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it to Doyle
for a pittance than have her set foot in it.”
    Ashley’s breath caught. If the older woman
had no intention of selling her the house, why had she asked for a
meeting?
     
    ***
    Ron scowled and reached for his mother’s arm.
“Come with me, please.” She refused to budge, her gaze fixed on the
entrance to the living room. “Mother.”
    “Don’t mother me in that patronizing tone,
Ronald.” She allowed him to lead her away from the living room and
Ashley. “Where are we going?” she hissed.
    “Away from here.” He led her toward the
stairs. “I told you I’d take care of the situation with
Ashley.”
    “And this is how you mean to do it? With
laughter and silly childhood anecdotes?”
    He meant to gain Ashley’s confidence first.
He couldn’t guarantee it would work, but it was better than pushing
her to see things his way. Besides, they’d reached an impasse—he
wanted her help with his investigation and she wanted Carlyle
House.
    “I want to know what happened the night of
the fire, Ron, and I want to know now.” Tears danced in his
mother’s expressive grey eyes. “Go back in there and ask her for
every detail.”
    Ron sighed. For years, she’d rejected the
rumors that his father, her husband, had started the fire at
Carlyle House. The same couldn’t be said for his grandmother or
uncle—the two had never approved of his father. And once Ron
started receiving the anonymous letters, his mother’s patience had
grown thin.
    “There’re other ways of finding out what
Ashley saw that night without antagonizing her, Mother. She’s not
the enemy.”
    “Isn’t she? She lied, didn’t she? Remember
the photos?”
    How could he forget? Another anonymous
envelope was found at the gate last night. This time, there were
photographs along with another note with cutout letters, but more
detailed than the previous two, which had prompted his mother to
call him back to L.A. from the firefighters’ convention and
reschedule her meeting with Ashley.
    “She was fifteen years old at the time and
traumatized by the death of her parents. She might have gotten her
facts mixed up.” He glanced briefly toward the room Ashley was in.
He needed to go back to her. Ron beckoned Connie forward. “Mom, go
back upstairs and rest. Let me handle things my way, okay?” He
squeezed her arm and waited until she and Connie were halfway up
the stairs before he went back to rejoin Ashley.
    He’d chosen not to bring up the events of ten
years ago because he knew his mother would eavesdrop on their
conversation and interrupt if she heard something she didn’t like.
He wanted answers just as much as she did, but the timing had to be
right. Ashley needed to be persuaded to see things his way. The
woman gave a new meaning to the word stubborn.
    One minute blushing and the next challenging
him, she was beginning to fascinate him, which was bad in his book.
Not that there was anything wrong with a captivating
woman…physically. But intellectual fascination was a different ball
game all together. It meant delving into how her mind worked, which
could lead to unwanted complications. His priority right now was
clearing his father’s name, not getting involved with any woman at
a personal level.
    Ron paused in the archway separating the
foyer from the living room and studied Ashley. How much of the
conversation had she heard? She was looking away from him, her body
seemed relaxed.
    Suddenly, she arched her back and stretched
her neck. Her posture pushed her breasts against the silk top,
drawing his attention and sending desire rippling through him
again. Hell, he was lusting after a woman he hardly knew.
    He cleared his throat and stepped into the
room. “Sorry about that.”
    “That’s okay.” Ashley picked up her purse and
stood. “Since I won’t be seeing your mother, I think I’d better
head back to work.”
    She’d heard his mother. He could tell by the
way she avoided looking at him and her jerky