Free The Bridal Path: Ashley by Sherryl Woods Page A

left her convinced no one as sexy as Dillon could possibly be interested in her unless he had an ulterior motive, and she was left struggling with all sorts of doubts and dire warnings.
    She finished washing the dishes and stared into the living room where Dillon had gone right after dinner. Despite his all-black attire and too-long hair, he looked perfectly at home. He looked like a man who knew who he was and was thoroughly comfortable with himself and his environment. She found that almost as disconcerting as the way he so easily provoked a sensual response from her body.
    He was sitting in one of her father’s overstuffed leather chairs reading some book he’d plucked from the shelves. Given the dull topics of most of those books, she couldn’t imagine what he found so fascinating. As far as she knew, he had no particular interest in either fishing or cattle, but it was evident he was totally absorbed.
    As far as she knew… Of course, that was the real crux of the problem. She didn’t know a darn thing, and he didn’t seem inclined to change that.
    I think I’ll let you figure that out for yourself.
What the devil was that supposed to mean? she wondered irritably.
    Suddenly she recalled her own words the night before. She’d been complaining about men never looking beyond her glamorous image, about them never seeing her. Wasn’t that really what Dillon was asking of her? Didn’t he simply want her to get to know him for who he was and not be distracted by her memory of the way he had once been or by whatever it was he did for a living? Good or bad.
    She felt like charging into the living room and announcing, “I get it.”
    Well, she concluded, there was more than one way to pry information out of someone who’d clammed up. She’d tried the direct approach. Obviously, it was time to use more subtle techniques. She would do as he preferred and gather clues from his behavior and from dropped hints about his life. She simply had to create an environment in which hints were likely to be dropped.
    There was no time like the present to start. Studying Dillon promised to be far more intriguing than wrestling with her own problems. He promised to be an incredible diversion. She began by walking into the living room and asking if he wanted to play cards or a game.
    “I think there’s a Monopoly set here somewhere,” she added.
    She’d discovered in New York and on the road that a rowdy round of Monopoly or any other game often told her a lot about a person’s need to win, his quick-wittedness and his greed. Men who refused to play any game at all were generally too stuffy to bear. She waited anxiously to see which category Dillon fell into.
    “How about chess?” he asked, readily putting aside the book. “Your father and I get the board out first thing when we’re here. He told me that you, Sara and Dani all play.”
    Ashley grinned. “Who wins when you play Daddy?”
    “I do. Why?”
    “I just like to know ahead of time if I’m likely to get trounced.”
    “Are you a sore loser?”
    “Sometimes.”
    The somber expression he’d worn all evening gave way to a grin. “Me, too.”
    “Then it should be an interesting evening, shouldn’t it?”
    He shot her a wry look. “With you and me in the same room, sweetheart, it couldn’t be anything else,” he said in a way that sent goose bumps chasing down her spine.
    “You get the board,” she said in a breathless rush. “I’ll get us something to drink. What would you like? Coffee? Beer? Whiskey?”
    “I’m tempted to finish off that bottle of twelve-year-old special-blend Scotch your father brought back from Glasgow and has hidden away, but I think I’ll stick to beer.”
    “Afraid he’d check for fingerprints on the bottle?”
    “No, sweetheart. I want to keep all my wits about me for the game.” He shot a knowing look at her. “And after.”
    Ashley felt her throat close up. Apparently he wasn’t holding a grudge. She practically ran from