Sudden Pleasures

by Bertrice Small

  Ashley laughed. “We’ll have a room ready for you when you get here,” she said.

  “Thanks,” he answered her. “I should see you in an hour or so.” The phone clicked off.

  Ashley picked up her house phone and pressed the intercom.

  “Good morning, Miss Ashley,” Byrnes said. “Ready for your coffee?”

  “Yes, please,” Ashley replied. “And Byrnes, we’re having an overnight visitor. Will you get the Washington bedroom ready for him, please?”

  “Yes, Miss Ashley. I’ll tell Mrs. Kramer, and she’ll see to it at once,” was the reply.

  “Byrnes, I’ll want to speak with you and the missus when I have my breakfast,” Ashley said. “I’ll be down in fifteen minutes.”

  “Very good, Miss Ashley,” Byrnes answered.

  Ashley climbed from the bed, stripping off her cotton sleep shirt as she headed for her bathroom. She showered quickly, washing her hair, and by the time she reentered her bedroom wrapped in a towel there was a small carafe of sweet, milky coffee on a table along with a china mug. Ashley filled the mug and drank half of it down. Then she got dressed. She had to go to work today. Nina was recovering from her dental surgery, and Brandy, the high school kid who usually worked in the shop on Saturdays, was getting ready for her prom. Saturday was usually a very busy day. Why hadn’t she told Ryan to turn his car around and go home? Well, he would just have to amuse himself until she closed at four. Should she take him out to dinner?

  Irritated at being caught unawares, Ashley yanked on pair of white silk briefs and then pulled up her pink silk slacks. Her bra and a cream silk shirt followed. Slipping her feet into a pair of custom-made burgundy leather loafers, she finished the rest of her coffee and hurried downstairs to the small breakfast room, seating herself at the round table with its single place setting. She picked up the glass of cranberry juice and sipped it. Almost immediately Byrnes was at her side with a hot plate of cheesy scrambled eggs, three sausage links, and a whole-wheat English muffin.

  “Get a cuppa for you and the missus,” Ashley said, “and come join me while I eat. I have something very important to tell you both.” Picking up her fork, she dug into the eggs enthusiastically as she waited for them.

  Byrnes retreated into the kitchens. “She wants us to sit with her while she eats. She says she’s got something important to tell us,” he told his wife.

  Martha Byrnes poured two cups of coffee and handed one to her husband; then they reentered the little breakfast room off of the kitchen, sitting down at the small table with Ashley. They looked at her expectantly.

  She had almost finished her eggs, and two of the sausages were gone from her plate. Now, as she spread some homemade marmalade on a half a muffin, she said frankly, “I’m getting married. But this time there will be no difficulties. The groom isn’t gay. He won’t go to Las Vegas before the wedding, and he isn’t a con man. Joe Pietro d’Angelo has a lawyer cousin in the city who has a client with the same problem I do—an inheritance with a big string attached. He has to marry before he’s forty or lose it all. We are a match made in heaven,” Ashley said with a wry smile.

  “Would he be the gentleman who came home with you yesterday, Miss Ashley?” Byrnes asked.

  “Yep. One and the same. Ryan Finbar Mulcahy. He built up his dad’s business in the city, made the guy rich, rich, rich, and then the old guy turns around and writes a will that says if Ryan isn’t married by the time he’s forty he loses it all. Nice, huh?”

  “No worse than what your grandpa did to you, missy,” Martha Byrnes said tartly. “Giving in to that hussy Lila Peabody! Well, it’s a truth that there’s no fool like an old fool. It wasn’t enough for the shameless creature that your grandpa left her a goodly sum for services rendered, and I can only shudder to imagine what they could have been, and at his age too!” She huffed indignantly.

  Ashley giggled. Never one to dissemble, Martha Byrnes had strong opinions.

  “Mrs. Byrnes,” her husband said warningly.

  “Oh, it’s all right,” Ashley told him. “I agree with Martha. But you remember how Grandfather always thought a good woman needed a good man. After the first two unfortunate incidences with fiancés I honestly think he believed I wasn’t trying hard enough. Putting that provision in the will soothed Lila, whose company he did enjoy, and it gave him comfort to know that I would marry to preserve what I had built.”

  “He’s amenable to a prenuptial agreement?” Martha Byrnes wanted to know.

  “Absolutely!” Ashley assured them. “Ryan and I will marry just to meet the terms of these two wills. In a few years we’ll go our separate ways with our own possessions intact, and no one gets hurt in the process. I wanted you both to know because he’ll be here shortly, and as soon as he arrives I have to go to the shop. He’s a really nice guy. While he’s hanging out here today waiting for me to get home, answer any questions he may have. Although he’s keeping his apartment in town, he’ll be making the hall his legal residence. We’ve got to start thinking about redoing Grandfather’s old rooms for us.”

  “This isn’t for public knowledge, I take it,” Byrnes said quietly.

  “No, it isn’t. We’ve scheduled the wedding for August twenty-fifth. It’s going to be very low-key. No more than ten or twelve people for dinner. We’re doing it here, because he’s Roman Catholic, and we don’t want a church wedding to louse up his life after we’re divorced. Actually I think it’s better that way. No fuss. No muss. The flowers can come from the gardens.”

  “I’ll tell Tony we’re having a dinner party on that date, so he will be certain to have the right flowers on hand,” Byrnes said. “You know how the flowers tend to go in August, so he’ll need to nurse certain blooms along.”

  Ashley took the last bite of her English muffin, and then swallowed down the rest of her cranberry juice. She stood up from the table. “I’d better get ready to leave as soon as he gets here,” she said, and walked from the breakfast room. “Well, if that don’t beat all,” Martha Byrnes said softly. “She’s making an arranged marriage, Martin. It’s a real shame she can’t be allowed to fall in love like any other girl, but then, Miss Ashley isn’t just any girl, is she?”

  “No,” he agreed, “she isn’t.”

  “Well, if the lawyers have checked this young man out, then I suppose it’s all right,” Martha replied with a sigh. “Still, it makes me sad. I wonder what he’s like.”

  “We’ll know soon enough,” her husband said. Then he stood up and straightened his tie. “I hear a car coming up the drive. That will be our guest, Martha. Run up to Mrs. Kramer and make certain the Washington bedroom is ready for him.” Brynes hurried out to get the front door, peeping through the sidelights to see a vintage Jag pull up. Its driver climbed out, reaching behind him for a small overnight bag. Byrnes flung wide the front door. “Good morning, Mr. Mulcahy. I’ll take your bag for you. You’ll find Miss Ashley out on the porch. Can you find your way, sir?”

  “Yes, thanks,” Ryan said. Having a butler, or whatever Byrnes was, was going to take some getting used to, he decided as he made his way to the porch.

  “Good morning, Ryan.” Ashley came forward to greet him. “I can only stay with you a minute. My help at the shop is nonexistent today, and Saturday is always busy.” And then to her surprise he reached out, drew her forward, and kissed her on both of her cheeks. “Oh, my,” Ashley exclaimed as he set her back. “That was very…”

  “Italian,” he supplied the word for her with a smile. “I thought we had best get used to some form of kissing, since we’re getting married.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, thoughtful. “You’ll have to kiss me on the lips at the wedding, won’t you? People might talk otherwise. Well, kissing is a harmless enough sport.”

  “You’ve done a lot of it?” he asked.

  “Again I remind you of my age,” Ashley said.

  “I like kissing,” he allowed, his brown eyes twinkling.

  “I’ve got to go,” Ashley told hi
m. The conversation was beginning to make her a little uncomfortable. Their relationship was a business one, and people in business didn’t—or at least shouldn’t—get intimate. “Byrnes will take care of you. I’ll be home a little after four. He’ll answer any questions you may have about the house.” She managed to get past him. “Have a good day, Ryan.” And she hurried off.

  He made himself comfortable on the porch looking out at the blue bay sparkling in the bright June morning. He had made her nervous. Despite her misadventures she was obviously a very proper lady. Interesting. She was past thirty, a businesswoman, and had, in her own words, some small experience with men, but she was basically shy. Was it the situation in which they found themselves? Or was Ashley good at what she did, but clueless where relationships were concerned? He was one to talk, Ryan thought wryly. A discreet cough caused him to look up and find Byrnes standing there.

  “Mrs. Byrnes thought that you had probably not had breakfast before you departed town this morning, sir. She’s prepared you a small repast. If you will follow me to the breakfast room I’ll bring it to you.”

  “Why, that’s most kind,” Ryan said, standing up and trailing after Byrnes. A breakfast room, no less, he thought as he entered the small room with its cheerful bright yellow-and-white striped walls. He allowed Byrnes to seat him, and then smiled as a plump woman appeared to put a plate before him. This, he concluded, was Mrs. Byrnes. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “It looks most delicious.”

  “I gave you some of my fresh-baked blueberry muffins,” she replied.

  He looked up at her with a smile. “They smell wonderful, Mrs. Byrnes, but there was no need to go to such trouble for me. I would have been happy with a bowl of Apple Jacks,” Ryan told her.

  “Not in this house!” Martha Byrnes said emphatically. “In my kitchen we cook. Breakfast, sometimes lunch, and always dinner. Now, you eat up while it’s hot.”

  He grinned at her and obeyed her directive. It was almost like having Angelina around, he thought. And then he realized that if the Byrneses were this caring of a stranger, then Ashley certainly hadn’t suffered growing up. It was reassuring.

  Ashley had sped into the village and parked her car behind Lacy Nothings. It was almost nine thirty. From the traffic on Main Street she could see it would be a busy day, and it was. From the moment she had opened the shop for business the little bell over the front door hadn’t stopped ringing. By twelve thirty things had slowed down, and she was just drawing a sigh of relief when she heard the jangle of the bell again. Turning, she saw Ryan entering the shop with a small basket.

  “Mrs. B. thought we might enjoy having a bit of lunch together,” he said. “Where should we eat?”

  “We can go back into my office, if you don’t mind,” Ashley replied. “I don’t like to leave the shop even for lunch. A lot of people shop during that hour.” She led the way into the tiny office, taking the basket from him to set it upon her desk. “Sit.” She pointed to the chair behind her desk, seating herself in the chair opposite the desk. “It’s easier for me to get out if the bell rings,” she explained. Also my desk chair is bigger, and you’re a pretty big guy.”

  All over, he thought wickedly as he folded himself into her chair. Now, what the hell made him think that? he wondered. Why was he getting sexual thoughts about Ashley? But he was. From underneath his dark eyelashes he was considering how she would look in a fuchsia lace bra and bikini bottom, like the one on the plastic dummy in her shop window. That rich purple-pink on her pale skin would be dynamite.

  “Chicken salad,” Ashley said, handing him a sandwich on a paper plate. “Mrs. B. already likes you. She doesn’t do her chicken salad for just anyone.”

  He had gained a glimpse of her full breasts when she had bent over to hand him the sandwich. She appeared to be wearing a plain white silk bra, but nonetheless it was so sexy that he had wanted to lean forward and lick her skin. He closed his eyes briefly. He had just met this girl yesterday, and he was behaving like a damned pervert. Ryan Mulcahy couldn’t remember a time when he had had such a strong reaction to a woman. Her fragrance had drifted up briefly from between her breasts. It was elusive, sensual, and clean-smelling. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it. “Nice perfume,” he said casually. “What is it?”

  “Do you like it? It’s Vent Vert by Balmain. I’ve always loved it. It was my first real French parfum. My brother, Ben, bought it for me the summer we were in Europe. He was based in Germany, and got leave to meet Grandfather and me in Paris. It was the last time we were all together. He was killed the following year in Iraq during Desert Storm. I always think of him when I spritz it on,” Ashley said sadly.

  “Then why wear it?” he asked her practically.

  “Because I like it,” she told him. “And not wearing it won’t bring Ben back.”

  “Mrs. B. makes a great chicken salad sandwich,” Ryan said, changing the subject. He had seen the glint of tears in her eyes, and was touched by the love she still bore her late brother. He couldn’t have cared less if his five older sisters were blown off the face of the earth. Now, Frankie was different, but the rest of them could be gone and he wouldn’t have missed one of them.

  “I’ve told the Byrneses that we’re getting married, and why,” Ashley said. “I know everyone was worried that they might think badly of us, even while understanding the dilemma that I—that we—face. They know there is no other choice for either of us. I’ll need help redoing Grandfather’s rooms for us, and I have to plan a wedding, don’t I?”

  “Frankie, my little sister, is a decorator. She works for Evelyn Claire,” Ryan said. “She would probably help you if you asked. In fact, she’d die to help you. And she’d take her fee in your lingerie.” He chuckled. “She’s one of your big catalog customers.”

  Ashley laughed. “Hey, I’m amenable to a barter system,” she said. “Give me her number and I’ll call her.”

  “Done,” he agreed. “I spoke to my mother.”

  “And?” She bit into her sandwich.

  “She likes the fact that you aren’t anorexic and enjoy your food,” he answered. “She wants you to come to dinner in two weeks. Is that okay?”

  Ashley nodded. “I’d like that.”

  They actually managed to finish their lunch without interruption, and when they had, Ryan gathered up the basket and they walked out together to the front of the shop.

  “Look,” he said when they had reached the door, “I know this is probably going to sound crazy, but I need to do this.” He pulled her to him, and his mouth met her surprised mouth in a kiss. It wasn’t a quick kiss. It was definitely an I want to see where this goes kiss. If it was going to go anywhere. And from the distinct tightening in his groin, it was going to go somewhere if they wanted. He had surprised her, but she didn’t pull away, or even protest. Her breasts crushed against his chest, and he could feel her nipples hardening against him. The mouth beneath his was soft, sweet. Her lips parted beneath his, and their tongues touched. Slowly he broke off the embrace. “I’ll see you later,” he said, hoping she hadn’t been put off by the fact that he had developed an enormous hard-on. Fortunately his car was at the curb in front of her shop.

  “’Kay” Ashley managed to reply, and closed the door to her shop, grabbing at the counter to steady herself before she fell down. Boy, could he kiss! she thought. When their tongues had touched briefly she thought she was going to faint dead away. And he was obviously attracted to her, because she had given him one whale of a hard-on. He had practically limped to his car. But it wasn’t love. They were both in lust.

  Marriage of convenience. No sex. Well, she reconsidered, maybe not. Did either of them seriously believe they could sleep in the same bed and remain celibate for two years? She could go back on the pill. There didn’t have to be any babies. But from the fire they were igniting in each other it was obvious that they were eventually going to have sex. Why not? Then Ashley shook her head. What was she thinking? This was to be a business arrangement, a
nd here she was thinking with her cunt and not her brain. Still, Ryan Finbar Mulcahy was some kisser! And he was probably something else in bed.

  He apologized after dinner, but Ashley would have none of it. “We’re crazy to think we can do this with no sex,” she told him. “You left me weak-kneed, and I gave you a hard-on. We’re attracted to each other, much to my surprise. We only just met, Ryan, but there is definitely something there.”

  “It’s lust,” he said.

  “I know,” she agreed, “but what’s wrong with a little lust between two consenting adults? We’re getting married, after all. Unless there is someone else.”

  “There is no one,” he said. “What if you got pregnant?”

  “I’ll go back on the pill,” Ashley replied. “You may be a Catholic, but I suspect you don’t object to the pill.”

  “You’d do that?” The brown eyes he turned on her were making her hot.

  “Sure. I’ll call Dr. Sam on Monday. I suspect you’re like all the macho men—you don’t like condoms. If we both get a clean bill of health, and you abide by my rules, then we can’t rule sex out of the equation.”

  “Rules?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Look, all I ask is that if you’re screwing me, you don’t do other women. Okay? I certainly won’t be doing other men.” Except, of course, my two boys on the Channel, but that’s not really real so it doesn’t matter, Ashley thought. And maybe I won’t need them if you’re as good as I think you’re going to be.

  “Seems reasonable,” he agreed.

  “And I’d like to hold off until the wedding,” Ashley said. “Or at least until we’ve both been given a clean bill of health.”

  “That’s fair,” he murmured, “but we could play a little, couldn’t we?”

  They were on the porch, and he was sitting on a wicker settee while she paced back and forth in the half-light. Reaching up, he pulled her into his lap.

  “Hey!” Ashley said, surprised.

  “I can’t seem to help myself,” he admitted. “All my life I had this picture in my head of the ideal woman for me. She would be petite. Blond. Helpless, and I would be her savior. You don’t quite fit the bill, do you?”