Dream Girl

Chapter Two

"She gave me the wrong bloody address,” Zach growled to his brother the next day in his office.

"You think on purpose?” Connor asked, lounging back in a leather chair.

"Hell yeah. Nobody makes a mistake like that. ‘Oops, I forgot what street I live on.’ Jesus.” He shook his head. “I go up to the house like an idiot and wake up this old guy who doesn't know her, doesn't know anybody like her, swears she's not a neighbor. Shit."

He looked down at the papers clenched in his hand and shook his head. “She was my dream girl,” he complained, throwing himself into the chair behind his desk. Papers, folders, magazines and test tubes lay scattered from one corner of the desk to the other. “The perfect woman."

Connor laughed. “Only you would know the girl of your dreams after an hour. And try to get her into bed after an hour."

"I know, you think I'm too..."

"Impulsive? Rash?” Connor asked, still grinning. “At least you didn't ask her to marry you, like ... what was her name?"

"Okay, that was a mistake. But seriously,” Zach said. “I'm telling you—smart, gorgeous, a pool shark, and...” he paused. “She loves beer. She even knew our brewery."

Connor's brows lifted, and he appeared reluctantly impressed. “Can you find her?"

Zach scowled. “I only know her first name and that she's a student at UC Rocky Harbor. That's it."

"Uh ... maybe the bartender knows her, if she plays pool a lot. We could go back there and ask him."

Zach nodded. “Yeah. And you're buying. This is all your fault for not showing up. Where the hell were you, anyway?"

"Sorry, man. I had a meeting with those potential investors from San Francisco. They wanted to continue our meeting over dinner, and it went late."

"You could have called instead of just leaving me there waiting."

"My phone died.” Connor grimaced. “And I kind of lost track of time. You think you're mad, Jess is really pissed off."

Zach winced. “How late were you?"

"Pretty late. But they're on board now with the financing. Definitely interested. So it was all worth it. You and Jess will get over it."

"I will. Hopefully your wife will too. You've been working so much lately, I know she's not happy about it."

"I know.” Connor sighed. “But this expansion is important. We have to get everything in place. And this crap with Steinbrau hasn't been helping."

Zach rubbed his face. Yeah, business was complicated lately. Last night he and Connor had planned to cut loose a little, play some pool, drink some beers and let off some steam. Instead he was more wound up than ever.

He wondered what Ashlyn's deal was. Had she chickened out? He couldn't blame her for not wanting to take a perfect stranger home, no matter how hot they were for each other. Yeah, he was attracted to her, but he didn't just want to sleep with her. They'd had so much fun, talking, laughing, playing pool.

If only she'd said something ... if she'd changed her mind about going back to her place, he would have been fine if she'd just given him her name and phone number. He would have called her, asked her out, played by the rules.

Connor was talking business again. “So Friday night it's your turn to go schmooze with investors,” he said. “There's a big shindig at the Bonaventure."

"Great.” Zach rolled his eyes. That meant a suit and tie, not his scene at all, but he'd do it for the business.

Ashlyn handed the envelope containing a three-page typed report and a DVD to her client, Jessica Montgomery. They sat at a small table at the back of Java Jack's, where the growl and hiss of the espresso maker made talking difficult for a moment.

Ashlyn eyed Jessica's expensive-looking suit enviously. The raspberry color set off her dark hair and eyes. The woman was intimidatingly elegant, with her sleek hair, diamond earrings and slim gold watch. A pair of killer pink pumps flattered her long legs.

Ashlyn sighed. She'd never been a girly girl who was into clothes and shoes, but right then she felt scruffy and very ... student-like in her jeans, T-shirt and ponytail, carrying a backpack instead of a Coach leather purse. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind one ear.

But despite Jessica's style and elegance, her eyes were red and puffy, and she swiped a tear away.

"I'm sorry,” Ashlyn said, feeling a little stab in her heart. Jessica seemed truly heartbroken. It was never enjoyable to confirm to a wife that her husband was willing to cheat on her. But since all men were lying, cheating pond scum, it seemed to happen pretty much all the time. In this case, Ashlyn was struggling with her own emotions because Jessica's husband had seemed so nice and genuine—not to mention heart-scorchingly, panty-meltingly hot. Ashlyn had been forced to fight her own attraction to him, which was so, so wrong.

"It's better to know,” Jessica replied stoically. “Better to know for sure than to keep wondering, worrying.” Her voice broke on the last words, and she choked back a sob.

Ashlyn picked up her cardboard cup and took a sip of the hot brew. The rich, dark scent teased her nostrils. She could never tell Jessica that she totally understood why her client was so devastated. With a husband that sexy, that funny, that warm and attentive...

Low-life scum, Ashlyn reminded herself. She finished her coffee. “The invoice for our services is in there, too.” She nodded at the unopened envelope on the table.

"I have the cash,” Jessica said. “I didn't want to write a check that Connor could trace ... just in case...” Her voice trailed off miserably. She handed an envelope of cash over to Ashlyn, who tucked it into her backpack.

"Thank you,” she said as professionally as possible. “Please let us know if we can be of any assistance again."

Ashlyn picked up her backpack, said goodbye to Jessica, and left.

Working part-time as a sex decoy paid well and let Ashlyn work evenings, so she could attend class and study during the day. She was also doing something for her fellow woman by exposing the true lying, cheating nature of men. Except sometimes—and especially this time—her job kind of left her feeling empty and cold, even a little guilty.

She'd had this conversation with her roommates many times. She was not responsible for this marriage ending. She did not entrap men. They made decisions of their own free will. She was just there. But Jessica Montgomery gave the impression of being deeply in love with her husband, and Ashlyn could understand why. He seemed like a nice guy. Really nice. The fact that Ashlyn herself was so fiercely attracted to him was horrifying and embarrassing.

Ashlyn sighed as she dashed through traffic across the sunny street to her parked car. She tossed her backpack onto the passenger seat and started the engine. The heat in the car was smothering, and she rolled down the window.

Yeah, Jessica's husband had been really nice and really hot and really attracted to her, too. She remembered the way his intense dark eyes had locked onto hers, how they'd been so meltingly hot, so compelling. Her intense physical reaction to him had stunned her. She'd gone all warm and liquid inside, her thighs quivering. And then when he'd kissed her—especially that kiss outside when he'd taken her in his arms—a sweet, hot rush of pleasure had flowed through her veins, making her weak and dizzy. He'd smelled so good too; his clean, spicy masculine scent had made her want to bury her face in his neck and inhale him.

He hadn't seemed shifty or nervous or guilty, like many men did when cheating on their wives. Ashlyn had become a pretty good judge of body language and character over years of decoy work, and this guy had almost fooled her.

Having his kitchen renovated! Ha! She'd heard all kinds of stories. Some guys even admitted they were married, just looking for sex. And he'd even used a fake name—Zach. She sighed. The fact that he'd been so convincing just meant he was even more of a snake.

She decided to take the money to the office before going to school, since she wasn't comfortable carrying so much cash around. It wasn't far out of her way and if she was quick, she could still make it to class on time.

Farrell Investigations occupied the tenth floor of a twenty-story office tower. Ashlyn parked in a loading zone and put on her flashers while she ran in. She tapped a foot as she waited at the bank of elevators.

"Hi, Brenda,” she said, out of breath, as she entered the office. Brenda was almost sixty years old with brilliant auburn hair, black-lined eyes and porn-star shiny red lips. She looked tough but had warm eyes, and she dealt skillfully with clients.

"Hey, Ash, honey,” Brenda said. “Your dad wants to see you about another job. He's in his office."

"Oh, sh-shoot.” Ashlyn glanced at her watch. “I don't have much time."

Brenda's glossy red lips firmed. “You're always too busy to talk to him."

Ashlyn swallowed. “I have a class,” she muttered, heading down the hall. She went to the last office at the end, knocked, and then poked her head in. The offices of Farrell Investigations were large, nicely decorated and modern, giving the impression of a successful company. In fact, Farrell Investigations was the largest and best known investigation firm in Rocky Harbor.

"Ash.” Dave Farrell looked up from his computer. In his late forties, he was a big man, tall and barrel-chested, his brown hair frosted with silver. Reading glasses sat low on his nose, and he peered at her over them. “How did it go the other night?"

Ashlyn knew her dad intensely disliked her working as a sex decoy, but she was good at it, so he allowed it. He also knew better than to forbid his daughter to do something—that would only make her want to do it even more.

"Great,” Ashlyn answered. She didn't want to share her strange feelings about these clients with her dad. She'd gotten the goods, handed the evidence over and been paid. That was what mattered.

She tossed the envelope of cash onto his desk. “That's from the wife. Payment in full. Case closed."

He grimaced. “Good work.” He reached for a file folder on his desk and held it in his hands as he studied her. “I have another one, but ... you sure you want to do this?"

Ashlyn tensed. They weren't going to go down that path again, were they? She so did not have time for this. Time or energy. Her voice was firm when she replied. “I'm sure, Dad. What is it?"

He handed over the folder, and she flipped it open and scanned the documentation. “Can you meet with Mrs. Van Heusen this week sometime?"

"Sure,” she said. “But I have to go right now. Applied Crypto class."

"I thought you might have time for a coffee..."

She shook her head, determinedly ignoring the disappointment on her father's face. He kept making efforts to recover their relationship, but it just wasn't going to happen. Not after what he'd done to her mother. “Sorry. Gotta go."

"How was your test the other day?” he persisted.

"Ninety-two percent."

He beamed. “Atta girl."

His praise only annoyed her. She saluted him with the file folder. “Bye, Dad.” And she was off at a run, as usual, to get to school on time. She'd look at the file later and call the wife to arrange a meeting.

"Leaving already?” Brenda asked as Ashlyn zipped through the small reception area.

Ashlyn spared a smile for the woman. Brenda was nice, and it wasn't her fault she worked for a cheater. “I'm late for class!” She barely registered Brenda's sigh on her way out.

It was short notice, but Mrs. Van Heusen was sure her husband was going to be at a party at the Bonaventure Hotel in downtown Los Angeles on Friday night. She herself was not attending due to a family engagement.

Ashlyn was good at matching her look to the occasion. It was like putting on a costume and playing a role. She pulled out her black cocktail dress and spiky stilettos for tonight's job. Her elegant up-do made her look a little older than her twenty-four years, and she added glittering earrings that looked like real, huge diamond studs. She carefully made up her face with smoky eyes and red lipstick. Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up the evening bag, complete with tiny digital camcorder, and left for the party.

It could be awkward going into these things alone, but it was the only option. Besides, Ashlyn was used to it. As she entered the hotel ballroom, she smiled and picked up a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter. Then when his back was turned, she furtively dribbled most of the champagne into a potted palm. Those two beers the other night had almost done her in. God, she hated beer. It was disgusting skunky stuff.

Her eyes moved over the elegantly-dressed crowd for her mark. The guests were mostly men in expensive dark suits, although some women in cocktail dresses and diamonds—probably real—and exotic perfume mingled with them. Muted piano music tinkled beneath the murmur of many voices. Finally, she spotted Derek Van Heusen in a conversation with two other men, recognizing him from the photos provided by his wife. She smiled and made her way over to him.

She stood with her back to him, moving slowly backward ... one step ... another ... “Oh!” She whirled around at the bump of contact.

"Sorry!” She flashed her most brilliant smile.

"No, I'm sorry. I hope you didn't spill your champagne,” Derek Van Heusen apologized.

"No, no,” she assured him. “I'm fine.” She paused and looked at him. “Aren't you Derek Van Heusen?"

He nodded and smiled, but looked politely inquisitive. “Have we met?"

"Yes, we met a few months ago at a party at Jennifer Holland's,” she said easily. “You were there ... I'm Ashlyn Hartford."

The information had come from his wife, and it slid right off Ashlyn's tongue.

"That's right. I do remember you,” he lied. He moved closer. “You look just as lovely tonight as you did then."

Ashlyn smiled. “Why thank you. What brings you here this evening?"

The small talk started, and Derek introduced her to his two companions. But before she could get him alone, another man approached him. Then, after making apologies, he was led away.

"Perhaps we'll talk again later,” he called as he left—and she held his gaze to let him know she wasn't averse to that.

Ashlyn sighed inwardly. She had nothing to talk to these two gentlemen about, so she stood there smiling as they networked.

Suddenly, someone took hold of her arm from behind her. “Blondie?"

She turned and looked into the melting chocolate eyes of Connor Montgomery, aka Zach.