CHAPTER 6

 

 

Ron gripped the steering wheel and squinted as he replayed the conversation between him and Baron Fitzgerald. How much did the man know? From his ‘your family has done enough to hurt her,’ probably quite a bit.

The rumors, again. Unsubstantiated and damaging. For years, he had foolishly let them point him in wrong directions, doubting his father’s heroism. Chances were Ashley would, too, especially when the source of the information was a relative. Ron cursed under his breath. The last thing he needed was to have her turn against him. Not now.

No one and nothing must stand in the way of this investigation. After the last letter and those pictures, he now knew this wasn’t a blackmail scheme concocted by some deranged person. Someone out there wanted him to find out what happened that night. He didn’t know or care about their motive. The truth was out there and he’d be damned if he didn’t uncover it.

He signaled to change lanes, glance in the rearview mirror and waited for a biker to pass. The biker didn’t, just slowed down. Ron switched lanes and entered a side street. Frowning, his gaze bounced between the street ahead and his rearview mirror. After a few more detours, he knew he hadn’t been mistaken. Someone was tailing him.

At first, he thought it was coincidence when the biker pulled behind him outside of Ashley’s building. With a helmet, aviator glasses and a beard, it was impossible to see his face, but then again, it didn’t really matter. His uncle’s men came in different shapes and sizes. They never bothered to make contact, just watched him and reported to his persnickety uncle.

Good ol’ Uncle Gregory had assigned people to follow Ron since he’d become old enough to drink, and it wasn’t always because he cared about his welfare. The older man lived and breathed Neumann Security. Since his grandmother retired and his uncle started to run the company, all the executives were expected to follow the company’s code of conduct. Archaic couldn’t begin to describe the rules. Ron broke them so often, every meeting with his uncle and grandmother started with a lecture.

Ron pulled up outside the building that housed Neumann Security Inc., but instead of getting out of the car, he watched the biker pull into the parking lot across the street. When the man glanced his way, Ron knew he hadn’t been mistaken.

He left his car and entered the building. At the security desk, he quickly outlined to the guard what he wanted him to do before he headed toward the elevator.

His usually poised secretary, Nicole Weber, was waiting for him when he stepped off the elevator, her blonde hair just a tad untidy and her glasses slipping down her shiny nose.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Nicole said in a way of greeting, then pushed her glasses in place and glared at him.

“Let me guess,” Ron said with a slight grin. “You’ve been trying to get hold of me the whole day.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir?” He shot her a glance from the corner of his eye. She dogged his footsteps, an imposing figure in six-inch heels. He didn’t know how she could balance her five-foot-nine frame in those narrow spikes. “What have you done with my real secretary? You know, the sassy woman who never curbs her tongue and is allergic to the word ‘sir’.”

“I’m not yet done…sir. Your mother’s assistant didn’t know where to find you. The dispatcher at the Kern Valley whatchumicallit—”

“Hotshot…the best wildfire firefighters in the state,” he supplied.

“Needs lessons in phone etiquette,” she finished as though he hadn’t spoken. “She thought you were still at the conference in San Diego. Even after I told her that I spoke with some of your buddies.”

“Okay, Nikki, out with it.” He stopped walking all together to stare at her. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her so rattled, except….

“He is here,” she whispered.

Only one person had that effect on her. “When did he arrive?”

“This morning. He and the boys are in your office. I didn’t know what to do when he asked for the McClain Group file. I tried to hold him off, but he threatened to fire me.”

“He can’t fire you.”

“He can’t? Are you sure?”

Ron smiled reassuringly at her. “I run this branch, not my uncle. Why didn’t you just call me on my cell phone?”

She gave him a disgusted look. “I tried. It kept going to the voice mail, so I, uh, gave him the file and—”

“It’s okay, Nikki. And thanks for the warning.” Then he pushed the door open and stepped into his office.

Papers and files were all over the coffee table, the sofas and his desk. Across the coffee table from his uncle was Stanley, his uncle’s younger son. Occupying Ron’s desk was the other son, royal pain-in-the-ass William. The three of them looked up when he stepped into the room.

His uncle’s face was unreadable as usual. Stanley was so much in awe of his adopted father he had a perpetual whipped-puppy expression. The defiant, angry glance William shot Ron lasted only a few seconds before a polite mask slid into place, but he hadn’t expected the red carpet. William resented not having Neumann blood in his veins. Stanley, on the other hand, couldn’t care less.

“Uncle Gregory…guys, what a surprise seeing you all here.”

“Good afternoon, Ronald. I heard you were at a firemen’s convention.” His uncle didn’t bother to look up as he spoke. His gaze stayed on the pad before him. “I was told you weren’t due back until Saturday.”

Which one of his employees was his uncle’s spy? Knowing the old man, he probably had several.

“I needed to come back early.” Since his uncle didn’t care a rat’s tail about anything outside work, he didn’t bother to elaborate. Instead, Ron turned to stare down at William, who still sat behind his desk. “Do you mind?”

William was a year older than he, Stanley two years his junior. When they were younger, the two would gang up on him and beat the crap out of him. They got him in trouble with both his grandmother and his uncle more often than he cared to count. Things changed when he’d turned thirteen and hormones kicked in. Now a mean look was all it took to keep them at bay.

Without a word, William jumped up from the chair and started to gather the papers on the desk. When Ron spied the contract from McClain Group, he reached for it at the same time as William. A tug of war ensured.

“Let him have it, William.” His uncle gazed at Ron from the rim of his glasses. “I told him to use your desk, Ronald. There’s no need to act childish.”

Ron ignored the dig, waited until William joined his brother and father around the coffee table before he said, “Nikki told me you requested to see the file on McClain Group, Uncle Gregory. What’s going on?”

“We are not the only west coast firm vying for the McClain Group contract for this region, that is what’s going on,” his uncle said impatiently. “We need their account to put this company in the national limelight where it belongs. I know you and McClain’s son had set a meeting for next week.” He patted William’s back. “My boy here convinced McClain Senior to push the meeting forward.”

Ron ignored William’s triumphant look and fixed his gaze on his uncle. It was true that Neumann Security was a regional company, with offices in Nevada and California only. Working with McClain Group, with its chains of hotels and retail stores, would give them a lot of national exposure and an edge in the competitive world of security and surveillance. “I see. Where and when?”

“Five o’clock tomorrow at their head office in New York. I expect you to be at the airport tomorrow morning at nine, Ronald. We’ll leave at nine-thirty.”

A five o’clock meeting could go on until late at night. To make it to Ashley’s place on Saturday morning, he’d have to catch the red eye, if he was lucky. “Damn.”

“If you have a prior engagement, Ron, I can close the deal for you,” William offered.

I bet you would, you self-righteous prick. “I’ll be there,” his told his uncle firmly, ignoring his cousin.

His uncle jerked his chin toward the door. “William, Stanley, I need to discuss something with your cousin. Wait outside.”

While his cousins packed up and left the room, Ron walked to the window and searched for the biker. He was still there. When his uncle cleared his throat, Ron turned around and resigned himself to another lecture.

“I don’t care what plans you have lined up, Ronald,” Gregory stated firmly, “I want you on the jet first thing tomorrow morning. You must focus on this deal and nothing else. We can’t afford another screw up.”

The muscle ticking on Ron’s cheek was the only sign that he resented the talk down. So what that he chose to be by a friend’s side after a fire accident rather than make a meeting, big deal. He’d made up for it several times over, but his uncle was determined never to forget it. “Why are you asking me to accompany you if you’re so sure I’ll mess things up?”

“McClain’s son insisted that you be there. William could easily have finished the negotiation. He knows the inner workings of this company, but we must go with our client’s wishes.” His uncle got up. “Just remember what I told you. No screw-ups. If you think you can’t give it your best shot, do me favor and let me do the talking.”

Not if he could help it. This was his deal. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” His uncle removed his glasses to scowl at him. “Now, what’s this nonsense I hear about you investigating the fire at Carlyle House?”

Ron blinked, totally blindsided. How did he find out? His mother had promised to keep everything to herself. “I’d hardly call it nonsense, sir. Someone out there suspects an arsonist started the fire and wants me to find out who it was.”

A disdainful laugh escaped his uncle. “The fire happened ten years ago. No one cares about how it started.”

“I do. I want to prove that the rumor about my father starting it was false. So does Mom.”

His eyes became cold. “I don’t know who started the rumor. It’s not true. Convince your mother of that and stop this investigation.” He put his glasses back on and picked up his suitcase as though the matter was closed and then started for the door.

Blood roaring in his ears and heart pounding, Ron took a few steps forward and effectively blocked his uncle’s path. At six-one, the older man was a couple inches shorter than Ron, but was wider in girth and in great shape for someone his age. All in all, an imposing figure, but this was one time Ron wouldn’t be intimidated. There was too much at stake.

His uncle stopped short, glared at him. “What are you doing? I have an important meeting in exactly,” he glanced at his watch, “thirty minutes.”

“This is important, too, sir.” He searched his uncle’s furious expression. “How did you know I was investigating the fire?”

“Stop wasting my time, Ronald.” His uncle glowered. “If you have something to say to me, say it,” he snapped.

“You’ve been sabotaging my investigation, and I want to know why.”

“What are you talking about?”

Ron didn’t buy his outrage. “I tried to interview my father’s former colleagues. Every last one of them was eager to talk about the old days until they learned who I was and why I was calling them. Then they either had a prior engagement or developed amnesia. No one wants to discuss my father or the fire. When the P.I. I hired to investigate tried to follow through, the men disappeared. Did you tell them not to talk to me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I just found out your mother’s started receiving those letters again.”

“Again? Are you saying someone had written to her before? How come I was never informed?”

His uncle didn’t bother to answer him, just slipped on his glasses. “Stop the investigation, Ronald. I’ll take it from here.”

Over my dead body. “I can’t. I need to know what’s going on. What was in the letters Mother received before? Did they imply my father started the fire?”

His eyes became cold. “Haven’t I made myself clear? You will drop this investigation or else—”

“Or else what, Uncle Gregory? You will withhold my allowance? Fire me?” Ron gave a humorless laugh. “I’m not that young boy you used to withhold things from every time he didn’t behave. You can’t threaten me, sir. Not anymore.” His voice rose and the older man’s eyes bulged with rage. Or was it shock that Ron dared to stand up to him? “Why don’t you want me to investigate the fire? What are you afraid I’ll find?”

“You need to calm down. You don’t want to have a panic attack.”

Ron took a deep calming breath and smiled. That was low. For his uncle to bring up his ailment was a sure sign he felt cornered.

“That wasn’t necessary, Uncle Gregory,” he said in a calmer tone. “You can’t order me to stop this and expect me to obey. Not without a reasonable explanation. This is the only chance I have to clear my father’s name of something you’ve all been whispering behind closed doors for years. He didn’t start that fire ten years ago. He’s a hero. Nothing you say or do will stop me from proving it.”

“You’re just like him,” his uncle sneered. “Arrogant, irresponsible….”

“Don’t stop now,” Ron urged him. “You want me to stop the investigation, tell me more. Tell me what happened ten years ago. Tell me about my father.”

He dismissed Ron’s request with a wave. “I don’t intend to discuss or negotiate with you over this, Ronald. Do us all a favor and stop this now.”

“I can’t.” Ron stepped back. “Now that we know where we stand, go and tell your biker-friend down there to stop shadowing me?”

His uncle frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The man you have tailing me? Tell him to back off. I will not tolerate being spied on.”

The scowl on his uncle’s face intensified. “Sorry to disappoint you, Ronald, but I have nothing to do with your stalker.” His uncle opened the door, paused to say, “I hope you’ll see reason and stop this.” That said, he left, slamming the door behind him.

 

Ron blew out a breath. He didn’t know what bothered him more, the shadow of anxiety in his uncle’s eyes or the biker. He turned to stare down at the man. He removed his cell phone from its holder and dialed security.

 

***

Ashley spread the pictures on the counter and crunched her lower lip as she studied them. Why couldn’t she get past the feeling that she was somehow involved in what happened that night at Carlyle House? She retrieved a writing pad from a nearby drawer, quickly scribbled the word ‘filth’ on it, and pinned it up on the corkboard beside her refrigerator.

Any recovered memory, however insignificant, must be written down. Dr. Irene Reuben had told her that years ago. She hadn’t recalled anything until today. Why had she been filthy that night? Maybe she needed to pay the good doctor a visit. It had been years.

She pulled out cell phone, searched her contacts for Dr. Rueben’s number and dialed. After explaining why she needed to see the doctor, the assistant found her a slot on the following Wednesday afternoon. The next call was to her uncle Kirkland, but she hesitated, her fingers hovering over the buttons.

Ron had said his friend would talk to Kirkland and the others. What if her cousin was right about the arsonist being a member of the Noble family? Would Ron tell her the truth? Her gut told her she should trust him. He’d have to be crazy to come to me for help if his relative started the fire that killed my parents.

She needed to talk to someone. Her cousins were out of the question—they’d tell her not to trust him and hire her own detective. The appointment with Dr. Reuben was days away, not soon enough for her. That left her parents. First thing tomorrow, she’d stop by the cemetery for a heart to heart.

Sighing, Ashley placed the phone down, dragged her body from the stool and headed upstairs. The phone startled her when it rang just as she stepped into her bedroom area.

She picked it up, flopped on the bed and mumbled a tired, “Yes.”

“Ashley. Can you talk?”

Her body jerked to a sitting position, energy spiking through her. “Ron?”

“Sorry to call so soon. Is your cousin still there?”

Should she trust Ron? “No, he just left. What’s going on?”

“Did you mean it? About hypnosis?”

The very thought filled her with fear, yet she knew it had to be done. If the rumors were true, someone killed her parents. She’d want justice. “Yes, I want to go ahead with it.”

A cheerful laugh came from Ron. “That’s great. Thank you. I know it was a difficult decision, so I really appreciate it.”

She smiled, absorbing his excitement. “You don’t need to thank me. I want to know what happened that night too, especially if the rumors are true.” Should she ask him about what her cousin told her? No, she’d play it by the ear. If he wasn’t forthcoming, she’d walk, hire her own detective. “Uh, Ron, did you mean what you said about being there when I do it?”

“Of course. I told you, I may not know much about hypnotherapy, but I’m willing to learn. I’ll do a little research before we meet on Saturday.”

Just knowing someone had her back gave her a modicum of relief, even if it was someone she wasn’t sure she should trust. But to completely ease her mind, she’d need to know everything Ron’s investigator friend discovered as the investigation progressed. There was only one way to accomplish that, be joined at the hip with the gorgeous firefighter. Indecent images of the two of them popped in her head, pictures she had no business imagining.

“Ashley, are you still there?”

Better concentrate on what I want from him, not my physical needs. “Yes. Can I ask you something, Ron?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, or assume it’s tied to the hypnosis thing. I’ve given it a lot of thought, and it makes perfect sense.” God, she was babbling. Oh here goes. “I’d like to paint you.”

There was silence on the line, then a brief laugh from him. “Me?”

“Yes. I need to start on my erotic series and can’t seem to find a suitable model.” That didn’t come out right. “I’m not saying you’re my fall back guy, you understand. It’s just that you have a perfect body and face.” She realized how what she said could be misconstrued and her face heated. “Perfect for painting that is,” she corrected.

He chuckled. “Perfect body. I like that.”

Oh, the arrogant man. She flopped back on her back, sucked in her bottom lip and harangued the ceiling. Come on, say yes. Don’t make me beg. “Can you do it?”

“You’re talking about nude paintings, right?”

The image of him without a stitch on flashed in her head. Ashley licked her lips, anticipation coursing through her. She had to swallow first before saying, “Semi. You know, pants, shorts, silk draped over your hips…tasteful but erotic. I know it’s asking a lot and you’ve never modeled, but I promise to make it effortless. I’ll take lots of photographs and work mainly from them. We’ll only do a few sittings. You won’t have to pose longer than thirty minutes at a given time.” When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Come on, Ron. Consider it a favor from one friend to another. Remember? You did say we were friends. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh? What did you have in mind?” His voice was a smoky baritone.

Letting you warm me and my bed. Ashley’s eyes widened with shock. Jeez, what was happening to her? Granted it had been a while since she dated or had sex. Still, she didn’t hop in bed with just anyone, especially she didn’t trust.

“Ashley? Are you still there?”

His sexy voice brought her back to the present. “I’ll take you out to dinner every time you sit for me.”

“Sorry, I’m old fashioned. When with a woman, I pick up the tab.”

Cute, but very Neanderthal. “How about a home-cooked meal?”

“That has possibilities. How many weeks are we talking about here?”

“A couple, three tops.” His friend should be done with the investigation by then.

“You want my body bad, don’t you?”

She shook her head. The man gives a new meaning to the word arrogant. “Just want to paint it, Noble. If you can’t handle it….”

“I can handle anything you dish out, babe. How about you let me decide what taking my clothes off is worth?”

His smooth, sensual tone sent a shiver up her spine. This was bad. She’d never reacted to a man this fast. It was his fault for pulling that seductive move on her just before her cousin arrived. It was giving her ideas. “As long as it’s within reason.”

“I’ve been told I’m a reasonable man. When do you want me to start?”

“Saturday morning okay? About seven? You were still planning on dropping off your grandmother’s pictures, right?”

“Yeah. I have a previous engagement the night before, so I can’t promise to make it by seven, but I’ll try. I’ll call you if I’m running late. Oh, just a second.” Ashley could hear a woman’s voice in the background, then he came back on the line. “I’ll see you in two days, Ashley.”

Ashley hung up the phone and grinned at the ceiling. Yes! She couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to model for her. Now all she had to do was control her wayward hormones when around him. Baron’s words, a new woman on his arm every week, floated in her head. Those words should keep her grounded.

She looked at the clock on her bedside drawers and jumped off the bed. She’d better hit the showers before her cousins descended on her.

 

***

“Ash? Where are you?” Her cousin’s voice reached her upstairs thirty minutes later.

Dang, they were early. Ashley poked her head out of the bathroom door and yelled, “Upstairs. Be down in a sec.” She dried herself, wrapped the towel around her and walked into her bedroom. “Is Jade with…,” her cousin’s head appeared at the top of the stairs, “you?”

“No. Something came up.” Faith bit off a piece of an asparagus tip and propped her tall model-thin frame against the stair rail, her short hair dyed a crazy red color. “She works too hard, but her vacation starts this weekend. We could join her at the beach house for a girls’ night out.”

Ashley threw her a disgusted look. “That’s what this was supposed to be. Besides, can’t afford to take a break now. I’ve got the murals to finish.” Then there was Ron and his investigation. Ron and his perfect body. Possibilities and probabilities.

“I’m starved,” Ashley blurted out. Forcing her mind to concentrate on food, she pulled on a floral dress over her camisole, hugged her cousin and muttered, “Let’s go stuff ourselves.” Maybe then she would stop thinking about him.

“Sounds good,” Faith said, following her down the stairs.

“What did you bring?”

“A little bit of everything—lemon-herb flounder rolls, scallops Dijon, braised artichokes, oyster hushpuppies, crab cakes, asparagus and a bottle of Chardonnay. So what’s up?” Faith stopped beside her at the kitchen counter. “You look as though you’d like to commit murder.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Faith raised her eyebrows. “Nina Nobles?”

“Please,” Ashley answered derisively. But she felt Faith’s curious gaze on her, as she pulled out food-filled Styrofoam containers from the white paper bag. “That woman has issues. I wouldn’t waste any thoughts on her.” It wasn’t bad as far lies went.

Faith shot her a skeptical glance. “Yeah.”

Okay, so she wasn’t convincing, but that didn’t mean they had to discuss her feelings towards Ron’s mother. “By the way, who appointed you my guardian angel?” She jabbed an asparagus tip in Faith’s direction. “Telling Baron of all people to check on me? He came here acting big brotherly, offering unwanted advice and—”

“Interrupted something with the handsome playboy Ron Nobles.” Faith wiggled her eyebrows naughtily.

Ashley blew out an explosive breath. Oh, she was going to seal Baron’s mouth with super glue.

“You’ve been busy, woman. Is he as fast as they say?” Faith added.

“Nothing was going on,” she answered through gritted teeth. She scooped food and dumped it on her plate. Was she the only one cursed with meddling relatives? Times like this, she wanted to disown the whole bunch of them. “We were having a business discussion.”

“So I heard. I’m amazed he’s agreed to model for you, though.” Faith retrieved two wine glasses from the cupboard above the counter and turned to add, “I heard the man is inaccessible except when he calls the shots. That he’ll have a woman in the sack faster than she can say her last name. Never sticks around for the sheets to cool, but,” she gave Ashley a feline smile, “he gives the best—”

“I don’t want to know,” Ashley screeched. How had they moved from discussing food to what Ron did with women? Best what? Her temperature shot up a notch just thinking about what Ron could do with his mouth.

“I meant to say parting gifts, sweetie,” Faith said dryly, opening their chilled Chardonnay. “I hear he’s a very generous man. So, how good is he?”

“How would I know?” But she’d wanted to taste him so bad earlier. If her cousin hadn’t arrived, she’d know for sure.

Faith rolled her eyes, carrying their glasses and the bottle of Chardonnay to the coffee table. “He’s your next model. You can’t use him unless he can perform.”

“How Ron performs has nothing to do with why he’s modeling for me. Sheesh, woman, get your mind off sex, will you?”

Faith stared at her with rounded eyes, then burst out laughing. “I’ve got…to meet…this man,” she managed to say between giggles. “You’re tripping over your hormones, girl.”

Ashley glared at her, then a giggle escaped her as well. Faith was right. Lust had abducted her mind and taken it south. She couldn’t stop thinking about Ron naked. He would be removing clothes to pose for her, not for lovemaking. Somehow she must make her mind…no, make her hormones understand that before Saturday.

“I meant how he performs as a model, silly. You always test your models to see if they can follow directions without bitching or sit still for at least an hour.”

She’d put her sandaled foot in her mouth this time. “Okay, you had me going there.”

“Me? I think someone else has you in knots.” Faith settled on the couch and pointed at the couch opposite hers. “Sit. I want details. Is he as hot as they say?”

Ashley scowled. She was beginning to hate hearing about Ron’s exploits. Still….

“Where exactly did you hear about his exploits?”

“The models I use for my shows love to kiss and tell.”

Models, she should have guessed. “Forget I asked. Let’s talk about something else.”

Faith threw her an amused glance and poured wine in the two glasses. Once she passed Ashley her wine, she settled back in her seat. “Okay. Let’s talk about Carlyle House. Why are you giving up on it without a fight?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Faith fired back. “Which, if you promise not to bite my head off, is very typical of you.”

Ashley’s eyes widened. “What?”

Faith gave her a you-know-what-am-talking-about look. “Peter.”

Not her ex-boyfriend. “You don’t want to go there. His crazy ex was calling my home, threatened me, and the man didn’t have the balls to check her. I have no time for such foolishness.”

Faith shook her head. “You didn’t give him time to deal with it. Then there was the deal with the gallery in San Francisco, the interview with the reporter from National Artist’s Magazine, the—”

“Oh, shut up. I’m hungry and you’re messing with my appetite.” She forked a roll from her plate and took a bite. Yeah, she might have been a bit hasty in getting rid of Peter, but that didn’t mean she shied away from conflicts. She swallowed and cut her cousin a look from the corner of her eye. “I choose my battles, no crime in that. You know I can’t stand too much drama.”

Faith chuckled. “What you can’t stand, woman, are the little glitches that add spice to life. With you, everything’s got to run smoothly all the time.”

Ashley frowned. Maybe there was some truth to that. But that was in the past. She was changing, slowly but surely. She never wanted to deal with her unpleasant lost memories and had put off hypnosis, but she was planning on it now. “For your information, Miss Know-it-all, acquiring Carlyle House is still very much on my agenda.”

“Good.” Her cousin gave her a thumbs-up sign and Ashley hoped her trust wasn’t misplaced.