“My friends will laugh themselves silly,” Ashley said, not caring how harsh she sounded as she gathered her scattered clothes.
“Ash—”
“Just shut up, will you please? I find I desperately need to get dressed.” And as she did so she found she needed to revoke the permission she’d silently given him. “And don’t call me that. It’s Ashley to you.” Deep down she knew she would never forget how he’d whispered it in the darkness, or how he’d groaned it out when he’d gone rigid as he pulsed fiercely inside her. “Or perhaps we should go back to Ms. Hart.”
He went very still. She told herself she didn’t care. When she wobbled pulling her right boot on, she saw from the corner of her eye him moving to help and she waved him off. If he touched her again she was afraid she might lose her resolve. And wouldn’t the world just love to hear about the lofty Ashley Hart begging a man to...
She’d almost thought the words love her. And that made her angrier still. It wasn’t that she’d never begged before, she had. But she’d begged for her causes, for people to see reason, to listen to each other, to understand. But a man? No. Never. When Simon had left, she hadn’t asked him to reconsider, hadn’t even asked him to take her with him. So why could she picture herself begging this man all too well?
“Ashley,” he said, “please understand—”
She threw up a hand to stop him. “Oh, I do. I get it. It was...it was storm-induced madness and I was handy, right? Meaningless.”
He let out a short, harsh laugh. “Meaningless? Is that what you call something I’ll never ever forget? Something I’ll torture myself about for the rest of my life?”
She stopped with the other boot in her hand, straightened to stare at his shadowy shape. She hated that she couldn’t see his face clearly, his eyes. It was lighter than it had been even a couple of minutes ago, but his back was to it, casting his face in shadow.
“I’ve achieved greatness now, haven’t I?” She hated the way she sounded, the way the pain echoed beneath the sarcasm. “I’ve become someone’s greatest regret.” She yanked on the other boot, then straightened again. “There are some people, some I even know, who would pride themselves on that. I’ve never been one of them.”
She determinedly did not look at him as she tightened the laces and then tied them. She was aware he was getting dressed himself, and forced herself not to steal even a split-second glimpse. She didn’t need to. Every line of his powerful body was etched into her brain, probably permanently. And whatever her future held, if ever there was another man in it, she doubted very much if he would ever measure up to this one.
He finished dressing, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him reach for the weapon that she only now realized he’d put on the floor within reach last night. Ever the bodyguard.
Then he stood looking at her for a silent moment. “Ash,” he began, and his tone was full of so much regret it was the spark to her fury. If she were the type who resorted to physical violence, she would have slapped him. Hard.
“I told you not to call me that! You don’t have the right anymore.”
He went very still. And when, after a moment, he spoke, that cool, detached professional she’d first encountered in the hotel lobby was back. In force. “You’re right, Ms. Hart. I need to go topside and assess damage. Please stay here and—”
“I’m not staying down here, wondering.”
“I need to make sure there are no hazards, things that could fall—”
“The tornado hit some time ago.” And what should have been terrifying had turned out to be the sweetest moments of her life. But what she had wanted more and more of, he apparently didn’t want at all. Didn’t want her. She hated the way even her thoughts sounded whiny. Made herself focus. “Wouldn’t everything that’s going to fall have done so already?”
“There could still be things that could be dislodged and cause injury. I’ll take a quick look first.”
“And if you get killed by a falling chimney, what am I supposed to do?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.
“Just stay put,” he said, not even blinking at her snark about his possible death. “Elite will be out here soon if I don’t report in.”
He walked out into the main cellar. When she stepped out behind him, she saw that he was headed not for the stairway up into the house but the hatch, where the morning light was getting brighter. This had the effect of making it look as if he’d stepped into a spotlight. Her breath caught as the light poured down over his tall, lean body, reminding her too, too vividly of that body naked in her arms, against her skin, driving into her with sweet, luscious force, driving her upward to an explosion she thought would likely ruin her for any other man.
She shoved the very thought out of her mind as he started up the steps. “Why that way?” she asked and was pleased to hear she’d managed an almost matter-of-fact tone.
“Because I can at least see this is clear. There could be anything piled up against the inside door.”
Meaning the whole cabin could be in rubble. She felt a qualm at the thought of him losing this place that had clearly been a family refuge. The thought of that unique hammered-metal antique ceiling being scattered to the winds, lost forever, made her unaccountably sad. She had felt...not just safe here—and she knew that was more because of Ty than the place—but comfortable. At home. She liked the simplicity of it, the lack of flash and glamour and the focus on comfort and relaxing. She even had come to like—well, not like, but at least not mind—the being cut off part. It had taken her a while, but eventually she had stopped unconsciously reaching for her phone all the time. If nothing else, this had taught her just how truly addicted she was to the darn thing. She was going to have to work on that, when this was over.
Over.
If the cabin was gone, this part would certainly be over. She wondered what would happen next, but didn’t give it a great deal of thought. It occurred to her that Simon would have insisted they stay here in the cellar, where they had food, water and were relatively safe, until the authorities rescued them. But Ashley had spent a lot of time in parts of the world where there were no authorities interested in rescue and had learned you needed to at least try to help yourself. She knew perfectly well she’d be doing exactly what Ty was doing, in that case.
She didn’t dwell on that, either. She was too busy watching as Ty undid the rather aggressive-looking latches that held the hatch in place. The man was a pleasure to watch move, no matter what he was doing.
Right. And he regrets what he was doing with you last night. It was wrong, a mistake, it never should have happened. He couldn’t make it any clearer.
Some reasoning part of her, the part she seemed to have trouble hanging on to around him, understood. He was a professional, he had a job here, and that job did not include getting involved with...the subject. The client. Her. But neither of them had asked for this. And she, at least, had certainly never expected to react to the man the way she had. As if he’d been what she’d been waiting for her entire life. Even if that was how she felt, it would be crazy, suicidal even, to show that so soon. She’d known the man less than...ten days. What was that, a fraction of a single percent of the days of her life?
She gave her head a shake before her brain could dart down that rabbit hole. She watched as he swung the heavy hatch open, and more light poured in. It seemed the calm after the storm had arrived, and with it clear, or at least bright, skies. But she felt no relief, no joy of survival. Because as he started up and out, as she watched that long, lean, powerful body move, all she could think of was what else he’d said, and the wrenching tone in which he’d said it.
Meaningless? Is that what you call something I’ll never ever forget? Something I’ll torture myself about for the rest of my life?
“Well, Mr. Ty Colton,” she murmured when she knew he couldn’t hear, “I may just have to make sure you really do never ever forget.”