Ashcroft swallowed, a flicker of unease crossing his features. He forced a casual shrug, but it did little to hide the tension coiling in his chest.
“Harper?” Ashcroft echoed, tone casual, but the twitch in his jaw betrayed him. “What about her?”
But the question hit a nerve, and despite his easy front, something unsettled twisted in his chest.
Damn it. He remembered everything. He’d been tipsy, sure, but not drunk—not enough to forget—and Harper wasn’t either. It had been late, just the two of them left, the air thick with alcohol and reckless silence. One glance, one spark, and heat took over.
And she wasn’t like anyone else.
He hated admitting it, even to himself, but Harper was beautiful. Too beautiful. And fiery—always too chatty, too sharp, too strong-willed for his liking. He p
