her waist. “Until then, Ashley…” He sealed their bargain with a kiss hot enough to leave her clinging to him. He used his lips, his tongue, his teeth…And she reciprocated every inch of the way.
He’d win this battle of wills one way or another. And judging by her small moan when he ended the kiss, it’d be sooner rather than later. “Give me your number,” he whispered. “I’ll call you.”
Very slowly her eyes opened. “Wow.”
Wow indeed. She had a knack for understatements, too. “Your number?”
“My phone is either in my locker or turned off when I’m working.”
But he knew when she got off work. “If need be, I’ll leave a message.”
She licked her lips as if savoring his taste before nodding, then rattling off a phone number.
Quinton added it to the memory on his cell phone and then tucked his phone away again. “Thank you.”
Composure restored, she said, “You’ll probably regret this.”
He just smiled. “You won’t. I promise.”
With one last stroke of her silky hair, he made his escape before he lost sight of the prize. But before he got too far away to hear, the prize started mumbling to herself.
And she didn’t sound happy.
Too bad. The laws of nature, of man and woman, dictated he was bound to win. And that made him very, very happy.
Chapter 2
Whatever could go wrong, did.
Murphy’s Law.
In her case it was more like Quinton Murphy’s Law because when she got near him, she made mistakes left and right. One look at the man and she forgot common sense, self-restraint, and her touted goals for the future.
She knew how important goals were because her parents had never had any. They’d been more than content to scrape by on the generosity of others.
Being the charity case of the neighborhood didn’t make life easy for a gangly, shy kid with overly strict parents. In fact, her life had bordered on hellish until she and May became best friends. Thanks to May, she’d learned to conquer insecurities, stand up to bullies, and separate herself from her parents’ way of life.
At seventeen she’d escaped their suffocating environment of rigidity and poverty by disowning them and moving out on her own. For years it had been all she could do to make ends meet, and sometimes they hadn’t. She’d done without food, without adequate clothes, occasionally without shelter—but she’d never taken charity.
She was nothing like her parents, who still took advantage of good people with big hearts.
Now, finally, she had enough money to attend college, to set herself up to be fully self-sufficient and plan for a proper future.
She prided herself on making it on her own. Someday she’d have everything she wanted—her dream home, a new car, money in the bank, a retirement fund…She’d have it all.
Involvement with Quinton would only distract her from her long-term goals.
But…she couldn’t help thinking about it, about him. She wasn’t an unhappy person, but around Quinton she felt almost…bubbly. So stupid. She had to stick to the plan of work, school, and savings.
Unfortunately Murphy’s Law wasn’t content with blowing her state of mind. She also had to contend with the air-conditioning going on the fritz, leaving the building stuffy and her body sheened with sweat. From that point, she broke both the industrial-sized vacuum and a foyer lamp after accidentally sucking up an extension cord. Then she dropped a bottle of cleaner, spilling it everywhere. She spent more time cleaning up her own messes than the building, when usually she prided herself on a job well done.
She blamed Quinton for her clumsiness. After that consuming kiss, no one could expect her to function properly. Her knees still shook, her heart still thumped, and a strange tingling in her midsection made concentration iffy at best.
A single glimpse of Quinton and she wanted to drag him off for some hanky-panky. He personified the term stud with his dark blond hair and fierce green eyes and that confident smile that proclaimed enough experience for ten men. For a corporate type he had an incredible body, tall and strong and roped with lean muscles.
Suits had never appealed to her. But the way Quinton wore a suit, with such relaxed ease, only amplified his masculinity.
Maybe if she’d expected to see him tonight, she might have been prepared. But after catching him with Zara Trilby in what had appeared to be a very intimate discussion, she’d overreacted big time. Luckily, not in front of Quinton, but she’d been eaten up with jealousy, proving she was in over her head. Even though she later discovered that Zara was a very nice lady and no more than a client for Quinton, she’d thought to avoid him.
She’d already resolved to ensure he’d left the office before entering to clean. The only reason she’d entered the first time was that she’d planned to ask him to the wedding. Big mistake.
One look at poised, refined, beautiful Zara, and she’d indulged in private comparisons that had her quickly chickening out. Pure fate had Zara at the rehearsal dinner as the best man’s date. And to Ashley’s surprise, the woman was actually nice. But even after Zara’s assurances that she and Quinton were only business associates, Ashley had planned to forgo anything personal with him.
He was wealthy; she was poor.
He was drop-dead gorgeous and she was just plain funky in looks and demeanor.
He was CEO of a lucrative consulting firm while she still had college to finish.
Doing her best to keep him blocked from her mind had been easier than she’d expected with her thoughts bouncing between worry over the headlights that kept flashing in her rearview mirror, and the wedding that thrilled her, even as she dreaded it.
She loved May, and she loved seeing May so happy.
But…she’d never in her life dressed up. Her childhood wardrobe had consisted only of secondhand clothes. Many times what she wore had holes, stains, and didn’t fit. Humiliation had become her constant companion. Whenever her parents got money, they indulged personal vanities that didn’t involve their only child.
Naturally she’d avoided proms and other school formals. By the time she got her GED, she’d been on her own, completely estranged from her folks. Other than May, no one had really cared what she did or where she went.
Now she could afford finer things, but she had college loans, rent, and insurance. Whatever was left over went into saving for a house. She dressed for function, period. If it kept her warm and dry, that was a plus.
In the worst times of her life, May was her salvation—more so than May realized, and more so than Ashley could ever tell her. So for her, and only for her, would she wear a formal gown and dressy shoes and have her hair done and all the rest of the fuss that went with being a maid of honor.
But that didn’t mean she’d enjoy it.
She had to admit to relief that Quinton would accompany her. But that brought out a completely new set of problems. He skewed her perspective on things. He toyed with her libido. Without even trying, he chipped away at the willpower necessary to see her dreams through.
Even when it didn’t appear deliberate, Quinton got to her. All he had to do was stand there looking good, or smile in a way that made her feel special, or touch her so carefully, and she wanted to molest him.
Diabolical. That’s what he was. Downright diabolical. Somehow he knew her weaknesses, and he used them against her.
Lost in conflicting thoughts, it wasn’t until she left the building at four in the morning that she recalled her nervousness earlier. Had someone been following her? Or was she just overly nervous?
She