Kiss of death

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

WHITNEY NOTICED ADAM gazing over her shoulder, preoccupied by something. She didn’t want to be rude and turn around to look. There were answers she needed from the lawyer that were more important. “Did you happen to meet Ryan Fordham while you were gambling in the back room?”

“Your ex?” Rod asked. “No. I would have recognized his name on the documents you gave me and mentioned it. Besides, the reason we play in a private room is to play with guys we know.”

“I understand. I just wondered if he gambled there.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Adam was still watching something behind her. She wished he was paying better attention. She believed Rod was telling the truth, but she’d been fooled in the past.

“He could have started after I stopped gambling.”

“Possibly.” It didn’t really matter, she decided. It appeared that Miranda had quit even before Rod Babcock stopped gambling. Her cousin wouldn’t have run into Ryan.

“You see,” Rod added, “gambling can be an addiction. Once you’ve quit, you can’t go back. I haven’t had much contact with those guys. Oh, I run into a few of them here and there. But for the most part I avoid gamblers. I was in danger of gambling away everything. Luckily, I got out on the downward slide but before I hit the skids.”

Whitney wondered about Ryan. He’d been obsessed with making money in the last year or so. At the time she believed he considered financial rewards to be his due after years of schooling. Now she understood gambling had motivated him. Was he near rock bottom? Was that why he’d been so threatening the other day?

Desperation did unbelievable things to people. Could Ryan-Stop! This man was no longer her problem. Ashley was welcome to deal with Ryan’s gambling addiction.

“Walt, hey! Long time no see.” Rod waved to a man behind Whitney.

“Rod, what are you doing here? I didn’t know you were interested in art.”

Whitney turned to the tall, slender man who’d come up beside them. He was shaking hands with the attorney when Whitney recognized an achingly familiar voice. The deep baritone she’d heard a thousand times was just behind her. She stared down at the bubbles floating to the top of her champagne glass, her stomach in an uncontrolled free fall.

Couldn’t be.

Whitney edged closer to Adam as the hot flush of anger crept up her neck. She could feel Adam’s hand on the back of her waist as Rod introduced them to Walter Nance and Emily, his wife. Whitney had never met the surgeon who’d convinced Ryan to join his practice, but she instantly recognized the name.

Ryan moved into their tight circle, his gorgeous wife on his arm. Whitney had only seen Ashley twice before this. Once she’d been in the car when they’d emerged from arbitration. The second time had been when Whitney had charged into the house demanding Lexi’s return. She’d been so concerned about her dog that she’d barely noticed much about the woman Ryan had dumped her for.

Tonight, there was no ignoring the former beauty queen clad in a black silk sheath by some famous designer. The glamorous creature had an aura of poise and self-confidence that was exuded in every beautiful line of her face. A considerable amount of artfully applied makeup enhanced vivid blue eyes and made her lips appear soft and full. Whitney hadn’t bothered with anything except lipstick. After the fire, she’d been left with nothing. She’d bought necessities but not makeup. It wouldn’t have helped anyway.

Ryan spotted Whitney and blinked as if he’d seen a ghost. He usually wielded his charm as if it should be a controlled substance. Now he was smiling again, but Whitney knew him well enough to detect the fury simmering beneath the surface. Obviously, he didn’t want to run into her any more than she wanted to see him.

“This is Ryan and Ashley Fordham,” Walt told them.

“Meet Whitney Marshall and Adam Hunter,” Rod replied as if he’d never heard of Ryan.

“Great dress,” Walt told Whitney.

A strange, hollow feeling invaded Whitney’s body, but before she could even smile a little at the compliment, Ryan told the group, “It should be a great dress. I bought it for Ashley.”

Heaven forbid, Whitney thought, panic curdling her blood. Shock thrummed against her ribs. She had the insane urge to leap at Ashley and scratch her eyes out. The next second she wanted to run screaming into the night.

“R-really,” stuttered Walt.

“Whitney is my ex-wife,” explained Ryan with a chuckle that must have sounded false to everyone. They nervously looked around or sipped their drinks. “Her home burned down. Ashley tossed her a castoff. Right, honey?”

Save me, save me. Whitney prayed for deliverance, but nothing doing. How could she possibly be standing here in the beauty queen’s dress? Wasn’t there any justice in the world? Of all the people on the planet, Whitney would never have expected Ashley to give her clothes. What kind of karma did she have anyway? How could she run into Ryan and his stunningly beautiful new wife-and be wearing a dress the woman no longer wanted?

Her blue eyes wide, Ashley gazed at Whitney. “I wanted to help. It must be terrible having nothing. I-”

“Not as terrible as dying,” Whitney cut her off. She deeply resented the woman’s sanctimonious tone.

“We’re late for dinner.” Adam nudged Whitney. “Good to see everyone.”

Whitney mustered the strength to mumble goodbye to Rod. She couldn’t look at Ashley.

“Are you okay?” Adam asked as he hustled her down the sidewalk to his car.

“Never better.” Tears burned the back of her eyes. She was thankful it was too dark for Adam to see.

He quickly unlocked the door and opened it for her. She scrambled inside as fast as she could, conscious of the noise from the gallery behind her. In despair, she slumped against the seat. Adam got in and turned to her.

“Oh, babe, what can I say?”

She told herself not to cry. Tears couldn’t help anything. What had her mother always said? Count your blessings. The man next to her popped into her mind first. Then Lexi and the dogs whose lives had been spared because they’d been with her during the fire.

The fire.

Like a flashbulb going off in her brain, the fire flared on the screen in her mind. Lives could have been lost. But they’d all escaped the inferno. Now, that was a true blessing.

Pressure kept building in her chest and suddenly she heard herself giggling. It sounded a bit forced, maybe a little hysterical. She checked the burbling laughter. Get a grip, she told herself.

“What’s so funny?” Adam demanded.

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Silly me. I could be dead right now. Just a charred crisp. Why let a stupid dress upset me?”

Adam cupped her chin in his warm hand. “Because the woman responsible for so much of the pain in your life owned the dress. Ashley should have left a note or something.”

“True, but I’m going to be understanding. She wanted to help. Why I don’t know, but she did. Maybe she felt sorry for me because Lexi had disappeared and she knew the dog was all I had.”

Adam didn’t respond for a moment. He dropped his hand and drew back. In the dark shadows of the car, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

“Thanks for getting me out of there,” she said softly. “It’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m sure one day, I’ll look back and laugh, but tonight I wanted to run and hide.”

He slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. The look in his eyes was so galvanizing that it sent a tremor through her. The warm touch of his lips was a delicious sensation. She returned his kiss with reckless abandon.

He drew back a fraction of an inch and whispered in her ear, “That might have been Ashley’s dress, but it was made for you. Let’s not waste it. I’m taking you to dinner at Chive. We’re celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

His lips brushed her temple as he spoke. “Celebrating us.”

ASHLEY WAS CAPTIVATED BY the enormous canvases and liked the little man who’d painted them even though he couldn’t keep his eyes off her breasts. But Ryan was being a first-class jerk. Oh, he was chipper to everyone else but beneath the facade lurked a lethal coolness directed at Ashley.

So what if she’d given Whitney some clothes she no longer used? Ashley had stolen the most important thing in Whitney’s life-Ryan. She felt sorry for the woman and embarrassed about her own behavior. True, Whitney seemed to have hooked up with that hunk Adam, but as gorgeous as he was, Adam Hunter couldn’t be compared to a successful cosmetic surgeon.

Finally, Walter Nance decided it was time to leave. They had to wait in the valet parking line for their car. Emily kept prattling on and on about the new home they were building and how one of Vladimir’s paintings was “so made for their living room.” Ashley tried to listen politely but her mind was on what Ryan was going to say when they were alone.

“Ashley’s not feeling well,” Ryan told Walter Nance as the valet pulled up with the surgeon’s Bentley. “We’re going to pass on dinner.”

“Are you okay?” Emily asked. “You didn’t say anything.”

“I-I’ll be all right.” Ashley glanced over her shoulder. Ryan couldn’t have timed this announcement any better. There were too many people hovering in line behind him, anxious to get their cars, to discuss her health. The Nances hopped into their car, saying goodbye.

Ashley waited in silence. Ryan’s Porsche was right behind the Bentley. They got in and Ryan drove off without tipping the valet. Ashley waited. She hadn’t done anything so wrong. Why cancel their dinner plans?

“I bought that dress for you,” Ryan finally said several tense minutes later. “I picked it out at a boutique with one-of-a-kind outfits. The butterfly pin cost extra.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know. I’d worn it and thought…” She didn’t say how much she disliked the dress. She wouldn’t have worn it at all if Ryan hadn’t given it to her. She preferred black. It was a sophisticated color-a blonde’s best color.

She could have added the dress wasn’t chic enough for an evening like this, but didn’t. She knew Whitney had nothing else to wear. And the raspberry-colored dress did look fabulous on her.

“I wonder why Whitney was there,” Ashley said.

Ryan slapped his open palm so hard against the dashboard that she flinched. “Who gives a shit? That’s not the point.”

Ashley didn’t ask what the point was. She was afraid to say another word. Ryan was moody at times, but he’d never been this angry with her. She recalled what Whitney had said when she’d come to the house looking for Lexi. Ryan wouldn’t get physical, would he?

“That stinking bitch is holding my property for ransom, costing me an unfuckingbelievable fortune-and you give her the special dress I bought for you.” Ryan was shouting now, and he gunned the engine. Like a rocket, the Porsche streaked down the freeway toward the home that always reminded her of Whitney.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Ryan was yelling even louder now. “Whitney’s the problem, yet you helped her. Do you have any idea how close we are to bankruptcy because of that bitch?”

Bankruptcy? Ashley had known their finances were shaky but things couldn’t have degenerated this badly, could they? Like a robot she repeated, “Whitney is the problem. A big problem.”

Ryan didn’t say another word until he pulled into their driveway. “Get out! I’m going for a drive. I need to think.”

Ashley had barely shut the car door when Ryan slammed into Reverse, then spun the car around and peeled off down the street. Ashley stood there for a second. Something told her to follow him.

She rushed into the house and grabbed her car keys off the hook by the door to the garage. She raced into the garage and jumped into her Jaguar. She flew down the street and took a hard right. She figured he would head for the freeway so he could floor the Porsche.

She sped up and caught sight of his car. Could he spot her? She doubted it. A quick look in her own rearview mirror told her how hard it was in the dark to tell what kind of car was behind her. As long as she wasn’t on his bumper, Ryan wouldn’t detect her presence.

He traveled north like a bullet, but she kept up with him. He slowed a bit, changed lanes, and she realized he was exiting the freeway. Maybe he was going to turn around and get back on the freeway to go home. Oh, boy. She would play hell explaining why she’d gone out.

Don’t worry, Ashley told herself. She could go out if she wanted. She switched lanes and slowed down so that two cars moved in behind Ryan and her Jag. At the bottom of the ramp, he swung to the right; he wasn’t getting back on the freeway to return home.

Where was he going?

For a second Ashley remembered the times Ryan had sneaked out at night to be with her. Just a tiny flare of guilt ignited deep in her chest. She’d ignored his cheating even though she knew it would be best to wait until he filed for a legal separation before dating him. She knew better, but she’d loved him so much. She hadn’t been able to resist him.

The street was more brightly lit than the freeway. She was forced to drop back so Ryan wouldn’t spot her. He went several blocks then turned into the Alvarda Casino.

She parked across the street and turned off her lights. Ryan got out of the car and locked it. He hurried toward the casino without even glancing in her direction.

If they were so close to bankruptcy, why was he gambling? Maybe he wasn’t, she corrected herself. Casinos had wonderful food at cheap prices. Ryan had canceled dinner, but maybe he was hungry.

And needed to think.

Ashley wanted to think, too. She sat in the Jag, waiting for him to eat and come out. As much as she dreaded another fight, Ashley knew she couldn’t put off talking to Ryan about their finances.

An hour dragged by seconds at a time. Ashley spent it thinking about her father.

Did he think about her? she wondered. Had someone told him about his former wife’s untimely death? She doubted it. They’d moved around so much in search of an elusive beauty title that her mother had lost contact with the few friends she’d once possessed. There weren’t any family members to tell her father, either.

Ashley let her head rest against the back of her seat. She kept thinking about her father and checking her watch. Had he remarried? Her mother had been beautiful; replacing her would have been difficult. But there was more to a person than looks. Surely, her father had discovered this.

Maybe he’d found someone who could make him happy in a way that her mother never could have. No. In a way that her mother never would have bothered with. As much as Ashley resented her father’s refusal to stay with them as they roamed the country, she understood his reasons.

If they’d settled down and stopped pursuing a beauty title, Ashley could have finished school in one place. She would have had friends. She smiled bitterly in the darkness. Her only friend was a guy, her personal trainer. She paid him. How pathetic was that?

When an hour and twenty minutes passed, Ashley got out of the car. She was going after Ryan. If they had to sit at some café table at a casino to talk, so be it.

She went inside but didn’t see him in the coffee shop. She ignored the men who stared at her; after years of males gawking, she was accustomed to the attention. A hostess directed her to the restaurant on the second level. It was nicer up there and the place was darker compared to the brightly lit casino. She could still hear the pinging of the slot machines and the buzz of the gamblers.

Ryan wasn’t in the restaurant or the adjacent lounge. From the second level she could gaze down on the gamblers below, but she didn’t see Ryan. Where could he be? He wouldn’t have left without his car.

Then she realized she must have crossed paths with him. He’d gone out one door while she’d been coming in another. No doubt he would be home waiting for her, more furious than ever.

She started to rush back to her Jag, then told herself to take her time. So what if he arrived home and she wasn’t there? Taking a drive wasn’t a crime.

Ashley went toward the spot where Ryan had parked. The distinctive silver Porsche was still there. How could she have missed him? True, it was a large casino, but she’d been able to look down at every table, every slot machine, and she hadn’t see Ryan’s dark blond head among the gamblers.

She walked back inside and strolled slowly through the casino. He wasn’t anywhere in sight. Strange. Really strange. Then she saw a sign off to one side that advertised Texas Hold ’Em in a nearby room.

She walked around the corner and saw a small room with a lighted sign above the door. It flashed back and forth, back and forth, showing disembodied hands holding poker cards. Through the open double doors she saw a roomful of men seated at round tables. Ryan’s back was to her but there was no mistaking her husband.

She started in, but a hostess dressed like a hula dancer stopped her. “Ma’am, these are thousand-dollar tables.”

Ashley quickly backed away. A thousand dollars? What was Ryan thinking? No doubt he was gambling with the money he’d gotten for her ring. She slowly walked back to her car.

Whitney is the problem, she reminded herself.