Billionaire's Contract Engagement(47)

     



 

"I decided to come in for a few hours, to catch up on things," he told her.

Rachel backed away, holding him at arm's length. "You look tired."

"And you look gorgeous. Is that a new hairstyle?"

She rolled her eyes at his less-than-subtle dodge. He knew as well as  she did that her hair hadn't changed in twenty years. "How is Melody?"

"On the mend. She should be back to her old self in no time."

"I'm so glad to hear that. Send her my best."

"I will." Rachel knew Melody had been in an accident, but not the  severity of it, or that she had amnesia. There would be too many  questions that Ash just didn't have the answers to.

It was best he kept Melody as far removed from his life as he could, so  the inevitable breakup wouldn't cause more than a minor ripple.

When rumors of her leaving the first time had circulated, the  compassionate smiles and looks of pity were excruciating. He didn't  appreciate everyone sticking their noses in his personal life, when it  was no one else's business.

Rachel looked him up and down, one brow raised. "Did someone make it casual day and forget to tell me?"

He chuckled. "Since I'm not officially here, I thought I could get away with it."

"I'll let it slide this one time." She patted his shoulder. "Now, you go sit down. Coffee?"

"That would be fantastic. Thanks." He was so zonked that if he were to  put his head down on his desk he would go out like a light. He'd slept  terrible last night, knowing that Mel was just a few feet away in the  next bed, naked. It only made matters worse that she insisted on walking  around the room naked beforehand.

While Rachel fetched his coffee, Ash walked into his office. It was  pretty much the way he'd left it, except his inbox had multiplied  exponentially in size. He was going to have to stay all weekend playing  catch-up. Just as he settled into his chair Rachel returned with his  coffee and a pastry.

"I know you prefer to avoid sweets, but you looked as if you could use the sugar."

"Thanks, Rachel." He'd been eating so terribly the past week that one  little Danish wasn't going to make much difference. Kind of like  throwing a deck chair off the Titanic. Thankfully the hotel in Abilene  had had a fitness room, and he'd used it faithfully each morning before  he left for the hospital.

"I there anything else?" she asked.

He sipped his coffee and shook his head. "I'm good."

"Buzz if you need me," she said, then left his office, shutting the door behind her.

Ash sighed, gazing around the room, feeling conflicted. He loved his  job, and being here usually brought him solace, yet now he felt as if  there were somewhere else he should be instead.

With Melody, of course. All the more reason not to go home.

Ash picked up the pastry and took a bite. Someone knocked on his door, then it opened and Flynn stuck his head in.

"I see our wandering CFO had finally returned to the flock. You got a minute?"

Ash's mouth was full so he gestured Flynn in. He swallowed and said,  "I'm not officially back until tomorrow, so I'm not really here."

"Gotcha." He made himself comfortable in the chair opposite his desk.  "So, after you left so abruptly last week I tried to pump Rachel for  information but she clammed up on me. I even threatened to fire her if  she didn't talk and she said this place would tank without her."

"It probably would," Ash agreed.

"Which is why she's still sitting out there and I'm in here asking you  why you disappeared. I know your parents are dead, and you never  mentioned any relatives, so it can't be that. I'm guessing it had  something to do with Melody." He paused then said, "Of course you can  tell me to go to hell and mind my own business."

He could, and it was tempting, but Ash figured he owed Flynn an  explanation. Not only was Flynn his boss, he was a friend. However, he  had to be careful to edit the content. Maddox had some very conservative  clients. Conservative, multimillion-dollar clients. If rumors began to  circulate that his mistress of three years left him because she was  carrying another man's love-child, it would only be a matter of time  before word made it to someone at Golden Gate Promotions, who wouldn't  hesitate to use it against Maddox.

Not that he believed Flynn would deliberately do anything to jeopardize  the success of the company his own father built from the ground up, but  despite the best of intentions, things had a way of slipping out. Like  the affair that Brock, Flynn's brother, was rumored to be having with  his assistant. Brock and Elle probably never intended that to get out  either.         

     



 

It just wasn't worth the risk.

"I found her," Ash told Flynn.

"You told me you weren't even going to look."

"Yeah, well, after a few weeks, when she didn't come crawling back to me  begging forgiveness, I got  …  concerned. So I hired a P.I."

"So where was she?"

"In a hospital in Abilene, Texas."

His brow dipped low over his eyes. "A hospital? Is she okay?"

Ash told him the whole story. The accident, the drug-induced coma, all  the time he spent by her bedside, then having to drive home because she  couldn't fly.

Flynn shook his head in disbelief. "I wish you would have said something. Maybe there was a way we could have helped."

"I appreciate it, but really, there was nothing you could have done. She just needs time to heal."

"Is she back home with you now?"

"Yeah, we got back today."

"So, does this mean you guys are  …  back together?"

"She's staying with me while she recovers. After that." He shrugged. "We'll just have to wait and see."

"This is probably none of my business, but did she tell you why she left?"

"It's  …  complicated."

Flynn held up a hand. "I get it, back off. Just know that I'm here if  you need to talk. And if you need anything, Ash, anything at all, just  say the word. Extra vacation days, a leave of absence, you name it and  it's yours. I want to do anything I can to help."

He wouldn't be taking Flynn up on that. The idea of spending another  extended amount of time away from work, stuck in his condo, just him and  Melody, made his chest feel tight. "Thanks, Flynn, I appreciate it. We  both do."

After he was gone Ash sat at his desk replaying the conversation in his  head. He hadn't lied to Flynn; he'd just left out a few facts. For  Flynn's own good, and the good of the company.

His mom used to tell him that good intentions paved the way to hell, and  Ash couldn't escape the feeling sometimes that maybe he was already  there.





Eight


Melody 's quick rest turned into an all-day affair. She roused at  seven-thirty when Ash got back feeling more tired than before, with a  blazing headache to boot. After feeling so good the day before, the  backslide was discouraging. Ash assured her that it was probably just  the lingering aftereffects of the barometer and temperature change going  from Texas to California, and she hoped he was right.

She popped two painkillers then joined him at the dining-room table in  her sleep-rumpled clothes and nibbled on a slice of the pizza he'd  brought home with him. She had hoped they could spend a few hours  together, but the pills seemed to hit her especially hard. Despite  sleeping most of the day, she could barely hold her head up. At one  point she closed her eyes, for what she thought was just a second, but  the next thing she knew Ash was nudging her awake.

"Let's get you into bed," he said, and she realized that he had already cleared the table and put the pizza away.

Melody stood with his help and let him lead her to the bedroom. She  crawled in bed, clothes and all, and only vaguely recalled feeling him  pull the covers up over her and kiss her forehead.

When she woke the next morning she felt a million times better. Her head  still hurt, but the pain was mild, and her stomach howled to be fed.  Wearing the same clothes as yesterday, her hair a frightening mop that  she twisted and fastened in place with a clip she found under the  bathroom sink, she wandered out of her bedroom in search of Ash, but he  had already left for work.

The coffee in the pot was still warm so she poured herself a cup and put  it in the microwave to heat, finding that her fingers seemed to know  exactly what buttons to push, even though she had no memory of doing it  before. While she waited she fixed herself something to eat. She spent a  good forty minutes on the couch, devouring cold pizza, sipping lukewarm  coffee and watching an infomercial advertising some murderously  uncomfortable looking contraption of spandex and wire that when worn  over the bra was designed to enhance the breasts and improve posture.  She couldn't imagine ever being so concerned about the perkiness of her  boobs that she would subject herself to that kind of torture.

She also wondered, if she'd never gone to Texas, and the accident hadn't  happened, what she would be doing right now? Would she be sprawled on  the couch eating leftovers or out doing something glamorous like meeting  with her personal trainer or getting her legs waxed?