Romance: My First Time With The Tycoon

by Ally Nelson

  “Please let me know what you think,” Tom said, with another of those charm-your-socks-off smiles. “I look forward to your critique. And I do mean that, sincerely. I would love to have you over for coffee and discuss it with you, at your convenience.”

  “My convenience?” Ashley had to laugh. “Sounds like you’re the one with the busy schedule. Although, yeah, okay – I do have school and work.”

  “Oh, you attend university?” he asked, and sounded genuinely interested.

  God, she loved the way he spoke. ‘You attend university. ’Sooo British! “Yes,” she said. “I’ve got one more year to go before I get my Bachelor’s degree from Cal State L.A.; I’m hoping to go into international business and advertising.”

  “Really? Sounds fascinating! I suppose that means you work nights?”

  She nodded. “I’m a waitress-slash-hostess at Tailler.”

  “Ah! I’ve heard good things about that establishment. I’ve been meaning to have dinner there some evening.”

  “Well, let me know when you want to set up a reservation,” Ashley said. “There’s usually a long waiting list, but seeing as you now know someone who works there, I’m sure you could get in sooner.” She gave him a broad wink.

  He returned it. “Gotcha,” he said.

  As much as she wanted to stay and talk to him – she had millions of questions she could ask about his books, things she had always wondered about the characters which had been left open to interpretation, and now a new curiosity about the upcoming movie versions – Ashley knew she had to start getting ready to meet her friends for her birthday party. “Anyway,” she said. “Thank you again for the book. It was really great meeting you, officially. I think I’m going to go back to my apartment, now, and freak out a little over the fact that I just found out my neighbor is my all-time favorite writer.”

  “Oh, please, don’t do that,” Tom said, his expression turning fretful. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to cause you to ‘freak out.’”

  “It’s okay,” Ashley assured him with a laugh. “I’ll be fine. I also promise not to stalk you or anything. I’m a fan, but I’m not that kind of fan.”

  “That is good to know.” He walked her to the door. “Enjoy the rest of your birthday, Ashley. See you again, soon.”

  “Well, we do live in the same building,” she reminded him. “We already ran into each other once – literally.”

  “Yes, we did, didn’t we?” Tom smiled. He offered his hand to her again and this time when she went to shake, he captured her fingers, drew them up to his lips, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, his pale blue eyes gazing down at her as he did. “Good evening, Miss Kilpatrick.”

  Ashley gulped again and smiled. “Good evening, Mr. Whitehall.” She turned and made her way down the steps from his door to the main path. Hearing his door close, she glanced back to make sure he had gone in before letting out a little squeal of delight. She raced up the steps leading to her own door, which she had left unlocked, and burst inside. For a moment, she had to lean against the wall while she waited for her heart to stop its wild pounding. W.T. Hamilton is Tom Whitehall, my gorgeous English neighbor…and he wants to have coffee with me, to discuss his latest book.

  The book!

  Quickly, she opened it to see what he had written. She suspected he had just autographed it – as W.T. Hamilton – but instead she found something more personalized. “’To Ashley,’” she read aloud. “’May all your birthday wishes come true. Yours, Tom.’”

  Tom.

  “Oh, wow. Wait till I tell Tasha about this!” Ashley started to launch herself across the room toward her phone, which she had left on the table next to her purse when she first got home, only to stop just as she reached for the device. Damn – she couldn’t tell anyone about this, not even her best friend. Not until Tom had the chance to unveil himself in his upcoming interview. The last thing she wanted to do was take the risk of being the source of the news leaking out prematurely. Tom would know she had talked. He didn’t exactly swear her to secrecy about it but she had told him voluntarily that she would not tell anyone. She had to stand by her word. Even if it killed her to keep it bottled up and all to herself for however long it took for that interview to come out. At least she could take some satisfaction from the fact that she had been one of the first to know.

  This was turning out to be the best birthday ever.

  Chapter Three

  The party at Boulevard had been a total blast. Ashley had her first drink – well, legally; she used to sneak sips of beer from her dad over the years, and had been allowed a glass of champagne for New Year’s when she was eighteen – followed by a few more. As word got around the club that “the cute blonde in the tight pink dress” was celebrating her birthday, total strangers began to buy her rounds. Guys came up and asked her to dance, or offered to feed her chocolate-covered strawberries. She had fun flirting as she opened wide to let them place the fruit on her tongue like performing Holy Communion. She also had a great time dancing. At one point, she got pulled up on stage and put on one of the big hoops used by the aerialists in their performances. Ashley flipped her hair and arched her back while her friends whistled and cheered her on.

  Sometime after three in the morning, one of her classmates – Deb – dragged her into a cab and rode with her back to Casa Verde. “You need help getting to your door?” Deb asked, as Ashley climbed out.

  “No, I’m okay,” Ashley said, waving her off. She started to open her little purse to look for money but Deb stopped her.

  “Don’t worry – I’ve got this one.” She winked. “Happy Birthday, chica.”

  They blew kisses to each other and then the cab pulled away. Ashley took off her shoes, not trusting herself to climb the steps in heels while hammered. Well, not hammered, but more than tipsy.

  Two security guards sat duty on the night shift, taking turns doing golf cart patrols of the complex while the other stayed at the shack. One of them, a big black man named Rick, saw Ashley when she staggered up toward the gate. “Well, good evening, Miss Ashley,” he said. “Getting in a little late tonight. I saw your car in your parking spot earlier, didn’t realize you were out.”

  “I was partying my ass off, Rick,” Ashley announced with pride, weaving a little, and pointed to herself. “Birthday girl, right here.”

  “Happy Birthday! Glad to see you decided not to drive, then.” Rick grinned at her. A former Marine originally from Georgia, he had always been very respectful and friendly to Ashley every night when she returned home from work. “Carlos just radioed and should be back in a minute from his rounds. If you like, I can escort you to your apartment.”

  “Thanks, Rick.” Even with a gated community, a single girl walking home alone couldn’t be too safe. Ashley would not let Deb walk her because then she would have to go back alone. Rick, however, carried a sidearm and even so, could probably use his bare hands to take apart anyone who tried to mess with a tenant on his watch. Ashley took a moment to lean against the guard shack, her shoes dangling from one hand as she raked her fingers through her loose hair. The cool, night breeze wafted under her lifted arm and she wrinkled her nose. “Phew! Oh, man – Lady Speed Stick ran out on me, tonight. As soon as I get home, I am taking a nice, hot bath.”

  Rick chuckled. “Just be careful you don’t fall asleep. Set the alarm on your phone to wake you up if you’re in there more than an hour. The last thing I want to do is find out you got hypothermia or drowned.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Ashley assured him. “But thanks for caring.” When Carlos returned, Ashley high-fived him and he wished her a happy birthday before she and Rick climbed into the golf cart and started the journey through the complex to her building. Rick even walked her right to her door and unlocked it for her.

  “You have a good night,” Rick said.

  “It’s been pretty great, so far.” Ashley locked up after he left. Making her way to her bedroom, she tossed her shoes in the direction of her closet an
d her purse onto the dresser. Reaching up behind her back, she pulled her zipper down and shimmied out of the tight-fitting little party dress. In just her thong panties, she started to turn toward the bathroom when she saw the new book, The Keys of Promise, on her nightstand. She decided she could read the first chapter or two in the tub as she soaked. Eagerly, she grabbed the novel.

  As she ran the water for the bath, adding in some lavender oil for good measure, Ashley took a moment to gaze at the message Tom had written on that first page. She smiled. She could almost hear his smooth British tenor saying the words, ‘May all your birthday wishes come true.’ She put the book on the closed lid of the toilet. Stepping into the tub, she did a quick wash before drying her hands on a small towel. She had to be careful not to get the book wet. She settled back and began to read.

  Immediately, she found herself swept back into that world. At the end of the last book, Scott who had been blackmailed into participating in the robbery, had found out his partners’ plans to kill Becca, to keep her from identifying them. Scott had just convinced Becca to flee with him to the remote wilderness of Montana. This book started with them hiding out in a cabin next to a clear lake in a mountain valley. Things had already begun to heat up between them but they had been resisting their primal urges. Scott, aged thirty-eight, kept telling himself that Becca, eighteen years his junior, was too young for him, and that he could not take advantage of her. He began resorting to swims in the ice-cold lake to quell his desire. Becca soon caught on. Now, she appeared at the water’s edge. As Scott watched, she began to undress.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Scott asked.

  Becca smiled at him as her shirt slipped off her shoulders and fell to the ground. ‘What you won’t do,’ she said. She unfastened her jeans and pushed them down her legs. Once naked, she began to walk toward the lake.

  Scott felt his heart begin to beat faster. He looked around, as if trying to find an escape, but found his gaze drawn back to Becca’s beautiful body. ‘The water is too cold,’ he said, trying one last desperate attempt to warn her away.

  ‘Then we’ll just have to heat it up,’ she said.

  “Oh, damn,” Ashley breathed. Her own pulse raced as she continued to read. She felt a flutter in her belly that became an ache between her legs. It would not be the first time she got turned on reading a W.T. Hamilton novel. Holding the book with one hand, using her thumb to turn the pages, she reached down under the water. Her fingers strayed between the soft folds of flesh to find the hard nub of her clitoris, already throbbing with arousal. Ashley rubbed at it in gentle circles, slowly at first.

  Scott lifted Becca out of the water as they kissed. He carried her back to the cabin, kicked in the door, and settled her on the sofa in front of the fireplace. The heat of the flames warmed them, but they already burned from within with hunger. Becca looked up at Scott as he positioned himself. She smiled and nodded. Scott’s hips surged forward, and Becca’s cry of ecstasy made him shiver.

  Ashley’s hand moved faster. She wound up putting the book aside, trying to place it on the toilet but it missed and hit the floor. She ignored it as she reached for one of her nipples. The additional stimulation never failed to carry her higher. Groaning, she pulled her knees up and spread her legs wider. Her breath came in short, quick huffs. She closed her eyes and pictured herself – as she so often did – taking the place of the young heroine of the story. She imagined what it would feel like to be entered, to feel a man thrusting inside her over and over until she came. She pinched her nipple harder. She thought Scott, described as an older man with dark hair, but as she began to near orgasm, she found herself not seeing the person on the book’s cover but another man with black curls, an Englishman who lived just a few feet away…

  “God, yes!” Ashley gasped out. Her body quivered and her thighs clamped around her hand as she climaxed. She pressed down firmly against her clit and felt the spasms, wave after wave, pass through her. With a deep sigh and a satisfied smile, she allowed herself to relax. How would she ever be able to face Tom, now, after thinking of him while masturbating? He doesn’t have to know, she thought.

  After a few minutes, she decided to pull herself out of the tub. Standing up, she let the now tepid water drain before drawing the curtain closed and turning on the shower. She gave her hair a quick shampoo and rinsed herself completely before shutting off the tap. Managing to snag her towel off the rack above the toilet, she wrapped her hair in a turban and then grabbed another bath sheet for her body before stepping out onto the mat. She felt loose and very sleepy, now, all the night’s activities – and the alcohol – finally catching up to her. Retrieving her book, which by some miracle had avoided being splashed or dripped on, Ashley padded back to her bedroom. She managed to pull on a pair of boy shorts and her Steve Yzerman Detroit Red Wings jersey before crawling in under the covers. In moments, she succumbed to a deep and very contented sleep.

  Chapter Four

  After two more nights of reading, Ashley had finished The Keys of Promise. The last page concluded on another cliffhanger as nail-bitingly tense as the last novel, with the robbers managing to track Scott and Becca down. It left off with Scott in bed, too sick to move, which forced Becca to take the old pickup truck and drive to the nearest town for medical supplies. The bad guys saw her as she came out of the pharmacy, and started to follow her.

  And that’s where it ended.

  Ashley wanted to scream. In fact, she did scream – into her pillow – before shoving the book into her nightstand drawer and turning out the light. Yeah, like I’m going to sleep, after that, she thought.

  Because she didn’t have any classes until after noon, Ashley decided to pay her neighbor Tom a visit. He had told her he wanted to hear her critique of the book as soon as she finished it. She decided to run over to The Village Bakery to pick up an assortment of fresh muffins and scones, and then headed back to Casa Verde where she made a beeline for Tom’s door.

  He came to the door, wearing a dark blue robe over a white t-shirt and a pair of green plaid pajama bottoms. Bleary-eyed, his dark curls a wild mess and a growth of salt and pepper stubble on his chin and upper lip, he smiled when he saw Ashley. “Good morning,” he said, unsuccessfully stifling a yawn behind his hand.

  “Morning,” Ashley said brightly. “I’m sorry – it’s after nine a.m., I thought you’d be up by now. Did I wake you?”

  “Not at all. I had been trying to convince myself to get out of bed for the past hour but was being a bit lazy.” He saw the bakery box and raised an eyebrow with interest. “What have we, here?”

  She opened it and let him have a peek inside. Tom inhaled softly when he saw the contents. “Oh, dear,” he said. He looked at her. “Well, I suppose you know you cannot simply come to an Englishman’s door bearing scones and not expect him to put on the kettle.”

  “Good,” she said, and closed up the box. “We can discuss The Keys of Promise over tea.”

  “Ah,” he murmured, nodding. “I see what this is. Judging by that tone of voice, I’ll wager a guess that you are not entirely happy with the novel.”

  “Oh, it was good,” Ashley assured him. “Right up until the end, where you left Scott dying out in the middle of nowhere and Becca walking into a trap!”

  She could see Tom trying not to laugh. Trying. Unfortunately, he turned out to be as successful at that as he was at suppressing yawns. Finally, he shook his head and motioned her to come inside. “Be right with you,” he said, after filling the kettle with water from the kitchen sink and putting it on the stove. “I feel rather indecent, entertaining a young lady in this state.”

  Ashley wanted to tell him that she didn’t mind – she actually liked seeing him in his pajamas with his bed head and morning scruffiness. She set the baked goods on the dining table; hooking her fingers in the back pockets of her jeans, she wandered into the living room to peruse Tom’s record collection.

  He returned a few minutes later, just as the kettle began to whistle. Clea
n-shaven, his raven curls wet and combed back neatly from his face, he had traded his pajamas for a form-fitting cycling shirt and a pair of equally tight bike pants. “I thought I would take my morning ride after we’ve had a spot of breakfast,” he said.

  Ashley felt her mouth go dry at the sight of him. Her first impression of him in jeans and a loose shirt had made her think he had been lanky and thin. Instead, he had a lean body with lots of well-defined muscles, particularly in those long legs that seemed to go on forever. “I didn’t know you cycled,” she said. She followed him to the kitchen and watched as he took two mugs down from the cupboard along with a tin.

  “I also play tennis,” Tom said, pulling two teabags out of the tin and dropping one into each mug. He added the water and then set the kettle on the back burner to cool down. “Sugar and milk?” he offered.

  “No, plain is fine.”

  “All right.” Tom added a splash of half and half to his own cup. Gathering up both mugs, he brought them out to the table and set them down. He went back to the kitchen and came out again with small white plates and actual cloth napkins. “There you are.”

  “Thanks.” Ashley smiled. Opening the box, she selected a muffin. Of course, Tom chose a scone – one with dried cranberries – and set it on his plate. She watched, amused, and he took his first bite and then groaned and leaned back in his chair, head falling back on his shoulders. “Good?” she asked.

  “Mm! Oh, yes,” he said. He washed the mouthful down with a sip of tea. “These are extraordinary! Where did you get them?”

  “The Village, up near Glendale.”

  “Really! Well, I shall definitely add them to my list of favorite places.” He took another bite, savoring. “My goodness – they’re as good as Nan used to make.” He wiped his hands on his napkin. “All right. I’m sure you’d like to discuss the novel. I would like to begin by apologizing for the ending.”