Knowing the Score

by Marie Donovan

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed and he stared at her, charmed. He didn’t remember the last woman he’d met who actually blushed. “You look great yourself.”

  “Thanks.” He guided her to the front driveway, trying not to drag her in his eagerness. “Do you still want to come to my place?” He held his breath, hoping, praying that she hadn’t changed her mind.

  She hesitated and his stomach flipped. “Yes.”

  He relaxed and got his red two-seater convertible from the valet. She ran a hand along the white leather upholstery and smiled. “Team colors?”

  “Of course. If I can’t ride one of my horses, I can drive this car. I love going fast.”

  “You’re telling me,” she muttered.

  “You don’t?” He gave her a sidelong look as he drove under the graceful palm trees arching over the long driveway.

  She took a deep breath. “No, I don’t. I have made plans for everything—my schooling, my business, everything…” she trailed off.

  “That reminds me.” He pulled her poppy bracelet from his pocket.

  “My bracelet!” She took it from him and fastened it around her wrist, obviously pleased to have it back. “I never thought I’d see it again.”

  “It fell off at the fountain.”

  “Oh.” She blushed again. “I’m glad you found it. It’s one of my favorite pieces.”

  “If I didn’t see you at the club, I was going to drive out to your jewelry shop to see you later today.” He turned out of the club grounds and down the road leading to his townhouse.

  Her eyes widened in shock. “My jewelry shop? How did you know I was the designer?”

  “My aunt’s friend recognized the jeweler as a certain Ashley Craig. She can’t say enough good things about your work, which is beautiful. So is your Web-site photo, but it doesn’t do you justice.”

  She slid him a sidelong look. “You are the charming one, aren’t you?”

  It didn’t exactly sound like a compliment. “Is charming bad?”

  “Not if it’s backed up with substance.” She gave him a challenging look.

  Ouch. Well, she hadn’t seen anything of him except him galloping around on his horses and splashing in the pool. Not a substantive résumé. “I have hidden depths.”

  ASHLEY KNEW SHE was seriously out of her depth when she saw the inside of Beck’s home, an expensive villa in an exclusive gated community not far from the polo club. The outside was a creamy-tan stucco with brown Spanish tiles on the roof, typical of South Florida. Although the interior was Mediterranean-style, it was a less-fussy, more masculine design. The great room had a cathedral ceiling and a wall of windows that overlooked a slate patio with a deep blue pool. The inside was obviously planned to take second place visually to the outside, with pale marble floors and a large U-shaped sitting area of cream-colored leather sofas. The seating faced a built-in caramel armoire that probably housed some kind of giant television set. She had to smile at that evidence of single-guy living.

  She clapped her free hand over her mouth. Assuming he was single…“Do you live alone?”

  He smiled at her. “Is that really what you want to know?”

  Darn it, he was right. “No, I need to know if you have a girlfriend, or fiancée or even a wife.”

  He was smiling at the beginning of her statement but the word wife made him flinch. “None of the above. I spent the winter in Argentina and haven’t seriously dated anyone since before then.” He guided her into the kitchen, outfitted with cherry cabinets and trendy nickel hardware. The appliances were stainless-steel professional grade, and skylights let in the midday light to gleam off the stone countertops.

  She looked around the room. There was no evidence of any feminine touches such as flowers or even a cheerful fridge magnet and she started to relax. “Aren’t you going to ask me if I’m single?”

  He shook his head. “No, you’re the type of woman who is too honest to cheat.” He bent and kissed her, his mouth nipping at her lips, her cheeks and her neck.

  When he pulled away, she was dizzy with need. “I’d like a house tour, Beck.”

  “Oh, yes?” He swung her into his arms and she wrapped her arms around him. “Any rooms in particular or do I get to choose?”

  “You choose.” She nuzzled his neck and bit his earlobe. He shivered, causing her to bobble a bit, but she knew he wouldn’t drop her.

  “I pick my bedroom.” He strode down a short hallway behind the kitchen and kicked open the door. Gently setting her on her feet, he continued the tour. “This is the master suite. Highlights include a king-size bed, a shower and tub more than big enough for two and French-door access to the pool, where no swimsuits are allowed.”

  Ashley laughed. His bedroom wore the same eggshell paint as the rest of the house with some interesting sepia photos of horses and polo matches, but the room’s focus was the bed. The headboard was dark padded leather trimmed in what was mahogany and the bedding looked like pure white cotton.

  She moved to stare at the pool, suddenly feeling shy. He seemed to sense this and came up behind her.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking her shoulder. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. I even fell off my horse because I was thinking of you.”

  “You did not.” Although she’d only seen him on horseback for that one match, he and his horse moved flawlessly as one.

  “No, but I stumbled pretty hard. And I lost the grip of my mallet and almost knocked Diego’s pony unconscious.”

  “Poor pony.” Even if he was exaggerating, she was flattered.

  “I know. I should have aimed for Diego instead.”

  She turned to face him. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

  He grinned, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Not if you knew Diego as well as I do. I still owe him for interrupting us at the fountain with that impromptu architectural lecture.”

  “I thought the fountain was pretty.”

  “But you’re beautiful.” He slipped her straps to bare first one shoulder and then the other. “A warm golden goddess for me to worship. And I will worship you—if you let me.” He planted moist kisses on her shoulder, tracing across her collarbones to the other shoulder.

  She gasped at his mouth on her skin. “Oh, I will let you.”

  “Good,” he murmured. He pulled down the bodice of her dress and she didn’t think anymore.

  Kneeling in front of her, he brushed his work-hardened palm over her breast, her nipple pearling instantly. He repeated the caress on the other breast with the same effect. “You have the prettiest breasts, so round and soft. But hard here.” He gently thumbed her nipples, and her legs nearly collapsed under her.

  “But what am I thinking, when we have this nice soft bed behind me?” He scooped her up and laid her on the mattress. She sank into the luxurious white cotton comforter. He stripped off his polo shirt and crawled into the fluffy cocoon next to her.

  She put out a tentative hand to his chest. He caught it and pressed it to him. “Go ahead. I’ve been dying for your hands on me.”

  He didn’t have to ask her twice. She pushed him down and pounced. She luxuriated in his lovely smooth skin with a light dusting of honey-colored hair that darkened and narrowed in an arrow to his waistband. His muscles bunched and flexed under her touch, especially when she returned the favor and brushed his small copper-colored nipples.

  He groaned. “You’re driving me crazy.” He moved on top of her, rubbing chest to breast, belly to belly. She unconsciously opened her legs and he settled between them.

  His cock pushed into her clit and he immediately rotated his hips into her. “Oh, that feels good,” she cooed, digging her heels into the bed to better push against him.

  They stayed locked together that way for what seemed like forever, the barrier of their clothing only heightening Ashley’s arousal. It had been so long for her, and even those flimsy memories were being burned away by the golden man in her arms.

  He swiveled
onto her, her nipples catching on his chest hair. Half embarrassed, half exulting and one-hundred-percent aroused, Ashley started to come, the dimly remembered tremors rising from where he moved against her belly into her breasts.

  His eyes widened and she turned her face away.

  “No, let me see you.” He rested his elbows on either side of her cheeks and deliberately thrust hard several times, prolonging her pleasure. She finally quieted, amazed by her powerful response to semi-clothed foreplay.

  He jumped up and she cried out in protest.

  “Poor baby.” His voice was soothing but sultry. “You’re not even close to being done, are you?” He shucked his pants and navy-blue briefs and stood before her naked except for a platinum watch.

  His cock stood proud and straight, jutting out from a honey-brown nest of hair. No wonder he had been uncomfortable on his saddle if that was the brute he carried around. She propped herself on her elbows and stared at him. His erection jerked under her regard, a pearl bead flowing free to coat his tip. Answering fluid dampened her panties. “Come to me, Beck.” She barely recognized the purring voice that came from her throat, but Beck recognized it for the pure sensual invitation it was.

  He reached for Ashley and shoved her dress down, helping her lift her hips as he pulled it clear along with her panties. She made a vague gesture at her high-heeled backless sandals.

  Beck shook his head. “Leave them on. You know what those shoes are called, don’t you?”

  Ashley blushed, which was silly considering she was lying naked in the bed of a man who’d made her come even with him wearing most of his clothing.

  He knelt at the bed’s edge, his eyes twinkling devilishly. “Say it, Ashley. What kind of shoes did you wear for me?”

  “Sandals.” He wasn’t getting her capitulation that easily.

  “No.” He wedged his broad naked shoulders under her knees and nibbled the delicate skin behind them.

  Ashley slumped on the bed, amazed that her knees, of all things, were an erogenous zone.

  “What kind of shoes?” he asked again a couple minutes later.

  “High heels.”

  “Not quite.” He dragged his tongue north along the insides of her thighs, stopping to exhale his hot breath along the damp trail. She squealed and tried to clamp her legs together without success. “What kind of shoes?” He had drawn closer and closer to her aching center and suddenly she knew, no matter her answer, she would be the real winner of their little contest.

  “Fuck-me shoes.”

  He growled in triumph, her answer an invitation to what he had planned to do all along. He spread her wide and found her clit with his tongue.

  Ashley panted at the hot wet pleasure of his mouth on her. He flicked her with his tongue and ran it around her opening until she went crazy with lust and grabbed his thick golden hair. He laughed, the vibrations heating her even further until he put his tongue actually inside her. She cried out as he leisurely pushed in and out as if it were his cock. She ached deep inside where he couldn’t reach, where only his cock could.

  “Come inside me, Beck.” She yanked at his shoulders but he wouldn’t budge.

  He lifted his glistening face, which wore a fake expression of hurt. “I thought I was, beautiful Ashley. Doesn’t this feel good?”

  “Not enough,” she managed to gasp.

  “Do you want your poor little pussy filled, sweetheart?” He inserted one long, callused finger in her and then another.

  She gasped as he stroked her inner walls, stretching and spreading her wide.

  “Maybe another finger?” He slid in a third and that hit her G-spot. Her back bowed at the electric sensation and she shook as she came again.

  Beck slipped his fingers in and out, building the exquisite tension. As she hit the peak, he sucked her throbbing clit between his lips, making her feel as if she’d swollen to twice the size. After that, it was a blur of hoarse screams, slick wet noises as his mouth and fingers thoroughly fucked her and the absolute knowledge that he was taking her higher than she’d ever been before.

  She gradually came down to earth to see him putting on protection. She stretched her arms over her head and deliberately let her legs sprawl wide open. “Oh, yes.”

  He sheathed himself inside her with one stroke. They both gasped, Ashley because he was so big but fitted perfectly.

  Beck gritted his teeth. “I think you’re still coming. You’re squeezing me like crazy.”

  She tightened on him and he groaned. “Can’t hold back any longer. Please say yes, Ash.”

  “Yes, Beck.” She punctuated her approval by wiggling her hips.

  He hooked his arms under her shoulders and was off to the races, pounding into her. His balls slapped against her bottom, her nipples erotically rubbing his chest. At first she’d been content with her previous climaxes, but the pressure built inside her.

  He must have noticed her fresh arousal and bent to capture her nipple with his mouth. He hadn’t played with her breasts much, and this was way beyond play. She melted underneath him as he sucked and nibbled at her, never losing a beat with his thrusts.

  A cry burst from her lips and he released her breast, echoing that cry. “Ashley, Ash, oh, Ash…” He trailed off into a wordless groan as he came ferociously, his throbbing and pulsing meeting a matching reply inside her. She actually bit his slick shoulder as she exploded around him, her fuck-me heels digging into his thighs.

  He collapsed onto her body, a warm and welcome weight. Gradually she peeled her arms and legs from around him and he sprawled next to her.

  “Are we still in one piece?” he asked.

  “I think so.” She rolled onto her side and surveyed his magnificent, sweating nakedness. “Although I must say, I do admire your piece.”

  He gave a gasping laugh as his cock briefly flared to life. “And it admires you, sweet Ashley.” He dragged her onto his chest. “I admire you.”

  She smoothed his hair away from his forehead. “You’re pretty special, too, Beck.”

  “Good. Now that we’ve settled our mutual admiration, why don’t you spend the day here? We’ll have lunch by the pool, go for a swim, hang out.”

  An afternoon by the pool—didn’t that sound nice? For once she couldn’t remember the ten things she knew were on her to-do list—and she didn’t care, either. Must have been all the sex hormones buzzing her brain. “I even have my swimsuit from this morning.”

  His laugh was wicked and sent shivers through body parts she thought were all shivered-out for a while. “Swimsuit? Oh, Ashley, honey, remember what I said? You won’t need a swimsuit.”

  6

  THE NEXT few days, Ashley did need a swimsuit, as she lounged by the club pool every morning in hopes of spotting Enric Bruguera. Not that poolside lounging was any sacrifice, but she had only made a couple of jewelry sales from her Web site and her insurance company was giving her the runaround as it duked out her settlement with the cigar shop’s insurance company. She needed some cash flow and needed it fast. Her next option was to list some pieces for online auction, but that would be a real roll of the dice and possibly not the thing to enhance her upscale image. She could always sell them under a generic name for the money.

  On the third day, her patience was rewarded by the appearance of a tanned, stocky man in swim trunks and sunglasses. Was that Enric? She had studied his Web site photo, but a man in a business suit looked much different from a man in a swimsuit, and the club was not short on tanned, stocky men.

  She narrowed her eyes behind her sunglasses as he walked closer, and she spotted a distinctive cross nestled in his dark curly chest hair. If she weren’t mistaken, that was similar to other items in the Bruguera jewelry collection.

  Not sure how to approach him without seeming to be hitting on him, she stayed in her lounge chair. Her lack of response must have been the right reaction since he parked himself two chairs away. Right next to her would have been too obvious considering there were only a dozen people at
the pool.

  She lifted her sunglasses and nodded at him. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning.” He lifted his sunglasses as well and gave her the eye. She was suddenly glad she’d worn her tank suit and not her two-piece. She wanted to audition her jewelry, not her body.

  “This is a lovely pool,” she commented.

  He shrugged and grunted. So much for stereotypical Spanish charm. “It is pleasant now, but not when all the screaming brats arrive.”

  A mother with three kids was walking by and glared at him. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

  Ashley gave an inward sigh. This would be harder than she thought. She examined the cross again. “Excuse me, but is that piece of jewelry from the Bruguera collection?”

  He sat up straighter. “It is from that collection—my collection. I am Enric Bruguera.”

  She gave a little gasp, as if surprised. “I love your jewelry—it has such an exotic flair.”

  He smiled suavely. “Of course. We strive for the unusual and extraordinary. You have a good eye.”

  She took a deep breath. “Thank you. I like to think I have a good eye since I am a jewelry designer myself. Ashley Craig.” She held out her hand and he briefly took it.

  “Really.” He dropped his sunglasses and reclined on his lounge.

  Rats—she only had a limited time to pitch to him before he totally tuned her out. “If you stay longer at the club, you might see my work. My local clients are Señora Letitia Saavedra de Léon y Rodríguez and her mother-in-law, Señora Carmen Saavedra de Léon y Gomez.”

  He frowned at her. “You should be more discreet about your clientele.”

  Another misstep. “I’m sure I can rely on your discretion, Señor Bruguera. After all, we are only relaxing at the pool. It’s not as if I am dragging my portfolio out of my beach bag to impose on you.”

  He grunted again, and she realized it was his version of laughter. “True. My assistants handle that sort of task.”

  “Of course.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes and desperately thought of what to do next.