New Year's Resolution: Romance!. Leslie Kelly

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СКАЧАТЬ however. Ashley strolled about, her heels clicking on the wooden floors as she tucked small arrangements on bathroom windowsills and larger ones on the occasional tables in the cavernous room with the forty-foot ceilings that was referred to as the great hall. Then she moved to the dining room, where she placed centerpieces along the massive dining table that could seat thirty. For all its size, the home still felt...well, homey, with its velvet-upholstered furniture in muted shades and the lovely, mantel-topped fireplaces. There was one in the dining room and another in the library. The third in the great hall took up an entire wall and was big enough to roast an ox. Flames leaped and jumped in them now, splashing golden light to counter the growing dusk.

      Cart empty, she pushed it back toward the kitchen. She’d load up and finish the first floor. After that, she’d take the service elevator to the second and third. Another twenty minutes or so and she’d be back on the road.

      Fanny was still on the phone when Ashley exited, but was finished with her call when she returned with another round of flower arrangements. She paused, still curious about the caterer’s earlier comment. “So...what’s going to be different about the party this year?”

      Okay, so the question was kind of Downton Abbey of her, but face it, wondering and gossiping about the owners of the estate was nearly impossible to resist.

      It didn’t help that Fanny cast a look around as if they might be overheard by the lord of the manor. “The Mr. and Mrs. won’t be here this year.”

      Ashley blinked. “Arthur and Nancy?”

      Fanny nodded. “Grandbaby came early.”

      “Well, that’s nice,” Ashley said. “But...they didn’t cancel the party?”

      “Nope. It’s an especially important one this year. They just announced Arthur Bradley’s retirement. They want to show their best clients that things aren’t going to change under the tutelage of the new head of the firm.”

      “Oh,” Ashley said. “And the new head of the firm is...?”

      “Chase, of course.”

      Of course. Chase Bradley, Arthur and Nancy’s son. Dark-haired, lean-bodied Chase Bradley, who strolled about with a bone-deep confidence that no woman could fail to admire. She’d never met the man, but on the occasions she’d delivered flowers to the house, she’d caught glimpses of him. While she wasn’t normally a timid titmouse of a person, she’d always found herself scurrying away from his oh-so-masculine presence.

      This time she’d do no different, she thought, putting her weight behind the cart. It was time to finish her duties and skedaddle. Then a horrible noise had her drawing up short. Her gaze flew to Fanny. “What the—”

      The blood-curdling sound of female frustration and rage came again. Ashley jumped. “Should we call the police?” she wondered aloud.

      Thumps sounded, as though a body had been pushed and was now tumbling down the grand flight of stairs. Her hand rose to her throat. “Oh, my God,” she said, and ran toward the sound with Fanny at her heels.

      They stopped in the hallway, peering around a corner to the staircase. It wasn’t a body broken at the bottom, but a suitcase, its contents spilled in a profusion of bright colors. A beautiful, sleek woman was on the landing, hands on her hips, the red talons of her nails standing out against her navy peg-leg pants. She was staring at the mess of clothes as if her gaze could ignite them on fire. Then she glanced up to the top of the stairs and hissed.

      “This is all your fault.” Her malevolence was now aimed at the calm man standing above her, one shoulder propped against a wall and his ankles crossed, as if he had all the time in the world for the murderous little drama the blonde was clearly preparing as her starring vehicle.

      “Who’s that?” Ashley whispered to Fanny.

      “Apparently the woman on her way out of Chase’s life.”

      * * *

      CHASE BRADLEY COULD only blame himself for the current situation. Not that he hadn’t always made his non-intentions very clear to Brianna, but he’d realized quite early in their short relationship that she suffered from selective listening. She simply didn’t hear anything that would counter her world view—the world that revolved around her.

      He frowned. What did it say about him that he’d continued to see her for three months after coming to that conclusion?

      It said he’d been too consumed with the changeover in the family business to take care of personal business. Hell, he should be smarter than that.

      He tuned back into Brianna’s rant. She was stabbing her arm in the direction of the exploded suitcase. “Who?” she demanded. “Who is going to take care of this?”

      Since he wasn’t the one who had kicked the piece of luggage down the stairs, it wasn’t going to be him. “Brianna, calm down,” he said mildly.

      Her face turned a mottled shade of red. “You do realize I’m leaving?”

      “It’s what you shouted right after I said I wasn’t planning on proposing.”

      Brianna slammed her arms over her chest. “But I told you New Year’s Eve would be the perfect time for an announcement,” she fumed.

      Chase shook his head. Where had she gotten the idea that they were marriage bound? That he hadn’t seen this coming only made him curse himself more. “Brianna, I’m sorry. Truly. I’m sorry if you had the impression we were aiming toward the altar. That’s not going to happen.”

      “Then I’m really leaving you!”

      To be fair to himself, until today, she’d been mostly undemanding and understanding. Self-centered, maybe, but he’d actually appreciated the email she’d sent with links to the Christmas presents she’d expected him to give her last week. Chase abhorred pretense, and he’d counted her honesty about that list as a feature, not a defect. “I’ll have Gregory bring the car around. He’ll be happy to take you back to LA.”

      Though Chase usually avoided all the car-and-driver nonsense, this time he’d taken one of the company limos, thinking it might come in handy for his guests during the week at the lake house. Now it was coming in handy for him.

      The expression on Brianna’s face indicated she wasn’t mollified by the offer. Chase watched her haul in a large breath and he braced for the next onslaught. “I’m not going without my clothes,” she declared in a strident voice.

      “I wouldn’t dream of suggesting you should,” Chase replied, and he could see his reasonable tone was only further infuriating her. “I’ll let Gregory know to be ready if you’ll tell me how long it will take you to repack.”

       “Me?”

      Wow. Now she was acting as if she regularly had a handmaiden to attend her. Chase held on to his own kindling temper. “Brianna—”

      “Mr. Bradley?”

      He turned his head slightly in the direction of the hesitant voice. Peeking around a corner downstairs was the caterer. “Yes, Mrs. Erwin?”

      “Is there something I could do to help?” There was a look of concern on her motherly face.

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