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Earlier in the afternoon she had pushed the neat computer printouts aside and decided to make a quick trip into Bend to replenish her dwindling grocery supply. On the way back to the cabin, the wind had picked up and within minutes powdery snow was falling from the heavens in a near-blizzard. The main highway was still clear, but the side roads, which already had an accumulation of snow, were quickly becoming impassable.
Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel and her thoughts wandered precariously to Trevor. In the short time since his accident, it seemed that there was no escaping him.
His engaging, slightly off-center smile had been photographed repeatedly and his rugged face had become incredibly newsworthy. Even last summer’s scandal concerning alleged bribery charges hadn’t tarnished his reputation; he was still considered by the local papers to have a lead in the primary election. Right now, Trevor Daniels was Oregon’s favorite son, or soon would be, if the latest polls proved accurate.
According to Claud, Trevor’s senatorial bid was sure to be a disaster for the company. Ashley disagreed. Trevor Daniels was too shrewd a politician to let personal rivalry interfere with his campaign. Besides which, Ashley was convinced that she couldn’t trust Claud or his motives. What she had once considered a slight grudge against her because of Lazarus’s will, Ashley now realized was a very deep flaw in Claud’s character. For a fleeting moment she wondered if Trevor’s accusations, which she had previously considered unlikely and vindictive, might be true.
Shifting gears as the Jeep started to climb the rugged terrain, Ashley thought about the events leading up to Trevor’s sudden prominence and fame. Senator Higgins’s fatal heart attack had left a vacant seat in Washington, D.C., and public opinion seemed to think that Trevor would be elected to fill the void.
Well, at least he got what he wanted, Ashley chided herself, feeling a trace of the old bitterness return. That’s a lot more than you can say for yourself.
The tires slid on the snow-packed mountain road before holding the vehi
cle steady on the slippery gravel. “Just a little farther,” Ashley coaxed.
Slowly she turned the steering wheel toward the narrow lane angling up the steep hillside. She frowned as she noticed ruts in the newly fallen snow. There were only two other pieces of property bordering hers and the mountain retreats that occupied those adjacent parcels were used for summer homes. Or at least they had been.
But this was her first visit to the cabin in several years. Perhaps the neighboring houses were being used over the Christmas holidays. She found the thought that she wasn’t completely alone in the remote section of the mountains comforting. Though she had come seeking solitude, she now appreciated the knowledge that there was someone nearby in case the storm became more violent.
Once again Ashley’s thoughts turned to Trevor and his recent accident. Though it had occurred only a week ago, she still couldn’t forget about it and found herself wondering how he was doing. Her telephone calls to the hospital had never been returned and when she had tried to see him again, she had been thwarted by a determined security guard. Ashley got the message: Trevor didn’t want to see her.
She couldn’t blame him. For all practical purposes, she owned Stephens Timber Corporation, a corporation that in the past had represented everything in the timber industry Trevor opposed. Though she was forcing changes within the company it would still be a long time before some of the old techniques could be abandoned for safer, more environmentally sound modes of timber harvest.
“You’re a fool,” she admonished, and caught her lower lip with her teeth. She tried to concentrate while crossing the remaining distance to the cabin, but couldn’t help hoping that Trevor had recovered from the injuries he’d sustained in the accident. How had the accident affected his career—his damned career? Were his eyes still as incredibly blue and erotic as they once had been?
“Damn it, Ashley,” she swore, her knuckles whitening over the steering wheel, “why can’t you forget that man? He never loved you—he just used you. . . .”
* * *
The pain in his side hadn’t subsided. With each passing minute it throbbed more sharply, growing until a dull headache pounded mercilessly behind his eyes. Trevor had overexerted himself and he was paying dearly for it. The long drive had fatigued him and set his nerves on edge. Just the thought of seeing Ashley again disturbed him more than he would like to admit.
After fumbling in the pocket of his jeans he extracted a small vial of pills. He was chilled to the bone and the raw ache under his shirt throbbed mercilessly. Disgusted with himself and seeing the prescribed medication as a sign of weakness, he dropped the small brown bottle on the table and ignored it.
“Damn it!” Trevor cursed to himself as he reached for his neglected glass of Scotch. The liquor was warm and did little to relieve the dull ache in his abdomen.
Though his muscles were cramped from the cold, he could feel the warm trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck. He absently rubbed his forehead and wondered how much longer he would have to wait for Ashley to return. Leaning back in the chair, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds of the night. Presently, the liquor started to take effect. The ache in his head was beginning to subside and the razor-sharp edge of his mind dulled slightly, sacrificed for the freedom from pain. He sat rigidly in the leather chair, his wet jeans clinging stiffly to his legs, while he sipped the remains of his distasteful drink.
The rumble of an approaching vehicle’s engine caught his attention. Headlights flashed against the far wall, illuminating the rustic room. It was a place Trevor remembered well, a room where he had spent many lazy afternoons in years past. It was the very spot where he had first felt Ashley’s trembling surrender. It had been early spring. They had run into the cabin to escape the sudden shower. He could still smell the fresh, damp scent of her black hair, taste the raindrops that had run down her cheeks. It seemed like a lifetime ago. How long had it been? Seven years? Eight? His mind was too cloudy to recall and it really didn’t matter. He didn’t give a damn about Ashley . . . at least not anymore.
The engine was killed and a car door slammed. Trevor had to force himself to remain patient. All of his senses were alert, his raw nerves stretched paper-thin. It had taken the better part of three days to track Ashley down and when he had finally found her, he had been pleased in a perverse sort of way. He found it ironic that Ashley had chosen to return to the cabin. It seemed to justify his reason for being here.
The key turned in the lock. Trevor heard the sound of cold metal resisting intrusion. Though he sat in another room, he could clearly see the entrance of the cabin from his vantage point in the darkness.
As the door was pushed open, Trevor narrowed his eyes. It was too dark to see clearly, but Trevor quickly determined that the small form brushing snow off her jacket and stamping her boots on the hall carpet was Ashley. As he watched her voyeuristically, the sour taste of deception rose in his throat.
He had hoped that he would feel loathing when he saw her again, but the contempt he had cultivated had refused to grow. His fingers tensed around the arm of the chair when her gaze swept past the door of the den. She pulled off her stocking cap and let her long, dark hair tumble free. Trevor’s lips compressed into an unforgiving line of disgust; she was more beautiful than he had remembered.
* * *
Ashley hesitated a moment, thinking that the cabin felt different somehow, and then with a frown shrugged off the disturbing feeling and set the bag of groceries on an antique sideboard while she removed her boots and jacket. After hanging the ski jacket on the curved arm of the hall tree, she picked up the groceries, walked into the kitchen and put on a pot of tea as she replenished her cupboards.
The teapot had just begun to whistle when an unexpected noise made her heart miss a beat. “Ashley.” The sound of her name made her gasp. It came from a male voice that was darkly familiar. She rotated quickly to confront the intruder.
The man was standing in the doorway to the den. “Oh my God,” Ashley whispered, barely believing the apparition. Her eyes were captured in the shadowy depths of his blue gaze.
“Ashley,” he repeated slowly, as if he knew how much of a shock he had imposed upon her. His voice caught on her name and it carried her backward to a past in which she had shared her life, her love with him. “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said softly.
Her throat was suddenly desert-dry, and she felt the sting of wistful tears burn against her eyelids. Her step forward was hesitant, as if she expected him to vanish as quickly as he had appeared. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Her voice was a muted whisper and her sea-green eyes were filled with a thousand questions spanning eight years.
