Slow Burn (7 page)

Doyle glanced at Frankie and smiled. “The boy
has a solid head on his shoulders. He’s spearheaded the acquisition
of several buildings in Burbank through his private company and is
negotiating with Nina’s agent. He wants Carlyle House, to fix it
and reopen it as a private club. With its history, it should be a
successful venture. He’s the future, Frankie. My future. And
nothing must mess with it.” He pursed his lips as his thoughts
shifted to his son’s mother, the crazy woman who’d tried to hide
his only son from him. His right hand twitched and hatred burned in
his heart. Before he could speak, the intercom flashed.

Doyle smoothed his tie and nodded at Frankie.
“Come on, my friend. Allow me to introduce you to my son,” he said
with pride.

***

Ashley was rummaging through boxes of
childhood memorabilia when the musical sound of her cell phone
reached her ears. She pushed aside several rag dolls and stuffed
animals to reach it.

“Faith, I thought you were too busy to talk,”
Ashley told her cousin.

“You know how it is when I’m in the fitting
room with a client,” Faith said. “And this client was one of those
difficult ones. What’s wrong, Ash? You sound funny.”

“Coming down with a cold,” Ashley lied
smoothly, then got up and headed toward the kitchen.

“Nice try. I know you, missy.” There was a
pause, then, “Are you worked up over the meeting with Nina
Noble?”

“Ha. I just left her place.”

“Oh? I thought you were meeting
tomorrow.”

“She changed the time.” Every time she
thought about Nina Noble, guilt washed over her. “She doesn’t want
to sell the house, Faith. Not to me, anyway.”

“Why not?”

“She still blames me for her husband’s death.
She couldn’t even meet or talk to me, sent her son instead.” She
poured herself a cup of coffee, stepped back to open the fridge and
reached for hazelnut creamer.

“That’s rather childish, isn’t it? I hate to
be brutally blunt, but someone ought to tell Miss Movie Star that
firefighters sometimes die in the line of duty. Her husband must
have known the risks involved in his profession.”

Ashley had thought the same argument before,
but it never once made her feel better. She added the cream to her
coffee, slid on a stool at the kitchen counter and took a sip as
she listened to Faith.

A sigh escaped Ashley’s lips. “The bottom
line is, she’s never gotten over her husband’s death and still
resents me. To compound the problem, Ryan Doyle wants Carlyle
House.” She briefly explained what Ron had told her.

“What are you going to do? Maybe you need to
talk to Aunt Estelle or Lex.”

Not if she could help it. She might not know
what her next move would be, but she was through running to their
aunt or older cousin whenever she had a problem. As it was, their
aunt had done enough by taking her in after her parents died.

“No. I’m not going to push for Carlyle House.
Not now.” She couldn’t dare tell her cousin about Ron’s
investigation or her decision to help him. Faith would think she’d
gone crazy. “I’ll ask Toni to start checking what else is available
out there.”

“Are you sure?”

She was on autopilot now, not confident about
anything anymore. It was funny how so much had changed within a
week. The morning she spoke to Ron, she’d known exactly what she
wanted.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Her voice came out weak and
lacked assurance.

“Don’t give up yet, Ashley. Let’s discuss it
tonight, okay? Instead of going out, I’ll pick up dinner from
Chase’s place and join you and Jade immediately after work.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat.
There was really nothing to discuss. Until she learned the truth
about the fire, she wasn’t going to bring up the sale of the house,
not with Ron. But her cousin didn’t need to know that.

“Sounds good. Have you spoken to Jade today?
I’ve left several messages in her voice mail, but she’s not
returning my calls.” Jade had just gotten out of a bad marriage and
was struggling to find herself.

“Mine either, but I’ll try to get a hold of
her and see if she’s still coming.”

“She’d better or—”

The sound of her doorbell reverberated
through the loft, interrupting. Ashley froze, her coffee mug in
mid-air. “I’ve got to go, Faith. Somebody is at my door.” She put
the drink down and stood up. “See you tonight, okay?”

Whoever it was pressed on the bell again as
she approached the door. “Sheesh, hold your horses.” Thoroughly
annoyed, she yanked the door so hard her sunglasses slid from where
she’d pushed them on her forehead and settled on her nose. Her eyes
widened when her gaze landed on her visitor’s furious expression.
“Ron? What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.” He didn’t wait to be
invited, just stepped right in. Concern flitted across his face
when he took a proper look at her. “What’s wrong?”

Ashley crossed her arms and scowled at him.
“Shouldn’t that be my line?”

“You sound funny. Have you been crying?” Then
his gaze shifted to the chaos behind her. “What happened in here?
You had a break-in?”

She shrugged and gave her loft a sweeping
glance. The room did look as though a tornado had hit it. Boxes
overflowing with stuffed animals, dolls and photo albums were all
over the floor.

“No. I was searching for something.” The
letters his mother had written to Ashley years ago seemed to have
disappeared, but she was determined to find them. Maybe she’d
missed something in them that could explain Mrs. Noble’s present
attitude. “What do you want to talk about?”

His attention shifted to her. He scowled at
her sunglasses. “It can wait. What happened?”

She closed the door, ignored his probing gaze
and walked past him. “Nothing happened. As you can see, I’m in the
middle of something. But since you’re already in, make yourself at
home.” She led the way to the kitchen, and could feel his eyes
boring into her back. “So, what is it that couldn’t wait until
Saturday? I barely left your home—”

“
My mother’s
home,” he corrected.

“You were raised there.” She picked up her
coffee cup, then turned to face him. “Weren’t you?”

“Yes and no. Are you going to wear those
glasses while we talk?”

Without them, he’d know for sure she’d been
crying. She wasn’t ready to discuss why. “Yes. Do you have a
problem with them?” she challenged.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and
stared at her upturned face. A wry smile crossed his lips. “No, but
they’re not hiding the fact that you’ve been crying, Ashley.”

Sighing, she yanked the glasses off her face,
and without making eye contact with him, walked around the counter.
She caught a glimpse of her face on her toaster and saw that her
mascara had run. Oh, God, raccoon eyes. Too late to do anything
about it. “Do you want some coffee?”

His gaze stayed on her. “Sure, thanks. Was it
something I said or did?”

She snickered softly as she refilled her cup
and poured some of the dark brew for him. “What makes you think you
could do or say anything to reduce me to tears, Noble?”

His lips curled into a derisive smile. “You
have a point there. That leaves my mother.”

She stiffened, but still managed to pass him
his coffee without spilling it. Taking her time, she settled on a
stool opposite his, then lifted her chin, daring him to say
something about her smudged mascara. “Your mother? I didn’t even
speak with her.”

“But you overheard what she said.”

Wasn’t he just Mr. Perceptive. “Is that why
you’re here?”

He wrapped one large hand around the mug and
took a long sip of his coffee. His gaze didn’t leave her, but he
appeared to be rearranging his thoughts. “My mother can be very
blunt, Ashley, but she doesn’t always mean what she says.”

Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Did he
blame her for his father’s death, too? Ashley bit her lip,
undecided on how to proceed. He could either listen to what she had
to say or blow her off. Either way, there was no going around it.
“She’s still hurting, isn’t she?”

A scowl settled on Ron’s face. He was quiet
for a moment, then he nodded. “Things haven’t been easy for
her.”

“She must have really loved him.” Warmth
leaked out of his eyes until they were cold, but she ignored it.
She refused to stop until she had her say. The guilt chewing her
insides needed to be eased. “I know it’s my fault your…your father
died, Ron, and no one is sorrier than I about that. So I understand
why she still hates me—”

“I didn’t come here to discuss this.”

She blinked at his brusque voice. “Oh. When
you brought her up I just assumed you wanted to explain her
position.”

“You assumed wrong.” His voice was
uncompromising. “What I want is total honesty from you.”

Was this about his investigation? She
couldn’t promise to answer all his questions, just what she
remembered. “Of course, but that depends on what you want to know.
Some of the things even I can’t explain.”

As if it were possible, his eyes grew colder.
“You like to play games, don’t you?”

She cut him a look and made a face. “I hate
games. It’s a total waste of time.”

“Then tell me this. How well do you know
Vaughn?”

Ashley blinked. “What?”

“You said you don’t play games. Neither do I.
How well do you know Vaughn?”

Her brow creased as her thoughts raced.
“Vaughn Ricks? The man in the limo?” How did Ron know they’d
met?

He smiled coldly at her. “Yeah, the one you
met down the road from my mother’s home. Vaughn Doyle, Ryan Doyle’s
son. What were you discussing with him?”

Her eyes widened at the revelation. No wonder
he’d looked familiar. He looked like his father. Then the
implication of Ron’s statement sunk in. “You were spying on
me?”

“And it’s a good thing, too, otherwise I
wouldn’t have known about your little meeting.”

She shook her head. “You have some nerve
implying that I play games, Ron Noble.” This was what happened
whenever she let emotions control her actions, people stepped all
over her. She’d let this man get to her before with his
I-need-a-portrait-of-my-grandmother story. Not again. She rose to
her feet and stepped away from the counter. “I want you to leave.
Now.”

Ron got up, but instead of heading for the
door, he started around the counter. “What are you hiding? What did
he offer you?” His gaze ran up and down her body, then his lips
curled into a sneer. “Or should I be asking what you offered him to
get Carlyle House?”

Her jaw dropped at the implication. Black
spots appeared in her vision as anger replaced the shock. Her hand
lifted, flew to his face and connected with his cheek. The sound
echoed around the loft.

“And to imagine I was willing to help you
with your investigation. To put myself out and face my worst….”
Ashley pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of my house,
Noble.”

CHAPTER 4

Ron tried not to flinch as the sting spread
from his cheek down his neck. He had seen the slap coming, but he
hadn’t tried to stop it. He deserved it. Truth be known, he had no
idea what came over him to accuse her of something so debasing.
“Ashley—”

“How dare you.” She was breathing hard, her
ample chest heaving. “How dare you imply I would cheapen myself by
offering my body to any man in exchange for a favor?” She stomped
past him.

He grabbed her arm. “I apologize. What I said
was uncalled for and rude. I’m sorry.”

“Quit manhandling me,” she snapped and
attempted to wrench her arm free.

He let her go and raised his arms in
surrender.

“Now get out.”

Ron released a sharp breath. This wasn’t what
he’d planned. He needed her help, and being thrown out wasn’t a way
to get it. From her flashing eyes, an apology wouldn’t suffice. He
racked his brain for a quick solution. “I can get you Carlyle
House, Ashley.”

A scathing laugh escaped her. “I don’t want
it anymore.”

His gut tightened. “Why?”

“I changed my mind.”

She must have heard his mother and despite
her earlier assertions, had no intention of asking for his help. In
fact, her rigid body warned him to back off. He frowned. Or maybe
this was an act to manipulate him, to make him feel sorry for her.
Growing up around his mother and her actress friends had taught him
to question women’s emotions. He knew it was wrong and often fought
his response, but now…. Should he trust Ashley?

“We’ve nothing else to discuss,” she
said.

And he had nothing to negotiate with. He
shouldn’t have mentioned his investigation last week or jumped to
conclusions when he saw her with Vaughn. Ron ignored her words and
studied her angry expression. He saw through her bravado and anger
to the pain he’d caused.

A sudden urge to take Ashley in his arms and
offer her comfort came from nowhere. He wasn’t going there. He
shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans instead. “I
shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and accused you of doing
something unethical.”

She stared defiantly at him, her hazel eyes
overly bright. He pulled his hands from his pockets and scrubbed
his face, then studied her through narrowed eyes. Lord, the woman
was maddening. Why couldn’t she accept anything gracefully?

“What did he want?” he asked.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I know.” The Doyles were ruthless bastards,
and he had to know what they were up to. He swallowed his pride and
added, “Please. I need to know.”

Ashley sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I was
concerned after I heard your mother’s words and realized she was
still hurting from what happened ten years ago. I pulled over and
was thinking of going back to your place to tell you I’d help with
the investigation when Vaughn’s limo stopped. I didn’t know who he
was. He told me his name was Vaughn Ricks, not Doyle. He thought I
was having car trouble. I had no idea that I was outside the Doyle
residence.”