The Bridal Path: Ashley by Sherryl Woods Page B

unmistakable link between them was as rare and unexpected for her as it was for him.
    Not that his motive in pushing her away tonight had been totally altruistic, he admitted reluctantly. He’d meant what he said. She didn’t really know him. She wouldn’t have been making love with him tonight, but with a memory. And in the morning, she would have hated, if not him, then herself for giving in to temptation. And he would have hated himself for giving in to desire only to satisfy an old hunger.
    He knew all about women who were drawn to dangerous men, who craved the excitement, the daring of playing with fire. It was a game with them. They thrilled to the challenge, if not to the specific men who provided it.
    He wanted Ashley to desire him, Dillon Ford, not just the idea of rebelling against propriety as she had when she’d asked him to dance at his prom all those years ago.
    Oh, how sweet that memory was to him, all the same. It had haunted him all these years. He’d never forgotten the feel of her in his arms, the gentle sway of her body into his, the press of her thighs against his.
    Nor had he forgotten how it had felt to know that anything more between them was forbidden, that a girl as good as Ashley was beyond his reach. His pride had taken a beating that night, right along with his libido. Tonight had reminded him a lot of those days, when he’d known he could claim her body, but not her heart.
    Despite his earlier promise to himself to steer clear of Trent’s favorite Scotch, he poured himself a double on the rocks. Sipping it, he tried to block out the burning humiliation he had suffered for himself and Ashley at the crude remarks he’d overheard that long-ago night after the dance had ended.
    One part of him hadn’t given a damn, because he’d glimpsed just a little bit of heaven while holding her. Another part had vowed that the next time he and Ashley Wilde came face-to-face it would be as equals. No one would smirk at finding the two of them together. That promise had driven him all these years.
    Now here they were, face-to-face and practically a whole lot more, and he’d discovered very little had changed. Back then she might not have thought she was slumming when she’d danced with him, as others had so rudely accused, but after tonight he couldn’t help wondering if that was exactly what she thought now. Her doubts were written all over her face every time she looked at him. He suspected once more that she was simply using him as a diversion.
    Ironically, in his unique world of high-tech security and discreet protection services, he was every bit as famous as she was in hers. After all, it had been his company she had sought when she’d been troubled by those threats. He wondered what she would think when she discovered that months ago their paths had almost crossed.
    At any rate, he had every reason to be as proud of his accomplishments as she was of hers. His was just a less public environment. If balance sheets counted for anything, they were equals and then some.
    But confronted with a woman who mattered, he realized that that wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted to see her eyes shining with desire, yes. He also wanted to see respect and trust. He told himself that was all the proof he’d ever need that he’d overcome the past–and then he could put Riverton, Wyoming and Ashley Wilde out of his mind forever.

Chapter Seven
    W hen Dillon wandered into the kitchen the following morning wearing a pair of blue jeans and nothing more, he was astounded to find himself facing Mrs. Fawcett’s disapproving scowl. Ashley shot him an amused, if somewhat helpless, look over the brim of her coffee mug. He gathered their uninvited guest had been there for some time.
    Decked out in another of those appallingly ill-fitting hiking outfits, his old high school math teacher faced him with a prim set to her mouth.
    “I might have expected as much,” she said. “I knew when I saw the two of you together the