New Year's Resolution: Romance!. Leslie Kelly
she was a trifle more accustomed to him now, even though she could almost taste his masculinity on her tongue. It was coming off him in waves. “I wish your family well.”
“Do you?” One of Chase’s brows arched.
Ashley got a funny feeling in her stomach—not quite queasy, but close. “Sure.” Deciding there was nothing more to say, she gave a last glance at the flowers, then strode toward the hallway that would take her to the side entrance and from there to her van. Chase got in her way.
Halting, she pressed her palms against the thin cotton smock, and dared to look at his face. A black ring surrounded the gray of his irises. It gave the impression of being looked at through binoculars, or maybe dual microscopes, she decided, and felt her stomach take another woozy turn. With a hand, she made a vague gesture. “I need to get to my party.” When he just continued to look at her as if he could see through her skin to her racing blood and her jumping nerves, she cleared her throat. “I’m making dip.”
“What kind?”
Surely, he didn’t care what kind of dip she made. It wasn’t anything fancy, like he was undoubtedly accustomed to. But she humored him, because otherwise she’d have to push past him and run down the hall like a spooked rabbit. “You mix a packet of stuff into sour cream. Stir. With a fork, a spoon, a knife. I’ve even used my finger,” she said, demonstrating.
“That sounds...messy.”
“Not so.” Before she even knew she was going to do it, she had the digit in her open mouth and she was pretending to lick it clean.
Pretending to lick it clean!
The heat of a thousand suns burst over her face and she quickly pulled her finger from between her lips and tucked both hands into the pockets of her smock. Where had that move come from? It was pure...flirtation, and she’d never been coquettish. Stu had been her boyfriend before she’d been old enough to learn any flagrant moves. Since his death, the only way she could have picked up any would have been through osmosis, those few times she’d met Suze at bars before the woman married Jackson.
Ducking her head, she made to scoot around Chase. “I’ve got to go,” she mumbled.
“Wait.” He caught her arm. His touch hummed along her nerve endings, vibrating from wrist to shoulder as the tiny hairs on her skin stood at attention. “I have a proposition.”
Her head jerked up.
“Not that kind of proposition,” he said, humor putting new light in his eyes. “Unless—”
“No, thank you.” She drew back her elbow, freeing herself from his hold. This time, she managed to skirt his big body, and then she clack-clack-clacked out of the foyer, her high heels moving even quicker than her pulse.
She breezed through the hall, sped along the kitchen floor, and was then out in the brisk air, where she breathed in great gulps of calming oxygen. Her hand was on the cold chrome of the door handle when he spoke from behind her.
“I’m serious,” Chase said. “I need a hostess. Could you help me out?”
“You’re joking,” she said without turning around.
“No.” He came close enough that she could smell the expensive cologne he wore—or maybe it was just expensive soap because it was a clean scent and not a clingy one. “I’ll pay you well.”
Now she chanced a glance over her shoulder. “For what, exactly?”
His eyebrows shot toward his forehead. “Why, Ashley, we’ve only just met. Nothing indecent, okay? I’m a businessman, and this offer is entirely on the up-and-up.”
It wasn’t disappointment that sluiced through her. “You’d better spell it out.”
“Come live here for a week. Even out the numbers of men and women at the house party. Smile. You might even have a little fun.”
“Why would you want me?” she asked, finally turning to face him.
“It’s not such a crazy impulse, I promise you. The thing is, you’re dressed for the occasion.”
“Well, true,” she acknowledged with a slight nod of her head. “Though it’s for an entirely different party.” With chips, dip and Moose.
“Are you married?” Chase asked.
Stu. With his streaky blond hair and his snow tan. He’d burned through life too soon. “Not anymore.”
“Boyfriend?”
She shook her head.
“Well, there you go. I need a single female pretty much immediately, and you’re already here. Plus, I’m a generous employer.” He named a sum.
She nearly gasped. “I couldn’t accept that.”
Chase frowned. “Now I see you need to take me up on this. Your negotiating skills are severely lacking. I can teach you a thing or two, I’ll bet.”
A shiver tiptoed down her spine. Ashley ignored it. “For all that I’d be grateful for it,” she said, her voice sugar-sweet, “we both know that a big, bad businessman like yourself can handle a week on his own just fine.”
“Also true.”
A laugh bubbled up from her belly. He was confident, all right.
“But...” He drew a fingertip along her cheek, and when she shivered, unable to hide it this time, he frowned and stripped off his jacket. Dropping it over her shoulders, he tugged the lapels close beneath her chin.
Though his warmth instantly enveloped her, she still had to fight another betraying shiver. “But?” she prompted.
His serious gaze caught hers. “Here’s the thing, Ashley. I guarantee if I don’t have a woman by my side, one of the clients will feel as if she has to step up. And this week isn’t about requiring any of those who work with us to take on responsibilities. It’s about shedding them. They’re supposed to have a good time and relax in the capable Bradley hands. It makes them feel more comfortable with our firm.”
That actually made sense, Ashley thought. It was a logical, very legitimate, business-backed argument. Hadn’t she already supposed a man with his kind of success in his line of work would make rational and shrewd decisions?
Maybe she should let that rub off on her. And if she did... Well, she had two free weeks. Grabbing up this opportunity to make a fistful of cash during one of them would give her some cushion in her bank account. At the very least she could buy outfits other than T-shirts and jeans for that shell-stepping-out-of she’d said she’d be doing in the new year.
In her year of yes.
She hauled in a breath that smelled of lake and snow and just a little bit of Chase Bradley. It was an intelligent choice, she thought. Not a crazy impulse, as he’d assured her. She would be taking no kind of risk at all, really.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.”
* * *
CHASE CONGRATULATED HIMSELF a few hours later for his powers of persuasion. Ashley Walker had been a fine snap decision. And even though she’d started a fire inside him by that little mime with her finger—something he’d noted she’d instantly regretted—he’d managed to come up with a sensible argument that got her to agree to be his hostess.
It had paid off.
She’d greeted his guests smoothly, helped to make sure everyone had drinks during the cocktail hour, kept talk flowing during dinner with those closest to her at the table. While not a loud, lampshade-on-her-head, life-of-the-party type—thank God—her shyness seemed strictly reserved for him. With everyone else she was easy with her smiles and her conversation.
As the only local in the group, she was called upon to dispense nuggets of the area’s history and to suggest nearby attractions.