Smokey gave him a sidelong glance. “When did you become such a fuckin’ expert on workplace hookups?”
“I’m just saying,” Rags grumbled.
“He’s pissed,” Klutch added.
“I don’t mix business with my personal life. If I wanna fuck, I got nine club girls ready and willing.”
“But that’s the point—the club whores are always ready. Hooking up with someone who works for you is hot as fuck.” Rags scooped up another handful of nuts.
“I already said that I don’t do that shit. Let’s move on,” Smokey said.
“Pissed as hell,” Klutch said to no one in particular.
The door opened and several members stomped their snowy boots on the mat by the entrance, then made their way toward Smokey and the others. Suddenly music, laughter, voices, shuffling feet, clinking of glasses, and scraping of chairs filled the room. Smokey welcomed it; the noise kept him from thinking about Ashley.
Nothing would happen between them other than a lot of dirty thoughts racing through his mind until the marketing campaign was done. He worked with women before, and some of the wholesalers had some pretty tempting chicks on their payrolls, but he’d always resisted. And he could do it again. No fuckin’ problem.
Smokey pushed away from the bar and sauntered over to Tank, Bear, and Hubcap and joined in on their motorcycle conversation.
5
Ashley scavenged through several drawers and cabinets before managing to find an oven mitt. She opened the oven door and a cloud of aromatic heat escaped. Carefully pulling out the metal pizza pan, she set it down on top of the stove and shut off the heat. Melted cheese bubbled and oozed over the sides of the crust as she slid the small pizza onto a plate. Gripping one side of the crust, Ashley pressed down hard on the knife handle and cut the pie in quarters. After grabbing a can of Coke, she walked into the family room and put both the plate and pop on the table before sinking down into the couch.
Just after she’d taken the first bite of her cheese and basil pizza, the phone rang, and Ashley groaned while leaning over to retrieve it from the coffee table.
“Hello?”
“May I speak with Ashley Callahan?” A deep, grating male voice crackled through her phone, scraping and jagged, like a knife sliding across concrete.
An unexpected chill ran down her spine. “Who is this?”
“Mark Ames. I’m calling about the tiles coming off the ceiling. A Zach Clerke left me a message telling me to call this number.”
Her shoulders slumped as relief slowly spread through her limbs. “I’m Ashley. Zach didn’t tell me he’d called someone.”
There was no response—only silence, and Ashley thought that maybe they’d been disconnected, but then she heard him breathing hard. Another chill slithered down her back.
She cleared her throat. “Have you worked on the house before?”
“No.”
Questions swirled around in her brain, but apprehension kept her mute.
After what seemed like an eternity, he asked, “Did all the tiles come down or just above the shower stall?”
“Just the shower,” she answered.
“I was told you got other problems.”
“The garage door won’t open.”
“That’s not good in this snowstorm.” A small laugh filtered through the phone.
Ashley exhaled then reached over and took a sip of Coke. “There are a few windows in here that need to be sealed or something. I can feel the wind blowing through them.”
“Mr. Clerke told me to give him a price on whatever needs doing, so there may be some more stuff you haven’t found yet.”
“When would you like to come over to check things out so you can give Zach the bid?”
“Is tonight okay?”
“Tonight?” she asked.
“That’s what I said.”
Why the hell does he want to come over here in a raging snowstorm at eight o’clock at night? My radar’s going off like crazy. “That won’t work. What about tomorrow around noon?” I can slip away during lunchtime.
“Okay.”
“That’s good. I’ll see you tomorrow then. If you can’t make it or are running behind, can you please give me a courtesy call?”
“I’ll make it, and I never run behind. Goodnight.”
Before she could respond, the handyman had hung up. She immediately tapped in Zach’s phone number, but instead of answering, she got his voicemail.
“This is Ashley. This handyman you contacted—Mark Ames—called, and I just wanted to ask you a few questions before I meet up with him tomorrow. He’s coming around noon, so either call me tonight or in the morning. Thanks.”
Ashley put the phone down on the cushion, then leaned over and picked up the slice of pizza she’d started to eat before Mark Ames called. It was ice cold. “Dammit,” she grumbled as she shuffled back to the kitchen and zapped the pie in the microwave. “That guy was weird as hell. I bet he’s super inexpensive. God, Zach can be such a cheapskate sometimes.” She went back to the couch, switched on the television, and ate her dinner.
After cleaning up, Ashley made her way to the master bedroom and opened the door to the walk-in closet. She pulled out a short brown leather skirt and eyed it carefully, but hung it back on the closet rod, deciding it might be too sexy for a business meeting.
“And that’s what tomorrow night is—business,” she muttered.
She sifted through her clothes, irritated that she was putting too much effort into deciding what to wear for their dinner. A simple plain dress is fine. There’s no need to dress up, especially not for him. Still, Ashley shoved another outfit back on the rack and continued to search for the perfect one, like tomorrow night was some date. Totally ridiculous.
The next hanger held a black dress with a pretty black polka dot lace overlay. With elbow-length sleeves, a cinched waist, and a flared circle skirt that hit an inch or so above the knee, it was feminine but not overtly sexy; paired with a dark rust blazer, the outfit would scream professional. Ashley pulled out both and hung them on the closet door.
“You are a smart, level-headed businesswoman. A hot boss with gorgeous eyes and a drool-worthy build means nothing. You’re on track to be partner—no man is worth blowing that for you,” she said to her reflection in the mirror hanging on the back of the door. You can do this. Remember where you came from. Remember Dad—the philanderer of the century. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. I’m sure Mr. Sexy could give Dad a real run for his money as the biggest louse to women in my lifetime. Men like him I can do without. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a wife and a few kids stashed away, like Dad. Her father had often forgotten about his family, and then he decided that he wanted out for good. Ashley was seven years old when her dad had split.
“I really don’t want to trek down memory lane tonight,” she said under her breath. She shuffled over to the bed, fluffed up the pillows, then slipped off her robe before climbing underneath the covers. In an effort to distract her mind, she picked up a book of short stories that laid on the nightstand, then settled back against the pillows and opened it up.
* * *
“I looked over the Lodge account, and I can come up with a good campaign for the company in less than two weeks. I’ll send the preliminaries over to you,” Ashley said as she twirled a strand of her hair around her finger.
“After I review them, you can present it to the client. I’m sure Smokey will be cool with you taking a day or two away from the office to go to Aspen. How does he like the marketing campaign you’ve outlined?” Zach asked.
“I haven’t had a chance to show it to him yet. He had to work with his guys yesterday, and he’s at a site again today. By the way, where did you find this handyman?” Ashley wanted to change the subject because she didn’t want Zach to know that she and Smokey were having dinner together that night. Even though it was just for business—how many times had she repeated that in the last twenty-four hours—Ash
ley just had the vibe that Zach wouldn’t see it that way.
“He came recommended by a friend of a friend of a friend. Why?”
“He’s sort of strange. He wanted to come by last night in the middle of a snowstorm to look at the place.”
Zach chuckled. “Get used to living in a small town. You’re an outsider, so to speak, and locals will keep you at a distance until they get to know you. I’ve been told he does good work.”
And is cheap, I bet. “He’s coming by at noon. Keep me in the loop, okay? I’m surprised you didn’t ask Smokey to send one of his guys over to fix up the place.”
“He’s got a ton of projects going and is already short-staffed. Try and make time to go over the campaigns with him, even if you have to meet after hours. Smokey’s one of those clients who wants to advance his company but doesn’t see the urgency in doing it the way we do at the firm.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She glanced at the wall clock and saw that it was a bit past eleven forty in the morning. “I better get going if I’m going to be on time for the noon appointment. Mark Ames made it a point to tell me that he’s never late.”
Zach chuckled. “I like him already.”
“I hope I do,” she mumbled. “See you.”
A knock on the door made Ashley glance up, only to find Sabrina standing in the doorway staring at her with a hard look.
“Can I help you?” Ashley said as she slung her purse over her shoulder.
“Are you leaving already?” Sabrina asked, her hazel eyes narrowing,
“I’ll be back. Why are you here?” Ashley grabbed the car keys off the desk and walked toward the surly woman.
“I just wanted to tell you that Smokey is off-limits.” The receptionist lifted her chin as if preparing for a fight.
Ashley smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. If you mean he’s not in the office today, I already know that.” She glanced at the wall clock and gestured for Sabrina to move out of the doorway. “Do you mind?”
“I’m not talking about him not being here today, I mean that he’s—”
Ashley’s face grew hot, and she looked fixedly at Sabrina. “I’m not interested in what you mean. My relationship with Mr. Harty is strictly business, and whatever he has going on in his personal life is none of my concern.” She pushed past the receptionist and hurried away.
On the drive to the house, Ashley couldn’t get the words “off-limits” out of her brain. Were Smokey and Sabrina a couple? He certainly hadn’t acted like a man who had a girlfriend the night she’d met him at Blue’s Belly, but that didn’t mean anything. Dad hooked up with women all the time when he was married to Mom. Men can be so vile. But Smokey and that unpleasant woman? I’m surprised, but who cares? His personal life isn’t any of my business. True enough, but then why was she miffed about what the receptionist had said to her?
“I shouldn’t give a crap who Smokey dates.” She gripped the steering wheel, irked to no end that a part of her did give a damn. And what made it worse was that she didn’t know why it mattered. Ashley had worked with a lot of men over the years, and none of them had taken root in her brain the way Mr. Arrogant-and-Sexy had. Maybe it was because it’d been a while since she’d been with a man. For the past year, Ashley had thrown herself into her career by making a conscious choice to put men and all the BS that came with them on the back burner for a shot at the brass ring. Yes, it was hard, but becoming partner would make all the loneliness worthwhile.
The loud ring of her phone interrupted her thoughts. Expecting it to be the handyman, Smokey’s deep voice rumbling in her ear surprised Ashley just as much as the fluttering in her stomach threw her for a loop.
“Can you hear me?” he asked.
“Yes, how are you?” she answered.
“Good. How’re things going with you at the office?”
For a split second, Ashley wondered if Sabrina had told him that’d she’d spilled the beans to her about their relationship.
“Fine … Why?”
A hearty laugh filled her ears. “Does there have to be a reason?”
“I guess not.” She turned down the street to the firm’s house. Maybe Sabrina told him I took off. “I’m headed to the house where I’m staying to meet up with a handyman.”
“Oh yeah? What seems to be the problem?”
A small laugh escaped her lips. “Where do I start?”
“That bad? Who’s the dude you’re meeting?”
“Mark Ames. Do you know him?”
“Ames …” his voice trailed off.
Ashley saw a white pickup truck in front of the house.
“It’s strange, but I don’t know the name. How’d you find him?”
“I didn’t—Zach did,” she replied as she pulled behind the truck. A tall man wearing a black and gray puffer jacket got out of the pickup. “I have to go. Was there something you needed to tell me?”
“No, just checking to make sure you’re doing okay. I’ll see you at six.”
“Okay, bye.” A smile whispered across her lips as she slipped the phone into her purse. So Mr. Sexy is capable of being nice. A hot shiver ran down her spine and landed low in her belly. Pressing her lips together, she ignored it and opened the car door.
“Ashley Callahan?” the man said as he approached her.
Nodding, she wrapped the scarf tighter around her neck. “And you’re Mr. Ames?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll show you what needs to be fixed.” Little puffs of vapor formed in the air as she spoke.
He tipped his head and followed her toward the house.
For the next forty minutes, Mark Ames measured, scribbled things down into a yellow notebook, and inspected each room while Ashley leaned against the kitchen counter watching him. There was something about him that was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. He didn’t talk much, and every so often, she caught him staring at her when he didn’t think she was looking.
“I’ll fix the garage door now,” he said, the harsh bark of his voice making her jump.
“Did Zach okay that?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes and shook his head no.
“Then …?” she said weakly.
“The snow’s coming down hard. I’ll just go out to my truck and get the tools to fix that door.”
Rooted to the spot, Ashley nodded and watched as he walked through the kitchen to the back door. Thirty minutes later, Mark Ames strode into the family room, folded his arms across his chest, and stared at her.
Combing her fingers through her hair, Ashley glanced quickly at him and then looked away, her eyes scanning the room. The ticking of the clock above the mantle was barely audible over the beating of her heart, and as her gaze landed on a spot on the carpet, the handyman took two steps toward her.
Exhaling a breath she’d been holding, she lifted her chin up and locked eyes with him. “Are you finished?” she asked.
The man stopped in his tracks and slowly nodded.
Ashley picked up her coat from the back of the sofa and slipped it on. “Thanks. I have to get back to work,” she said as she walked toward the front door, “but you can give the estimates to Zach.” She pulled open the door and he walked out, then she stepped onto the porch behind him and locked up. Cold air rushed around her, and she turned up the collar of her coat against the biting wind.
For a long pause, Mark Ames stood there looking at her, his hard breaths coming out in frosty white puffs until he turned away and slowly walked to the truck.
Frozen in place, Ashley waited until the strange man was gone, then hurried to her car and drove away. The encounter with Mark was unnerving, and she hoped his bid would be too high and Zach would ask Smokey for help. She smiled as she pictured him in jeans, a T-shirt that molded over all those toned muscles, and a tool belt slung low on his hips. So hot and all male. Her mouth went a little dry. There was no denying it: Mr. Sexy exuded raw sensual power and that damn swagger was machismo at its finest. I be
t he knows exactly how to please a woman.
A horn honked behind her, and she snapped back to awareness, realizing that she’d been stopped at the green light. Waving at the driver behind her, she pressed on the gas and continued on her way back to work. In less than four hours, she and Mr. Sexy would be having dinner together, and much to her chagrin, anticipation coursed through her.
Ashley shook her head fiercely, then clenched her teeth.
It’s just a dinner meeting—not a date. It’s all good.
With renewed determination not to let her body sway her mind, she pulled into a parking space, jumped out of the car, and dashed into the building.
6
“Aren’t you pretty,” Klutch said as Animal, Helm, Bones, and Shadow cracked up.
Without stopping, Smokey flipped them off as he headed toward the bar to down a shot of whiskey before taking off to meet Ashley. Sweet, sexy Ashley.
A soft hand ran down his arm. “You do look real handsome all dressed up, baby,” Tania said. “Where’re you going?”
“I got a business meeting,” he answered in a low voice while casting a sidelong glance at Klutch.
“A business meeting.” The club girl echoed his words. “That’s impressive.” Her fingers skimmed over his gray button-down shirt. “This fits you real well,” she said, leaning close to him.
“Business meeting my ass,” Klutch said before bursting into a hearty laugh.
“I bet that new chick in your office is gonna be at the meeting,” Helm said.
“She’ll be the only one there,” Animal added, and the rest of the table guffawed.
“Fuck you,” Smokey said as he brought the shot of Jack to his mouth. Tossing it back, his knuckles whitened as he gripped the glass.
“Are you going to a nice restaurant?” Tania asked as she pressed closer to him.
Smokey stepped away. “It’s just a work thing—that’s all. Why don’t you find something else to do besides bug me?”
Smokey’s Distraction: Insurgents Motorcycle Club Page 7
