The Wilde Side (17 page)

At least, that had been her justification for wanting to move when she'd made the decision. Now her reasons were compounded. She just didn't think she could live in Chicago and not run into Scott again. Worse, she feared her own ability to keep her distance from him in the long run, yet she knew it wasn't fair to toy with his emotions, either. Making the move to San Francisco would solve so many issues, make her life less complicated, and it was just the right thing for her to do.

Ashley took her sister's hands in hers and gave them a consoling squeeze. "If phone calls and my work visits aren't enough, then you and Sophie can come to San Francisco and stay with me anytime you'd like."

Madison's lip puffed out in a pout, a gesture that was old and familiar and reassuring to Ashley in an odd sort of way. "I guess I don't have much of a choice, do I?" she grumbled.

"No, you don't," Ashley replied, and released her sister's hands. "I've already discussed the transfer with Evan, and I'll be making the move in about a month or so. I even told Mom and Dad this past week that the move is definite."

Madison's eyes widened. "How did they take the news?"

Ashley shrugged, trying to be nonchalant about her father's reaction, even though she'd hoped for a more favorable response than the one she'd received. "Dad took it better than Mom, of course, but neither one of them is happy about my decision. He feels as though I'm splitting up the family."

"Well, I have to agree," Madison said softly. "Our family has never been apart like that before."

Ashley steeled herself against the automatic wave of guilt threatening to swamp her. God, she did guilt too damn well, and she swore that this time she wouldn't be swayed by her parents or even her sister. And that in itself was a difficult feat for her, because it was just too easy to forego her own wants and needs, give in to their pleas, and stay in Chicago – too easy to remain practical and continue on with her staid, monotonous life, just the way it was.

And hell, while she was at it, why not just succumb to her parents' secret hopes and marry Evan. She could settle into a comfortable, stable marriage, sans any grand passion, as well as keep the chain of St. Claire hotels all in the family. Oh, yes, that would be her parents' dream come true, she knew.

Ashley rubbed her forehead, her frustration causing her temples to throb. Yes, she was being sarcastic about the Evan thing, but more and more lately she was feeling constrained by her life as a St. Claire and overwhelmed by certain pressures, no matter how indirect, to make the right choices, choices that would please everyone but Ashley, herself.

No, this time she wouldn't be swayed or influenced by familial guilt into changing her mind about moving to San Francisco. She
had
to do this, and she looked back at her sister and gently but firmly made her decision clear. "It's just one of those things I need to do for
me
. You understand that, don't you?"

"Not completely."

So much for garnering at least Madison's support. She couldn't believe that the first time she'd grasped the opportunity to do something solely for her own happiness and well-being she was meeting with so much opposition. Even Evan was doing his best to try and talk her out of leaving by siding with her father's insistence that she was needed there, in Chicago, the most.

With a bone-weary sigh, she absently glanced out the display window toward the lobby. Her heart literally stopped in her chest as her gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered man standing at the registration counter speaking to one of the employees. Certain her eyes and mind were playing tricks on her, Ashley blinked hard, taking in his side profile, his lean, stream-lined features, and the easy-going grin he offered the young woman who was helping him.

No, it couldn't be....

Oh, but it was....

The woman behind the desk pointed toward the boutique, and with a nod of thanks the man turned and headed in the direction of the store, his clipped stride backed with a dauntless purpose that caused Ashley to suck in a quick, startled breath. Her fingers fluttered up to her throat at the same time, and her mind screamed at her to turn and head back to her office before he caught sight of her, but her favorite pair of Jimmy Choo's seemed glued to the floor.

Scott was there. At the hotel.

As he neared, he seemed to loom larger than life, a gorgeous, sexy mass of lean muscle and uncompromising male fortitude, all packaged up in a beige knit shirt, well-worn jeans, and leather work boots. His casual work clothes made him look so out of place amongst all the business suits and designer sportswear the men in the lobby were wearing, but he was no less appealing. If anything, he drew more attention with his rugged attire and dark good looks, attracting appreciative glances and curious stares from female employees and guests alike.

Including her sister, who'd followed Ashley's line of vision and was checking out Scott for herself.

"Wow, what a hottie that guy is. It's not very often that we get eye candy like that around here," Madison mused, then glanced back at Ashley, who was still stunned and riveted to the spot, her heart now pounding hard and fast beneath her breast.

Her sister frowned, seemingly realizing that there was more to this scenario than initially met the eye. "Ash, do you know him?"

"Umm, kind of." The words escaped her throat in a rasp of sound, barely recognizable as her own.

"Kind of?" Madison echoed in amusement. "Is that a 'yes' kind of? Or 'no' kind of?"

As much as Ashley dreaded the confrontation heading her way – and there was no doubt in her mind that's exactly what this moment and Scott's impromptu visit was leading up to – she knew it would be senseless to lie to Madison. In less than thirty seconds the gig would be up, and her best line of defense was a good offense.

"Yes, I know him." Ashley tried to make it sound as if their relationship was all business, but judging by her sister's enthusiastic reply of "
oh
," Madison had already formed her own conclusions about the two of them.

A deep-seated fear took hold, and Ashley valiantly fought to keep it under wraps. While she'd bolted from Scott at The Daily Grind, there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, not now that he'd finally tracked her down.

He entered the boutique, his gaze sweeping the store until he found her standing with Madison at the far right of the shop. He pivoted and headed straight toward them, and Ashley felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the place. Gone was the smile he'd used to charm the clerk at the front desk, and now his expression was set with grim, unrelenting determination, reminding her of the same implacable man she'd encountered that last night at his place.

Ashley's panic escalated as he reached the two of them and came to a stop next to her. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to meet his gaze, and she hated what she saw in the depth of his eyes. His irises were an icy shade of blue and cold with contempt, a direct contradiction to the way his body vibrated with tension and a heat that was powerful in its intensity.

He tipped his head toward her, a perverse smile twisting his lips. "Hello, Ms.
St. Claire
."

She was jolted by the fact that he knew her last name. She had no idea how he'd discovered the truth or what other information he'd managed to find out about her, but the anger she detected rippling beneath the surface of his cool facade told her he was pretty well ticked off by her deceit.

Straightening her shoulders, she struggled to keep her composure calm and controlled when she felt anything but. "Mr. Wilde," she said, addressing him just as formally.

Madison stepped closer and extended her hand in greeting, obviously eager to make his acquaintance. "Hi, I'm Ashley's sister, Madison."

"Scott Wilde." To her sister, he was amazingly pleasant and warm. And he even gave Madison a glimpse of that devastatingly sexy smile of his. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise," Madison replied, much too breathlessly.

Ashley folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to hold herself together. "What brings you by, Mr. Wilde?" she asked in a direct manner, before her sister could turn the conversation with Scott to a personal one.

Scott returned his attention to her, his smile fading once again as he arched a dark brow at her incongruous question. "I think you know exactly why I'm here," he drawled, his tone deceptively smooth and civil. "I'd like to speak to you, privately."

There was no way she was going to be alone with Scott: not here, not now, not in a place where too many people would wonder and speculate about him – them. "I'm sorry, but I'm quite busy at the moment."

He cocked his hip toward her, his entire body shifting closer with the movement. "Would you rather we conduct business right here, in the middle of your shop?" he murmured much too amicably for her peace of mind. "I have absolutely no problem with that, Ms. St. Claire."

It was evident by the interest and avid curiosity flickering in Madison's gaze that she wouldn't have minded being privy to their exchange. Scott's tone was mild-mannered, and she didn't think he'd air everything between them with an audience present, but she wasn't willing to call his bluff and take the chance that he might expose their relationship, and just how intimately they knew each other, to everyone in the near vicinity.

"Fine. We'll have this discussion in my office," she relented, knowing it was safe for her to be alone with him, that he'd never hurt her, at least not physically, no matter how furious he might be with her. Emotionally, however, he had the power to shatter her to pieces.

She glanced back at her sister. "Maddie, how about I give you a call later on and we'll set up a day to go shopping together?"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Madison seemed to snap out of her fixation and took Ashley's hint to leave, thank goodness. "I really should be going anyway. It's about Sophie's nap time, and I need to get her home," she went on, waving a hand toward the baby, who was dozing off in the stroller as she nursed on her bottle of juice.

Ashley said good-bye to Madison and Sophie, and minutes later she was enclosed in her office at the back of the boutique with Scott. She immediately rounded her desk, needing at least that much space separating them so she didn't feel so overwhelmed by his presence.

Unfortunately, the barrier didn't do much good. The man had an uncanny way of invading her personal space even when he was standing a good six feet away – with his beautiful blue eyes that seemed to touch her body like a caress and his warm male scent that filled every breath she inhaled.

She held his gaze, waiting for his anger to erupt and preparing herself for criticism and accusations to fly. But all he did was stare at her, resentment and animosity mingling in his gaze – and something else she couldn't fully define. Hurt? Disappointment? Longing?

Oh, yes, there was definitely a hint of longing in his expression, and it was that brief glimpse of such a tangible emotion that was nearly her undoing. Despite her selfish actions, despite his own outrage over feeling deceived, he still wanted her.

Even if he didn't
want
to want her.

Unable to stand the tense silence between them any longer, she pulled together the confidence to speak first. "How did you find me?" she asked softly. And more importantly, what did he want now that he knew who she was?

"My cousin, Steve Wilde, is a private investigator, and I had his agency run your license plate number, which confirmed your identity." His tone was flat and devoid of the emotion she'd been privy to just moments ago. "And from there, it was just a matter of doing a standard background check to find out all kinds of interesting information on you."

She couldn't even get upset with him for enlisting a PI's help in tracking her, because if the situation were reversed, she couldn't say that she wouldn't have done the same exact thing. Still, she couldn't help but wonder how far he'd dug into her past and what else he might have discovered about her.

 
"Imagine my shock when I found out I'd been fucking the daughter of one of Chicago's most prominent families," he said, his tone unapologetically snide.

She flinched, feeling the sting and burn of his verbal slap. She understood that he was lashing out and venting his frustration, but she hated his crude language and how he'd reduced their time together to something so cheap and sordid.

He flattened his hands on her desk, leaned across the surface, and sneered at her. "So, did you have a good time slumming at Nick's Sports Bar and getting it on with a lowly construction worker?"

He was deliberately provoking her, and she'd had enough of his cutting remarks. "It wasn't like that!" she shot back.

"That's certainly how it looks and feels, Ms. St. Claire," he drawled cynically.

Feeling defensive, she rounded her desk and stood in front of him, her chin jutting out mutinously. "What happened with you at the bar that night, I swear I've never done with another guy before. No matter how it might seem now that you know who I am, I don't go around sleeping with men I don't know just for kicks or because I'm wealthy and I need to go slumming every now and then."

He leaned his backside against the desk and folded his arms over his broad chest. "No?" he mocked.

"No." The one word, spoken with such force and conviction, seemed to echo in the office.