It felt as if he’d fallen into a Broadway musical where the rules of logic and normal behavior were swept away by a catchy tune. It was the most bizarre situation he’d been in for a long time, and he loved it.
He jumped up. “Let’s dance.”
Ashley protested, but he tugged her to her feet and found she was a very good dancer as well. He’d learned several ballroom-style Latin dances, but this restaurant’s version was the real thing. He pulled her tight as she swung dangerously close to a full glass of soda sitting on a nearby table.
“I bet you never figured you’d be salsa-dancing during lunch.”
He clutched his stomach in mock pain. “Not the best thing to do on a full stomach.”
“But you dance so well. Lessons?”
“Complete with little gray suit and boutonniere.”
“All the girls must have been in love with you.”
She was only teasing, but he remembered their earlier discussion of love. Seeing Señor and Señora Rodríguez laugh and smile at each other, he might concede Ashley’s point. Might. The music stopped and he didn’t want to stop dancing. “Come to the Polo Club Ball with me.”
“The what?” She gave him a startled look.
He was shocked to find his palms sweating as if he were asking a girl to the senior prom. “After the final polo match next Friday, the club hosts a black-tie formal ball. I want you to be my date.”
“Oh.” She thought for an agonizing minute. “No, I don’t have anything going on next Friday. Black-tie, you said?”
He nodded and wished he had that other guy’s soda to moisten his mouth.
She came to a decision and nodded. “Yes, Beck, I’ll go to the ball with you.”
“Great!” He stared at her with a big dopey grin and the music started again.
“Eh, my second-favorite song!” Señora Rodríguez exclaimed, and the dancing began all over again. Beck held Ashley close despite the fast tempo and never wanted to let her go.
11
A BALLGOWN. Like Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty and Belle from Beauty and the Beast, Ashley needed a ballgown. Not a nice suit, not a little black cocktail dress, but a real-life, honest-to-goodness, not-embarrass-herself-or-Beck ballgown.
She watched Teddy roll around in his plastic ball as if his hypnotic, back-and-forth motion would stimulate some great idea. Instead, she was getting a bit motion sick. “Okay, honey, back in your cage you go.” She tucked him away with some sunflower seeds in apology before leaving on her daunting shopping expedition. Tisha would have gladly loaned her a gown, but Ashley was ten inches taller and didn’t have Tisha’s Cuban curves.
She tried the quinceañera shop where all the fourteen-year-olds shopped for their debutante dresses, but not surprisingly, skirts that were six feet wide and poofy were not what she had in mind for the Polo Club Ball. It was a shame she needed a dress so quickly, the proprietress told her. They could have made her a custom dress out of the many gorgeous fabrics they carried—but not in six days.
Ashley took a deep breath and ventured into the pricey boutiques and bridal salons. They, of course, had lovely dresses, but she couldn’t justify putting another several thousand dollars on her credit card. One of the younger salesladies, sensing her distress, pulled her aside and mentioned an upscale resale shop where many of the society ladies sent dresses on consignment.
It was better than any other ideas Ashley had, so she found the shop, discreetly tucked away from the main shopping area. She walked in, a small bell jingling overhead.
“Hello.” An older woman dressed in a beautiful lilac silk tunic and white full-cut palazzo pants gave her a friendly smile. “How may I help you today?”
Ashley returned her smile. “I am looking for a ballgown.”
“Oh, my. Which event?”
Ashley hesitated and the saleslady patted her hand. “Don’t worry, dear. I couldn’t own a shop like this if I blabbed my clients’ business. I need to know so I can help you choose.”
“Oh.” Ashley relaxed. That made sense. Ashley always needed to know the occasion when helping her own clients with their jewelry choices. “The Bella Florida Polo Club Tournament Ball.”
“My goodness, aren’t you the lucky girl? Those only happen every few years, and women practically fight to the death to get invitations.”
Ashley’s stomach flipped. “Really?” And she had almost arrived in a teenage debutante dress.
“Indeed.” The shop-owner eyed her figure. “I think we have some things that might work. Make yourself comfortable in the middle changing room and we’ll get started.”
She did as she was told and the saleslady brought in an armful of dresses—pink, black, red—none of them worked for her. One was too short, one made her look as if she were recovering from the stomach flu and one wasn’t special enough. Finally she spotted a blue dress. “How about that one?”
“My assistant acquired it yesterday—it hasn’t even made it onto the rack yet.” The saleslady unzipped the dress and helped Ashley into it. “Oh, wow.”
Wow, indeed. It was made of aquamarine silk and draped gracefully in folds to the floor. The bodice was strapless. Vine-like silver embroidery curved across a wide band below Ashley’s breasts, emphasizing her small waist. The skirt skimmed her hips and pooled around her ankles. It had a classical Greek look and Ashley loved it.
“You see a small train, but that shouldn’t get in the way of your dancing. Get some silver sandals and put your hair in a fancy updo and you would look wonderful—you wouldn’t even need much jewelry.”
Ashley slanted her an amused look. Jewelry was the one thing she had plenty of. She twisted her hair on the top of her head and loved how she looked—elegant, polished, put together. Everything she needed to carry off the evening. Her white-gold poppy bracelet tangled briefly in her hair, so she dropped her arm. She tried discreetly to check the price tag, but there wasn’t one yet. “How much?”
The shop owner tapped her nails on the counter for a minute. “I’ll give you a fifteen-percent discount for buying it so quickly and also because you look wonderful in it.” The amount she named was still well into four figures and Ashley’s stomach rolled under the beautiful silver embroidery.
“Oh. Oh, my.” She bit her lip and blinked, not wanting to stain the blue silk with tears of disappointment.
The shop owner sighed. “I am sorry, my dear, but I can’t drop the price any more. This dress would retail for fifteen thousand dollars new.”
“No, no. I totally understand.” Great, now she was making the poor saleslady feel bad. “I’m a businesswoman as well—jewelry design, actually.” She thrust out her arm to show off the poppy bracelet. “We have to do what we can to keep our businesses afloat.”
“I’m glad you understand. But that is a lovely bracelet—white gold, correct?” She peered at Ashley’s favorite bracelet. Ashley unclipped it and handed it to her.
“Yes, entirely made by my own hands. I don’t do mass-market work—hard to control quality that way.”
“How much would that retail for, if you don’t mind my asking?” She held the gold up to the light, obviously enjoying how it sparkled.
Ashley smiled. She’d never tried to sell the design, but she knew how much it should sell for. “About half of what you so kindly were going to price this dress at.”
“Half?” The shop owner came to a decision and stared Ashley in the face. “Don’t tell the taxman, but I’m going to offer you a barter deal. Sixty-five percent off the dress since I’ll include the original fifteen percent we discussed earlier, and you throw in the bracelet. Cash-flow problems?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Happens to the best of us. The trick is to keep the stock moving—like this gorgeous dress. What do you say?”
Ashley stared at the shop owner in silence. She had enough to buy the gown at sixty-five percent off, but to sell her bracelet? To make herself feel better, she turned to the mirror again. “I really do
look great in this, don’t I?”
The woman smiled. “Amazing. Your date won’t know what hit him.”
That was the sales closer for her. She should take selling lessons from this woman. “All right, we have a deal.”
“Wonderful.” The saleslady starting peeling Ashley out of the dress. “And be sure to give me some of your business cards. Maybe we can do something about your cash flow.”
“Thanks.” Ashley was sorry to barter her bracelet away, but it was worth it as she imagined Beck’s face when he saw her in the gown. This was the only polo club ball she’d ever attend, that was for sure.
“GOOD MORNING, Beckett.”
He fought back a groan. His cell phone had been sitting on the stable bench next to him, and he had immediately answered it, hoping it was Ashley. “Morning, Mom.” He could practically hear her teeth grinding on the other end of the line. “Mom” was not amused.
“You and your little jokes, Beckett.”
He didn’t take her bait. “What can I do for you today?” He eyed the saddle on the stand in front of him. Good. Looked like the stirrups and the girth were still firmly attached.
“You can come to work for me. For the family company,” she clarified.
Nope, she had it right the first time. Working for her, not with her. “Mother, we already discussed this. You want to be in charge. You don’t like my ideas on moving the firm into the twenty-first century.” Hell, as it was, they were barely into the mid-1950s, computers excepted.
“There is nothing wrong with tradition, especially in a family firm,” she countered. “I am just a caretaker for the benefit of you and your sons after you.”
Ashley flashed to mind. Beck blinked in surprise. He heard the words sons and thought of Ashley? Although any child of hers, boy or girl, would be as beautiful, intelligent and kind as his or her mother. He frowned, not wanting to imagine Ashley dating, marrying, making babies with some loser.
“Beck! Did you hear what I said?”
No, he sure hadn’t. “Sorry, Mother, I’m checking the stock-market levels.”
“Ha! More like checking your polo gear.”
Beck looked at the mallet he was inspecting. Busted. “Mother…”
“If you put a fraction of the effort into our business that you put into your horses.” He was surprised by the real frustration in her voice. “You are wasting your talents riding around on horses all day and partying all night.”
“I am hardly a brainless dilettante, Mother.” He had spoken more sharply than he intended and took a deep breath. “I enjoy competing with the Pan-Florida team, I manage my string of ponies and I even donate some time to charity.”
“That’s not enough. Did it ever occur to you that I am not getting any younger and I need you to learn how to run the firm?”
His mother had plenty of talented executives who could easily step into her shoes. No single one of them could do what she did, but a group definitely could. “Maybe the firm would be better off without me running it.”
“What are you saying, Beckett?” Her voice had become icy.
“I don’t know, Mother.”
“You’d better figure it out.” She cut their connection with a click.
He blew out a sigh and slumped against the wall. His mother loved the firm almost as much as she loved him and possibly more than she loved his father—but since his father loved his sailboat equally, he figured it was a wash. He had been too young to remember all the details, but his mother’s brother had almost run the company into the ground, forcing his mother to step in to save it from bankruptcy. The parts Beck did remember were her long hours and preoccupation even when she did make it home.
Was it any wonder he wasn’t leaping at the chance to take her place? He shook his head and stood, setting the polo mallet into the rack.
He surveyed the stable and its equipment. Every horse had its place, every mallet and saddle as well. If only life could be so organized and orderly.
ASHLEY OPENED her eyes. She was sunbathing on Beck’s pool deck. To her surprise, he enjoyed doing yard work when he was at his villa and was currently mowing the grass bare-chested. He looked hot, hard-bodied and sweaty—a combination she adored.
She decided to distract him from his toil and took off her bikini top. It had been several years since she’d sunbathed topless, and the sun caressed her bare skin.
She deliberately stretched her arms over her head and Beck veered the mower into the mulched border, nearly decapitating several flowering plants.
He cut the engine and strode toward her. “If you wanted my full attention, you certainly have it.”
“Now, Beck.” She teased him and darted behind the chaise longue, keeping it between them. Her nipples tightened in anticipation. “I’m getting some sun in your nice private backyard.”
“And you want to find out how private it is, don’t you?”
Her bikini top lay on the slate patio between them. He followed her glance and grabbed it. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
“Yes, please.” She held out her hand.
He shook his head, dangling the coral-pink nylon from his fingers. “Come get it.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got another suit in the house.” She made a half-hearted break for it.
He whooped and chased her, the bikini top falling by the wayside. She’d almost made it to the house when he caught her and scooped her up amid her squeals. She pressed herself against him so she wouldn’t fall.
He glanced at her slick breasts sticking to his sweaty chest and nodded approvingly. “Nice.”
“Put me down, Beck. You’re going to give yourself a hernia.”
“I’m not gonna drop you, honey.” He strode across the patio and stopped at the eight-foot-deep end of the pool, an evil grin on his face.
“Don’t you dare, Beck Emery!” She wiggled in his arms, trying to get free.
He smacked her butt, just hard enough to shock her.
“Oh, my God! You spanked me? You’ll be sorry—”
Her scolding turned into a scream as he jumped into the pool. She closed her mouth before the water closed over their heads.
He surfaced laughing. She pushed her dripping hair out of her face and lunged for him. “You—you—” she sputtered.
He evaded her easily. “Cooled off any, Ashley?”
“Cooled off? I’ll show you cooled off.” She dived underwater and grabbed his waistband, tugging his shorts to his knees.
He sank below the surface and pulled her against his chest. Unable to pay him back with a slap to the ass, she settled for a hard pinch.
They broke the surface simultaneously and gasped for air. “Geez, Ash, I think you left a bruise.” He grinned and rubbed his butt.
“I can’t believe you ruined your shoes.”
“Only a spare pair for cutting the grass.” He yanked off his shoes, chucking them away. His long legs kicked free of his shorts, and they floated away like a black jellyfish. “Your turn.”
She dived away from him. “Try to catch me.”
Unhampered by any clothing, he grabbed her easily. “Gotcha!” His short hair stood up in spikes and his dark-gold eyelashes clumped together. He leered and pressed her against the pool wall. “It seems that I’ve caught a mermaid. And to think I thought fishing was a bore.”
“Is that your fishing rod or are you happy to see me?” His scorching-hot erection prodded her cool thigh.
He stroked her wet hair off her face, making her shudder as he trailed his hand on her neck. “At least you didn’t ask if that was the earthworm I used for bait.”
“It lured me just fine.” Their legs entwined as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He held on to the pool’s edge with one hand and cupped the nape of her neck with the other.
They floated together in an erotic synchronized swim, their wet lips sliding across each other. He sucked on her earlobe as she gasped for air. Her fingernails dug into the hard muscles of his butt. Her breasts
bobbed gently between them in the blue water, his finger tracing one aching nipple, then the other. “So damn sweet.” He buried his face in the curve of her neck and slanted the thick head of his penis along the coral Lycra barrier separating them.
She circled her hips against him, trying to get his swollen shaft at the perfect angle. He tried to thrust against her, but the water’s resistance slowed his pace and kept pushing him away. “Damn, this deep water isn’t working. I need to touch bottom.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” She grinned at him and shed her swimsuit bottom, chucking it on the pool deck next to his shoes.
“And I don’t have a condom in my pocket.” They both looked at his waterlogged running shorts. “I wasn’t expecting to need one so soon.”
“You didn’t?” she teased. “You’ll know better next time.”
“Next time, but what about now?” He cupped her butt and pulled her close. “You make me want to say to hell with it and not use anything?” He slid his fingers over her clitoris.
She found it extremely difficult to be sensible when he slid his bare cock between her thighs, the base of his shaft pressing her clitoris. “Beck.” She gasped for breath as he picked up the pace. He’d never rubbed himself there without protection, and his silky skin was heavenly. “You don’t really want to do that.”
“Oh, yes I do.” He closed his eyes and thrust. If she tipped her hips even slightly, he’d enter her. “When you touch me with your hands, I imagine I’m pressing into your hot, wet depths. Nothing between us.”
She pushed away from him, shuddering as the water rippled across her aroused flesh. “You almost made me forget. Go check under my towel by that chair.”
“Will I be pleasantly surprised?”
“Hurry back.” She couldn’t wait much longer.
He hauled himself out and squished over to where she’d been relaxing. “Excellent!” He waved a foil packet triumphantly. “You naughty girl. You had this all planned.”
Knowing the Score Page 11