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Now she owned the lion’s share of the company Trevor had vowed to destroy.
“Oh, stop it,” she admonished as she sat at the cluttered kitchen table in her small apartment near the campus. “You’re beginning to sound as paranoid as Claud.” At the mention of her shifty cousin’s name, Ashley frowned. It didn’t take a supersleuth to realize that Claud was up to something, but Ashley didn’t know exactly what. The information he had been sending concerning the timber company was sketchy at best. Ashley had the uneasy feeling that Claud was deliberately trying to hide something from her.
The first report from Claud hadn’t been as encompassing as Ashley had hoped, but when she had asked her cousin for a more lengthy audit of the books of Stephens Timber, Claud had been reluctant to send it to her.
“Don’t worry yourself,” he had soothed when she had called him and demanded more complete information. “You’ve got more than you can handle with your teaching job. Besides which, I’ve got everything under control up here.”
“That’s not the issue, Claud. I need the reports,” Ashley had insisted.
“Then you’d better come up and look at them,” Claud had growled, losing his veneer of civility. “I don’t like sending out that kind of information. Right now we’ve got a shortage of personnel in the bookkeeping department, and I wouldn’t want to trust the post office to get the reports to you, even if we were able to put them together.”
“You’re stalling, Claud,” she had responded. “Get the reports together and send them in tomorrow’s mail, or I just might take you up on your offer and come up to Portland to see for myself just how well you’ve ‘got everything under control.’”
“Look, Ashley, I don’t need a keeper!”
Ashley had begun to worry in earnest.
“And Claud?”
“What?”
“For God’s sake, hire the help you need in accounting!”
Claud’s reply had been a disgusted snort, indicating all too well what he thought about Ashley’s interference in what he considered his domain.
Claud’s reluctance had been all the reason she needed to talk to the school administration about getting out of her teaching contract. Within a week, the administration had found a suitable replacement to take over her classes for the rest of the school year. All she had to do was finish the term, and that task was nearly accomplished. Christmas vacation started next week.
At that thought, Ashley quit thinking about her cousin and let her gaze return to the untidy stack of papers sitting on the table. As she started grading the tests, she listened to a local news channel on the television.
She was frowning at a particularly bad answer to one of her questions and sipping coffee when news of an accident involving Trevor was announced by the even-featured anchorman.
Ashley almost spilled her coffee, her throat constricted in fear and her eyes snapped upward to stare at the small television situated on the kitchen counter. She had left it on for background noise, but at the sound of Trevor’s name, all of her attention became riveted to the set.
“. . . Trevor Daniels was rushed to Andrews Hospital in Salem when the car he was driving slid off the road, broke through the guardrail and rolled down an embankment.. . .” The screen flashed from the earnest reporter to the site of the accident and the twisted wreckage of Trevor’s car.
Ashley’s stomach knotted and nausea rose in her throat. “Dear God,” she whispered, placing her hand protectively over her heart. Her blood ran as cold as the clear December night. The pencil she had been holding over a stack of papers dropped unobserved onto the table as she concentrated on what the wavy-haired reporter was saying.
“Reports have varied as to the cause of the accident,” the reporter, once again on the screen, told the viewing audience. “Police are investigating the site, but as yet have not confirmed the rumors of foul play. Mr. Daniels remains in serious, but stable condition.”
“No,” Ashley murmured, at the fleeting thoughts of Trevor and the love they had shared. Absently, she removed her reading glasses, rubbed her temples and stared at the screen. When she found the strength to move, she pushed her chair away from the table and some coffee spilled onto the tests. She didn’t notice.
Without considering her motives, she dialed operator assistance and was given the number of Andrews Hospital. Her fingers were trembling when she punched out the number for the hospital in Salem. After several rings, a member of the staff answered and told her politely, but firmly, that Mr. Daniels was taking no calls and seeing no visitors.
Ashley replaced the receiver and slumped against the wall. What was happening? Within the course of three weeks her father had suffered a fatal heart attack, she had inherited the company and now, Trevor Daniels, the only man she had ever loved, had nearly been killed. The reporter had glossed over the mention of foul play; certainly no one would want to harm Trevor. . . .
Get a hold of yourself, she warned. He doesn’t care for you—never did. Nothing will ever change that.
She continued to listen to the news program, hoping that a later bulletin would give her an update on Trevor’s condition. After wiping the table, she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee and tried to concentrate on the test papers she had been grading. The task was impossible.
Teasing thoughts of Trevor, provocative images of a younger, more carefree time, continued to assail her. She remembered the first time she had seen him more than eight years before. She had been immediately attracted by his flash of a rakish smile, and his lean, well-muscled body. But it was his eyes that had caught her attention and captured her heart. They were a brilliant shade of blue and challenged her silently. The hint of amusement in their clear depths had touched a very intimate part of her—and had never let go. Those damned blue eyes seemed to look through her sophisticated facade and bore into her soul and they had dared her to seduce him. . . .
With a start, she dragged herself back to the present. “Don’t brood about what might have been,” she told herself, though her stomach had knotted painfully.
If she could just get through the next few days, she would have time to herself and by that time she would know more about Trevor’s accident.
r /> * * *
“No one is allowed to visit Mr. Daniels,” the rotund nurse insisted upon Ashley’s inquiry. The large woman was standing behind the glass enclosure of the hospital reception area and had only looked up from her paperwork when Ashley had inquired about Trevor.
