“Jesus, I don’t even know what to say,” Devon muttered. “This is quite the bomb to drop the day after I return from an aborted honeymoon.”

“I know you thought I was a crazy old man for making Ashley part of this deal. And that I’m a manipulative bastard. You’d be right on that count. I knew you wanted this partnership. I knew you wanted the Copeland name for the line of resorts you’ve envisioned. I also knew what I wanted. It just so happened that our wants aligned perfectly. And my children are provided for.”

“Everyone but Ashley,” Devon said quietly.

William looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“She wanted a husband who adores her, who loves her, who is the embodiment of all she’s dreamed of.”

“So? Any reason you can’t be that man?”

It was a good question and one he wasn’t sure how to answer. He rubbed his hand through his hair. “How soon are you wanting all of this done?”

“I want to tender my resignation as soon as everything is done. It won’t be a secret that I’ll want you to take over. Voting won’t be an issue. You’ll be the most logical person to take over when I retire. I hold a lot of sway over the board. They’ll listen to me. I’m going to make a doctor’s appointment and then tell my wife so she can rearrange my teeth for me and then drag me to the doctor. After that, she’ll take over and I won’t be able to scratch my ass without her permission.”

The words were said with wry wit, but it was obvious from the warmth in William’s eyes that he adored his wife beyond reason and absolutely didn’t mind giving up control to her in his retirement.

The older man seemed totally at peace with his actions and decisions and Devon wondered how much he could really fault his father-in-law for taking steps to ensure that his family was provided for. Even if he didn’t agree with the methods. Would he have done the same for his son or daughter?

He liked to think that he’d offer them something better than the occasional reminder not to “screw up.”

The image of Ashley, round and lush with his child, conjured a powerful surge of emotion. He realized in an instant that he’d do whatever it took to protect a son or daughter.

“Take care of yourself,” Devon said gruffly, suddenly unsteady at the idea of something happening to a man who’d seemed so determined to be a second father to him. “I’ll expect you to spoil our children.”

William’s expression eased into a broad smile. “Planning to provide me with them soon?”

Devon shrugged. “Maybe. That’ll be up to Ash. I just want her to be happy.”

William nodded. “So do I, son. So do I.”

They were interrupted by the waitress bringing William’s entrée to the table. For a moment, William fussed over his food and then he looked up at Devon again. “I’d like you to plan a cocktail party. It’ll give Ashley a chance to play hostess. I’m thinking a couple weeks out at most. I want to go ahead and announce that I’m planning to retire and that you’re my choice to succeed me. I want this all to seem like a natural progression of the merger. A changing of the guard with my blessing.”

“We can do that,” Devon said. Or at least he hoped. Maybe by that time Ashley wouldn’t be quite so upset. Right now, asking her to appear happy for an entire night in front of dozens of guests seemed unreasonable at best.

“Good. We’ll talk more later and I’ll give you a guest list and of course you’ll have your own colleagues to invite. I just want to say again how happy I am to have you as my son-in-law. I knew from the moment I met you that you’d not only be the best thing for my company, but for my daughter as well.”

Fourteen

When Devon walked into his apartment, he immediately noticed the change. There wasn’t any clutter. No magazines strewn about. No shoes littering the floor. No purse hanging from a doorknob. And he could smell cleaning solution.

As he walked farther inside, his stomach knotted because not only was everything picked up, but he also realized that the apartment was completely and utterly devoid of Ashley’s presence. All of the things she’d moved in and haphazardly decorated with had been put away. No silly knickknacks on the coffee or end tables.

The apartment looked precisely as it had before she moved in.

Has she packed up and left? Had she decided not to give their marriage a chance?

He experienced a faint sensation of illness. His stomach tightened with dread and the beginnings of panic gripped his throat.

Then he heard a distant sound that seemed to come from the kitchen. He strode in that direction and realized that a television had been left on. But when he reached the doorway, he had to grip the frame to steady himself.

Relief blew through him with staggering ferocity.

She was still here.

She hadn’t left.

She was sitting at the bar, her brow furrowed in concentration as she watched a cooking show. She had a notepad and pencil in front of her and she was furiously taking notes.

As his gaze took in the rest of the kitchen, he realized that she’d evidently spent the day cleaning. The surfaces sparkled. The floor shone. The scent of lemon was heavy in the air.

She was dressed in faded jeans and an old T-shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and she wasn’t wearing any makeup.

She looked absolutely beautiful.

But she also looked tired. The dark circles under her eyes were more pronounced and she had a delicate fragileness to her that made him instinctively protective of her. But he couldn’t protect her from himself and it was he who had hurt her.

Drawn to the vulnerable image she presented, he slid his hands up her arms and then lowered his mouth to kiss her on the neck.

She froze immediately then turned swiftly around. “Hi,” she offered hesitantly. “I didn’t expect you back quite so soon.”

“Technically I’m off this week,” he said as he pulled away. “I had lunch with your father. We discussed business and now I’m done.”

She made a face but didn’t comment, which he was grateful for. Anytime her father and business were mentioned, it was going to be difficult, but the more he did it in passing, maybe it would lessen the sting.

“What happened to all your stuff?” he asked casually as he went around to open the fridge. He pulled out a bottle of water and pushed the door closed.

“Oh, I just organized everything,” she said. “I didn’t really have time before the wedding. Was too busy with other stuff.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he murmured. “And the cleaning? Should you have been doing all this today? You just came off a pretty bad headache. I wouldn’t think all the cleaning stuff would be good for you to be inhaling.”

“It was okay. Headache is gone. Just a little residual achiness.”

He frowned. “Why don’t you go lie on the couch. I’ll figure out dinner and we’ll watch some TV or just relax in the living room if you don’t want the noise.”

She rose from the stool. “No, no, I’ve got dinner planned. Are you hungry already? What time did you want to eat?”

Perplexed by her sudden agitation, he hastily backed off. It appeared she was at least trying for a semblance of normalcy and that relieved him. Maybe after the initial storm passed and she had time to think she’d see that nothing had changed between them.

In light of today’s conversation with William Copeland, Devon was on the verge of accomplishing all his goals. And at a much faster rate than he’d ever planned. Five years down the road was here now. Copeland Hotels would be his. His dream of launching a new luxury chain of exclusive resorts under one of the oldest and most respected names in the business would be realized. He’d have a wife. Children. A family. He’d have it all.

The surge of triumph was so forceful he felt drunk with it.

“I’m in no hurry,” he soothed. “Why don’t we sit down and have a drink. What are you cooking?”

A dull flush worked over her face. “I’m not. At least not tonight I mean. I will another time. I thought I’d call for take-out. It’s almost like a home-cooked meal but they bring it and set it up.”

“Sounds wonderful. Thank you. I think a nice quiet dinner at home would be fantastic after the week we’ve had. We didn’t really get to see each other much in the days leading up to the wedding. We can start making up for that now.”

Pain flashed in her eyes but she remained quiet, almost as if she was dealing with the sudden reminder of their circumstances. He hated it. Wished he could wipe it from her memory. In time, it would fade. If he showed her that they could have a comfortable relationship, some of the rawness of her emotions would settle and they could go back to the easy camaraderie they’d shared before everything went to hell.

She squared her shoulders as if reaching a decision and then tilted her chin upward. “You go on out and have a seat. Would you like wine? Or do you want me to mix up something for you?”

He opened his mouth to tell her that he’d take care of it, but something in her eyes stopped him. There was a quiet desperation, almost as if she was barely clinging to her composure.

“Wine would be great,” he said softly. “You choose something for both of us. I like everything I’ve stocked here so I’m good with whatever you pick out.”

He left the kitchen, his chest tight. The next weeks were going to suck as they found their way in the new reality of their relationship. He had confidence that it would work out, though. He just had to be patient.

A few minutes later, Ashley came into the living room carrying two wineglasses and a bottle of unopened wine. She looked disgruntled as she set the glasses down on the coffee table.

“Can you open the wine?” she asked hesitantly. “I couldn’t get the bottle opener to work properly. I’m sure I’m not doing it right.”

He reached for the bottle and let his fingers glide over hers. “Relax, Ash. Take a seat. I’ll pour.”

Reluctantly she backtracked and sank down onto the couch. In truth she still didn’t look well and it wouldn’t surprise him if her head was still hurting her. Her brow was wrinkled and she looked tired. Maybe a glass of wine would ease some of her tension.

He opened the bottle and then poured a glass for her first. After pouring his own, he set the glass on the table and took a seat in the armchair diagonal to where she sat on the couch.

“Your father wants us to host a cocktail party in a week or two,” he said.

“Us?” she squeaked. “As in you and me? Why wouldn’t he want Mama to host it? She’s awesome at hosting parties. Everyone always talks about how much fun they have when she throws a get-together.”

“He’s going to be announcing some changes at Copeland soon and this is his way of easing into that. Your father is looking at taking a less active role in the managing of things. He’s ready to retire and focus on his family.”

She looked despondent.

“Ash, this isn’t a big deal. Most of the people who’ll attend are people we already know. We’ll pick a nice venue, have it catered, hire a band. It’ll be great.”

She held up her hand. “I’ll handle it. No problem. I don’t want you to worry about it. I just need to know exactly when. I’m sure you and Daddy will be busy with…whatever it is you’re busy with. Mama always handled parties for Daddy. No reason I can’t do it for you.”

The dismay in her voice troubled him. He thought it rather sounded like she would be planning a funeral, but he wasn’t about to shut her down when she was making such an effort. That she was so willing to try when it was obvious he’d crushed her endeared her to him all the more.

“I’m sure whatever you come up with, I and the others will love,” he said.

She took a long drink of her wine, nearly draining the glass.

“Want to watch a movie?” he suggested.

She nodded as she put her wineglass back on the coffee table. “Sure. Whatever you want to put on is fine.”

He picked up the remote but he didn’t return to his own chair. He eased onto the couch next to her and put his arm along the top of the sofa behind her head.

For a long moment she sat there stiffly, almost as if she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. He cursed the awkwardness between them. Before she wouldn’t have hesitated to burrow underneath him and snuggle in tight. She’d drape herself over him when they watched movies. She would have kissed him, hugged him and generally mauled him with affection through the entire show.

Now she sat beside him like a statue, tension and fatigue radiating from her like a beacon.

“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her underneath his arm. “That’s better,” he said when she finally relaxed against him and laid her cheek on his chest.

They were silent as the movie played and he was fine with that. There wasn’t a lot he could say. There were only so many times he could apologize or tell her he hadn’t meant to hurt her.

It wasn’t the movie that captured his attention, though. He sat there enjoying her scent. Her hair always smelled like honeysuckle. Even in winter in the city. She had an airy, floral scent that clung to her. It suited her.

And he loved the feel of her next to him. He hadn’t realized how much until he’d spent the last several days with a wall between them.

He touched her hair, idly sifting through the strands with his fingers, savoring the sensation of silk over his skin. By the time the credits rolled, he couldn’t have even said what the movie was about. He hadn’t cared.

“Ash, are you sure you don’t want me to go out for some dinner?” He waited a moment. “Ash?”