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live with the fallout from that, not her. This was the best way to protect her. “We’ll set up a press conference of our own to make the official announcement.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest, her brown eyes glinting nearly black with a determination that warned him he may have underestimated the strength of the woman beside him.
    “Congressman Landis, you are absolutely out of your flipping mind. There’s not a chance in hell you’re putting an engagement ring on my finger.”
    Four
    U h-oh. She’d thrown down the proverbial gauntlet again.
    Ashley gripped the sides of the butter-soft leather seat. She couldn’t miss the competitive gleam in Matthew’s eyes as he drove the luxurious sedan.
    “Matthew,” she rushed to backtrack. “I appreciate that you’re concerned for my reputation, but one night of sex does not make me your responsibility. And it doesn’t make you my responsibility, either.”
    He reached across to loosen her grip and link hands as they sped down the road. She looked away and tried to focus on the towering three-story homes, their deep porches sheltering rocking chairs and ferns. Anything to keep from registering how Matthew’s thumb brushed back and forth across the sensitive inside of her wrist.
    His callused thumb rasped against her tender skin, bringing to mind thoughts of all those photos of him in the paper featuring the numerous times he’d worked on Habitat homes. He came by the roughened skin and muscles the honest way. Her traitorous heart picked up pace from just his touch, a pulse he could no doubt feel.
    Yep, there he went smiling again.
    She snatched her hand away and tucked it under her leg. “Stop that. The last thing we need is to provide more photo ops for gossip fodder.”
    “Be my fiancée.” He stated, rather than asking.
    “No.”
    “I’ll make it worth your while.” He winked.
    She covered her ears. “I am Ashley Carson and I do not approve this message.”
    Laughing, he gripped one of her wrists and lowered her arm. “Cute.”
    “And hopefully understood.”
    “Ashley, you’re a practical woman, an accountant for God’s sake. Surely you can see how this is the wisest course of action.”
    Practical? He wanted her for “practical” reasons? How romantic.
    “Thanks, but I’ll take my chances with the press.” She tried to tug free her recaptured hand.
    No such luck.
    He held on and teased her with more of those understated but potent touches all the way to her sister’s house—which just happened to have a red-and-blue Landis For Senate sign on the front lawn. Ashley shifted her attention to Beachcombers instead. And gasped from the shock and pain.
    The sight in front of her doused passion and anger faster than if she’d jumped into the crashing surf in front of them.
    Beachcombers waited for her like a sad, bedraggled friend. Soot streaked the white clapboard beside broken windows, now boarded over. The grassy lawn was striped with huge muddy ruts from fire trucks and the deluge of water.
    If she kept staring, she would cry. Yet, looking away felt like abandoning a loved one. She had bigger problems than her reputation—or some crazy mixed-up need to jump back into bed with a man certain to complicate her life.
    She needed to regroup after the devastation, to meet with her sisters and revise her whole future. And no matter what plan they came up with, Matthew Landis would not be figuring into the strategy.
    This time, when she pulled her hand back, she would make sure he understood that no meant no.

    Waiting for Starr to come downstairs, Ashley peered through the living room window, watching as Matthew drove away.
    A marriage proposal. Her first, and what a sham.
    Now that she’d gotten over the shock of his faux fiancée proposition, she had to appreciate that he wanted to preserve her reputation. An old-fashioned notion, certainly, but then his monied family was known for their by-the-rules manners. How ironic that Starr belonged in