by Lucy Score
“You look shocked.”
“I just thought she was a bitch.”
“Well, she’s definitely that, too.”
“How can you be in the same room with her? I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from smacking the martini out of her hand and punching her in the face.”
“I fantasize about that. But I comfort myself with knowing that someone that batshit crazy will end up taking herself out eventually,” Cara sighed.
“You’re a better woman than I am.” Ashley plucked two glasses of champagne off of a passing waiter’s tray. “To not being batshit crazy.”
Cara clinked her glass to Ashley’s. “Amen. So did you meet Jason?”
“You mean the sexiest man in the universe? He shook my hand and I’m pretty sure my fingerprints melted off from the heat.”
Cara laughed. “Told you!”
###
Eye-gougingly bored. That was how Ashley would describe her state as the woman next to her droned on about how she and her husband Herbert Something-or-Other bred wire fox terriers for ten years. Ashley assumed those were dogs. Cara and Kevin had made their exit earlier to relieve the babysitter, leaving Ashley to fend for herself.
The only hot spot of the evening — besides Cara’s bombshell — had been Jason’s introduction, and she hadn’t seen him since he disappeared back down the hallway, leaving her smoldering in his wake.
“And of course, you know, just because Horatio Brandenchild III was no longer a viable stud, we simply couldn’t just get rid of him.” The woman pressed a heavily jeweled hand to her heart.
“Of course not,” Ashley agreed, half-listening. She scanned the room that Victoria had called the grand salon and spotted Steven near the massive fireplace with a scotch in hand, laughing at something an older gentleman was saying.
She bit back a sigh. It wasn’t so long ago that Steven would have preferred a nice, cold beer to a glass of scotch. But beer and Friday night pizza didn’t fit in as nicely as scotch and golf. He had taken lessons all summer long and was proud of his progress. Ashley had gone with him once or twice, but her swearing and club tossing made them both decide that golf was not her game.
She was starting to think that if she didn’t decide to change her course to match Steven’s, they would completely diverge. Were his choices so much better than hers? Sure, he brought them more financial security than she had ever expected. But did it have to come at the cost of who they were? Or at least who she was?
Ashley straightened her shoulders. The mental pity party wasn’t helping anything.
Mrs. Herbert Whoever was just wrapping up her description of how they sent Horatio III to live with a cousin on a farm in Iowa where he could wile away his days under the shade of leafy maple trees and chase livestock.
Ashley smiled and made an appropriate-sounding comment, picturing a pancaked champion terrier tiptoeing out from under a very large cow. She shifted her weight from foot to foot.
Her champagne glass was empty, her bladder was full, and her feet hurt already. It was time to sneak off. She excused herself and headed out of the room.
One small but exquisitely decorated powder room and waiter with a tray of champagne later, Ashley was in better spirits. She peeked into the salon and spotted Steven still at the fireplace with a fresh scotch and a cluster of people.
He wouldn’t notice if she just ducked out for a few minutes. Maybe find a couch on which to face-plant. There had to be less formal rooms somewhere off the stately, arched hallway.
The second door on the left yielded carpeted stairs leading down. She darted a quick look over her shoulder before shutting the door quietly behind her. She flicked on the light switch and descended.
The stairs opened into a spacious room with a pool table, Jumbotron-sized TV, and a bar. She pried off her shoes and squished her grateful toes into the plush, cream-colored carpet.
There were doors and windows that led outside to a covered patio, and, if it wasn’t so dark outside, Ashley knew she would be staring at a yet another beautiful river view.
There was a hallway past the bar with yet another powder room, a fully equipped home gym, and a large glass window. The room beyond was dark, but when Ashley peered against the glass she could just make out painted lines on a court.
This guy had a freaking racquetball court in his house.
This was too good of a find to ignore. Ashley hurried to the next door and found the entrance to the court. Outside was a rack with racquets, balls, even gym towels.
Maybe it was the champagne, but when faced with a perfectly good unused racquetball court, Ashley couldn’t think of a reason not to hit a few balls. Just for a minute, of course.
She dropped her shoes and grabbed a lightweight racquet.
Ashley had met Steven her sophomore year of college in gym class playing racquetball. She had pegged him in the kidney returning his “unreturnable serve.”
Still holding her glass of champagne, Ashley balanced the ball on the racquet, bounced it once, and then fired it at the front wall. The satisfying sproing noise made her laugh. She hiked up the skirt of her dress and skipped to catch the ball on the bounce. Volleying with herself, she moved leisurely across the court.
“I thought all the entertainment was upstairs.” The deep voice echoed around the court catching Ashley completely by surprise.
CHAPTER THREE
Whirling around, she managed to spill the entire glass of champagne into her cleavage.
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Caught! And not by just anyone. Mr. Hot Cold himself was leaning casually against the open doorway holding a towel.
No graceful way out of this one. Ashley cleared her throat. “Well, you caught me. I am a racquetball-playing cat burglar.”
She couldn’t tell if that was a smirk or a smile playing on his lips.
He studied her in silence for another beat.
“Lucky for me my security system has a program specifically for protection against racquetball-playing cat burglars.”
Relief flooded her. She had been half-afraid he was going to scream at her for trespassing. After all, he was sort of related to Victoria.
Ashley was starting to feel very exposed standing at the center of a floodlit room with him blocking her only escape. There was something more than a little dangerous in the way he was watching her.
“So what’s my punishment?” Her voice sounded forced to her own ears. Why the hell had she said that? It sounded so S&M-y.
Wordlessly, he held out the towel.
Ashley looked down at her champagne-soaked dress and took a tentative step forward.
His half smile made her think he was laughing at her. What champagne-soaked person wouldn’t want a towel?
Probably one who felt like she was being lured to her doom. Her hot, sexy doom.
He was just a host dealing with a wayward guest, she told herself. There was nothing to be nervous about. Her pulse ignored her rationalization and continued to thrum a frantic beat.
Chicken.
Ashley forced her feet into motion and closed the distance between them. She reached for the towel and inhaled sharply when his fingers brushed hers. She expected the jolt this time, but just because she was expecting it didn’t mean she was ready.
How much champagne had she had?
Self-consciously, Ashley pressed the towel to her breasts, blotting up the dampness.
“Thank you. I’d better check the floor to make sure I didn’t leave a puddle ... of champagne.”
He was still staring at her. It was unnerving. He obviously wasn’t making an effort to be polite.
She hurried back to the center of the court. Her dress didn’t allow for easy bending, so she knelt down to mop up the spill. She could feel the wet fabric digging into her breasts, making them spill over the top. What a picture this must make. With the floor clean, she grabbed the racquet.
“Are you ready for your punishment?” He moved soundlessly and was now standing over her. She l
ooked up at him from her crouched position.
His voice literally gave her goose bumps. They sprang up on every inch of her flesh.
Ashley cleared her throat again and looked up. “Can I appeal?”
He shook his head and held out a hand to her. “No appeals. Just a one-on-one game.”
“Game of what?” Ashley asked breathlessly as he tugged her to her feet.
He raised an eyebrow. “Racquetball.” He closed a hand over the racquet in her grip. “This one is mine.”
Jason agreed to even the playing field by taking off his shoes. He loosened his tie and ditched the jacket, too.
Ashley forgot the strangeness of the situation and gave herself up to the competition. They volleyed back and forth easily to warm up. Soon the serves became harder and the returns more spirited. He moved with a surprising grace, but there was power, too, as he prowled the court.
He wasn’t holding back and he played a little dirty, Ashley noted as he purposely stepped in her way to block her swing. She tromped on his foot as she hustled past him.
Her dress didn’t give her a lot of freedom, but she was able to move with the skirt hiked up. Between points she tugged her top up and cursed her strapless bra for not being more supportive.
“20 serving 19. Game point.”
Ashley was sweating and trying to hide the fact that she was panting. Jason swiped at his brow. At least he must be half human.
“Are you ready to lose?” He smirked at her as he bounced the ball.
The cocky bastard.
Ashley’s eyes narrowed and she snorted her disdain.
She won the serve and the next two points.
“21 serving 20!” She tossed him a haughty look over her shoulder. “Game point!”
He gave her another smoldering look. She couldn’t decide if he looked as though he wanted to eat her or something even scarier.
The serve was a perfect shot. She angled it just right so when the ball bounced behind the line it took an awkward spin and Jason sprinted for the sidewall. His underpowered backhand sent the ball slowly arcing toward the front wall.
It began to dip and Ashley couldn’t tell if it was going to hit wall or floor first. She charged forward and made it just in time as the ball dinked against the very bottom of the front wall. Swooping as low as she could she tapped the ball lightly.
She could hear him coming up behind her and didn’t bother to get out of the way. Ashley watched in slow motion as the ball bounced off the front wall and hit the floor, and she was hit from behind by a very warm, very solid body.
He saved them both from plastering their faces against the wall. Pinned between him and the wall, Ashley became aware of the arm banded around her just under her breasts.
She could feel every inch of him against her. He was so tall, but with his head tilted down to her, his breath was hot against her ear. Both of them were struggling to catch their breath. Ashley wasn’t sure if it was because she was overexerted or overexcited.
“Game,” she huffed out, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“You got in my way,” he said, not moving a muscle.
“Prove it.”
“I’m a little distracted right now.” His voice was ragged and his hand tightened around her waist.
Ashley looked down.
The dress had given up its valiant fight. The precarious straps had slipped from her shoulders and now displayed her breasts. Her nipples weren’t quite covered by the purple and black lace strapless bra. And with every breath she took, everything heaved up and down.
Oh my God.
Ashley felt the flush creeping over her face and down her neck. Her boobs were probably blushing, too. Her hands were pinned between her body and the wall and she couldn’t move to pull the dress back in place.
“Well this is awkward,” she muttered, shifting back against him to get some space from the wall. He resisted for a moment and then backed up a pace.
“I’ve never seen that happen on a racquetball court before. And I’ve never cared less about losing either.”
Keeping her back to him, Ashley hiked up her bra and dress. “Really? It happens to me all the time.” She hoped the sarcasm masked some of the humiliation.
“We should really spend more time together.”
Ashley turned to face him. He was actually smiling. A real, full-on grin. Goose bumps rushed to mingle with the blush and she felt her own lips quirk.
“OK, so what do I have to pay you to make sure this story is never, ever repeated outside these walls?”
“Our secret is safe,” he promised and led the way off the court. He handed her another towel and took one for himself before grabbing a water bottle from the mini fridge.
“This is quite the setup.” Ashley glanced around at the small room. Shiny lockers adorned one wall and there was a bench under another window looking into the court.
He handed her the water bottle. “You’re quite the competitor.”
She took a swig and passed the bottle back to him. “College. Four years of intramurals. That’s actually how I met Steven.”
“He doesn’t seem like a racquetball man.” Jason opened the bottle and drained half of it before passing it back to her.
Ashley studied him. “You don’t think much of him, do you?”
He shrugged, but kept his eyes on her.
A man of few words. Interesting. “So, what was it like growing up with Victoria?”
“Do you mean was she born this way or was she dropped on her head in childhood?”
Ashley laughed. “I’m going to apologize in advance for this. I don’t know you very well, so maybe you’ve got some creepy ascot collection in a dresser drawer. But from what I’ve seen, you two seem like ...” Mortal enemies? “I just can’t imagine the two of you playing hide and seek together.”
He was quietly studying her again.
“How about I make you a deal? For the rest of the night, I’ll answer your questions if you answer mine,” he said finally.
Uh, what? “Um, what?”
Jason smiled.
“Hmmm.” Oh she had questions for him, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted answers. “Don’t you have hosting duties to attend to?”
“You’re stalling.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you want access to my deepest, darkest secrets or not?”
It was another challenge. And she desperately did.
“Okay, but let’s lay some ground rules first.”
“Fair enough. What kind of ground rules?”
“Like the topless incident, and me sneaking away from the party to hide in your racquetball court, all answers will stay between the two of us.”
He nodded.
“And we each get one free pass to not answer a question.”
His eyes narrowed as he considered.
“Fine,” he agreed, gracefully sinking down on the narrow bench. He patted the spot next to him. “Sit.”
CHAPTER FOUR
She sat, careful to keep at least an inch or two between them.
“Okay, I want to ask you the first question,” Ashley said, loosening and tightening the lid to the bottle. “Why are you willing to answer my questions and why do you want to ask me questions?”
“Doubling up on the first question?” Jason watched her ministrations with the water bottle before taking it from her.
She crossed her arms to still her nervous hands.
“I mean, you seem like a very private person.” He seemed like a freaking fortress of solitude.
Jason smiled wryly as if he had heard her mental clarification. “A few reasons. As you so astutely guessed, I hate cocktail parties and have no interest in making small talk with a bunch of strangers. Two, you seem to share my aversion as evidenced by your decision to hide in the basement. And three. I find you interesting.”
“Interesting?” Ashley repeated. Interesting awesome? Interesting weird? Interesting smart? Interesting I-want-to-strip-your-clothes-off-and-have-my-way-wit
h-you?
“Interesting,” he repeated. “My turn. What do you do for a living?”
Relieved — and maybe a little disappointed — at the not-too-personal question, Ashley told him about working at Dwell. He, as it turned out, wasn’t entirely kidding about his security system. Jason was the owner of a tech company that developed high-end, high-tech security systems for commercial and residential clients.
His favorite color was green, and when he was seven he wanted to be a cowboy or an architect.
She told him about getting detention for starting a food fight in the junior high cafeteria and about her neighbor’s cat, Fatty, that she used to dress up for Halloween. And about how she met Steven.
“How is it you light up when you talk about work and look so sad when you talk about your fiancé?”
Ashley balked. Should she pass? No, because then he would pass when she asked him about whether he had even been married or what his relationship with Victoria was like. She cleared her throat and stared at the lockers.
“Well, I love my job and find a lot of fulfillment there. And with Steven ...” she trailed off for a moment. “With Steven, things are different now compared to just a year or two ago. He’s different.”
“Different good or different bad?”
Ashley puffed out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. “I don’t know. I guess just different different. And I feel like maybe I have to make a choice now to either be me, or be different, too.” It came out in a rush.
“Always be you,” Jason said flatly.
“Are you always you?” She glanced at his profile. It was his turn to stare at the lockers.
“Yes, but sometimes even then I end up doing things I don’t really want to.”
“Like hosting a cocktail party?”
He smiled grimly. “Like hosting a cocktail party.”
She nudged his shoulder. “I think we’re depressing each other. Let’s talk about something else.”
They both agreed that football was their favorite sport to watch. They were on opposite ends of the spectrum when it came to TV viewing habits and neither of them had ever had a dog.
