“And now for the final touch.” Tisha pulled out a red, red, red lipstick.
“Geez, don’t you think that’s kind of bright?” Ashley usually wore sheer pinks or pale rose.
“Exactly. Now hold still or you’ll look like that time when we were seven and you decided we should play with my mother’s makeup.”
Ashley started to protest but was forced to stay silent for fear of smudges. Tisha smirked as she applied the lipstick, obviously remembering full well whose idea it had been. “Ta-dah! One sexy mamacita coming up.”
Ashley turned, her smoky eyes widening. “Wow, this is different. You don’t think the lips are too much?”
Tisha rolled her eyes. “I guarantee you that man won’t think they’re too much. Men love a red mouth—it reminds them of sex. Like everything else does.”
Ashley gave a tentative smile. Her teeth gleamed white between her shiny glazed lips. “Okay, I’ll give it a try.”
“Good choice. Besides, it’s super-stay lipstick and I don’t have anything to remove it.”
Tricked again. Whether they were seven or twenty-seven, things never changed.
Tisha’s phone rang as she was stuffing her supplies into her purse. “It’s Paolo.” She replied in Spanish, her expression growing worried as she listened to her husband.
When she finally hung up, she turned to Ashley. “Paolo says his father is very ill at their casa in Buenos Aires. They think it’s the flu, but it may be moving into pneumonia.”
Ashley hugged her hard. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Paolo was devoted to his father. “When are you leaving for Argentina?”
Tisha gave her a grateful glance. “As soon as we can. The housekeeper is packing for the boys and Paolo is making arrangements with the pilots. I have to go home to throw some things into a suitcase.”
“Of course.” Ashley tugged her out of the bathroom and to the lobby’s parking valet. Tisha gave him her stub with the promise of a hefty tip if he returned quickly. The guy took the driveway on two tires and screeched to a halt. Ashley moved to the passenger’s side and reached for the handle. “I’ll play with the boys while you pack, and I can catch a cab home from your house.”
“Oh, no, you won’t!” Tisha shook her head. “I appreciate the offer, but you are meeting that hot polo player at the pavilion and that is final.” She made a shooing motion. “Go back, go back.”
“But—but Tisha, this is a members-only event.”
“You’re my guest now and then you’ll be his. If anyone gives you any trouble, tell them I’m indisposed in the ladies’ lounge. That’ll shut them up.” Tisha blew her a kiss and hopped into her car. “I’ll text you once we’ve arrived, okay?”
“All right. Have a safe trip! Give the boys my love!” Ashley stood in the driveway waving until the next club member arrived in a car even fancier than Tisha’s.
Not wanting to get in the way of the curious valet, Ashley headed into the club and tried to look as if she belonged. Without Tisha, it was a curiously vulnerable feeling.
Her apprehension must have shown because she was quickly stopped by a staff member. “May I help you, miss?” The young woman in a chocolate-brown blazer was polite but obviously had spotted her as a pretender.
Ashley quickly put on a confident expression. “I’m supposed to meet Mr. Beckett Emery at the pavilion.”
Magic words, especially for a female. “Oh, Mr. Emery.” Her face softened for a second, but she quickly sized up Ashley.
Ashley wondered if Beckett had many female guests and decided that was a silly question. “The pavilion?” she prompted.
She was quickly led to the area reserved for private parties, a long colonnade of columns leading to a glassy blue pool. She pasted what she hoped was a pleasant expression on her face and took a champagne flute from a passing waiter. The canapés looked delicious, but she feared drizzling sauce down her dress or accidentally eating a garlic puff before she had the chance to meet Beckett.
She circled the crowd’s perimeter, nodding politely at whoever met her glance. It was probably a bad idea to have another glass of champagne on an empty stomach, but she hated to wander around without anything in her hands.
A buzz of activity made her ears perk. The crowd parted, and she saw him smiling and shaking hands with another man. He wore a navy-blue blazer over a gleaming white shirt and crisply pressed khaki pants. Other men wore the same outfit but looked like cruise operators who’d misplaced their ships. Beckett pulled off the look perfectly.
Ashley pressed her hand into her stomach. She was way, way, way out of her league with a man like him. If she ducked behind the pillar, she could get away. She’d make an appointment and approach Enric Bruguera like a civilized designer should.
But then Ashley remembered that all her cash was tied up in her inventory and she would have a hard time paying not only the rent on her shop but on her apartment as well. And to be honest, it had been a long time since she’d had the chance to meet such a hot guy. Okay, so it was since never. She took a deep breath. You can do this, Ashley. Head high, smile and pretend you belong here.
She took a big breath and casually stepped from behind the column.
Beckett targeted her as if he’d been waiting for her to appear. Ashley froze, her heart thumping wildly as his whiskey gaze bored into hers. His genial expression fell away, replaced by the intensity she had spotted as he’d played the polo match.
He easily extricated himself from the group’s chit-chat and was at her side in a few short seconds. Ashley stared at him, her mouth dry.
“Hello.” His voice was low and mellow.
Okay, she could manage a hello. “Hi.” Okay, not quite a hello, but in the greeting family.
“Ashley, right?”
“Yes, that’s right. And you’re Beckett Emery?” Two sentences—that was an improvement.
“My friends call me Beck, and I hope you will, too.”
“Oh. Okay, Beck.” It suited him better than the more formal version of his name. “I never knew polo was so exciting. You played a great match.”
“Your first time seeing one?” He smiled at her. “In that case, I’m glad we won. I would have hated to lose in front of the most beautiful woman in the stands.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. He certainly was the charmer. “If I see her, I’ll tell her you said so.”
Beck raised an appreciative eyebrow. “I can see you’re not easily swayed by flattery.”
“No, not really.” Not until he came along.
He paused, pretending to consider his options. “How about some food? Can I sway you with some hors d’oeuvres? They have these tiny mango cheesecakes that will make you think you’re lying on a beach eating fruit fresh from the tree.”
“Mmm, I do like mango.” She needed to eat something to balance out the champagne. Her growing sense of light-headedness had to be from that, and not Beck’s intoxicating presence.
“Oh, good. If you didn’t, I would have tried swaying you with alcohol.” He gave her a teasing look and she had to laugh. As if a man like that had to ply women with liquor—all he had to do was arrive. He offered his arm to her, and she accepted. His bicep was rock-hard under her touch. They started toward the buffet, her filmy skirt wrapping around his trousers the way she wanted to. Slutty skirt.
At the buffet, he loaded several treats onto a plate for her while still keeping her hand firmly tucked into him. A quick nod at the waiter got them two brand-new champagne flutes, and Beck steered them out of the pavilion’s light and noise.
“Where are we going?” Her heels crunched on what looked to be a crushed-shell path.
“A place where I can talk to the most beautiful woman in the polo club—and I mean you,” he quickly said, forestalling any joking reply. They arrived at a small marble fountain of a water nymph surrounded by leaping dolphins. Water sprayed from the nymph’s upraised hands and the dolphins’ mouths. Subtle lighting illuminated the sculpture and made Ashley’s fingers itch fo
r her sketch pad.
“You like it?” He was observing her closely, his easy manner disguising a sharp intellect.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“And so are you.” He leaned in as if he were about to kiss her. She closed her eyes in anticipation as his minty breath feathered across her cheek. But he placed the softest kiss on her forehead.
Ashley opened her eyes, trying to disguise her disappointment. He was staring at her, his own expression unreadable.
“Come, sit.” Using what had to be an expensive handkerchief, he dusted off a marble bench and laid the fabric on the stone for her to sit on.
He waited until she had settled herself and bowed before her as if he were a waiter. “Mademoiselle, your dinner is served.”
She had to laugh. Who was the real Beckett Emery? Charming and funny one second, serious and enigmatic the next. He sat next to her and raised his champagne flute. “To new friends.”
Ashley echoed his toast, and they delicately clinked their crystal together.
“Try this.” Instead of handing her the tiny slice of bread covered in chicken salad, Beck brushed it against her lips.
She took a bite, the tangy chicken and Cajun-flavored creamy seasoning a delicious combination. “Mmmm.” She couldn’t help the moan that slipped from her throat.
“You want more, don’t you.” It was a statement, not a question, and Ashley opened her mouth in anticipation. He slipped the tidbit into her mouth, staring at her as she chewed.
After the shrimp, Beck fed her a fresh mozzarella slice topped with ripe tomato and basil, fresh cantaloupe wrapped with salty prosciutto ham and even a cold Vietnamese spring roll with crunchy cabbage and tender shrimp. “Oh, I’m starting to get full.” She put her hand to her stomach in protest.
“You need dessert. I bet you don’t get enough sweet things.” He was right. Conscious of her weight, like other health-conscious South Floridians, she often denied herself any treats.
She started to agree, but he was already reaching for the mango cheesecake. Ashley stopped him. “I’ve eaten all this food. I want you to share dessert with me.” She picked up the mini cheesecake and offered it to him. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist and took a bite, his gaze never leaving hers. Her breath quickened. She had never realized how sensuous it was to feed a man, to watch his lips open and receive her gift, to see his tongue dart out to catch every drop of goodness.
“Now you,” he commanded. She turned the cheesecake around, deliberately putting her mouth where his had been. His grip tightened around hers and he quickly let go.
The last item on the plate was a fruit tart, the berries drizzled in a syrupy glaze. Ashley swiped some glaze off the top. “Try this.” She offered her fingers to him.
He slowly sucked the pads of her fingers, his tongue drawing tiny circles long after every bit of food was gone. She fell under his spell, the warm, wet suction tugging at her nipples and lower, between her thighs.
He pulled back and painted her mouth with the sugary liquid. But instead of waiting for her to lick it off, he swooped in with the swiftness she’d seen on the field and kissed her. Although Ashley had been waiting for his kiss, been longing for it, it still overpowered her.
She clung to his shoulders as he nipped at her lower lip. She opened her mouth and he slipped his tongue inside, delicately rubbing hers. She responded eagerly, sucking on him as he took possession of her mouth in a masterful way. It was a shocking first kiss—no tentative peck on the lips, but a full-blown seduction.
He lifted his head. “I’ve been dying to taste you—red and juicy, sweeter than cherries.”
Ashley saw her lipstick smudged on his mouth even in the dim light, and she wanted to mark him further, tell every woman that Beck Emery was hers, at least for a magical moment in the moonlight. She yanked him to her and darted her tongue between his lips. He opened eagerly and wrapped his arms around her.
They devoured each other, Ashley starving for the taste of him. His mouth explored her depths, his masculine cologne rising from his smooth cheek as it slipped over her face. He smelled of leather and a slight hint of evergreen.
Ashley clung to him almost in a panic as he nibbled her earlobe, his body scorching even through their clothes. What was going on? Sure, he was a sexy man, but to totally throw her out of control with a couple of hot kisses?
His hand covered her breast and all sensible thoughts flew away as he gently cupped and squeezed her. Ashley squirmed closer to him, tacitly seeking more as she grew heavy and hot in his palm. Beck gave it to her, thumbing her breast’s diamond-hard peak. He plucked and pulled at her until she wanted to scream with frustration.
She shoved her hands under his oh-so-formal preppy blue blazer to discover the primal male musculature under the fine cotton. He was hard and lean, his shoulders and back perfect specimens. She moved around to his front to that flat stomach she’d ogled on the polo field. There really was such a thing as a six-pack outside of men’s fitness magazines, she discovered as she traced each muscle and sinew on his abdomen. He moaned, his breath gusting along her neck and making her shiver. His touch stilled on her while she explored his body.
She was acutely aware of his erection mere inches below her caresses, but he made no attempt to drag her hand to his zipper or to thrust against her. How did he have such self-control? Ashley was two steps away from yanking open his shirt and tossing up her skirt to get all that male heat on her.
Just as she was about to invite him to a very private party, the public party joined them.
“And this fountain is brand-new, installed only this past fall by the sculptor herself, who winters in South Florida with her Cuban-American husband…” A female voice continued, obviously giving someone a tour of what had been their secluded hideaway.
Ashley froze in horror. She’d been so transfixed on Beck, she’d failed to hear the expensive shoes crunching along the path. She shoved him away and struggled to sit up straight before the tour group arrived.
He blinked at her, lost in sensual confusion. “What?”
“People are coming!” She leaped to her feet and yanked his handkerchief free from the bench, rubbing at the red lipstick on his mouth. Darn Tisha. That sugar syrup he’d rubbed on her had obviously voided the eight-hour guarantee. He still looked pretty rosy so she tried again.
He caught her wrist. “I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.” She scrubbed at him as if he were a sloppy toddler and then went after her own mouth. She wasn’t the kind of woman who did crazy things like this, for goodness sake.
A pretty brunette in a designer dress arrived at the fountain with a dark-haired man whose interest was definitely in his companion, not the local landscaping.
“Beck? What are you doing out here in the dark?” he asked in an amused tone, knowing full well exactly what Beck had been doing.
“Hello, Diego.”
Rats. They knew each other. “Well, thanks for the lovely dinner. I’ll see myself out.”
“Wait.” Beck started to stand and sat quickly. Ashley took advantage of his aroused condition to scoot away, her body still tingling from his hands and mouth.
“Good night, Beck, it was nice to meet you.” She hurried up the path toward the brightly lit, safely anonymous pavilion as nervous as if a whole herd of polo ponies was bearing down on her.
Beck watched Ashley scurry away like a skittish colt. Damn it. He would have charged after her if Diego’s latest girlfriend weren’t there. He didn’t want to embarrass her with the khaki tent pole in his pants. Diego, of course, was impervious to embarrassment. So instead, he was stuck sitting on a marble bench with only an hors d’oeuvres plate and lipstick-covered hankie for camouflage.
“So, querida, Beck did not hear all about the lovely fountain.”
Beck shot Diego a murderous glance, but Diego returned a merry look. Diego’s companion complied, and at least her lecture had one side benefit—totally killing his arousal.
He jumped t
o his feet once he was presentable. “Thank you for that information. Who thought installing a fountain was so complicated?”
Diego decided to have pity on him. “Come, dear, let us sit by the lovely fountain and enjoy its beauty in silence.” He guided the woman to the bench where Beck had enjoyed kissing the beautiful and mysterious Ashley.
Enjoyed was too weak a word. Craved and filled with blind lust was more like it. If he hurried, he might catch her. “Diego, I’ll see you in the stables tomorrow—but not too early.”
Diego grinned and turned to the woman, obviously intending to pick up where Beck and Ashley had left off. His foot bumped into something on the ground. He bent and found a chain that gleamed in the faint light. “Is this yours, Beck?”
Beck took a closer look. It wasn’t his, but he recognized the white-gold poppies linked into a bracelet. “No, but I know the lady to whom it belongs.” He took the bracelet from Diego and slid it into his jacket pocket before heading to the pavilion.
“Happy hunting, eh, Beck?” Diego called. “But you may want to wash your face first. Those strawberries, they make such a mess.”
Beck shook his head and wiped again at his mouth. Diego knew lipstick stains from fruit, but, as always, couldn’t resist teasing. He shoved the handkerchief into his pocket and encountered the smooth, cool metal.
Under the pavilion’s brighter light, he pulled the bracelet out and examined the fine workmanship and lifelike details of the petals. His aunt Mimi’s best friend Bootsie knew jewelers the way he knew horses and would be able to tell him the designer, and maybe he could learn Ashley’s last name. His beautiful Cinderella hadn’t left a glass slipper, but Beck would find her. He had the sneaking suspicion she would fit him perfectly.
4
“SO? DID BECK kiss you?” Tisha’s voice blared from her cell phone.
Knowing the Score Page 3