a car accident that had proved fatal for her. He’d woken up in the hospital with no memory of the accident, but Mia had died at the scene. Alexander said authorities believed Mia must have been drinking and she’d lost control of her car. The police report made no sense to Ashton. Mia was not a drinker. And when they were together, he always drove, even if it was her car. “Mia was driving,” Alexander had said firmly. “Be thankful. If you were driving, you could have been charged with manslaughter.”
Weeks later, Ashton had received devastating news. The autopsy report claimed there were drugs in Mia’s system. His family had managed to keep the information out of the press, but that was the least of Ashton’s problems. He’d lost the love of his life, and hated his father’s cold, callous attitude about the accident. He’d attended Mia’s funeral in a wheelchair, in a haze of grief and confusion, and had nightmares about the accident for several months.
Once his physical injuries healed, he’d been worried about his future. Would people blame him for Mia’s death? Would he lose his acceptance to business school? Would his reputation be destroyed? His parents had instructed him not to speak of the incident to people outside of the family. If there was gossip and speculation about what had caused the mishap, Ashton wasn’t privy to it. To this day, more than ten years after Mia’s death, the incident was never spoken of in the Rollins household. Occasionally, he still dreamt about it but in his waking hours, he sometimes wondered if the accident had really happened. If he’d ever even had a fiancée.
Taking off his aviator sunglasses, Ashton rubbed at his eyes. Since the car accident, he’d toed the line where his family was concerned. He’d gotten his Ivy League MBA and gone to work at Rollins Aeronautics. He only dated women his parents considered “appropriate.” But not once had he fallen in love. He continued to feel guilty about Mia’s death, though everyone told him it wasn’t his fault. Why hadn’t he realized she was under the influence? Why had he let her get behind the wheel? If he had been driving, the accident could have been avoided, and he’d be married now, not heartbroken and alone.
Again, Haley Adams barged into his thoughts. For the first time in years, Ashton was open to having a girlfriend, and the only person on his radar was the charity CEO.
Curious how Haley was doing, Ashton retrieved his cell phone from his jacket pocket and called her. On a whim, he’d phoned Haley a couple times from Frankfurt, but every time he called she was unavailable. Today, though, he was determined to finally connect with her.
“Good morning. The Aunt Penny Foundation,” chirped a female voice. “This is Stacy speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hello. Can I please speak to Ms. Haley Adams?”
“I’m sorry, sir, but she’s in a meeting. Would you like to leave a message?”
No, I want you to put her on the phone so I can ask her out! Frustrated, Ashton hung up and chucked his cell on the seat. Damn, why was it so hard to get Haley on the line? She was the CEO of a charity organization, for goodness’ sake, not the leader of the free world!
And he was a Rollins. Why was he sitting there pouting? He sat up, straightening his shoulders. He didn’t wait for things to happen. He made things happen.
Imbued with confidence, a plan taking shape in his mind, he pressed the intercom button.
“Yes, Mr. Rollins?” the driver asked. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Take me to The Aunt Penny Foundation, and step on it. It’s important.”
“Very well, sir. Not a problem. I’ll have you there quick, fast and in a hurry!”
The driver punched the gas, sending the limousine flying down Brickell Avenue.
Pleased, Ashton adjusted his pin-striped tie. This time when he saw Haley, things would be different. The thought—and the images of the curvy, dark-skinned beauty—excited him.
Twenty minutes later, the limousine stopped in front of a brown brick building, and Ashton stepped out. “Thanks. Hang tight. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Modern and clean, the reception area was decorated with children’s artwork, bamboo plants, brown leather furniture and brass lamps. Approaching the front desk, he buttoned his suit jacket and took off his sunglasses.
“Good morning,” greeted the receptionist at the mahogany desk. “Welcome to The Aunt Penny Foundation. How may I help you?”
Licking his lips, Ashton peered down the hallway, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. He was a great judge of character, and something told him Haley Adams was special. Someone he could trust. More than just a pretty face and a sexy body. Ashton wanted to know if their connection was real, or a figment of his imagination, and there was only one way to find out. “I’m Ashton Rollins, president of Prescott George, and I’m here to see Ms. Haley Adams.”
Frowning, worry lines wrinkling her brow, she consulted her appointment book. “One moment, please,” she chirped, raising an index finger in the air.
She snatched the phone off the cradle, pressed 0 and spoke in a low, hushed voice to the person on the line. Ashton couldn’t hear what she was saying, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t leaving until he saw Haley.
“Ms. Adams will see you now.” The receptionist sprang to her feet. “Right this way, Mr. Rollins.”
Following her down the corridor, Ashton heard telephones ringing, the distant sound of laughter and the familiar chug of a photocopier. Inspirational quotes were painted on the deep blue walls, words of encouragement and hope, and reading them lifted his spirits. Coming to The Aunt Penny Foundation was a bold move, one Ashton was confident would pay off. The air smelled of peppermint and perfume, a fragrant aroma that made him think of Haley, and he suspected she was nearby.
Stopping at the end of the hallway, the receptionist gestured to the open door to her left.
Nodding his thanks, Ashton entered the bright, sun-drenched office. And there, standing behind the executive desk in a fitted cardigan, white V-neck dress and pearls was Haley Adams. His crush. The object of his affection. The woman who’d starred in his dreams last night—and the night before last. The urge to touch her was overwhelming, but since he was a gentleman and not a sex-crazed teenager, he stayed put and buried his hands inside his pockets.
Staring at her, Ashton admired her creamy skin, slender nose, glossy red lips and high cheekbones. Her stylish auburn bob grazed her shoulders, and the short, thick bangs complemented her oval face, drawing attention to her big brown eyes.
“Welcome to The Aunt Penny Foundation, Mr. Rollins. What can I do for you?”
Ashton choked down a laugh. Her mouth said, “Welcome,” but her cold, rigid stance said, “Get out and don’t come back!” Fidgeting with her fingers, she shifted and shuffled her feet, causing Ashton to remember the last time he’d done The Electric Slide. It was at a friend’s wedding reception months earlier, and when his date—an uptight scientist from Coral Gables—had complained the song was corny, he’d hit the dance floor alone.
“It’s great to see you again, Haley. How is Aunt Penny doing?”
Eyes wide, she stared at him as if he’d just asked for her hand in marriage.
“I hope she’s feeling better,” he added, “and is finally out of the hospital.”
“Yes,
