“Hardly an ocean. More like a lake. A small one, at that. Honestly, it’s not that big a deal.”
He saw the hesitation that crossed her face, just before she hid it behind her coffee mug. “What?” he demanded.
“Actually, we’ve had an offer. We’re going into syndication. That’s what Mitch and I have been meeting over so much lately, discussing the offer.”
“When will this take place?”
“We’ll sign contracts within the next few weeks, then start taping, but the shows won’t air until the new fall schedule starts.”
“At least that’s something,” he muttered. “Good Lord, Ashli, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this.”
“It never occurred to me.”
He shook his head in disbelief. “I still can’t decide if you are for real.”
She stiffened. “I think I may hear an insult in there somewhere.”
“Hardly an insult.”
“Then what are you talking about? It’s too early in the morning for riddles. And I’m only on my second cup of coffee.”
“I can’t decide if you are only pretending to be this modest, or if you really don’t have a clue. Here you are, a gorgeous woman, sexy as hell with your knock out body and your husky little whispery voice, with your own business and your own television show, but you act like you can’t imagine a man being obsessed with you. You didn’t even demand special attention because you’re some hotshot celebrity. Hell, yeah, I wonder if you’re for real or not.”
“It’s not the first time I’ve been called clueless,” she sighed. “And I’m no hotshot celebrity. I stand in front of a camera and do what I love best, cooking. I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you about it, but honestly, it’s not that big a deal.”
“It didn’t occur to you that your stalker might be one of your viewers?”
Ashli looked truly surprised.
“I take that look as a no,” he said dryly.
She shrugged. Somewhere along the way her robe had fallen free, exposing the little camisole top she wore with the flannel pants. He tried hard to keep his eyes above its intriguing lace edge as she admitted, “I still tend to think of most of our viewers as middle aged housewives, even though demographic studies prove that’s not true. With digital recorders and the internet, I know afternoon television ‘isn’t just for the afternoon’.” She said the last with a flourish, then explained with a wry smile, “One of our advertising campaigns. The one before the bus escapades.”
“Have you mentioned your stalker to the television station?”
“I’ve told Mitch. He says there’s really nothing the station can do, unless the person makes themself visible, and then only if they clearly identify a threat to the station or their entities, in this case being myself.” She used her best rote voice. “They can offer legal counsel if I ever wish to press charges, but at this point . . . ” She left her sentence hanging, much as her life seemed to be doing these days.
“I take it that was Jason Madison in the hallway.”
“Yes. Ugh. Did you see that smirk on his face? You know good and well what he was thinking. I have a feeling I’ll hear plenty more about it.”
“You’re making a third cup of coffee? Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“Already stunted my growth, what else can it do?” she grinned, passing a hand over her head to indicate her short stature. “I know, I know, too much caffeine can give you the jitters and cause sleeplessness and probably cause the latest cancer scare. So sue me.”
Blinded by the megawatt grin she flashed him, Lange struggled to get back on track. He suddenly wasn’t angry anymore. Her playful grin turned his entire mood around, along with his thoughts. “What do you think you’ll hear out of Madison?”
“You know the type. He’ll think if I let one man stay the night in my apartment, then I’m open for others, namely him. As if I’d ever be that desperate!” she muttered thickly.
He actually smiled. “I think that’s the first unkind thing I’ve heard you say about someone.”
“See, I obviously haven’t had enough coffee yet. Forgotten my manners.”
“Good to see you’re human. Even this caffeine addiction makes you seem a little more real. Hyper, maybe, but real.”
“Hey, I have a long day ahead of me. I need all the caffeine I can get. I’ve got a private luncheon at noon, a meeting at two, and a taping this afternoon. I won’t be home until late.” She glanced at the clock and sighed. “Okay, I gotta get a move on.”
He took the cue to leave. “How late is late?” he asked.
“Who knows? Depends on how many takes we have to make. At least nine o’clock, probably ten. Thirty.”
“Do you have an alarm system?” Another question he should have already asked, instead of being so interested in her love life.
“No. But visitors have to be buzzed in at the front door.”
“But apparently not onto the balcony,” he reminded her.
“Point taken. I’ll check into getting an alarm system.”
“See, you’re not so clueless, after all.”
This time, it was Ashli who was blinded by the beauty of a simple smile.
CHAPTER SIX
Six days later, Lange was still wondering if Ashli Wilson was for real.
Could anyone be as damn perfect as she appeared to be? Experience told him ‘no’. Almost everyone had a secret to hide, and after six days, he thought he had discovered hers.
Keeping her under surveillance was one of the easiest assignments of his career. He watched her one morning, as she came out of her house like a ray of sunshine, dressed in a bright green dress the color of spring’s first grass. He watched as she smiled her sunny smile at everyone she met, and as she stopped to visit with an elderly man tending the flower beds. He watched that afternoon, as she came home from work with her little yellow boxes and carried them around to people in her condo, and to neighbors down the street. She shared not only her food, but her golden smile. From his parked truck, he could occasionally hear the rippling sounds of her laughter, carrying on the wind. Like a breeze on a summer day, it whirled around him and refreshed his tired soul, teasing at his senses.
As he watched her, he saw no evidence of a stalker, but he was not ready to dismiss the possibility of one. If someone was following her, he felt certain they were dealing with the attentions of an admirer, not an enemy. He could find no evidence of anyone even remotely unhappy with the beautiful Ashli Wilson.
Her business was one of Richmond’s finest. Despite the fact that she had a staff of eight, Ashli insisted on preparing most of the food herself, then on strolling through the dining room, greeting guests and attending their needs. A visit to Ashli’s Tea Party was much like a visit to her own home, a fact that most patrons found the most delightful of all.
As for her television show, it was a certified hit. The woman was magic behind the camera, coming across the air every bit as natural and charming as she did in person. Lange spent an entire morning watching taped episodes of Ashli’s Kitchen, understanding immediately why the show was going into syndication after only one season.
Everyone, it seemed, loved Ashli’s Tea Party. Everyone loved Ashli’s Kitchen. Everyone loved Ashli Wilson. No matter who Lange interviewed, they had nothing but praise for the woman with the white blond hair and the Doris Day voice.
After following her for almost a week, Lange was exhausted by her constant deeds of kindness and her perky disposition. He felt the resentment growing inside of him, even as his admiration for her grew. Hell, the woman was practically a saint!
But no one could be as perfect as she seemed to be. There had to be a flaw somewhere. As he checked out the few names on the list she had given him, it didn’t take long to clear each man’s name of suspicion. With little else to go on, Lange thought he might have stumbled upon the secret she hid, and he was headed to her house to confront her.
The last thing he needed on this case was anoth
er surprise.
***
“Are you sure this looks okay on me? I don’t have your peaches and cream complexion, you know.” Rachel Reese stood in front of the bedroom mirror, modeling one of Ashli’s pink sweater sets.
“No, you have that wonderful dark complexion that no amount of sun or spray-on tan could ever give me,” Ashli told her best friend. Both women were roughly the same shape and size, but were polar opposites in coloring. “The pink looks great on you. Definitely in the ‘pack me’ pile.”
“Of course, if you came with us, we could just work out of one suitcase. Or three.”
“Rachel, even best friends aren’t welcome on second honeymoons!”
“We’d love to have you, and you know it. Well, as long as you had your own cabin,” she grinned, wagging her eyebrows.
“Thanks, but I couldn’t possibly get away right now. There’s that banquet we’re catering, berry season coming up, this syndication deal with the network.... I couldn’t possibly leave, even if I wanted to crash your vacation.”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t stay and help? I feel so guilty, leaving at a busy time like this. Maybe we should postpone our trip...”
“Don’t you dare! You and Kevin deserve a vacation. Molly can never take your place, but she’s the best management trainee we’ve ever had. We’ll do fine.”
Still, Rachel was hesitant. “But with all the other things that have been happening....” She pulled the sweater set off and tossed it onto Ashli’s bed. “Maybe we should stay home. At least until this Peeping Tom incident is solved.”
“Absolutely not! You are going on this cruise, if I have to truss you up like a turkey and stuff you inside a suitcase! You and Kevin are celebrating your anniversary, after all.”
“I can’t believe it’s been five years, can you? Time certainly flies by.”
“I know. Here you’ve been married to the man of your dreams for half a decade, and I’m still looking for mine.”
“No, you’re not,” Rachel argued. “You never even date.”
“No one ever asks me out,” Ashli countered. “Here, try this on.”
“What about that Doug guy?” Rachel asked, wiggling her head out of a blue turtleneck. “He’d ask you out if you gave him a little encouragement.”
“Doug? Who’s Doug?” Ashli frowned.
“I don’t know his last name. He drives the delivery truck for Flour Arrangements. The really cute one that has a crush on you.”
“He doesn’t have a crush on me. Turn this way. Hmmm, maybe not the blue. Why don’t you try on this yellow one?”
“He so does! He stammers all over his words when you talk to him. And yellow’s not my color.”
“The poor guy has a speech impediment. Here, then try this lavender two-piece.”
“What about all the extra stuff he brings you, like extra flour and spices and things you don’t even order? And why does he blush whenever he sees you?”
“He’s just trying to keep my business. We’re a fairly big account for them, you know. He’s just a nice guy, with a speech impediment and a stiff leg. He blushes because he’s self-conscious about his limp.”
“He blushes because you go out of your way to speak to him and be nice to him, and because he has a crush on you. Just like that lawyer guy that comes in with his partner, the red headed woman. That man definitely has a crush on you.”
“That man definitely has a wife. He flirts with me because he’s showing out for his partner. It doesn’t mean a thing. Guys just aren’t attracted to women like me.”
“And what kind of woman would that be? The gorgeous type? The successful business woman type? Or the kind of woman who has her own television show? I’m a little confused here.”
“You sound like Lange Sterling. He said the exact same thing.”
“He called you gorgeous?”
Ashli blushed at the unintended omission. “Maybe. I don’t recall his exact words.” Hearing a knock downstairs, she said, “Hold on a sec, I think I hear somebody.”
“What did you say?” Rachel asked, untangling herself from the lavender blouse with its attached floral jacket.
“I’ll be right back!” Ashli called over her shoulder, heading down the stairs.
She peered through the peephole, surprised to see who stood on the other side. They must have conjured the man up by talking about him. With a small frown, she opened the door.
“Mr. Sterling! I didn’t realize you were coming over tonight. And I didn’t buzz you in.”
“Proof that not everyone uses the buzzer,” he pointed out. He, himself, had followed a pizza delivery boy in. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
“Yes, of course.”
As he moved into the living room, Rachel came bounding down the stairs, pulling on her blouse. “I didn’t realize how late it was!” she said, her eyes on the buttons she fastened. “I’ll just pick my suitcase up later, if that’s okay.”
“It appears I have come at a bad time,” Lange said lowly, his dark eyes like daggers as he swung his gaze from one woman to the next.
“Oh my gosh, why didn’t you tell me you had company?” Rachel clutched her blouse together, cheeks blazing.
“Rachel, this is the private detective I’ve been telling you about. Lange Sterling, my dear friend, Rachel Reese.”
“Hello,” Lange said stiffly, without extending a hand in greeting.
“Mr. Sterling! Ashli has told me all about you.” Recovering from her acute case of embarrassment with lightning speed, Rachel practically gushed. “I am so relieved to know that you are here to protect our dear Ashli.” She put an arm around her friend’s waist and beamed at her. “I just don’t know what we’d do without her.”
“Well, that’s my job, ma’am, to see that no harm comes to your friend.”
“Good, good. You take good care of her.” She seemed not to notice his dry tone. “I’ll go now, so that you two can discuss business. Thanks, Ash, see you tomorrow.”
After walking her friend to the door, Ashli joined him in the living room. “Did you discover something new?” she asked hopefully.
“I think I might have a new angle,” he said, remaining standing.
“What? What did you learn? Do you know who is doing this? I know it couldn’t have been any of the names I gave you.”
“How can you be so certain none of the names you gave me could be the one?” he asked suspiciously, his eyes narrowing.
“Well, just because,” she said with a defiance that held just a pinch of uncertainty. “Because they’re my friends, for one thing. Nothing like this has ever happened in the past, and I’ve known them for years. I mean, I don’t really know about that one man, Carl Simons, because we only went out once, but he seemed really nice, so I’m sure it’s not him.” As usual, she seemed to be talking to herself as much as she was to him. With a sudden impatience that Lange found almost amusing, given she was the one delaying his news, she demanded, “Well, are you just going to stand there, or are you going to tell me what you found out?”
“I’ve been watching you throughout the week,” he began. He moved around the room restlessly, half afraid to even voice his suspicions, yet even more afraid of what could happen to her if he did not know the whole truth.
“Yes, I could sense that you were watching.”
“You could?” He looked up in surprise, marveling at how sweet and innocently seductive she looked in her dress of lavender jersey. It was a simple dress, with a scooped neckline and no particular shape, but it draped over her body in the most provocative way, clinging in all the best places, just as his gaze did.
“I would feel a sense of safety settling over me, a sense of security,” she admitted in her breathless voice. “I knew it was you, and not him.”
“I guess the hairs on the back of your neck didn’t stand up.” Last week, her ‘proof’ had sounded so ridiculous; today he thought he might see the logic behind the claim.
“No, they didn�
�t,” she smiled, knowing that he was tethering between making fun of her and teasing her. There was a big difference between the two, usually determined by the look in a person’s eyes. His eyes were dark and sensual, so she took no offense, but her pulse did quicken. “I had a feeling of warmth when you were watching.”
“A feeling of warmth,” he repeated dubiously.
“I know you think I’m crazy, but yes, a feeling of warmth. I can’t really describe it, but I could tell you were watching me. It didn’t make me feel scared or nervous, it made me feel warm and secure, like someone wrapping a blanket around my shoulders.”
Blanket. He suddenly thought of the blanket she had placed on him, the sign of tenderness that he did not want. The look in his dark eyes changed abruptly, and Ashli could have sworn she felt a blast of Arctic air in the room.
“While I was watching you,” he said, his voice just loud enough and just gruff enough to break any spell that may have woven between them, “I saw that you had no dates.”
“I already told you, I don’t date very often.”
“You had several female guests during that time. Two one evening, an entire houseful another.”
“Yes, I invited some friends over for dinner one night. And the next night I had a Silver Sensations party.”
“A what?”
“A Silver Sensations party. One of my friends just started selling it, so I hosted a party to help her launch her business. See, I got this gorgeous bracelet free, just for having a party.” She held up her wrist and jangled the multiple silver bands.
“Okay, so you had a couple of friends over for dinner one night, a hen party the next. What about tonight?”
“Tonight?” she asked in confusion.
“Rachel.” He jerked his head toward the stairs, as if that explained everything.
“She came over to try on clothes.”
“Do you share clothes with all your.... friends?”
Sensing that something was not quite right when he hesitated over the word ‘friend’, Ashli narrowed her eyes and asked, “Exactly what are you implying? I don’t understand this line of questioning.”
He Kills Me, He Kills Me Not Page 5
