The Ashtons: Walker, Ford & Mercedes: Betrayed Birthright / Mistaken for a Mistress / Condition of Marriage

“I think so, too,” Charlotte said.

“Oui,” Alexandre offered his opinion, as well. “I agree.”

Okay, great. Now that everyone had just embarrassed the hell out of him, Walker didn’t know how to respond. His relationship with Tamra wasn’t meant to last. He wanted her to be represented on his shield because he was going to lose her.

And lose a piece of himself after she was gone.

Several hours later Walker sat at the oak desk in his extra bedroom. He scanned the picture on his computer, created a “family photos” file and printed it. Next he saved it on a disc and packed it for the San Francisco trip.

He was used to switching computers. He had a PC at both home locations, as well as a laptop he carried for airports, hotel rooms and places in between.

Tamra knocked on the open door, and he turned to look at her.

“I noticed some ice cream in your freezer,” she said. “Is it okay if I dig into it?”

“Sure.” He roamed his gaze over her and saw that she’d changed into a pair of sweats, preparing to relax in his apartment. “Will you get me a bowl, too?”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

He watched her leave, then put the original picture in an envelope and left it on his desk with a selfsticking note, reminding himself to return it to his mother.

Tamra came back, balancing two glass bowls. She’d scooped a mound of Neapolitan into each, with spoons readily available. She handed him one of the frozen treats and sat on the edge of the bed. He remained in the swivel chair.

She started eating the vanilla ice cream first, and he wondered if it was her favorite flavor. He continued to analyze every bite she took. Finally she finished the vanilla and started in on the strawberry. He changed his mind, deciding she liked chocolate the best since she was saving it for last.

Walker had mixed all three flavors up in his bowl, stirring the concoction like pudding.

“Your sister is amazing,” she said. “Sweet, bright, beautiful. I really like her.”

“She appeared to like you, too.”

“Alexandre is amazing, as well.”

“Really? You think so?”

“Oh, yes. He’s gorgeous. So—” she stalled when Walker raised his eyebrows at her “—attentive to Charlotte.”

Envy nipped at his heels, but he let it go. He knew Alexandre was one of those guys women noticed. All those fancy French words. Even his mom had swooned a little. “He loves my sister.”

“I can tell.” She toyed with her spoon. “It was weird…what Mary, Charlotte and Alexandre said about us.”

“Yeah, weird.” He shifted his gaze. “They think we’re good for each other.”

When silence pulled like taffy between them, he stirred his dessert again. He hated these magnified moments. He wasn’t good at easing the tension.

But she got past it quick enough.

“Does anyone ever stay in this room?” she asked.

“No. I never invite guests here.”

“Then why do you have an extra bed?”

“I don’t know. To fill up space, I guess.”

She took her first bite of the chocolate ice cream. “What about your bedroom?”

He nearly cursed beneath his breath. Silence had been safer than the conversation she’d hatched. “No one stays there, either.”

“I am,” she said.

“Yes, but you’re—” he paused, afraid he would say something too revealing “—different.”

“Different?” she parroted.

Crafty girl, he thought. Prodding him to spill his guts. “I already told you that you’re the most compatible lover I’ve ever had. I wanted to take advantage of that.”

She sucked on her spoon, and he wondered if she was trying to seduce him. If she was, her ploy was working. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth.

He dropped his gaze and noticed her nipples through her T-shirt. “Are you cold, Tamra?”

She almost smiled. “I’m eating ice cream.”

“Want to christen the bed?”

She gave him an innocent look, then shook her head and laughed. “You’re easy, Walker.”

So she had been playing a game.

He left the desk, came closer, took away her bowl and nudged her down. “You drive me crazy.” He unzipped his jeans and slipped her hand inside. “More than crazy.”

She closed her fingers around him, and they kissed, deep and wet and slow. She tasted like chocolate, and the flavor, the sweetness, aroused him even more.

They dragged off each other’s clothes, tossing articles onto the floor, leaving cotton and denim in their wake.

She lowered her head, then used her mouth between his legs. He tugged his hands through her hair and felt his blood soar. Oh, yeah, he thought. She drove him crazy.

She paused, looked up at him and made his world spin.

Mind-blowing foreplay. Sexual surrender. He wanted it all. And he wanted it with her.

He lifted her up and kissed her, tongue to tongue, flesh to flesh. He needed to get her out of his system, to drink her in, to drain her of every last drop.

Desperate, he guzzled her like the wine he’d been reared on, getting drunk, forcing the intoxication through his veins.

But he wanted to make her drunk, too, so he went down on her, giving her the oral pleasure she’d given him.

She arched, rubbed against him and fisted the quilt.