The Wilde Side (10 page)

"Whatever's between us, and you and I know it's more than just great sex," he ventured confidently, "it doesn't have to end."

"Ahh, but one-night stands are just that – one night only."

Grabbing the neck of beer he'd yet to drink, he strolled over to the bed, pushed the pillows up against the headboard, and settled into the cushions. "Which brings us around to you calling me and making our one-night stand into an extended affair."

"You're right, maybe this wasn't such a great idea..." More hesitation on her end, and he could easily picture her biting her lush bottom lip in indecision. "Maybe I should go before this does get any more complicated."

"No, don't hang up," he said, the command sounding too harsh and too damned desperate. But hell, she'd finally found the fortitude to contact him, and if she chose to disconnect the call, he was fairly certain he'd never hear from her again.

And that wasn't a chance he was willing to take.

What he was willing to do was give her time and space tonight, without pressure, without demands, to figure out how far she wanted to take things between them – just so long as she offered him the same opportunity to discover more about her along the way, as well.

He took a long, much needed drink of his beer, letting the cool, malty taste slide down his throat and into the pit of his belly, then set the bottle on the nightstand. "Tell you what, Just Ashley," he said, calmer now. "Let's start over and take things nice and slow tonight and just talk."

"Okay." She seemed to have relaxed, too, and he was grateful that he hadn't scared her off. "I'd like that."

He dragged his fingers through his still-damp hair and asked a basic, nonthreatening kind of question. "So, where are you right now? At home?" he guessed, envisioning her in an elegant, contemporarily decorated condo in a fashionable part of town – like somewhere off of Lake Shore Drive.

"Actually, I'm in San Francisco," she replied, throwing him a curve he hadn't expected. "On a business trip."

His stomach muscles cramped, and try as he might to keep the past out of the present, he could no longer ignore the niggling similarities between Elaine's elusive behavior during their three months together, including using the guise of business trips to keep her out of reach, and Ashley's very guarded demeanor since he'd met her.

There were many complex secrets surrounding Just Ashley, along with layers of mystery waiting to be gradually stripped away as the trust between them strengthened, but there was one issue he had to get out in the open
now
, before they took their relationship any farther.

"I have to ask you something, and I need you to be honest with me." He prayed that she'd be able to give him at least that much.

A brief, tentative silence ensued. Then she offered him the acquiescence he was waiting for. "Okay."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut, hating that he even had to ask this question, but knowing her answer was too important not to address. "Are you married?"

A sharp, shocked gasp echoed through the phone line. "Of course I'm not married," she said indignantly. "I wouldn't have slept with you if I were in any kind of relationship!"

She was so emphatic, so appalled he'd even considered such a thing, that believing her was incredibly easy. Still, he tried to explain the reason behind his personal question.

"I didn't mean to offend you. It's just that I've learned the hard way that being in a committed relationship doesn't matter to some women, and that experience has made me cautious."

"Monogamy matters to
me
."

Her reassurance relieved him and put some fears to rest, and he attempted to put their conversation back on track. "So, what do you do for a living that includes traveling?"

"I'm in merchandising," she said, and he could tell by the impassioned, enthusiastic tone of her voice that she enjoyed her job. "I'm a buyer for a chain of exclusive boutiques in San Francisco, Chicago, and New York."

It didn't escape his notice that she'd given him the barest of details, just enough to satisfy his curiosity, but not so surprisingly had kept too much vague – such as
who
she worked for. And then he wondered if she'd been passing through Chicago on a business trip the night of her birthday, which would have been an ideal situation for a one-night tryst with a stranger.

He propped an arm behind his head and stared up at the overhead ceiling fan that was stirring the air and keeping the room cool. "Which of those cities do you call home?"

"Chicago," she shared with him. "Born and raised."

"Me, too." He grinned, glad to know that they lived within the same vicinity, or at least as close as a few million people in one city would allow, he thought wryly. Finding her without the benefit of knowing her last name would be like searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack, but running into her again in Chicago was more likely to happen than if she resided in another city or state.

"Though lately, I've been thinking of moving to San Francisco."

Her announcement put a major dent in his positive attitude, and a slight frown creased his brows. "A more exciting city than Chicago?"

"No, just a
different
city. A new place. New people."

"A new life?" he ventured to guess, somehow sensing that her need for something "new" went much deeper than she was letting on with him.

"Sure," she said, a dismissive shrug in her tone. "A new life would be part of moving to a new city."

He wasn't buying her simplistic answer – it was just a gut feeling he had that there was more to her reasons than she was willing to reveal to him. "Would it be terribly selfish of me if I said I didn't want you to move?"

She laughed, the airy sound wrapping around him in the intimate darkness of his room. "I'm very flattered."

And he was completely serious, which said way too much about his level of involvement with her. This relationship was definitely on its way to turning emotionally complicated – for him. And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about his free fall, except hope like hell that somewhere along the way Ashley chose to join him for the wild, reckless ride.

"It's your turn to sit in the hot seat and answer some questions, Mr. Wilde," she said in a sultry tone, effectively turning the attention to him and off of her.

Recognizing her quick switch for the diversion it was, he went with the flow. Unlike her, he had absolutely nothing to hide ... and a whole lot to gain by letting her in on his life. "Lay it on me, sweetheart. I'm an open book."

"All right," she said in amusement. "Let's start with the basic 'What do
you
do for a living?'"

"I'm a contractor in the tile industry."

"Hmmm," she hummed contemplatively. "So, you work for Nolan and Sons, then?"

Her knowledge stunned him. "How would you know that?"

"The other night, when I followed you to your place, I saw the company name on your truck."

"Ahhh." She'd been more observant than he'd realized, and on a purely masculine level that pleased him. "Yes, that's the company. Nolan is my father's name, and it's a family-owned business."

"I take it that's where the 'and sons' comes into play? Is that you and your brothers?"

"Me and one other brother. Alex works for the company, but Joel is a U.S. Marine turned security specialist. Then there's my sister, Mia, who also works at the office and keeps things running smoothly and efficiently." Even when he was being a total butthead, he thought with a grimace as he remembered his surly behavior Monday morning.

"I'm betting Joel was the one dressed in black the other night, wasn't he?" Her question held a trace of a smile, which was easy enough for him to visualize lighting up her beautiful face.

"Yep." He scratched an itch on his belly, then tucked his hand into the waistband of his shorts. "That would be Joel."

"He must be the rebel in the family."

Scott chuckled, enjoying her insight. "To say the least," he agreed, though Mia had undoubtedly given Joel a run for his money in the rebel department when they were teenagers, with her sassy mouth and defiant, independent spirit.

"And your father?" she went on curiously. "Is he still involved in the business?"

"Only when he needs to be or when I need his advice on something." Nolan Wilde was a smart, self-taught man, in business and in life, and there had been plenty of times over the years when Scott had sought the kind of guidance and infinite wisdom only a father could offer. "He retired a few years ago and put me in charge of the company. Now he's off enjoying himself with my stepmother, going golfing and fishing and taking all the well-deserved vacations he missed out on during the early years of his marriage to Amelia."

"Did your father and real mother divorce?" she asked softly, her interest in his family genuine.

Scott thought back eighteen years, a lifetime ago, really, yet the memories of losing his mother came back to him as vividly as if it had all happened a week ago. "Actually, my mother died of ovarian cancer when I was fifteen."

"I'm sorry," she said compassionately. "That must have been extremely difficult for all of you, being so young and all."

Her simple, heartfelt words urged him to share more. "My mother's death was definitely a big shock for the whole family, one that took some time to get used to." Mia, especially, had had the hardest time adjusting to the loss of their mother, which was when a lot of her rebellion had come into play. "Being the oldest, I automatically stepped in and took over on a more parental level to keep things at home under control while my father worked late hours at the business."

"Ahhh, the responsible, dependable one," she murmured, almost to herself. "I know that role real well myself."

So, they had that trait in common, an innate sense of duty and obligation to family and others, and he couldn't help but wonder where that rational and sensible side to her personality had stemmed from – and if it at all tied into the reasons why she was being so secretive – because their affair was neither sensible or rational.

"How about you, Ashley?" he asked, wanting answers to a few questions tumbling through his mind. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Just a sister, who is five years younger than me. And she's definitely
not
the rebel sort," she added with humor.

A grin curved the corner of his mouth as he thought back to the night of her birthday, her brazen attitude and her uninhibited behavior with him. "I'd think that honor belongs to you," he teased.

A soft puff of air escaped her, a cross between laughter and incredulity. "Despite what you might think, I'm
far
from being a rebel."

Undoubtedly, in her real, everyday life she was serious, dedicated, and yes, just as responsible as he was. Not at all a wild child sort like his sister, Mia. Then again, he'd seen firsthand that Ashley did have the potential to be untamable and daring, given the right set of circumstances.

"If I remember correctly, you're a good girl who wants to be bad."

"I liked being bad with you," she murmured huskily.

Her provocative words and suggestive tone caused his stomach muscles to tighten. "Why with me?"

She hesitated, as if trying to find a response that would make sense. "Because being bad with you is safe.
You're
safe."

He frowned, trying to understand her comment, but unable to grasp the depth of her explanation. "Safe
how?
"

"We're strangers, so there's that level of anonymity that keeps things private and risk-free for both of us. We can pretend anything, do anything we want, and not feel threatened in any way."

What the hell did she have to feel threatened about? That seemed to be the million-dollar question, and it wasn't an answer that would be forthcoming from her anytime soon, he knew. He scrubbed a hand along his jaw and blew out a long stream of breath. She was being elusive again, and keeping his frustration at bay was no easy task.

"But ultimately I trust you, so that makes this affair, and you, safe for me," she finished in a voice so soft, so achingly exposed, that all of Scott's annoyance vanished like a wisp of smoke.

She didn't trust him, not in the way that he ultimately needed her to. But whatever her reasons for guarding her identity, he was grateful that she'd at least admitted to their relationship, even in terms of an affair. It was a start – a small victory he gladly embraced.

He heard the sound of something rustling on Ashley's end of the phone line, a welcome distraction from their current conversation. Instead, he imagined her shifting restlessly on silky bedsheets, which immediately conjured up the kind of erotic positions and scenarios they'd indulged in Saturday night. Those risqué thoughts caused his body to heat and other parts of his anatomy to rise to the occasion.

"Where are you?" he asked, needing to place her in his mind and let his fantasies take flight with as many visual props as he could coax from her.

"I already told you ... I'm in San Francisco." Her voice held a trace of confusion.

He shook his head, then realized she wasn't there to see the gesture. "No, I meant where are you ... sitting on a chair, lying on a couch, in a bed?"