Murphy's Law Read Online Free Page A

left the office before entering to clean. The only reason she’d entered the first time was that she’d planned to ask him to the wedding. Big mistake.
    One look at poised, refined, beautiful Zara, and she’d indulged in private comparisons that had her quickly chickening out. Pure fate had Zara at the rehearsal dinner as the best man’s date. And to Ashley’s surprise, the woman was actually nice. But even after Zara’s assurances that she and Quinton were only business associates, Ashley had planned to forgo anything personal with him.
    He was wealthy; she was poor.
    He was drop-dead gorgeous and she was just plain funky in looks and demeanor.
    He was CEO of a lucrative consulting firm while she still had college to finish.
    Doing her best to keep him blocked from her mind had been easier than she’d expected with her thoughts bouncing between worry over the headlights that kept flashing in her rearview mirror, and the wedding that thrilled her, even as she dreaded it.
    She loved May, and she loved seeing May so happy.
    But…she’d never in her life dressed up. Her childhood wardrobe had consisted only of secondhand clothes. Many times what she wore had holes, stains, and didn’t fit. Humiliation had become her constant companion. Whenever her parents got money, they indulged personal vanities that didn’t involve their only child.
    Naturally she’d avoided proms and other school formals. By the time she got her GED, she’d been on her own, completely estranged from her folks. Other than May, no one had really cared what she did or where she went.
    Now she could afford finer things, but she had college loans, rent, and insurance. Whatever was left over went into saving for a house. She dressed for function, period. If it kept her warm and dry, that was a plus.
    In the worst times of her life, May was her salvation—more so than May realized, and more so than Ashley could ever tell her. So for her, and only for her, would she wear a formal gown and dressy shoes and have her hair done and all the rest of the fuss that went with being a maid of honor.
    But that didn’t mean she’d enjoy it.
    She had to admit to relief that Quinton would accompany her. But that brought out a completely new set of problems. He skewed her perspective on things. He toyed with her libido. Without even trying, he chipped away at the willpower necessary to see her dreams through.
    Even when it didn’t appear deliberate, Quinton got to her. All he had to do was stand there looking good, or smile in a way that made her feel special, or touch her so carefully, and she wanted to molest him.
    Diabolical. That’s what he was. Downright diabolical. Somehow he knew her weaknesses, and he used them against her.
    Lost in conflicting thoughts, it wasn’t until she left the building at four in the morning that she recalled her nervousness earlier. Had someone been following her? Or was she just overly nervous?
    She reached the center of the silent, empty garage—and her cell phone rang. Expecting it to be May, who knew her schedule and often acted like a mother hen, Ashley retrieved the phone from the bottom of her purse. “What’s up, toots?”
    â€œToots?” asked a now-familiar, masculine voice.
    Oops. Not May. Ashley smiled as she strode to her car, no longer feeling so alone. “Hey, Quinton. You’re up early. Or late. Or something.”
    â€œI have a question.”
    â€œShoot.”
    â€œAre you really going to wear pink taffeta?”
    Catching the phone between shoulder and ear, Ashley dug out her car keys. “It’s four o’clock in the morning, and you’re thinking about women’s wedding attire?”
    â€œI was thinking of you, actually, picturing you as you looked when I last saw you.”
    Meaning agog from a kiss, with wet noodles for knees? “Yeah, so?”
    â€œI kept trying to align the image with pink