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you
don’t control,” Nicole said.
    “You would be surprised.”
    “Really?”
    “I’m a man, Nicole. I bleed.”
    Uncomfortable with how much he was revealing, she tried to regroup. What was happening between them? No argument. This was a first.
    “Don’t stop now. You were doing so well.”
    “You’ve always been stoic, unapproachable and unreadable.”
    “Not always. Anyway, we’re not talking about me. We were
discussing you.”
    Did the great Ashton Campbell have a soft spot? He was
actually trying to console her.
    “Thank you for listening.” She released a slight smile;
surprised that she could. Tonight would be one she would never forget.
    “I’ve always listened to you, whether you’re talking or
laughing,” he said. “I like it.”
    Taken by surprise, she asked, “What?”
    “To hear the musical notes in your voice.”
    She did laugh then. “I don’t sing.”
    He stared for such a long time, heat warmed her face and she
shifted from foot to the other.
    “Yes, you do,” he spoke softly. “Your voice chimes its own
symphony.”
    Lost for words, she thought she must be dreaming or needed a
Q-Tip to clean the wax from her ears. Ashton,
a romantic? The night had been a little strange but it was getting stranger by
the minute.
    “You knew that your parents loved you. That’s all that
matters. Cherish the memories. It’s something no one can ever take from you.”
    Now he’d switched in the middle of the conversation. From
telling her that her voice was musical now back to the brooding, unsmiling
person he was known to be. The man was an enigma.
    “There was nothing you could’ve done to stop the crash.
You’re not afraid to fly, are you?”
    She shook her head.
    “Good. It’s still the safest mode of transportation.”
    “Brent said the same thing.”
    “I don’t want to talk about him.”
    “What’s your problem with Brent?”
    The man was Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde tonight. One minute he’s
being poetic and half decent and then he turned back to being his contrary
self.
    “I don’t need to hear what Brent said to you or what he was to
you,” Ashton grated out and then his tone softened. “Tonight, it’s only you and
me. No Brent is allowed. Besides I want to continue to talk about you.”
    He must be bi-polar because he was one moody man with a bad
habit of changing a conversation before the other one had been completed. She
shook her head. Definitely strange.
    “I’m ordinary. There’s nothing special about me,” she said.
    “I beg to differ. You were in the top five percent of your journalism
graduating class and you secured an internship at a family-owned newspaper in Grand Prairie. That’s a long way from Dallas,” he said.
    “I was number three in my class.”
    “I stand corrected.”
    “Anyway, Grand Prairie is less than an hour away. I’m
surprised you know about my internship.”
    “You would be surprised at the things I know about
you.”
    “I see,” she said slowly. “What else do you know?”
    “You’re loyal to a fault. Your two best friends, since junior high school, are Danielle Evans and Sarah Beaumont, whom everyone calls Sally. Danielle is now a supermodel but grew up in a foster home until she was ten and then taken in by an elderly widow. Out of the three of you, Danielle’s the only one who didn’t come from money. But it never diminished the bond you had. To hear Brent tell it, you ladies are tighter than an entwined rope.”
    “I’m impressed,” she snipped.
    “Oh, and you’re slow to anger, except when it comes to me.”
    “You feed my temper with your arrogance and ultra-conservative
views.”
    He ignored her comment. “You’re also off to tour Europe, this summer, with Sarah Lawrence Beaumont before you start your job.”
    Nicole snickered. “Sally would be excited that you know her
full name.”
    A dark brow lifted. “I don’t know why. All the Beaumont’s have Lawrence as their middle name. It’s something that has been