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“Cancel them.” With his final words, he left her and walked out of the door.
“Bastard,” she muttered under her breath, determined never to see him again.
* * *
Ashley spent a sleepless night dreaming of making wild and wanton love to Trevor and in the morning she admonished herself for her immature lust. She told herself that some of the fascination she felt was because he was the adversary—the one thing in life she had to deny herself.
“He’ll use you,” she warned herself whenever she caught herself thinking about him that morning, but she couldn’t help but look out the window in anticipation whenever she heard a vehicle rumble down the lane.
At ten o’clock there was a knock on the door. Ashley’s heart was racing when she answered it and discovered Trevor, his cynical smile in place, standing on the small porch.
“I thought you were going to be busy today,” he mocked. His blue eyes twinkled devilishly as they raked possessively over her body.
The anger she wanted to feel refused to surface. “It wasn’t anything important.” She moved out of the doorway, allowing him to enter. “I thought you might like to go on a picnic.”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind—”
“I’ll bet not. But I’ve already saddled the horses and thrown together a lunch,” she replied, trying to overlook the hint of seduction in his intense gaze. “It’ll be fun.”
“Promise?”
“Guaranteed.”
He smiled before laughinig out loud. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he asked with a pleased expression softening his face. “The daughter of Lazarus Stephens saddling horses and making sandwiches—it just doesn’t fit.”
“Maybe what doesn’t fit is your stereotype of spoiled little rich girls who refuse to get their hands dirty.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged his shoulders and followed her into the kitchen. Ashley pulled a bottle of wine out of the refrigerator and shoved it into the already bulging leather bag, which was slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.
Trevor watched her pack. “Saddlebags?”
“How else are we going to carry all this food? What did you expect? A picnic basket?”
“I suppose.”
Ashley smiled to herself. “Then I guess my first impression of you was wrong.”
“Oh?”
“You’re not a cowboy?”
“Far from it.” Trevor chuckled to himself at the thought. “I’m working at a law firm in Bend for the summer.”
“A lawyer?”
“Not yet. But soon, I hope.”
“You’re still in school?”
“Willamette University,” he replied, taking the bulging leather pouch and slinging it over his shoulder. “I hope to take the bar exam in January.”
“And what then, counselor?” she teased, her green eyes dancing merrily. Strange as it seemed, she hadn’t felt this happy in years. She was comfortable with this man; the fact that he was her father’s rival’s son added just a little bit of daring to the relationship.
He hesitated for a moment, sizing her up, and decided there was no reason to hide the truth. “Politics.”
There was something in the way he said the word that gave Ashley pause. “Whatever for?”
He grinned cryptically. “To change things, of course.” He held the back door for her and then waited somewhat impatiently while she locked it.
