“Hey, guys?” she said louder, trying not to sound disappointed.
“Do we have news for you,” Micah said with excitement.
“First ask how she’s feeling, bonehead,” Josh added in the background. “Hey, boss. How’re you feeling?”
Ashley closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. The two of them were talking to her on a speakerphone at a party, judging from the noise in the background, and that was too much to take now. She’d called them on Sunday night and told them she’d be gone most of the week because she wasn’t feeling well—a good enough excuse at the time. Now she could swear she was coming down with something. Yes, a major case of self-pity. Psycho Dunn was no show, Ron had given up on seeing her without a fight and cabin fever was kicking in. She didn’t know whether she needed a rest or a kick in the rear end. Cutting Ron loose was the dumbest thing she’d done this year.
“Hanging in there,” she lied smoothly, got up from her chair and headed to the kitchen. A glass of wine would have to do for now.
“Then we have something that’s sure to speed up your recovery,” Micah said, interrupting her thoughts.
“The museum found a new benefactor,” Josh added.
“They now want us to do the rest of the building,” they finished in unison.
“Whoa. When did this happen?” Ashley asked, her spirits lifting already. Six months ago, the museum officials had given her a smaller contract and cited limited funding.
“Some dude stopped by this morning,” Micah explained. “I didn’t really know why at the time and just answered his questions. Turned out he came to check out our work.”
“He came back this evening with the president of the museum and…,” Josh paused for effect.
“An offer we can’t refuse,” Micah finished. “Free reins on the inside and outside walls, Ashley. Imagine the possibilities.”
Ashley was loving it. She pulled out a bottle of Merlot from the fridge, nudged the door closed with her elbow and reached for a glass. Maybe they could now incorporate more of the local children’s artwork in some of the murals. The president of the museum had liked the idea when Ashley first presented it to her, but hadn’t endorsed it because of lack of funds. The small contest she was running now was coordinated with local art teachers.
“That’s great news, guys.” She poured a generous amount of the wine in the glass, took a sip and propped her elbows against the counter. “So, what’s the catch?”
“Why should there be one?” Josh said. “We’re good.”
“Freakin’ awesome,” Micah chimed.
“They want us to meet and sign the contract this week,” Josh continued. “The only thing the guy mentioned was that he would like to see more local artists involved. Anyway, the meeting is set for Thursday. Do you think you’ll make it?”
Ashley sipped more wine and scowled. No one ever signed anything until the customer approved the designs. Why the haste?
“I don’t know guys. I’ll have to discuss it with…,” she almost said Officer Kilpatrick, “my cousin.” I’m supposed to have a show in his gallery in six months.”
“You can’t let this opportunity pass, Ashley,” Micah urged. “It’s a no-go without you. The dude even mentioned using us to do a club his company is opening in Culver City.”
That was where Carlyle House was. Could Ron be behind this? She wouldn’t put it past him. “What’s the name of this generous benefactor?”
“Doyle. He’s the son of that billionaire real estate dude, Ryan Doyle.” Then she heard Micah ask Josh, “What was his first name…Vince?”
Ashley’s stomach had dropped at the mention of Doyle. Was Vaughn Doyle planning to turn Carlyle House into a club?
“Guys,” she said, trying to get their attention, but Josh and Micah were still arguing about Vaughn’s name. “Hey. His first name is Vaughn.”
“Yeah, Vaughn Doyle,” Micah said. “So, are you going to make it on Thursday? The meeting is upstairs on the third floor.”
It would be great to work with more local artists and highlight children’s works, but signing a deal that included Vaughn Doyle was out of the question. She didn’t trust him. What was he hoping to achieve with this art endowment? “Let me think about it.”
“Come on, Ash,” Josh urged. “The man’s throwing money our way. We’d be fools to turn it down.”
“Have you any idea how hard it is for starting artists like us to find a steady, paying job?” Micah added.
“Or our work on display for all to see,” Josh added the nail in the coffin.
Ashley groaned. They were doing a darn good job of making her feel guilty, the little demons. Although they had loads of talent, they were too inexperienced as businessmen.
“There’s lots of thing you have to discuss and agree on before you commit to anything.” She raised her glass to her lips, her anger steaming. Was Vaughn trying to buy her off? Ron sold him Carlyle House behind her back? No, Ron couldn’t do that, no matter how pissed at her he was. On the other hand, she’d told him she didn’t want the house anymore.
“Listen, guys, I don’t think I’ll—”
She gasped at the looming figure outside her kitchen window. Dunn! How had he gotten up here? The glass slipped from her hand, hit the granite counter and shuttered. Ashley took a step back and raised her arms to protect her face as wine and pieces of broken glass went flying everywhere.
He tapped on her window just as Ashley opened her mouth to scream. She froze, noting the firefighter’s helmet and the yellow and silver reflective stripes on the intruder’s jacket. Then the figure pulled off the helmet, leaned closer to the window and mouthed, “Open the window.”
Ron? The crazy man didn’t just climb up to her window. A burst of excitement surged through her. He was here. Ashley placed the phone back on her ear. “Guys—”
“What’s going on?” Josh and Micah spoke at the same time.
Of course, she couldn’t tell them the truth, but she wanted them off the phone. “Something crawled up my window.” Something delicious. “Let’s talk tomorrow, guys, okay? I’ve got to go. Bye.”
She put the phone down, did her best to avoid shards of broken glass as she unlocked the glass window and slid it open. The light pouring through the window bathed his handsome face and gleaming eyes. It looked like he hadn’t shaved in days and the stubble on his jaw made him look like a marauding pirate. Instead of feeling intimidated, a steaming sensation spread under her skin.
“What are you doing out there, Ron?” she asked, trying to sound irritated but failing. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”
“Good.” He pointed at the meshed window cover. “Pull it off the frame because I’m coming in.”
The cops were probably on their way upstairs, but she didn’t care. She started tugging at the tabs at the edge of the frame. “Why didn’t you just call?”
“So you’d screen my calls? I don’t think so.” His voice was low and intense.
Why wasn’t the damned frame coming off? “I don’t think this is a good idea,” Ashley said with each tug.
“Step back.” From the determined look in his blue eyes, he’d bring the whole window down and not care.
“I don’t think so.” The frame popped off just as she heard a scuffle outside her door. Oh crap, the cops. “I’m coming,” she yelled and turned to race toward the door. A loud thud reverberated around the loft as one of the officers kicked it open. The alarm went off. Officer Kilpatrick and her new male partner charged into the room, their weapons drawn.
“Step back, Ms. Fitzgerald,” the officers ordered.
“No. It’s not Dunn,” Ashley yelled, her hands raised, her body between the officers and the window. “He’s my friend…Ron Noble.” She looked over her shoulder to find Ron still outside her window, his gaze on the cops. “Remember him from the lobby on Sunday, Officer Kilpatrick?”
“Oh, you.” The woman looked at Ashley, her gun still drawn. “Do you want us to esco
rt him downstairs, ma’am?”
Not if she could help it. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you.” Ashley hurried to disarm her security system. The silence that followed was deafening. She flashed the officers an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry you thought he was Dunn.”
Kilpatrick lowered her weapon and shoved it in the holster. “If you want to change the arrangement you made with Officer Sanchez, please clear it with me first. We don’t want to hurt an innocent man.”
Ashley’s ears grew hot with embarrassment. She felt like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar, which was ridiculous. This was her home.
“Of course, you’re right.” She indicated the door and added a smile to gentle her next words. “If you’ll excuse us....”
“Do you want us to fix the door?” Kilpatrick asked.
“I can take care of it.” She didn’t know how, but she wanted them gone.
The two officers nodded and left. Ashley sighed when she closed the door behind them and it swung open. She grabbed the stool she used when she worked and propped the door with it. The entire time, she was aware of Ron’s eyes on her. When she finally looked up, it was to find him inside her loft, removing his firemen paraphernalia. He had on everything black underneath—pants, shirt and boots. And he was still pissed, judging by the way he crossed his arms and leveled her a frosty glare.
A sliver of apprehension shot up her spine. Not that she feared him. Ron would never harm her. She just didn’t know if she could bullshit her way out of what she’d done. Ashley gave him a tentative smile, which quickly died when his eyes narrowed. “You’re angry.”
“You think?”
Boy, he was in a nasty mood. “I had to do it, Ron.”
His arched eyebrows shot up. “Had to? Interesting choice of words.”
He was too calm, reminding her of a looming dark cloud before the thunder and lightning kicked in. “You want to know why I told them not to let you through.”
“Damn right I do.”
He was glowering at her so hard she knew only the truth would work now, which meant leaving herself open and vulnerable. Dub her a coward, but it was easier to lie on the tracks and await the train than tell a guy you cared about him. Once said, there was no going back.
When Ron’s brows jerked up, she blurted, “I was trying to protect you.”
He blinked as though she’d yanked the carpet from underneath him. “Pass that by me, again.”
“I thought that if you stayed around me, Dunn might hurt you. I couldn’t bear it.” When he continued to stare at her, she shifted her weight to one foot and yelped, “Ouch.”
Pain shot up her leg. She lifted her foot and saw the blood on her sock. Dang, she must have stepped on a piece of a broken glass. While she pulled off the sock to see the extent of the damage, she heard Ron curse and looked up.
“You’re hurt.” He hurried toward her.
“I should’ve remembered there was broken glass on the floor.” Her face scrunched up when she saw blood ooze out of the wound. She hated blood. The sight of her own made her a little woozy.
“Don’t put your weight on it,” Ron cautioned when she let go of her foot. He didn’t give her a warning before he scooped her up. “There might be broken glass imbedded in it.”
Ashley searched his scowling face. “Let me explain.”
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter now.”
“But it does.”
He stopped outside the door of the downstairs bathroom. “Ashley, let it go.”
“I can’t.”
Sighing, he entered the bathroom, set her down on the toilet seat and propped her leg on the edge of the tub. When he shifted to straighten his body, she reached out and touched his cheek. He froze but didn’t pull away. Instead, he turned his head to look at her, his expression unreadable.
Where should she begin? Ignoring her stinging foot, she studied his face—the arched eyebrows and the chiseled cheekbones, the strong jaw line and the sculptured lips. She caressed with her fingers where her gaze had been, ran her knuckles over his stubble. She realized her hand was trembling and let it fall on her lap.
“I want to apologize and explain. At least, allow me to do that.”
He sat on the edge of the tub, right beside her feet. “Okay.”
Ashley swallowed. Here goes nothing or everything. “For years, I’d refused to face what happened ten years ago. When Dunn hurt Kirkland and then came after me, I knew there was a possibility that someone else I cared about might be next. I had to make some tough decisions.” She searched his face but couldn’t tell how he was taking her confession. “When I refused to stay at your place or let you stay with me, it was because I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. I’m sorry I took a coward’s way out and told the cops not to let you through. I just couldn’t take the chance.”
She waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn’t speak.
His gaze grew so intense her face heated with embarrassment. “Say something. Please.”
He cleared his throat then pointed to her foot. “I need to take care of that.” His voice was gruff.
She sighed and dropped her injured leg inside the tub. She should have kept her mouth shut. Men heard the words ‘I care’ and they just assumed a woman wanted commitment, the sure way to send them running. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Ron leaving her. The three days without him had felt like eternity. “The first-aid kit is in the cabinet behind the mirror.”
Ron pulled out the red and white box and set it on top of the toilet tank. Neither of them spoke as he sat down again, turned on the tub faucet and ran it over her bleeding foot. She winced at the stinging sensation, but her gaze followed the outline of his face, his muscular arms and down to his long fingers. He held her foot in his large hand, his touch gentle and soothing. She must have really hurt him. Ron was never one to clam up.
He set her cleaned foot on his lap then reached inside the first-aid kit for peroxide and a cotton swab. He poured the disinfectant on the swab and cleaned her cut. She winced, her leg jerking.
Ron threw her an apologetic look. “This will be over soon. It’s not bleeding anymore, and I don’t think you’ll need stitches. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”
She shook her head. “Do you want me to speak with Sanchez?”
His nod was curt. “Yes. Because I’m not going anywhere. I intend to take you to the hypnotist tomorrow just like I promised.” He spread a generous amount of first-aid ointment on the cut, then wrapped her foot with a clean gauze. “How’s that?”
“Good, thanks.”
He watched her face. “Does it hurt? The wound wasn’t deep, but you never know.”
“I’m fine, really. Thank you.” She added, “I’m really sorry for everything, Ron.” When he still didn’t say anything, anger crept in. But she lacked the strength to hold on to it, and it quickly flickered out. Truth be told, she’d rather love him than fight with him. “You may not think so now, but I thought I was doing what was best.” Her voice shook and she stumbled over the words, but she didn’t care. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Ron looked as though he was about to say something, then appeared to change his mind. Instead, he put her foot down, lifted her up and traded places with her on the toilet seat. Then he pulled her on his lap. For a moment, he didn’t speak, just held her tight, her head on the curve of his neck. She could feel his heart beating hard in his chest. The heat from his body spread, warming her until her shivering subsided. She let him cuddle her, offering her comfort when she was the one who’d hurt him. How could she have been such a fool? This man was priceless.
She turned her head and dropped butterfly kisses on the hot skin of his neck, gripped his face and tilted it so she could kiss along his jaw, the corners of his mouth. She knew exactly when he relaxed.
“Do you forgive me?” she whispered.
“Only if you promise me one thing.”
She leaned back to look into his eyes. Th
ey were watchful, unreadable bottomless cobalt blue pools. “Anything.”
“Don’t ever stand between me and a cocked gun again.”
She blinked. Was that why he’d been so quiet since the cops left? “I couldn’t let them hurt you.”
He blew out air and shook his head. “I know. Just don’t ever do it again. Also never ask someone else to deliver a message to me.”
“Okay. I’m really so—”
“Don’t. No more apologies. Just plain old-fashioned honesty. No matter how bad or ugly, give it to me. I hate to be taken for a fool.”
She nodded. “I understand.”
He scowled. “Good. Now how long is this meek attitude of yours going to last?”
Despite the bite in his voice, his eyes twinkled. Ashley laughed. Slow to anger and quick to laugh, she loved that about him. “Will you ever act normal, Ron Noble?”
“Does normal turn you on?” he shot back.
“No.”
“Then never.” He planted a brief kiss on her lips. “C’mon. Up you go. I have to clean up the mess you made in the kitchen.”
“Don’t you mean the mess you caused when you scared me half to death? And there’s nothing wrong with normal now and then.”
“I can do normal quite easily. Unfortunately, you bring out something primal in me.” He angled his head and kissed her again, deeply, possessively. “Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered when he finally eased off. “I have to carry you out of here.”
Like hell he was. It had been three long days since he touched her. The kitchen could wait. She couldn’t. “Not so fast, Hotshot.” She pulled his head and poured all her hunger and need in a single kiss. Within seconds, the atmosphere in the room changed.
His heart slamming in his chest, body heating, Ron sat back and pulled Ashley to him. Hearing her admit that she cared about him was headier than the best brandy he’d ever tasted. But when she’d planted herself between him and those cocked guns, his heart nearly stopped. He hadn’t known what to think or say. But right now wasn’t the time to analyze it. It would keep until later.
Slow Burn Page 21
