The Bridal Path: Ashley by Sherryl Woods Page A

could feel the wild tingling all the way to her toes.
    “Dillon,” she cried out again, her voice little more than a ragged whisper.
    “Slow down, sweetheart,” he said, his voice raw with an unmistakable primal need.
    “Why?”
    The question drew a grin. “Because you’d hate me in the morning.”
    “I wouldn’t,” Ashley swore vehemently.
    “Sure you would. Or, if not me, then yourself. When you and I make love…and we will,” he assured her, “it will be because you want me, the real me, not who you think I am. It won’t just be a rebellion.”
    His analysis of her motivations was as effective as being dashed with ice water.
    “I’m not rebelling,” she insisted, despite her own nagging doubts that that was precisely what she was doing. “And if you think that’s what this is about then you don’t know
me,
either.”
    “Oh, but I do,” he said smugly. “I always have, even way back in high school when you were tempted so badly you ached with it.”
    The arrogant assumption that she’d been panting after him even then infuriated her. Unfortunately, it hit too close to the truth for her to be able to deny it with any sort of conviction, so she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut.
    Instead, she gathered her pride and forced herself to brush a nonchalant kiss across his cheek.
    “Too bad you picked tonight to develop a conscience, Dillon. You don’t know what you’ve missed.”
    “Oh, it’s not over between us, Ashley. You can count on that.”
    She trembled at the promise in his voice, but she managed to escape to her bedroom before he could see the tears of humiliation and pure frustration that were brimming in her eyes.
    For all Dillon’s taunts and innuendos about the future, she was convinced she knew the real reason he’d stopped his seduction tonight. At some point he’d realized that she was no longer the perfect size six, glamorous beauty who’d once taken the modeling world by storm. The attraction he’d once felt for her had died.
    It didn’t really matter that all the evidence pointed to the contrary. It didn’t matter that she knew with absolute certainty he was every bit as aroused as she was. This didn’t have anything to do with reason or logic or common sense. It had everything to do with self-esteem that was in the toilet and one trusted man’s assurances that she’d lost her glamour and seductiveness.
    Now she had her proof. She’d failed to seduce the only man she’d ever really wanted, and his rejection hurt. It didn’t seem to matter that his motives sounded noble and honest and sincere. It only mattered that Dillon had inadvertently reinforced every negative perception she had of herself.
    She’d thought that brutal meeting with her agent had been the low point of her life, but she’d been mistaken. Tonight had been personal and far more devastating.
    * * *
    Dillon couldn’t believe he had just let Ashley walk out of his arms and out of the room to sleep alone. As she’d said, it was a damnable time to develop a conscience.
    But despite their growing rapport, despite their constant physical awareness, he couldn’t ignore the fact that on some deep level Ashley was struggling with herself about whether she could trust him.
    She was also struggling with other demons that he had yet to put a finger on. For the past few days he’d seen hurt and confusion and doubt in her eyes, and he knew those things had nothing to do with him. Sometimes she looked so lost and shattered he ached to take her into his arms and reassure her. But that would inevitably lead to lovemaking, and until he understood what was going on in her head, how could he risk adding to her pain?
    Was she here to recover from a love affair gone sour? The very idea of her caring that much about another man made his stomach churn. He wanted to believe she had never been as sweetly sensual or as wildly passionate with anyone as she had been in his arms only moments before. He wanted to believe the