not sure how good I’ll be at that,” Ashley said.
He shrugged. “Critiquing is outlawed.” Leaning close, he put his mouth an inch from her ear and breathed in the cool, sweet fragrance of crushed roses. “And for the record, I think you’ll be very good. As a matter of fact, I’d bet on it.”
She froze, and then her chin lifted. “You’re very practiced at that,” she said, her little smile communicating she wasn’t taking him seriously.
“I—” But he was forced to break off before his denial could be fully uttered as a handful of couples wandered into the room, calling out greetings.
Ashley moved into hostess mode, and the moment was lost. People began peppering her with questions about the nearby ski areas.
“I’m guessing most everyone will hit the snow today,” he said.
“Arch and I are going snowboarding for sure,” June put in. “What about you, Chase?”
Drawing his friends’ cups closer, he poured them coffee. “Not this time. I’ll stick around and entertain anyone who stays at the house.”
June turned her attention to Ashley. “How about you?”
She shook her head. “I don’t.”
“Don’t?”
“Hit the snow.”
June’s brows rose over her pretty brown eyes. “I would think everyone who lives in the mountains skis or boards.”
“Nope.” Ashley’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile.
What it was, Chase thought, was weird. But before he could give it further thought, more guests arrived, and he was drawn into other conversations. A few hours later, he’d sent the bulk of the visitors off with gear or with directions of where to rent gear, and the house had quieted. He found Declan and his wife, Miriam, playing cards in the library. Another older couple was perusing the books arranged on the tables upstairs in honor of National Science Fiction Day.
It didn’t appear he was needed.
Maybe now he could get to work on his own agenda: Ashley in his bed.
No daytime nookie—he still had enough hold on himself to wait until the cover of darkness—but he could seek her out. Soften her up a little.
Tease her in preparation for the night to come.
But she’d disappeared. It wasn’t until afternoon, when the first of the guests returned to the house, that she made her way down the stairs and went about offering up the hot tea, coffee and cookies that Mrs. Erwin had prepared for a snack.
Delicious smells of dinner cooking were drifting from the kitchen, and Chase and the bartender were setting out glassware in the great hall when the house’s landline rang. He strolled toward the phone in the library. Ashley was closer, and he nodded to her when she glanced his way.
“Bradley residence,” she said into the receiver. Then she grabbed the back of her desk chair as her face drained of color.
Alarmed, Chase rushed forward. “What—”
She held the phone his way. “The ski patrol. Asking for you.”
He continued to watch her with concern as he took the call. The information imparted relieved him somewhat, but he remained puzzled by Ashley’s wan face as he set the receiver back in its cradle. “Are you all right?” he asked, placing his hand on her stiff shoulder.
“What’s happened?” she asked, her voice low.
“David Albright,” he answered, naming one of the guests. “He fell, and in doing so sprained an ankle and busted his cell phone.”
“He’s okay other than that?” She searched his face with anxious eyes. “You’re sure?”
“He’ll be fine. I’m going to the ski resort in the limo and I’ll settle him into the rear seat. Then I’ll take the wheel of his car and drive it here. Can you handle drinks and hors d’oeuvres until I get back?”
“Sure.” She released her death grip on the chair and managed a weak smile. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry.”
But he did, both going to and returning from the Mountain Magic Resort. At the Bradley house, David managed to get himself into the great hall just fine on a pair of crutches. As a matter of fact, he looked better than Ashley, who still appeared shaken. She soldiered on through dinner, though, only to disappear on Chase again.
Carrying a snifter of brandy in each hand, he searched the house for her as most of the guests tromped up the stairs toward the playroom in order to try their hand at science fiction. Chase was interested in storytelling, too—but Ashley’s story...the one that had caused her distress.
Maybe he should question this protective side she brought out in him. But instead, he wanted to question her.
It took him several minutes to discover her hideout. As a matter of fact, he’d walked past the half-lit kitchen three times, presuming it was empty because Mrs. Erwin and her staff had left an hour before. But finally he found Ashley, seated at a banquette in one corner of the large kitchen, tucked behind the table and sitting in near-dark.
“There you are,” he said, keeping his voice soft so as not to startle her.
She started anyway, and then glanced over. “Did you need something—”
“Only to find you,” he said, and realized it was true. Skirting the table, he seated himself on the cushioned bench beside her. Not touching, but close enough to settle his unease a little. “I was concerned.”
“About me?”
He took a sip of one brandy and placed the other snifter in front of her. “Why do you sound so surprised? You’ve seemed...off since this afternoon.”
“I didn’t think anyone would notice.”
“I don’t think ‘anyone’ did. Just me.” Another truth. From the moment he’d seen Ashley, he’d been attracted. But upon talking to her, he’d somehow...found her wavelength. Or she operated on the same as his. Chase didn’t know. He’d never experienced this with any other woman, this heady rush of recognition.
He recalled a night out with Arch, very soon after he’d met June. The other man had been drinking heavily, and Chase had come to understand it was because he’d been so knocked on his butt by the brown-eyed woman whom he’d been introduced to at the wedding of mutual friends.
We just...worked from the first moment, Arch had said, as if he could hardly believe it. Our edges line up. She fits with me like a baseball in that old glove of mine.
At the time, his friend and his baseball analogy had amused Chase. He wasn’t laughing anymore.
Slightly unnerved, he focused on Ashley once again, nudging the brandy toward her. “Have a drink of this.”
Maybe she was getting sick, he thought, and lifted his hand to press the back of
