Soliman, Wendy - The Name of the Game (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (6 page)

“Ashley, it isn’t how it seems.”

She whirled away from him, furious yet close to tears. “Don’t make matters worse by insulting my intelligence.”

“No, really.”

He ran a hand across his chin. He needed a shave, she noticed, wondering how her brain could notice something so insignificant at such a time. He looked down at her, his gaze compelling, his eyes begging her to believe him. And, just for a moment, she was tempted to forget everything and fall into his arms. So comprehensively did she still love him that the compulsion to do so was almost overwhelming. Seeming to realize it, Matt attempted to pull her against him. It took a superhuman effort on Ashley’s part to wrench herself away.

“Ashley, do you think I’d be here if what I’m telling you isn’t true. Isn’t what we have together worth fighting for?”

He appeared so intensely sincere that the overwhelming urge she’d just experienced to believe him returned with interest. But how could she? He obviously only wanted to calm her down so that she wouldn’t be tempted to leave the company. He still needed her help to coordinate the new head office.

“I think you’d better go,” she said in an indifferent tone. “Go back to your cosy little nest and leave me to pick up the pieces of my life.” When he didn’t move, her temper bubbled up again. “You’ve had the best of both worlds for a while now, but all good things come to an end. You know where the door is. Use it.”

“Ashley!” He grabbed her by the shoulders again, a tormented expression in his eyes. Ignoring her struggles, he forced a drugging kiss upon her lips. “I love you! There
is
an explanation, and if I could tell you now, then I would.” He shook his head. “But I can’t. You’ll hear it just as soon as I’m in a position to tell you more. I’m working night and day to bring that date forward.”

“You say you love me, Matt,” she countered, pulling away from him. Her lips, where his had covered them, felt as though they were on fire. “But you don’t know the meaning of the word. I loved you with a passion that I didn’t know was possible—”

“Loved?”

“Yes,” she said decisively. “Loved.”

“You can turn your feelings off just like that?”

“I would have done anything for you,” she said, ignoring the question. “But you wife effectively killed that love off yesterday when she showed me what an idiot I’ve been.” Ashley sighed. “Perhaps I should be grateful to her?”

Matt groaned, fixing her with a gaze of naked longing. “You don’t know the half of it, but you will, soon. I promise you, we’ll eventually be together, just as we planned.”

“And the baby? We just pretend it doesn’t exist, I suppose.” She offered him an icy glare. “You don’t know me at all, Matt. If you did, you’d realize that there’re many things I’m capable of forgiving, but treating an innocent child like an insignificant inconvenience definitely isn’t one of them.” She moved into the hall, compelling him to follow her, and opened the door. “Good night,” she said, anticipating that he’d try to touch her and moving out of range before he could.

It was only after he’d left, and she was fighting back the tears, determined not to shed any more on a lost cause, that she noticed the package he’d left for her on the side table. In the midst of their fight, she’d forgotten to return it to him. It was undoubtedly a jewellery box, and Ashley tried not to imagine how she’d have felt, had things been different. In all their time together, Matt’s gifts to her had been impersonal. He favored flowers, perfume, lingerie—the usual safe things that a man, lacking originality, tended to buy for a woman. But this time?

Furious with herself for even thinking about it, she threw it unopened into the nearest drawer and slammed it shut.

Chapter Four

“No, it can’t wait. What part of
we need it now
don’t you understand? Just sort it!” Ashley slammed her phone down. “Bloody incompetent idiot,” she muttered.

“Problem?” Martin’s head appeared over the partitioning.

“Nothing more than usual. Sorry, was I shouting?”

Martin flashed a brief smile. “Just a bit.” His smiled faded as quickly as it had appeared and was replaced with an expression of concern. “Actually, in case you didn’t realize it, you’ve done a lot of shouting this week. It’s not like you. Are you okay?”

No, she bloody well wasn’t okay. The week had been living hell, and Ashley felt completely wiped out.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Wanna grab a pint at lunchtime and talk about it?”

The one thing Ashley was absolutely certainty about was that she didn’t want to talk about it, especially not to any of her colleagues. Not even Martin.

“Best not,” she said, “thanks all the same.” She indicated her cluttered desk with her hands. “I’ve got a ton of stuff to get through.”

“Sure, no worries.”

He looked a bit wounded by the brush-off, making Ashley feel guilty for being short with him when he was only trying to help. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings—he was a good friend to her—but her emotions were still too raw to risk talking about personal things to anyone right now. Whoever decreed that time was a great healer must live on a different planet. She’d buried herself in her work, but the pain just refused to go away, her mind flashing back to what might have been with every glimpse she caught of Matt.

He continued to flit, almost on a daily basis, between Reigate and Southampton. Mercifully, she saw him only as he dashed through the office or if they happened to be in the same meeting—never on a one-to-one basis. Whenever their paths did cross, he looked increasingly drawn. She knew what stress he was living under and ached to share his burden. In spite of the way he’d lied to her, she’d been blindsided by the love she felt for him, and there didn’t seem to be a damned thing she could do about it.

Negotiations for the amalgamation had picked up pace, and the lion’s share of the responsibility for their successful conclusion fell upon Matt’s broad shoulders. They were keeping him on the hop, and Ashley couldn’t decide if she was more relieved or insulted that he’d given up on her so easily. He treated her with professional courtesy now. Sometimes she caught him looking at her for protracted periods when they were in the same meeting, but she was incapable of interpreting his expression. Common sense told her he was simply dealing with a fraught situation in the only way open to them if they were to continue working together. But still, she couldn’t help regretting that he hadn’t made at least one more effort to offer her the mysterious explanation for his conduct that he’d assured her existed.

Ashley made a renewed effort to focus her attention upon Peter Templeton, Matt’s uncle and the company’s accountant. It wasn’t easy because he was the sort of pedantic person who could make the most interesting of subjects sound dull. And accountancy wasn’t a riveting subject at the best of times. He droned on, giving a tedious breakdown of the organisation’s current financial situation and the need for additional economies. He stressed repeatedly how vital it was for the company to approach the amalgamation with Stevenson’s from a position of fiscal strength. Ashley hid a yawn behind her hand, suspecting that everyone else in the conference room was as bored as she was. Her mind wandered yet again, only to be jolted back to the present when she realized that Peter had stopped speaking and everyone was looking at her.

“Ashley,” Peter said, presumably for the second time. “Perhaps you’d outline your plans for cost-cutting in the general office.”

Ever the professional, she launched smoothly into her presentation, not once looking in Matt’s direction. Even so, she was acutely aware of his penetrating gaze fixed on her as she stood in front of a flip chart and started on her spiel.

By Friday, the strain was really starting to tell upon Ashley. It was with a mixture of resignation and dread that she prepared herself for the dinner she was obliged to attend that evening. It was to be the first ever meeting between the directors and senior personnel of both Interactive and Stevenson’s. Not only a chance for a little inter-company bonding, but also a sure-fired opportunity to dig the dirt on one another, as Charlie Templeton, Matt’s brash cousin, had put it.

It was nine days now since that fateful meeting with Matt’s wife and the first occasion since then when Ashley would spend time with him socially, albeit in a crowded private dining room in an up-market hotel. Upward of thirty people would be present, but she would be one of only five ladies there. No one was bringing their other-halves—this was strictly a business occasion. For that, if nothing else, Ashley was grateful. Had there been the slightest possibility of Eve putting in an appearance, she would have cried off. Anything else would, quite simply, have been several steps too far above and beyond the call of duty.

Ashley dressed carefully for the event. If she had to attend, then she might as well flaunt herself in front of Matt. Petty perhaps, but she’d be less than human if she didn’t want to throw just a little of the almost unbearable burden of hurt she’d been lugging around all week back in his face.

She’d bought a new dress for the occasion, an emerald green shot silk sleeveless sheath. The colour matched her eyes, and she knew it was one that Matt enjoyed seeing her wear. The dress had a respectably high neckline but clung to her body, outlining her figure in a more sophisticated manner than a plunging neckline would have managed. It finished just above her knee. She wasn’t in her dotage yet, and at five foot eight, she knew her long legs and slender thighs, toned to perfection from all those hours in the saddle, were her best feature. They looked pretty good clad in ultra-fine stockings, boosted by three-inch spiky heels, even if she did say so herself. She examined her reflection critically in her full-length mirror and decided she’d do.

She was proud of her hair. Thick, naturally curly, the colour of burnished bronze, it was cut in layers that finished halfway down her back. She usually put it up for work but knew Matt preferred to see it in its natural state. She compromised by pulling the shorter layers at the top back and securing them with a clip at the back of her head. The rest hung where it fell, a riot of curls tumbling over her shoulders and warming her back. Next, she applied makeup sparingly, outlining her eyes with black pencil and adding mascara and lip gloss. Diamond studs in her ears and a delicate gold wristwatch, bought for her by her late husband, were the only adornments she deemed necessary.

She picked up her bag, conscious of the horde of butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach, refusing to remain dormant.

“Bugger off!” she said aloud, swiping a hand at her abdomen as though the butterflies really existed. “I am
not
nervous. I can do this. I am
not
the wilting violet type, and just so that we’re clear, I no longer give a shit about Matt bloody Templeton.”

Holding that thought, she squared her shoulders when the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of her cab. With a final glance in the mirror, she flicked her hair over her shoulders and stepped forth to do battle.

Not given to making dramatic entrances, Ashley arrived on time, assuming that everyone else would be late because people always are. She’d blend into the background and let others take centre stage. Some hope! The room was already full of suited men. The drone of a dozen stilted conversations filled the air. As she walked in, there was a decided lessening in the noise level. She saw Matt immediately, presumably because her eyes sought him out without her permission. Damn it, this was
not
an auspicious start. But she couldn’t drop her gaze. The expression of acute longing on his face as he looked at her so identically mirrored her own feelings that, just for a moment, it was as though no one else existed in the crowded room.

She felt sure Matt had intended to approach her, but his cousin Charlie beat him to it. He greeted her with an egregious smile, his gaze raking her body in obvious approval before sliding off challengingly in Matt’s direction. Ashley experienced a moment’s panic. Why did he look at Matt like that? Did he know? Did he suspect? Or was he just behaving like a randy bloke? Ashley had no idea, but had a bad feeling about it.

Charlie passed her a flute of champagne. She’d thought he’d then move on, but instead he took her elbow and guided her about the room, behaving as though they were a couple. He was an outrageous flirt, touching her far more than was strictly necessary as he introduced her to various people from Stevenson’s.