Slow Burn (14 page)

She’d put her sandaled foot in her mouth this
time. “Okay, you had me going there.”

“Me? I think someone else has you in knots.”
Faith settled on the couch and pointed at the couch opposite hers.
“Sit. I want details. Is he as hot as they say?”

Ashley scowled. She was beginning to hate
hearing about Ron’s exploits. Still….

“Where exactly did you hear about his
exploits?”

“The models I use for my shows love to kiss
and tell.”

Models, she should have guessed. “Forget I
asked. Let’s talk about something else.”

Faith threw her an amused glance and poured
wine in the two glasses. Once she passed Ashley her wine, she
settled back in her seat. “Okay. Let’s talk about Carlyle House.
Why are you giving up on it without a fight?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Faith fired back. “Which, if
you promise not to bite my head off, is very typical of you.”

Ashley’s eyes widened. “What?”

Faith gave her a
you-know-what-am-talking-about look. “Peter.”

Not her ex-boyfriend. “You don’t want to go
there. His crazy ex was calling my home, threatened me, and the man
didn’t have the balls to check her. I have no time for such
foolishness.”

Faith shook her head. “You didn’t give him
time to deal with it. Then there was the deal with the gallery in
San Francisco, the interview with the reporter from National
Artist’s Magazine, the—”

“Oh, shut up. I’m hungry and you’re messing
with my appetite.” She forked a roll from her plate and took a
bite. Yeah, she might have been a bit hasty in getting rid of
Peter, but that didn’t mean she shied away from conflicts. She
swallowed and cut her cousin a look from the corner of her eye. “I
choose my battles, no crime in that. You know I can’t stand too
much drama.”

Faith chuckled. “What you can’t stand, woman,
are the little glitches that add spice to life. With you,
everything’s got to run smoothly all the time.”

Ashley frowned. Maybe there was some truth to
that. But that was in the past. She was changing, slowly but
surely. She never wanted to deal with her unpleasant lost memories
and had put off hypnosis, but she was planning on it now. “For your
information, Miss Know-it-all, acquiring Carlyle House is still
very much on my agenda.”

“Good.” Her cousin gave her a thumbs-up sign
and Ashley hoped her trust wasn’t misplaced.

CHAPTER 7

Saturday morning arrived too soon. Wearing
only a demi bra and silk camisole, Ashley flung open her closet. A
dress, pants, or shorts? She pulled out one outfit after another.
What she wore shouldn’t really matter, should it? Photographing and
sketching Ron was work, not a date, something she did with models
all the time. Still, none of her previous models ever starred in
her fantasies.

Her arms laden with clothes, she sashayed
barefoot across the bedroom carpet to her dresser, caught a glimpse
of her face in the mirror and froze. Six-thirty in the morning and
her grin could rival a toothpaste ad. She wasn’t even a morning
person for pity’s sake.

She scowled at her image. “Wipe that stupid
smile off your face and start acting like a professional. So Ronald
Noble is the first man in eons to make you pulsate like a plucked
wire, you can handle him.”

Easier said than done. Even the sound of his
name on her lips caused anticipation to surge through her. Sucking
her teeth, Ashley pivoted on her heels, stomped back to her closet
and dumped the clothes on the closet floor. She pulled out a pair
of sweatpants and a plain white tee, and yanked them on.

After pulling on pants and her hair back in a
ponytail, she paused to study her reflection. Good. Normal. If only
she had a formula for making her thoughts of Ron normal, too.
Sighing, she hurried downstairs.

As Ashley padded across the floor to the
kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, her gaze touched the
microwave clock. Six-forty. Twenty minutes to go. Although he did
say he might be late, she reminded herself. She fiddled with the
cameras, which she’d loaded and arranged on the table behind the
living room couch, adjusted the lounge for maximum lighting. Too
edgy to cook herself breakfast, she reached for a banana. She
looked at her list of things to do today as she peeled and nibbled
the fruit, but her mind couldn’t move past the first item on the
agenda, photographing Ron Noble Saturday morning. It had a big
question mark at the end of it.

What if he couldn’t make it? What if he
forgot? What if…?

There was only one cure for this. Ashley
pinned the list on the corkboard, opened the freezer and pulled out
a container of her favorite ice cream. She settled back on her
couch and dug in.

When her doorbell rang, she was more
composed. For twenty minutes, she’d been telling herself she was
strong. That she was capable of controlling her emotions and
dealing with more than six feet of raw masculinity.

Her gaze swung to the clock, as she stored
the remaining ice cream in the fridge. Seven o’clock on the dot,
impressive. She hurried to open the door.

Beautiful couldn’t begin to describe a
clean-shaven Ron in a dark-blue polo shirt that molded his wide
chest and showed the sinew under. The color made his cobalt-blue
eyes pop. Strong be damned, a woman had to be blind not to want to
jump him.

“Hey, beautiful,” Ron said, his voice dark
and smooth, his smile slow and easy.

Her stomach tilted, and her thought processes
slowed down big time. She yanked herself back into focus. “Hey back
to you. You made it.”

“I promised I would. Are you going to let me
in?” he asked.

Ashley shifted sideways, noting a few things
which had escaped her first inspection. Rivers of red discolored
the whites of his eyes. “You must have had one hell of an
evening.”

“But very productive.” He stepped inside her
house, and before she knew his intention, he bent his head and
landed a kiss on her lips. “Hmm.”

She leaned back. “Whoa, what was that
for?”

“A thank you for agreeing to hypnosis.”

For that he had to tease her with a peck? She
ought to grab his shirt and show him what a real thank-you kiss
was.

“You’re welcome.” She took a step back and
watched him swagger into her loft as though he hadn’t sent her
pulse into overdrive. Her gaze dropped to the blue denim caressing
his buns.
Focus on something else.
He probably left another
woman’s arms a few hours ago. The thought was like a cold shower to
her overheated senses.

“So? When will you make an appointment with a
hypnotist?” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“I already did. Dr. Vogel, my therapist, is
also a licensed hypnotherapist. She’ll see me next week on
Wednesday.”

“You’re a sweetheart.” He glanced around. “So
what do you want me to do? Take it all off?” The quirky smile she
found so irresistible lifted the corners of his lips.

“Just the shirt,” she said in a voice that
was just a tad unsteady. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice, thanks.” He gave her
an apologetic smile. “And aspirin if you have some. Oh, and I
brought my grandmother’s pictures, too. Her birthday’s not for six
months, so there’s no rush.” He waved the manila envelope she
hadn’t noticed in his hand.

“Just place it on the table. What time did
you get home last night?” she asked as she walked past the stairs
and headed toward the downstairs bathroom for the aspirins.

“Didn’t make it home until this morning,” Ron
admitted.

She shook her head at him and darted inside
the bathroom. For a moment, she stared at her reflection in the
mirror. Her eyes sparkled and her lips tingled.

Ashley took a deep breath and retrieved a
bottle of aspirin.
You can handle this…you can handle this….
She chanted silently as she rejoined him in the kitchen area. “Do
you think maybe you party too much?”

Ron shrugged. “I work hard and play hard. If
you don’t grab the opportunity whenever it presents itself, life
will pass you by.” He threw two pills in the back of his throat and
washed them down with the water she’d given him. He grinned and
glanced at the lounge. “Is that where I make myself
comfortable?”

Ashley nodded then moved behind the counter
to pour him some coffee. When she turned around she froze solid for
a few seconds with the coffee cup in her hands. He was pulling off
his shirt, revealing what she’d been imagining ever since they
met—an expanse of beautiful golden skin, muscular chest and a
six-pack abs, fuzz between his pecs and an intriguing arrow
disappearing into his pants. The flame tattoo on his left shoulder
and upper arm had Asiatic writings around it. He was beautiful,
lean and solid…hers.

Hers?

The coffee splashed on her hand. The sting
jolted her, and she averted her eyes.
Take a deep breath and
count.
One Mississippi…two Mississippi…three Mississippi….

Of course, he wasn’t hers, she told herself
once she could think coherently. Ron couldn’t be tamed or tied to
one woman. Besides, he was here to model for her paintings. She’d
better get that through her thick head before she started hoping
for the impossible.

“Ready,” Ron said.

“Good.” Pasting a serene smile on her face,
she looked at him.

He was reclining on the lounge, his shirt,
socks and shoes off, his hands cupping the back of his head.
Against her better judgment, her gaze caressed his strong chest,
his hard belly, lingered on the bulge in his pants and his powerful
thighs. His toes were long, beautiful. Her palm itched to touch and
stroke him, every inch of him. Honestly, there ought to be a law
against giving a man too much of everything. Taking a deep breath,
her gaze moved back to his face and caught his knowing grin.

Shameless man.

“Did I tell you we’re meeting with Uncle
Jerry this afternoon?” she blurted out to cover her
embarrassment.

His arched eyebrows shot up. “Who?”

“Jeremy Kirkland, my parents’ lawyer. He’s
expecting us this afternoon at his office.”

“I thought we agreed my friend would talk to
him.”

She gave him what she hoped was a repentant
grin. “I know. I called him to discuss something else and it sort
of slipped out.” Dang, Ron made it so difficult for a girl to think
rationally. Even his belly button was cute. “But, uh, this will
give us a chance to tell him about your friend…to expect him.”
Heart thumping, she walked to his side and placed his coffee on a
side-table, an arm’s length from the lounge. “You don’t have to
come with me if you don’t want to.”

He sat up, his movements a little sluggish,
and reached for his coffee. “Thanks for this, and yes, I’d like to
accompany you. Kenny flew to Orcas to meet with Hogan. I expect a
call from him sometime today.” He rotated his neck as if to work
out kinks.

Ashley studied him and debated what to do
next. The man was on the verge of falling flat on his face with
fatigue. What was so important last night that he couldn’t go to
bed early? And how would he sit for her if he were this tired?

“Ron, are you sure you’re up to this?”

He gave her his quirky grin. “Of course.
That’s why I’m here.”

“Forgive my language but you look like crap.
Your eyes are bloodshot, you keep stifling a yawn every time I turn
my back and you’re so tense you could snap in half if I touched
you.”

A roguish glint appeared in his eyes. “Touch
me and find out.”

Don’t tempt me.
“Very funny. I’m
offering to help you relax.”

“Exactly what I had in mind.” He ran a finger
down her sweatpants-clad hip.

She swatted his hand and stepped away. “Get
your mind out of the gutter, Noble. I’m going to give you a
massage.”

“You’re no fun,” he grumbled. When she
slanted him a pointed look, he drained his coffee, then laid down
on his stomach.

Perching one butt cheek on the lounge, right
beside his hip, Ashley placed her hand on his back. Good heavens,
he was hot. His muscle contracted, and her arm jerked at the heat.
She was almost tempted to stop. No, she couldn’t miss this chance
to touch him. No way. Her heart hammering, anticipation dried her
mouth. She licked her lips, ran her palm across his shoulders,
loving the smooth texture, the hardness underneath. Delicious
sensations rippled across her skin.

“Are you trying to drive me crazy?” he
growled, the thick muscle of his shoulders contracting.

She smiled, then started working his
shoulders. “You’re tense.”

“The last twenty-four hours have been
nerve-wracking.”

Why, she wanted to ask, but curbed her
tongue. She didn’t want to talk anyway. Touching him was much more
fun. His skin was velvety soft, his hair silky and thick. The urge
to run her fingers through it washed over her. She sucked it in and
kneaded his muscles instead, first with her fingers, then the heel
of her palms. He was so deliciously male he made her want to wrap
herself around him and soak him up. Her finger traced a raised
birthmark on his right shoulder. What would he do if she pressed
her lips on it?

Quit fantasizing,
the annoying
cautious voice in her head warned. Her gaze lowered to his butt.
Yum yummy. A ravenous hunger clawed at her gut, made her want to
rip his pants off and feast on his nakedness.

Talk about self-inflicted torture. Offering
to massage him was the dumbest thing she’d ever done. Her hands
itched to touch more than his back. As for his woody scent, it was
engulfing, stimulating. When her body trembled ever so lightly, she
swallowed. The impossible man wasn’t helping matters any. The “hmm”
sounds he made while she worked on his taut muscles were driving
her crazy.

“What’s the writing around the tattoo?” She
traced the flame, then worked hard at easing the tautness
there.