face to see if he reacted to the fact that her parents had a full-time chef. He didn’t. Normally she would have thought he’d developed an excellent poker face for his work, but she’d seen him surprised—and annoyed.
The real question was, if he did have that poker face, why was he letting her see that surprise, that annoyance...that humor? He wasn’t at all the stiff-lipped sort she was used to on her parents’ security staff. Yet he seemed no less trained, and certainly no less capable. Perhaps the more personable, more human approach was part of his style, to put clients at ease.
That he was always on the job was pounded home when, after the kitchen was cleaned up in a quick joint effort and he’d started a fire in the fireplace, he left again, this time stepping out into the fading light of dusk. She wondered if he really expected to find something—or someone—or if it was just part of the routine. Part of being thorough.
When she heard him coming back, she quickly sat down near the crackling fire, so he wouldn’t come in and notice she’d been pacing the floor the entire time he’d been gone.
“Ever thought about a guard dog?” she asked when he came in.
“Often,” he said as he shed his jacket. She looked away from the weapon on his belt. She wasn’t repelled, it was a tool of his trade, nothing more, but once again it reminded her of why they were here. Why they were together at all. “My boss is thinking of adding one or two to the staff.”
“My parents have a pair at home. They’re wonderful.”
He walked over and laid another log on the fire, then sat in the chair opposite her nearest the hearth, probably for the warmth after his trek outside. “What are they?”
She quashed the silly wish that he would have sat next to her on the couch and answered evenly, “Malinois.”
He nodded. “Good dogs. Smart, strong, quick and if need be, lethal.”
“You forgot beautiful and intense.”
He smiled. “That, too.”
“It always amazes me how they can go from playing to on duty in a split second.” Kind of like you.
She inwardly rolled her eyes at herself as she compared him to a dog. Then again, every adjective they’d applied to the animals applied to him, too. And she didn’t know which unsettled her more, the lethal if need be part or the beautiful part.
Of course, what unsettled her most was the thought that the lethality might be necessary. She wasn’t used to walking around worrying about everything around her, watching constantly for anything out of the ordinary, looking for threats. And she didn’t like it. But she also knew the fact that nothing had happened was no guarantee nothing would. There were times when, as much as she had come to like this place, she understood that isolation wasn’t always a good thing. Because the only targets out walking around were her, and Ty.
“What’s Wichita like?” she asked abruptly, before she said something seriously stupid.
“Biggest city in the state. Started as a trading post on the Chisolm Trail. Incorporated in 1870. Nicknamed Cowtown, and Wyatt Earp was the law there for a while.”
She blinked at the four-sentence history lesson. “Wow.”
“But now,” he went on, stretching out those long strong legs, “it’s the Air Capital of the World.”
“Air capital?”
“Beechcraft, Cessna, Stearman all started production there in the early days. Learjet, Airbus and a few others followed.”
“I had no idea.” She studied him for a moment. “I suppose that doesn’t surprise you.”
He shrugged. “I only know it because I live there, and was born in Kansas. Ask me about, say, Cleveland, which is about the same size, and all I’d know is it’s on Lake Erie and home of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame.”
“More than some would,” she said with a smile.
For a brief moment, he stared at her, and she wondered why. Then she saw a muscle in his jaw jump and he looked away, into the fire.
Into the fire.
She’d heard the phrase countless times, in various contexts. But at this moment, sitting here with him, so close and yet so distant, she could only think of one. She’d been raised to have the courage of her convictions, but also to be beyond cautious about people who would mask their true goals behind a facade of friendship or caring. She’d been burned more than once, but she’d learned. Every time she’d learned, become even more cautious, until her walls were high and solid.
Yet here she was now, part of her wanting to leap right into the fire she sensed between them, the fire hotter even than the one he was staring into. She’d been attracted to men before, but she rarely allowed it to take root because so many times it went sour, or she found out they’d had a plan all along, that usually involved access to Hart money.
It had never been as powerful as this. So powerful all her usual walls and defenses seemed useless. All her self-lecturing, all her telling herself it was the circumstances, the imposed isolation that was causing these feelings were failing miserably.
“What was it like, growing up an only child?”
She gave a start, both because of the abrupt and unexpected question and because his voice had sounded just like hers had when she’d asked about Wichita to keep herself from saying something she’d regret. It took her a moment to formulate a reply, which in itself felt odd. She usually had quick answers to almost everything. This man truly did discombobulate her.
“Good and bad,” she finally said. “Good because you got all the attention, bad because you got all the attention.”
He smiled at that, and the odd tension eased a little. “I get that. Being one of six gave me a lot of cover.”
“It was hard,” she confessed, “being the sole focus of all their hopes and expectations. At least, until I realized that their biggest hope trumped all the rest.”
“Which was?”
“For me to be happy.” She was a little stunned. She almost never talked about that with anyone.
He looked at her steadily then, one corner of his mouth curving upward. “Consider another assumption blasted. Your parents sound great.”
“They are.” That, at least, she could say with full faith and force.
“And they must be incredibly proud of you.”
“They are,” she repeated. “Even if this isn’t the path they would have chosen.”
His mouth quirked higher. “I know that feeling. But my old man wasn’t as understanding. Which may be why none of us went into the family business.”
Her mouth quirked in turn. “Our family business seems to be being the Harts of Westport.”
He laughed, and Ashley felt that quick jolt of pleasure yet again.
If this kept up, she wasn’t going to have any guardrails left.
Ty wasn’t sure what he’d expected. He didn’t really think she had exaggerated her skill, but he was having trouble reconciling his image of Ashley Hart, heiress, with the woman he was watching now. The woman who was consistently hitting the blocks of wood he was tossing, no matter what direction or height he threw them.
The sound of the shotgun echoed through the bare trees, and he could only imagine every living creature within a mile taking cover. They didn’t hunt much out here, but the sheer volume alone would send him running to hide if he were, say, one of those little prairie dogs.
He waited while she reloaded. Then she nodded, and he started tossing again. And as before, she didn’t miss. In fact, the only time she’d missed at all was in the beginning, when a bird had broken for cover just as he tossed the second block. She’d yanked the shotgun off target, he guessed, to be sure she didn’t hit the bird by accident.
He had a sudden vision of an eight-year-old Ashley fearlessly confronting her father, demanding he stop hunting living birds. He could just see her looking at him, the pain of what he was doing reflected in those deep brown eyes. And he wondered how many people around the world would never believe that Andrew Hart, head of the global Hart empire, would give in. To a little girl, even if she was his daughter and his only child.
He believed it. Because he already knew that when determined, Ashley Hart could be a nearly unstoppable force.
He also knew, with wry acceptance, that his own father would never give in like that, unless it was something he wanted to do anyway.
This time when she had emptied the weapon, she stopped, took out the ear protection he’d retrieved from the locker in the SUV and turned to look at him.
“You’re as good as you said you were,” he said, figuring she’d earned it.
She smiled so widely it made his chest tighten a little. “Your turn,” she said.
He laughed. “Not my thing.”
“Do you hunt?”
“Not much anymore, unless there’s another reason.”
Her brow furrowed. “Like what?”
“Renegade coyote. Rabid skunk. That kind of thing.”
“Oh.” She looked down at the Mossberg, then back at him. “Not birds?”
He gave her a rather sheepish look. “Nah. I like them too much. So I’m a hypocrite who eats them, but I don’t want to be part of the process.”
To his surprise, she smiled. “I’m afraid I’m with you on that. You sure you don’t want to try?”
“I’d embarrass myself.”
“I could teach you.”
His entire perception shifted in that moment. An image formed in his mind of Ashley standing close behind him as she showed him how to aim, to fire...things he already knew but had never done in this particular exercise.
And he knew from his own instant, fierce response to just that imaginary vision that the answer had to be no.
And he spent a good portion of the hours of darkness regretting that.
“Why do I get the feeling you didn’t call just to say hello?”
Ty grinned despite the fact that his brother Neil couldn’t see him over the old landline. “Come on, what’s the good of having a high-power attorney for a brother if he can’t give you a little helpful advice now and then?”
“You know what I make per hour to dispense helpful advice?”
“You want to charge the brother who saved you from drowning when you were five?”
“Yeah, yeah. One of these days I’m going to call that paid back.”
“I’ll consider it a big installment if you can tell me how we can put this jerk who’s after Ashley away for a long time.”
There was a split-second pause before Neil said, “Ashley?”
Uh-oh. He knew instantly that he should have kept it professional, referred to her simply as a client or protectee. Neil was just too damned good at reading people, even if he only had a voice to work with. He scrambled to cover.
“We decided it would be wiser not to throw around that particular last name,” he said.
“Hmm.” The non-word fairly echoed with his brother’s lack of acceptance of the excuse. But to Ty’s relief, he let it go. “You do realize I’m not a prosecutor?”
“Please. Who would know better how to destroy the perfect defense than the guy who builds them?”
That got him a laugh. “Are you sure it’s who you thought it was?”
“It’s not confirmed,” Ty had to admit. “He’s been lying low since we pulled her off stage.” He’d talked to Mitch early this morning, before Ashley had come downstairs. Wearing that damned silky-looking robe thing that made her look like some forties movie star or something. And he’d waited until she’d gone back upstairs to dress to call Neil, denying even to himself it was so he wouldn’t think about that sleek fabric sliding off her sleek body.
“Maybe he thinks he won when she went quiet.”
“Maybe. But she won’t stay quiet, so we need to be ready.”
“Stubborn, huh?”
“Determined. And dedicated.”
“Was that actual admiration I heard in my hard-to-impress big brother’s voice?”
He opened his mouth to refute it, but the words wouldn’t come. “She’s...not what I expected.”
“And I gather in a good way? Sounds like it’s getting personal, bro.”
No. It can’t. I’m not that stupid. Am I?
“Can we dispense with the analysis and get to an answer?”
“All I can say is that where it stands right now, if it is him, at most he’d likely get off with a fine and probation. He’s done nothing but mouth off, so far.”
“So far,” Ty said grimly. “If he gets angry enough, he could follow through and come after her physically.”
“If he does, you’ll keep her safe,” Neil said, with such certainty that Ty couldn’t help but feel warmed by his brother’s faith.
“Yeah,” he said. “I will.”
And it was a vow to her as much as to himself. He would keep her safe. The world needed more Ashley Harts, not less.