Keep On Loving you by Christie Ridgway Page A

place in Palm Springs so snow doesn’t get in the way of his golf game, though.” Ash didn’t know why the hell they were discussing his family, but then he remembered what the stranger on the street had said. “Tilda...”
    She glanced up at him, glanced away.
    â€œI didn’t realize you’d lost your mom right before we met. I’m really sorry about that.”
    â€œYou had nothing to do with it.”
    â€œWell, no, of course not. But I...” This was going all wrong. Frustrated, he shoved his hand through his hair. “I’m usually much smoother than this.”
    â€œI’ll bet,” she said, the two words laced with cynicism.
    Ash closed his eyes. What an ass he must seem in her eyes. Out-of-towner who’d tried to impress her by ordering fancy bottles of champagne and sweeping her into a luxury hotel room, only to pass out like a teenager after downing a couple of wine coolers.
    â€œI snored, didn’t I?”
    She blinked. “What?”
    â€œDrooled?”
    Her lips twitched.
    If his heart could give a fist pump, it would. “That night... I’d come off five days of cramming for finals followed by a graduation ceremony that had me broiling in the sun for seventeen hours or so. I wasn’t at my best.”
    â€œIs that right?”
    He nodded, trying to look pitiful. “Then we came up to the mountains to find my parents’ new house had sprung a major plumbing leak, so we had to take hotel rooms in the village. I was so wired I couldn’t sleep, so then I took a walk and...”
    â€œFound Mr. Frank’s.”
    â€œ...found you.” He lowered his voice. “And you know what I thought when I saw you?”
    She shook her head, her green eyes big and trained on his face. “Don’t, Ash—”
    â€œI saw you with that paper crown on your beautiful hair and I thought, ‘I’ve got to get to know this girl.’” He leaned close. “You want to hear my darkest secret?”
    â€œNo.”
    Another thing he’d been taught by his dad was not to give up easily. So he didn’t let those two letters deter him. “I’ve never felt that way about anyone before, Tilda. With anyone.”
    Her eyes widened and her face colored more. “I...I don’t know what to say.”
    â€œTell me what you thought about me.”
    She swallowed. “You don’t want to know that.”
    â€œSure I do.” He smiled. “Let me help you get started. When I held out my hand and said, ‘My name is Ash Robbins,’ you thought...”
    â€œThis is a really bad idea.”
    Okay, tough nut to crack. “Tilda...”
    â€œI’m being truthful. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but I...I went ahead and invited you to sit at our table and asked you to dance and then I left with you.”
    He winced. “You consider it a mistake?” God, that hurt.
    Her expression softened. “No, I... It wasn’t about you, Ash.” She caught one of his hands with hers.
    He didn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers around hers and the current of buzzing heat that shot up his arm was welcome. Fucking wonderful.
    She was staring at their joined hands, her color high, her expression anxious. Impulse urged him to pull her close, to put his mouth to hers, to end this confusion and awkwardness by communication of the carnal kind.
    Be with me. Be mine.
    He’d say it with kisses. Caresses. With their bodies aligned and their hearts beating against each other.
    But he listened to a saner voice. Go slow. Strategize.
    Don’t scare her off.
    So he called her name, in a soft but insistent tone. “Tilda.”
    Her head came up and she met his gaze. God, another thrill.
    Ash cleared his throat. “Tilda, go out with me.”
    Her lashes dropped, her hand slid free of his. “No,” she said, and then she scooted around him and was gone.
    Again.
    Maybe for