RECOUNTING HIS PAST bothered Mischa more than he expected. He was grateful Ash took it in stride, as much as anyone could be expected to. And he was just as glad that conversation was over.

“I should send you back to work,” Mischa said. The impulse filled him to pull her into his lap instead, and he shoved it aside.

“All right.” She didn’t move.

One of them needed to. He tugged her to her feet. “Go.”

“Fine.” Amusement disrupted her huff. She stepped past him and headed toward the door. The way her hips swayed and her ass moved, despite being covered by her shirt, was distracting. He was good with that.

Too bad he actually had things to do today. “What are you doing tonight?”

She paused, and glanced over her shoulder. “Going home? I hadn’t thought that far. I’m still adjusting to not having to job hunt non-stop in my off hours. Why?”

“I’ve never taken you on a real date. We’re doing things a little backward, but do you want to join me for dinner tonight? Just you and me?”

Her smile, impish and bright, warmed him from the inside out. “I’d love to,” she said.

*

ASH COULDN’T REMEMBER the last time she went on a date. It wasn’t with the last guy she was attached to. That had been more of a he called when he wanted to get laid kind of thing. Which, even then had been a let-down, but compared to sex with Mischa—the two weren’t even in the same league.

It was silly to get all flustered about this, considering she lived with, was engaged to, had already slept with Mischa. That didn’t stop giddiness from dancing in her belly. She shaved her legs even though she’d done so that morning, and picked through every piece of clothing she owned. Twice.

She finally decided on a sundress. The neckline cut low enough to show a hint of cleavage, and the skirt only hung halfway down her thighs. She wasn’t used to exposing so much skin, and it took restraint to not tug the skirt lower and the bodice higher.

She stepped into the hallway, pulse hammering in her ears. Mischa’s door was closed. Perfect. She made her way downstairs to find Kelly in the living room, watching TV.

Her sister looked up and let out a low whistle. “Sexy.”

“Thanks. French braid my hair?”

Kelly nodded to the carpet in front of her. “Sit.”

Ash knelt on the ground, back to her sister, and handed a brush and hair tie over her shoulder. The entire process only took a few minutes. They’d been doing this for each other for years.

Ash was standing and smoothing out her dress when she heard footsteps. She turned to see Mischa on the stairs. He paused before he reached the bottom, tracing his gaze over her. He let out a sharp whistle. “Sexy.”

And the giddiness was back full force. She ducked her head and moved to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Right, it was tied back.

“Ashy and Mischa sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Kelly sang.

Ash glared at her. “Are you six?”

“Sometimes.” Kelly shrugged, and turned back to the TV. “Bring me leftovers.”

Mischa closed the distance between them, hand outstretched. “Shall we?”

“Let’s.” She almost felt like Cinderella settling her palm against his. She let him lead her from the room, but paused and looked back at her sister. “Alarm on after we’re gone. We’ll be back before it gets too late.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kelly waved over her shoulder.

Mischa didn’t let go of her hand until he’d opened the passenger door, and she was seated in his SUV.

A moment later he took his spot, and they were on the road.

She pulled the CD and case from her purse that he gave her when she moved in. “Show me how this thing works?”

He glanced at her hand, lips twitching in an unformed smile, and pointed at the CD player. “It slides right in.”

The shift in his tone, the hint of double entendre, glided over her senses. She popped the music in, and a familiar song filtered through the speakers. It was Angels by Beyond Temptation.

She blinked in surprise. “It’s one of my favorites. How did you... Most people have never even heard of them.”

“I didn’t know, but you like Iron Maiden and Halestorm, so if this wasn’t on your list, it needs to be. Besides,” he glanced at her, “ulterior motive.”

“Oh?”

“I like hearing you sing.”

Heat spread across her cheeks. “That’s a nervous habit. I don’t really do command performances.”

“You sang in the coffee shop.” Mischa took the freeway onramp heading up the canyon.

She’d forgotten about that. “Like I said...”

“Right. What if I call it a special request? Do it for me?”

She reached inside for the bit of her used to public performances, did her best to silence doubt, and picked up as the song hit the chorus. She didn’t know if he was a hint of a sadist or just had that much faith in her talent, but she struggled with some of the higher notes. Still, as the song continued, she fell into the music. The lyrics.

She couldn’t help but glance at Mischa every few seconds. He was smiling as he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music.

Ash relaxed as she moved into the final refrain, taking the reins off her volume, and diving in. As she finished, she realized Mischa kept glancing at her.

“Stunning,” he said.

“I used to sing solos in the school choir.” It had been ages since she talked about that. It never seemed significant.

“I’m glad you still do it for fun.”

She was too. The next song started, and she dragged it through her head, looking for a connection. The lyrics were about barely remembering what came before this moment, and choosing to be here, now. “I don’t know this one.”

“It’s Tool. Parabola.”

It was smoother than the Tool she was used to. More produced than their older music. “It’s kind of haunting. Is it a favorite of yours?”

Mischa shrugged.

“You made a mix CD with songs that you think are just shrug?”

He navigated the light traffic, making good time up on the interstate. Not that there were many other cars heading in this direction, this time of night. He was taking the route toward Park City. Discomfort twinged in Ash’s nerves, and she pushed it aside.

“Favorite song is a matter of mood,” Mischa said. “There are some that make the list more often than others. This mix, I picked for the combination of stunning music and thought-provoking lyrics.”

So if she paid attention, she’d get to know a bit more about him and how he defined those things. Raspberry Beret, by Prince, came on, and she smirked. “Where’s the hidden meaning in this?”

“Nothing hidden, but it does make me think of you.”

The attention was flattering, but she wasn’t used to being the center of the conversation. She watched as trees and mountainside rushed past at high speed. “I haven’t been up here in ages. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, it’s so pretty.” Since it was early summer, the hills were green, and the most distant peaks had dots of snow.

“Tristan’s family has a condo up here. When we were training, I think we spent more time up here than in the valley.”

Based on what she’d seen Mischa do in a small space, she imagined giving him open room to perform would be amazing. “I’d like to see that sometime.”

“Tristan training?” he teased.

She wasn’t going to hear the end of that for a while, and she was okay with it. “You, in a place without so many boundaries.”

“We’ll come back up when it’s light. Spend the day up here.”

Ash liked this making-plans-for-the-future thing.

Mischa drove them past the Olympic park, up the road that wound past Main Street, and toward Deer Valley.

Nagging snippets of her past tried to rear their head. She wouldn’t fall into those. They weren’t worth her time.

When he stopped in a hotel parking lot, memories knocked on the wall she’d built around them. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t been here in nine years, it was too familiar.

He took her hand as they walked toward the entrance, and then the restaurant inside. She forced herself not to squeeze too tight. It wasn’t like anything traumatic happened here. It had just been one of those bad nights.

She’d been fifteen, and Kelly was five. Dad brought them up here for dinner with an associate of his. It was fifty-fifty whether Ash and Kelly accompanied him to business dinners. It all depended on how important family was to the people he was meeting with, and this man had six children, with another on the way.

The girls knew how to act in nice places, and Dad was a master at absorbing the compliments. They’re so well behaved. You’ve done an amazing job, even without your wife. Bless her soul.

That night dragged on, though. Three hours later, Dad and his associates were still talking. Kelly was bored. Their youngest girl—Gail? Gloria?—was trying to get her to play with the sugar bowl brought out with dessert coffee.

Ash was doing her best to distract Kelly otherwise. The wife asked Dad about remarrying after so long. Ash braced herself for some subtle barb about how it was her fault Mom died, but it wasn’t there.

Gloria, or was it Glenda, whispered something to Kelly, who giggled. Before Ash could stop them, sugar flew everywhere. Covered their dresses, the tablecloth, people’s hair...

Dad’s associates laughed it off. Kids will be kids. Dad’s smile was thin, but at least it meant the evening was over.

The ride down the canyon was mostly Kelly talking about the evening, and Dad responding with so much sugar in his voice, Ash wondered if he’d swallowed half that bowl.

At home, he sent Kelly off to bed, then turned on Ash. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Ash could have guessed he’d open the conversation that way. He asked her that often enough, it played on repeat in her head whenever she was alone with her thoughts. “But Kelly—”

“Is five. You just had to watch her. How hard is that?”

“I was trying.” She didn’t want to whine, but it slipped out.

“This is why your mother killed herself. Because you don’t know to do a simple thing like keep an eye on your sister for a few minutes. If I wasn’t responsible for you both, I sure as fuck wouldn’t put up with it. Do you know how lucky you are to have everything you have?”

Ash balled the memory up and shoved it back in its box. She wouldn’t let it spoil her night. It wasn’t as though the incident or conversation were unique. She turned to Mischa, who was asking if she was all right, and gave him a smile she hoped looked sincere. She meant to say I’m fine, but “I’ve been better,” slipped out.

“What’s wrong?”

She hesitated on the truth, but he opened up to her earlier. Did she trust him enough to do the same? The thought of putting so much of herself on display made her teeth ache. The past was the past, this was now, and she wanted to enjoy her prince’s company for the evening.

“Things weren’t always so great for me, growing up.” Was that too vague? Not vague enough? She toed that line between sounded damaged and wanting to trust him. “I’m not saying I was abused or anything, nothing like that, but my dad and I...” She winced. “I don’t mean to ramble. We fought, and there are bad memories here.”

His frown made her think she’d just ruined the evening. Why didn’t she keep her mouth shut?