by Lisa Jackson
After Trevor took the glass and swallowed some of the bourbon, Everett continued with his never-ending advice. “Now, whatever you do, try to forget about the accident and the scandal. Avoid the press at all costs until some of the noise dies down.
“Don’t go spouting off about your car being sabotaged or you’ll end up on the front page of the Morning Surveyor all over again. The last time was bad enough. Publicity from that rag, we don’t need.” Everett took a calming sip of liquor. He was somewhat satisfied that he had finally gotten through to Trevor, though it had taken a hell of a lot of talking. Trevor Daniels had a good chance of winning the primary in May, not to mention the election in November, if he didn’t blow it by letting his hot temper control him. It was Everett’s job to protect and mollify the would-be senator. That task might prove difficult if Trevor was hell-bent on seeing Ashley Stephens again.
Trevor set his empty glass on the bureau. He had tossed the campaign manager’s words over in his mind, but despite Everett’s warnings, the gleam of determination resurfaced in Trevor’s hard gaze. Trevor wasn’t the kind of man to take things lying down, and never had been. His roguish charm and country-boy smile had won him many votes in the past, but it was his fierce determination that had brought him to the forefront of the political race for senator. Everett Woodward knew it as well as anyone. No amount of logic or smooth talk from Everett would change Trevor’s mind once it was set.
“I want you to cancel all of my appointments for the next couple of days,” Trevor said.
Everett sighed audibly. “Why?”
“I’m taking a little time off.”
“Now?” Everett rose from the chair and eyed his employer suspiciously. “But you can’t, Trevor. Not now. It’s just not possible.”
“Anything’s possible. You’re the one who gave me that advice when I first considered running.”
“Exactly why you can’t take a vacation now. Your schedule’s a mess as it is. All that time you were recuperating—”
“From the accident,” Trevor interjected. Everett opened his mouth to argue, but thought better of it. He knew just how far to push Trevor Daniels, and when to stop. “Think of my leave of absence as following doctor’s orders for rest, if it will make you feel better,” Trevor suggested.
“Is that what you want me to tell the press?”
The skin tightened over Trevor’s cheekbones. “I don’t give a damn what you tell them. Say whatever you want.”
“You’re not being very reasonable about this,” Everett cautioned.
“That’s because I don’t feel very reasonable at the moment.” Trevor hoisted the canvas bag off the bed and slung his jacket over his shoulder before turning toward the door.
“So, where are you going?”
“Away . . . alone.”
“Alone?” Trevor’s remark sounded dangerous to Everett and very much like the lie it was. Everett hesitated only slightly before playing his trump card. “I just hope you use your head, Daniels. And I hope that you’re not going out on some personal vendetta against Stephens Timber Corporation. That wouldn’t be wise—politically or personally.”
Trevor’s hand paused over the doorknob. He turned to face his concerned friend. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that Ashley Stephens can’t help you now,” Everett said kindly. He noticed the stiffening of Trevor’s spine and the sudden chilling of his gaze.
“Her name isn’t Stephens anymore,” Trevor stated. The tanned skin strained over Trevor’s rugged features.
“But you and I both know that she and Richard Jennings were divorced several years ago. We also know that she owns the majority interest in Stephens Timber. Claud could be replaced in a minute, if Ashley decided to let him go.”
The curse on Trevor’s tongue was restrained. “You’ve done your homework,” he observed, his voice cold.
Everett rubbed the tension from the back of his neck. “You pay me for that, too. Look, Trevor, I don’t want to step out of line. What you do with your personal life is your business. I’m only worried when it begins to affect your career.”
“So what are you suggesting?”
Genuine concern registered in the younger man’s gaze. “Just be careful. Don’t do anything, or get involved with anyone if you think there’s a chance you might regret it later.”
Trevor’s voice was calm. “I’m not about to forget what’s important in my life, if that’s what you mean.”
“The right woman sometimes can change a man’s way of thinking.”
Trevor frowned and turned the doorknob. “Then we really don’t have much of a problem, do we? I think that you and I both agree that Ashley Jennings is definitely not ‘the right woman.’”
With his final angry statement, Trevor jerked open the door and left his campaign manager to contemplate the half-empty bottle of bourbon.
Chapter Three
Ashley squinted into the darkness, watching warily as the snow piled around the edges of her windshield wipers. The mountain storm had come without warning and caught her off guard.
She had come to her father’s Cascade Mountain retreat seeking solace. More than anything right now, she needed time alone to think things out. Now that her teaching obligations at the college had been fulfilled, she would be able to devote all of her energy to the timber company.
For the past week she had been in Portland, trying to sort through the books of Stephens Timber Corporation. As each day had passed it had become increasingly clear that Ashley couldn’t trust her cousin Claud as far as she could throw him. There was little doubt in her mind that she would have to give him his walking papers as soon as she returned to Portland.
Armed with her briefcase full of financial reports concerning the operation of the vast timber empire, Ashley had spent the last two nights at the cabin poring over the accountant’s figures concerning profit and loss, assets and liabilities and projected timber sales for the next two years.
Earlier in the afternoon she had pushed the neat computer printouts aside and decided to make a quick trip into Bend to replenish her dwindling grocery supply. On the way back to the cabin, the wind had picked up and within minutes powdery snow was falling from the heavens in a near-blizzard. The main highway was still clear, but the side roads, which already had an accumulation of snow, were quickly becoming impassable.
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel and her thoughts wandered precariously to Trevor. In the short time since his accident, it seemed that there was no escaping him.
His engaging, slightly off-center smile had been photographed repeatedly and his rugged face had become incredibly newsworthy. Even last summer’s scandal concerning alleged bribery charges hadn’t tarnished his reputation; he was still considered by the local papers to have a lead in the primary election. Right now, Trevor Daniels was Oregon’s favorite son, or soon would be, if the latest polls proved accurate.
According to Claud, Trevor’s senatorial bid was sure to be a disaster for the company. Ashley disagreed. Trevor Daniels was too shrewd a politician to let personal rivalry interfere with his campaign. Besides which, Ashley was convinced that she couldn’t trust Claud or his motives. What she had once considered a slight grudge against her because of Lazarus’s will, Ashley now realized was a very deep flaw in Claud’s character. For a fleeting moment she wondered if Trevor’s accusations, which she had previously considered unlikely and vindictive, might be true.
Shifting gears as the Jeep started to climb the rugged terrain, Ashley thought about the events leading up to Trevor’s sudden prominence and fame. Senator Higgins’s fatal heart attack had left a vacant seat in Washington, D.C., and public opinion seemed to think that Trevor would be elected to fill the void.
Well, at least he got what he wanted, Ashley chided herself, feeling a trace of the old bitterness return. That’s a lot more than you can say for yourself.
The tires slid on the snow-packed mountain road before holding the vehi
cle steady on the slippery gravel. “Just a little farther,” Ashley coaxed.
Slowly she turned the steering wheel toward the narrow lane angling up the steep hillside. She frowned as she noticed ruts in the newly fallen snow. There were only two other pieces of property bordering hers and the mountain retreats that occupied those adjacent parcels were used for summer homes. Or at least they had been.
But this was her first visit to the cabin in several years. Perhaps the neighboring houses were being used over the Christmas holidays. She found the thought that she wasn’t completely alone in the remote section of the mountains comforting. Though she had come seeking solitude, she now appreciated the knowledge that there was someone nearby in case the storm became more violent.
Once again Ashley’s thoughts turned to Trevor and his recent accident. Though it had occurred only a week ago, she still couldn’t forget about it and found herself wondering how he was doing. Her telephone calls to the hospital had never been returned and when she had tried to see him again, she had been thwarted by a determined security guard. Ashley got the message: Trevor didn’t want to see her.
She couldn’t blame him. For all practical purposes, she owned Stephens Timber Corporation, a corporation that in the past had represented everything in the timber industry Trevor opposed. Though she was forcing changes within the company it would still be a long time before some of the old techniques could be abandoned for safer, more environmentally sound modes of timber harvest.
“You’re a fool,” she admonished, and caught her lower lip with her teeth. She tried to concentrate while crossing the remaining distance to the cabin, but couldn’t help hoping that Trevor had recovered from the injuries he’d sustained in the accident. How had the accident affected his career—his damned career? Were his eyes still as incredibly blue and erotic as they once had been?
“Damn it, Ashley,” she swore, her knuckles whitening over the steering wheel, “why can’t you forget that man? He never loved you—he just used you. . . .”
* * *
The pain in his side hadn’t subsided. With each passing minute it throbbed more sharply, growing until a dull headache pounded mercilessly behind his eyes. Trevor had overexerted himself and he was paying dearly for it. The long drive had fatigued him and set his nerves on edge. Just the thought of seeing Ashley again disturbed him more than he would like to admit.
After fumbling in the pocket of his jeans he extracted a small vial of pills. He was chilled to the bone and the raw ache under his shirt throbbed mercilessly. Disgusted with himself and seeing the prescribed medication as a sign of weakness, he dropped the small brown bottle on the table and ignored it.
“Damn it!” Trevor cursed to himself as he reached for his neglected glass of Scotch. The liquor was warm and did little to relieve the dull ache in his abdomen.
Though his muscles were cramped from the cold, he could feel the warm trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck. He absently rubbed his forehead and wondered how much longer he would have to wait for Ashley to return. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. Presently, the liquor started to take effect. The ache in his head was beginning to subside and the razor-sharp edge of his mind dulled slightly, sacrificed for the freedom from pain. He sat rigidly in the leather chair, his wet jeans clinging stiffly to his legs, while he sipped the remains of his distasteful drink.
The rumble of an approaching vehicle’s engine caught his attention. Headlights flashed against the far wall, illuminating the rustic room. It was a place Trevor remembered well, a room where he had spent many lazy afternoons in years past. It was the very spot where he had first felt Ashley’s trembling surrender. It had been early spring. They had run into the cabin to escape the sudden shower. He could still smell the fresh, damp scent of her black hair, taste the raindrops that had run down her cheeks. It seemed like a lifetime ago. How long had it been? Seven years? Eight? His mind was too cloudy to recall and it really didn’t matter. He didn’t give a damn about Ashley . . . at least not anymore.
The engine was killed and a car door slammed. Trevor had to force himself to remain patient. All of his senses were alert, his raw nerves stretched paper-thin. It had taken the better part of three days to track Ashley down and when he had finally found her, he had been pleased in a perverse sort of way. He found it ironic that Ashley had chosen to return to the cabin. It seemed to justify his reason for being here.
The key turned in the lock. Trevor heard the sound of cold metal resisting intrusion. Though he sat in another room, he could clearly see the entrance of the cabin from his vantage point in the darkness.
As the door was pushed open, Trevor narrowed his eyes. It was too dark to see clearly, but Trevor quickly determined that the small form brushing snow off her jacket and stamping her boots on the hall carpet was Ashley. As he watched her voyeuristically, the sour taste of deception rose in his throat.
He had hoped that he would feel loathing when he saw her again, but the contempt he had cultivated had refused to grow. His fingers tensed around the arm of the chair when her gaze swept past the door of the den. She pulled off her stocking cap and let her long, dark hair tumble free. Trevor’s lips compressed into an unforgiving line of disgust; she was more beautiful than he had remembered.
* * *
Ashley hesitated a moment, thinking that the cabin felt different somehow, and then with a frown shrugged off the disturbing feeling and set the bag of groceries on an antique sideboard while she removed her boots and jacket. After hanging the ski jacket on the curved arm of the hall tree, she picked up the groceries, walked into the kitchen and put on a pot of tea as she replenished her cupboards.
The teapot had just begun to whistle when an unexpected noise made her heart miss a beat. “Ashley.” The sound of her name made her gasp. It came from a male voice that was darkly familiar. She rotated quickly to confront the intruder.
The man was standing in the doorway to the den. “Oh my God,” Ashley whispered, barely believing the apparition. Her eyes were captured in the shadowy depths of his blue gaze.
“Ashley,” he repeated slowly, as if he knew how much of a shock he had imposed upon her. His voice caught on her name and it carried her backward to a past in which she had shared her life, her love with him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said softly.
Her throat was suddenly desert-dry, and she felt the sting of wistful tears burn against her eyelids. Her step forward was hesitant, as if she expected him to vanish as quickly as he had appeared. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Her voice was a muted whisper and her sea-green eyes were filled with a thousand questions spanning eight years.
“I hope I didn’t startle you,” he stated. “I . . . wanted to make sure that you were alone.”
Though her smile was fragile, her round eyes never wavered. “Why are you here, Trevor?” she asked, finding her voice. “Why now?” All of Claud’s warnings caused a painful wrenching of her heart.
The small light of defiance in her gaze bothered him. He felt the need to apologize but ignored it. He had planned this night for nearly two weeks and had never once considered that he might feel compelled to explain himself to her. His lips thinned as he reminded himself that she was the one who had to account for what was happening to him. His blue eyes held her transfixed.
“I got your message at the hospital.”
“But you didn’t call.”
“I wanted to see you in person—”
“I came by the hospital.”
“—alone.”
Ashley’s heart missed a beat but she forced herself to appear calm. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—let Trevor use her again. If he was here, it was for a reason, and she couldn’t delude herself into thinking that it was just to be with her once more.
Trevor frowned at his own admission. “I thought it would be better for everyone concerned if we talked in private.” He seemed sincere. But then, he had once before. She
felt the old bitterness return.
“Are you sure that would be wise, Senator? What if your constituents found out that you were talking to the owner of Stephens Timber Corporation? Wouldn’t that ruin your credibility?”
For a breathless instant anger sparked in his eyes. “We can start this by going for each other’s throats, Ashley, but I don’t think that would accomplish much, do you?”
“I suppose not.” She walked past him and flipped the switch on a brass table lamp. The room was instantly illuminated in a bath of dim light. Ashley’s smile trembled as she looked at him. Trevor appeared to have aged five years in the past month. Yet he was still the most intriguing man she had ever met. His cold blue eyes were just as enigmatic as she remembered.
It took a few moments for the shock of seeing him again to wear off. “I’m having a little trouble understanding why you’re here,” she stated, still trying to hold on to her shattered poise. It was obvious that he had been sitting in the leather chair near the fire. Ashley took a seat on the edge of an overstuffed couch and tucked one foot beneath her. The fabric of her jeans stretched over her leg muscles, and Trevor was forced to shift his gaze back to the concerned expression on her elegant face.
It was still unlined, a perfect oval of alabaster skin with large, even features, lofty cheekbones and a sparkle of innocence that danced in her eyes when she laughed. Tonight her eyes were sober and suspicious. Her skin was flushed slightly from the cold, and her dark, finely arched brows drew downward in concentration as she tried to understand the man who was silently regarding her.
“Okay, Trevor, I’m sitting down and I think I’m about as calm as I’m going to get,” she said.
“Good.” His gaze was stony and cold.
Ashley had always had a powerful effect on him in the past and time hadn’t made Trevor immune to the seductive curve of her chin or the trace of sadness in her wistful smile. Trevor had to force himself to remember the reason for coming to the lonely cabin in the remote stretch of mountains. It would be damnably easy to forget the rest of the world tonight. All too easily Ashley could entrance him and he would fall victim to the subtle allure of her slow smile.
