Ashley was glad he was a half step behind her. She was having trouble keeping her expression even as she analyzed two very unsettling facts. No, three. One, he was entirely too attractive for her to maintain her usual buffer with men she was forced by circumstance to be around. Two, her heart had nearly stopped when he’d smiled. And three, when she’d made him laugh, she’d felt a rush of pleasure that had completely startled and disconcerted her.
Maybe it was just because he had a great laugh. It had the same rough edge as his voice did, which somehow made it even more special. And he’d looked surprised, as if it had been a long time since he’d laughed.
My father’s company is...in kind of a mess at the moment. It’s kind of the main topic around here lately.
It seemed there was reason for him not to laugh easily just now. She made a mental note to do a little research on that, too. Only in the interest of knowing whom she was dealing with, of course. And because she felt a bit foolish in assuming that since he was a Colton, and related, even distantly, to that branch of the family, that the presidential connection would be front and center.
His vehicle was a black SUV of the sort her parents—and probably that presidential branch of his family—often used when attending official functions. He stopped to talk with the valet, and Ashley thought she heard the words, “No one went anywhere near it, Ty.” She knew she hadn’t mistaken the admiring look the young woman gave him. Understandable.
When he gave her the option of front seat or back, she gave him a sideways look, wondering if he expected her to assume she’d be driven around as if he were a glorified chauffeur.
“Back windows are tinted dark enough that you wouldn’t be seen.”
She raised a brow at him. “Are you saying a threat is imminent and I should hide myself?”
“Not yet, although that may change. And if it does, you’ll need to follow orders without question.”
She gave him a slightly sour look. “I’ve never done that very well.”
“So your father said.”
“Did he?” She’d have a word with Dad when she got back home. The last thing she wanted or needed was him spreading the idea she was hard to deal with, which was how that would be interpreted by many. Her goals depended on cooperation, which was hard enough to get. Starting with a distorted perception of herself made it that much harder.
Without addressing his follow-orders comment, she merely said, “I’ll sit in front, then.” She smiled at him, again too sweetly. “Until I’m ordered otherwise, that is.”
“Up to you,” was all he said. He opened the door for her, but since it was his vehicle and he was standing there anyway, she didn’t quibble.
“What if I wanted to drive?” she asked once they were inside the car, as much out of curiosity as out of an uncharacteristic need to prod this man.
“Sure. Just show me your defensive and tactical driving certificates and it’s all yours. Seat belt,” he added.
She frowned as she reached for the belt and fastened it. “Tactical driving? Is that like offensive driving?” She knew what that meant. Her parents’ actual chauffeur, Charlie Drake, had explained it to her a decade ago. She’d just passed her first defensive driving test, at the behest of her father, and joked that she was now ready to learn offensive driving, being completely unaware there really was such a thing until Charlie explained it.
“It’s more specific.”
“Like?”
“Threat assessment. Motorcade tactics. Attack recognition and avoidance. Escape and evasion. High speed in reverse. PIT and counter PIT maneuvers. TVI, if you prefer. Want me to go on?”
Her brow furrowed as she dug for a memory. “PIT...pursuit intervention technique. I’ve read that. But not TVI.”
He’d been reaching to start the vehicle, but now drew back slightly and turned to look at her. “Tactical vehicle intervention. Almost the same thing, with a little more flourish and some different approaches.”
She nodded. “I’ll remember.”
“Why?” He looked genuinely curious at her interest.
“Because I always do,” she said simply.
She could almost feel his interest sharpen. “Always?”
“Pretty much. Sometimes it takes longer to call it up, but it’s almost always there.”
“Just verbal or images, too?”
Definitely interest, Ashley thought, as she studied him in turn. “Both. And to a certain extent, video.”
“So if you’ve seen someone before, you’ll remember them later?”
If you mean you, then yes, I’ll remember you. Probably a lot longer and more clearly than I’d like to. Then again...
“Ms. Hart?”
She snapped out of the uncharacteristic meandering of her mind into odd places. Belatedly remembered who—or rather, what—this man was. A bodyguard. Of course, he’d be interested in her ability to remember people she’d seen or met. And no doubt would care less if she remembered him. This was a job to him, and if she were guessing right—and she was fairly sure she was, from a couple of his comments—one he wasn’t really happy about.
“Yes, I remember people. Places I’ve seen. Things I’ve seen done.”
“Accurately?”
“Quite.”
He gave her a slow nod. “Good to know.”
Watching as he finally started the car, she could almost see him filing that bit of knowledge away, as if it were something he might need to reference later. Or in the manner of a man who wanted to know all the tools at hand.
She was seized with an uncharacteristic attack of nerves as the silence spun out in the car. He drove, as she’d expected, with a quiet competence. And smoothness. She had a tendency toward motion sickness when not driving herself, another reason she’d chosen the front seat. But she had the feeling she could probably read a book with him at the wheel, he was that smooth.
“You’d be a great chauffeur,” she said before she thought. She wondered if he’d take offense.
“A connoisseur of chauffeurs, are you?”
“Not by choice.” She now felt compelled to explain. “I tend to get queasy as a passenger.” He gave her a slightly alarmed look, as if he were wondering if she was about to demonstrate here in his car. “I’m fine,” she added hastily, wondering how on earth he was able to rattle her when she was usually the queen of keeping her cool, as her best friend Kate said. “You’re very smooth.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She nearly gaped at him. But then she caught the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth she could see. And suddenly she was laughing. And relaxed.
“I love this library,” she said, feeling better now. “I had my meeting there yesterday. It’s just beautiful. They remodeled it a few years back. There are stained glass windows that are a wonderful touch. I want to get a closer look at them. I didn’t have time yesterday.”
He didn’t answer until they were pulling into the parking area of the long, low white building. He parked, shut off the motor and turned to look at her.
“So this is a...personal visit? We’re not walking into some kind of protest rally?”
She laughed, gestured at the nearly empty lot. “Does this look like a rally to you? Let alone a protest?”
“Just checking. I saw video of that group out in Inman.”
“I actually had nothing to do with that.”
“Except to stir them up.”
Her laughing mood vanished. “If you followed my media feeds, you’d know I repudiated what they did. It was far too early for that kind of response.”
“Seems like they went off the moment your name was attached to the wetlands issue.”
“I can’t help that.”
“Like I said, you stir them up. That’s what activists do.”
“I’m not an activist, I’m an advocate.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
She was frowning now, feeling a bit beleaguered. “Is that all you think I do?”
“Isn’t it?”
“If any of the causes I espouse devolve into screaming protests, it’s only after I have spent considerable time and effort under the radar to avoid it. I meet, negotiate, offer solutions, work toward compromise long before I ever turn to garnering public support and protest. That is my utter last resort. And I consider it a failure on my part.”
She’d had to explain herself and her approach often before, but she usually managed it without the irritation even she could hear snapping in her voice. Something about this particular man truly set her off. With an effort, she got control of emotions she didn’t usually have to rein in, and set herself to what she called her pleasant chat mode. She was not going to let this man divert her. He was doing a job and to keep her father from ordering her straight back home, which would mean she would have to defy him to get her goals accomplished, thereby causing more tension at home, she had to let him do it. So she would, and otherwise she would ignore the guy.
Too bad he was also the sexiest guy she’d come across in a very long time.