talk?”
Without them, he’d know for sure she’d been
crying. She wasn’t ready to discuss why. “Yes. Do you have a
problem with them?” she challenged.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and
stared at her upturned face. A wry smile crossed his lips. “No, but
they’re not hiding the fact that you’ve been crying, Ashley.”
Sighing, she yanked the glasses off her face,
and without making eye contact with him, walked around the counter.
She caught a glimpse of her face on her toaster and saw that her
mascara had run. Oh, God, raccoon eyes. Too late to do anything
about it. “Do you want some coffee?”
His gaze stayed on her. “Sure, thanks. Was it
something I said or did?”
She snickered softly as she refilled her cup
and poured some of the dark brew for him. “What makes you think you
could do or say anything to reduce me to tears, Noble?”
His lips curled into a derisive smile. “You
have a point there. That leaves my mother.”
She stiffened, but still managed to pass him
his coffee without spilling it. Taking her time, she settled on a
stool opposite his, then lifted her chin, daring him to say
something about her smudged mascara. “Your mother? I didn’t even
speak with her.”
“But you overheard what she said.”
Wasn’t he just Mr. Perceptive. “Is that why
you’re here?”
He wrapped one large hand around the mug and
took a long sip of his coffee. His gaze didn’t leave her, but he
appeared to be rearranging his thoughts. “My mother can be very
blunt, Ashley, but she doesn’t always mean what she says.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Did he
blame her for his father’s death, too? Ashley bit her lip,
undecided on how to proceed. He could either listen to what she had
to say or blow her off. Either way, there was no going around it.
“She’s still hurting, isn’t she?”
A scowl settled on Ron’s face. He was quiet
for a moment, then he nodded. “Things haven’t been easy for
her.”
“She must have really loved him.” Warmth
leaked out of his eyes until they were cold, but she ignored it.
She refused to stop until she had her say. The guilt chewing her
insides needed to be eased. “I know it’s my fault your…your father
died, Ron, and no one is sorrier than I about that. So I understand
why she still hates me—”
“I didn’t come here to discuss this.”
She blinked at his brusque voice. “Oh. When
you brought her up I just assumed you wanted to explain her
position.”
“You assumed wrong.” His voice was
uncompromising. “What I want is total honesty from you.”
Was this about his investigation? She
couldn’t promise to answer all his questions, just what she
remembered. “Of course, but that depends on what you want to know.
Some of the things even I can’t explain.”
As if it were possible, his eyes grew colder.
“You like to play games, don’t you?”
She cut him a look and made a face. “I hate
games. It’s a total waste of time.”
“Then tell me this. How well do you know
Vaughn?”
Ashley blinked. “What?”
“You said you don’t play games. Neither do I.
How well do you know Vaughn?”
Her brow creased as her thoughts raced.
“Vaughn Ricks? The man in the limo?” How did Ron know they’d
met?
He smiled coldly at her. “Yeah, the one you
met down the road from my mother’s home. Vaughn Doyle, Ryan Doyle’s
son. What were you discussing with him?”
Her eyes widened at the revelation. No wonder
he’d looked familiar. He looked like his father. Then the
implication of Ron’s statement sunk in. “You were spying on
me?”
“And it’s a good thing, too, otherwise I
wouldn’t have known about your little meeting.”
She shook her head. “You have some nerve
implying that I play games, Ron Noble.” This was what happened
whenever she let emotions control her actions, people stepped all
over her. She’d let this man get to her before with his
I-need-a-portrait-of-my-grandmother story. Not again. She rose
Without them, he’d know for sure she’d been
crying. She wasn’t ready to discuss why. “Yes. Do you have a
problem with them?” she challenged.
He leaned against the kitchen counter and
stared at her upturned face. A wry smile crossed his lips. “No, but
they’re not hiding the fact that you’ve been crying, Ashley.”
Sighing, she yanked the glasses off her face,
and without making eye contact with him, walked around the counter.
She caught a glimpse of her face on her toaster and saw that her
mascara had run. Oh, God, raccoon eyes. Too late to do anything
about it. “Do you want some coffee?”
His gaze stayed on her. “Sure, thanks. Was it
something I said or did?”
She snickered softly as she refilled her cup
and poured some of the dark brew for him. “What makes you think you
could do or say anything to reduce me to tears, Noble?”
His lips curled into a derisive smile. “You
have a point there. That leaves my mother.”
She stiffened, but still managed to pass him
his coffee without spilling it. Taking her time, she settled on a
stool opposite his, then lifted her chin, daring him to say
something about her smudged mascara. “Your mother? I didn’t even
speak with her.”
“But you overheard what she said.”
Wasn’t he just Mr. Perceptive. “Is that why
you’re here?”
He wrapped one large hand around the mug and
took a long sip of his coffee. His gaze didn’t leave her, but he
appeared to be rearranging his thoughts. “My mother can be very
blunt, Ashley, but she doesn’t always mean what she says.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. Did he
blame her for his father’s death, too? Ashley bit her lip,
undecided on how to proceed. He could either listen to what she had
to say or blow her off. Either way, there was no going around it.
“She’s still hurting, isn’t she?”
A scowl settled on Ron’s face. He was quiet
for a moment, then he nodded. “Things haven’t been easy for
her.”
“She must have really loved him.” Warmth
leaked out of his eyes until they were cold, but she ignored it.
She refused to stop until she had her say. The guilt chewing her
insides needed to be eased. “I know it’s my fault your…your father
died, Ron, and no one is sorrier than I about that. So I understand
why she still hates me—”
“I didn’t come here to discuss this.”
She blinked at his brusque voice. “Oh. When
you brought her up I just assumed you wanted to explain her
position.”
“You assumed wrong.” His voice was
uncompromising. “What I want is total honesty from you.”
Was this about his investigation? She
couldn’t promise to answer all his questions, just what she
remembered. “Of course, but that depends on what you want to know.
Some of the things even I can’t explain.”
As if it were possible, his eyes grew colder.
“You like to play games, don’t you?”
She cut him a look and made a face. “I hate
games. It’s a total waste of time.”
“Then tell me this. How well do you know
Vaughn?”
Ashley blinked. “What?”
“You said you don’t play games. Neither do I.
How well do you know Vaughn?”
Her brow creased as her thoughts raced.
“Vaughn Ricks? The man in the limo?” How did Ron know they’d
met?
He smiled coldly at her. “Yeah, the one you
met down the road from my mother’s home. Vaughn Doyle, Ryan Doyle’s
son. What were you discussing with him?”
Her eyes widened at the revelation. No wonder
he’d looked familiar. He looked like his father. Then the
implication of Ron’s statement sunk in. “You were spying on
me?”
“And it’s a good thing, too, otherwise I
wouldn’t have known about your little meeting.”
She shook her head. “You have some nerve
implying that I play games, Ron Noble.” This was what happened
whenever she let emotions control her actions, people stepped all
over her. She’d let this man get to her before with his
I-need-a-portrait-of-my-grandmother story. Not again. She rose
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